Archive of Our Own

The clamor of a dog barking, metal tags jangling, and kids hollering is all the warning Todoroki Shouto gets before a Tosa Inu runs into his path from a side street, nearly knocking him over. Shouto drops the bouquet of flowers he was holding so he can grab the leash trailing behind the dog as it barrels past him, earning him a reproachful glare from the dog once it realizes it’s been caught. He looks back in the direction that the dog came from to find a gaggle of kids rounding the corner onto the street. 

The oldest of the group, a girl with a ponytail who is probably ten at most, steps forward to take the leash. “We’re so sorry,” she says, bowing. “We won’t let it happen again!” 

“It’s okay,” Shouto assures, accepting his flowers from a boy who’d retrieved them from the sidewalk. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“His name’s Chibi!” the girl replies with a smile. 

Shouto glances back at the large dog — who towers over most of the kids, even when sitting — and wonders if the kids appreciate the irony. “That’s a good name,” he says, and the kids beam at him.

They take the dog and go, bowing at Shouto one final time before running off down the street toward the park. Shouto continues his journey down the street, examining the flowers as he walks. The bouquet had taken some damage from the fall and subsequent trampling — a few stems were broken, and one of the blooms was crushed — but it wasn’t as bad as he'd feared. 

He selected the bouquet of yellow and pink peonies with the assistance of the florist who ran the shop next to the train station. He’d explained the occasion to the florist, who’d suggested the yellow blooms because they symbolized new beginnings, and the pink because they symbolized marital happiness. A perfect arrangement to celebrate his mother’s one year wedding anniversary. 

Shouto always enjoys the fifteen minute walk from the train station to his mother’s house. The neighborhood is quiet, much more so than the one where he and Izuku rent their apartment downtown. He’d just been a block away from her home when he encountered the kids, so it only takes Shouto a minute to reach the door. Before he has a chance to knock, it opens and he’s greeted with his mother’s warm smile. 

“Shouto, come in,” Rei says, kissing him on the cheek. Shouto passes the bouquet to his mother as she welcomes him inside. “Thank you, these are lovely.”

“Sorry that they’re damaged.” Shouto says, slipping off his shoes in the genkan. “There was…” he pauses, trying to find the best word. “…an incident on the way here.” 

“Yes, I was watching from the kitchen window as you reunited those kids with their dog. You heroes never take a day off, do you?” his mother teases as she leads him into the house. She sets the flowers down on the table and pulls him down into a hug. He relaxes into her embrace, and squeezes her back. “It’s good to see you, Shouto.” 

“It’s good to see you, Mom.”

His mother pulls back from the hug, and brushes his hair from his face. “Your hair’s getting so long.”

“Izuku’s been saying I should try growing it out.”

His mother hums approvingly. “It suits you.” She smiles and picks up the flowers from the table. “Why don’t you go into the living room? Akihito and your siblings are already there. I’m going to put these in some water, I’ll join you in a minute.” 

Shouto takes his time as he walks through the hallway to the living room in the back, admiring the new photos on the wall and the other changes since he was last here. The house is modest compared to the one that Shouto grew up in: a kitchen, dining room, living room, and bathroom on the first floor; two bedrooms, an office, and another bathroom on the second floor; and a small backyard behind the house, fenced for privacy, where his mother maintains a small garden. 

The second bedroom was one of the few luxuries his mother had insisted on when searching for a house. It was fully furnished so that her children would be able to stay over if they ever needed or wanted to. They all live close enough to her that the room is rarely needed, but that single, unoccupied bedroom still exudes more warmth and comfort than the house he grew up in ever did. 

Shouto occasionally wonders what sort of family now lives in the former Todoroki compound. The estate was sold in his second year of high school after his parent’s divorce, and Enji had moved into an apartment closer to his agency. True to his word, Enji had built a home for his wife and children before the divorce, as part of his attempts at atonement. Construction on the house had finished not long after the war with the League had ended, but once the divorce was decided on, the family had decided to sell that house as well. 

They had never stepped foot in it. 

The thought of that house, of everything that it was meant to mean to their family, had filled Shouto with a not unfamiliar melancholy at the time, and he suspects that his mother had felt the same. But they needn't have worried about the family becoming untethered.  Shouto never felt more connected to his family than when they were all together, whether visiting Rei in her hospital room or in the apartment she later bought for herself with the proceeds from the sale of the house.

For one year now, as of today, that family has officially included Yasuhara Akihito. But, to Shouto at least, he’d been considered family far longer than that. Akihito had been one of the first friends that his mother made during her transition out of the hospital. His name had come up several times in conversation, but the first time Shouto met the man was a few weeks into that friendship when they crossed paths while Shouto and his mother were running errands.

Shouto’s first impression of Akihito was that he was a kindhearted person, and that initial judgement would prove accurate over time. He was friendly with the sort of ease that Shouto struggled with, but not in a way that was overbearing. He was soft-spoken, intelligent, and patient. He listened to Shouto’s mother with unmistakable attention, and even managed to make her laugh twice in that short conversation. It made Shouto take note of the man. 

He remembers the night that Akihito and Rei announced their relationship to the family over dinner. It was a little over a year since he had graduated from UA, and a few weeks after he and Izuku had moved into their first apartment together. 

Akihito was already a fixture in their lives by this point, so Shouto had been surprised to see how anxious he seemed. Izuku guessed that he was worried about being accepted by the family, so Shouto had made a point to pull Akihito aside before the night was over so that he could thank him for everything and let him know that their relationship had his full support. 

Shouto lingers in the hallway in front of one of his favorite photos, a candid picture Shouto had taken of Akihito and Izuku laughing while sharing beers in the garden. Akihito had been recounting how he used to use his quirk — Firefly: the ability to emit a low level of light from one’s body at will — as a child so that he could read under the covers for hours after he was supposed to be asleep. Izuku had countered with the story of the time he almost caught his All Might bedspread on fire when he pulled his lamp under the covers so that he could keep writing in his journal after his bedtime.

The photo was taken the day that he and Izuku had helped Rei and Akihito move into the house — a day that is filled with many fond memories for Shouto. Memories of seeing his mother and Akihito exchange smiles as she unlocked the door of their new home for the first time. Memories of Fuyumi and Natsuo joining them later in the afternoon with take-out and paper plates, and everyone eating dinner together on the grass in the backyard. Memories of Izuku and Akihito both activating their quirks, lighting up the evening sky so that Izuku could compare the glow from Firefly to the lightning he generated while using Full Cowling. 

Memories of Izuku stealing a kiss from Shouto any time they had a moment alone.

“Izuku, are you only dating me so that I can be your personal AC unit?” Shouto had asked, bringing his cool hand up to push the hair off of Izuku’s sweaty forehead. They were alone in the upstairs office, taking a break to cool off before assembling the furniture they had just carried in. 

“I’ve been found out,” Izuku smiled and leaned further into Shouto. “But, to be fair, you’re only dating me because I’m more convenient than hiring a moving service.”

“Damn,” Shouto said, allowing his hands to slip down to the back of Izuku’s neck, his chilled fingers dipping below his shirt collar and drawing a sigh of relief from his boyfriend. “And here I thought I was being subtle.” 

Izuku laughed, and then leaned up to pull Shouto into a sweet kiss, and then another, and then another. They only parted when the sound of footsteps on the stairs alerted them to someone approaching. It had taken a few minutes for the pink to recede from Izuku’s cheeks, but that didn’t stop him from doing the same thing just a few minutes later when they had the room to themselves again. 

“Baby bro, is that you?” Natsuo’s question pulls Shouto abruptly back to the present; he hadn’t realized how much he’d lost track of time while reminiscing in front of the family photos. He finds himself getting lost in pleasant memories more and more often these days. It’s a welcome change, having memories worth revisiting instead of only those that he’d rather forget. 

“Coming,” he says, and enters the living room.

Rays of afternoon sun illuminate the room, catching on the sparse particles of dust that are suspended in the air. The glass sliding-door to the garden is open and a cool spring breeze wafts through, carrying the bright and earthy smell of the negi growing in Rei’s vegetable garden. Natsuo gets up from the chair where he’d been reclining and pulls Shouto in for a hug, parting with a strong pat to his shoulder. Fuyumi and Akihito get up from the couch and also greet him with a hug. 

“No Izuku today?” Fuyumi asks as they all settle back down into their seats. 

Shouto shakes his head, “He tried to request off, but he’s stuck with patrol today. He said to say hi though.” Fuyumi nods in understanding.

“Oh, so it’s fine when Shouto doesn’t bring Izuku, but when I come without Kaede I’m ‘hiding her from the family.’” Natsuo grumbles facetiously, gesturing with air quotes. He reclines again into his armchair, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

Fuyumi rolls her eyes and swats Natsuo’s legs until he moves them off the table. “Well, we’ve actually met Izuku. You still haven’t introduced us to Fukuhara-san.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault! She’s just really busy.” Natsuo says, affronted. He’s about to continue speaking when Fuyumi cuts him off. 

“At this point, I’m beginning to wonder if she exists at all.” Fuyumi wonders aloud, tone playful. 

“Onee-san, how can you say that!” Natsuo exclaims, and then pivots so that he’s facing Shouto. “You believe me, right?” 

Shouto leans back into the couch, pretending to think it over. He rubs his chin, imitating the expression that Izuku makes when he’s lost in deliberation. After drawing out the silence as long as he thinks he can get away with, he finally responds: “It does sound pretty convenient.” 

Natsuo raises his hands up in mock exasperation while Fuyumi and Akihito laugh from the couch. “I’ll show you,” he says, fighting a smile. “She’ll come with me next time, and then you’ll all have to eat your words.” 

“We look forward to meeting Fukuhara-san.” Akihito says, then shoots the other two a pointed stare. “I’m sure that everyone will be on their best behavior for her, right?” 

“Of course,” Fuyumi says, and Shouto nods solemnly at her side. He exchanges a glance with his sister, which sends her into a fit of laughter. 

···

Yasuhara Rei pauses in the hallway, taking a second to enjoy the pleasant hum of conversation coming from the living room; the laughter as her children tease each other, and the ease with which her husband keeps pace with them. She remembers a time when laughter was rare in her home. It feels like a lifetime ago at this point, but the sound is still something that she’ll never take for granted. It has a way of resonating, echoing throughout the house, even long after her children have left. 

She never wants to get used to it. 

Once the commotion inside the living room has died down a little, she enters to announce that lunch is ready, and the family makes their way into the dining room. There are empty seats at the table — room for them to spread out and for their family to continue growing — but everyone clusters together. 

As they enjoy their meal, Akihito asks Fuyumi for updates on her graduate school courses, and she answers eagerly. She’d only recently enrolled in her graduate program — part time so that she wouldn’t have to give up teaching — with the eventual goal of becoming a principal. 

Fuyumi would never admit it, but she had sidelined a lot of her ambitions in order to focus on holding the family together while Rei was in the hospital. It was a role that never should have fallen to her. Both Rei and Enji had taken efforts in the past few years to remove that burden from their daughter’s shoulders, even after they decided to end their marriage, but it had still taken some time to convince her that the family could afford for her to put her own desires first for once. 

“I told my students recently that I’m taking classes in the evenings, and their reactions were priceless,”  Fuyumi recounts gaily, passing a dish to Shouto. “Most of them were dumbfounded at the idea that someone could be a teacher and a student at the same time. One of them even asked if that meant they’d have to be teachers too, one day.” 

“What did you tell them?” Shouto asks. 

“I said, ‘Only if you’re very foolish.’” Fuyumi laughs. “They were so visibly relieved, it was hard not to be a little offended.”

“Don’t take it personally, kids are all idiots anyway.” Natsuo says.  

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who cried at the end of his pediatrics rotation because he was going to miss the kids,” Fuyumi shoots back. 

Natsuo looks at her in horror, and then turns toward Rei. “Mom, you told Fuyumi about that?” 

“I thought it was cute,” Rei says with a small shrug. The family laughs while Natsuo grumbles something about having a reputation to maintain.

It had been over a year since that conversation had occurred. Natsuo was a natural with the kids in his unit, which had been a surprise to no one but himself. Up until this point in his clinical rotations, he’d been set on pursuing a specialty in emergency medicine, but now he was torn and he spent most of the following year debating between these two paths. Even after passing the NMPQE in February,  he still hadn’t been able to come to a decision about which of two residency options to choose.

He didn’t end up deciding until shortly before his graduation at the end of March. Rei knew that either choice would have been the right one, but she had seen Natsuo’s decision coming long before he did. She had known ever since the day, less than a week into his emergency medicine rotation, when he told her over the phone, “I saved someone’s life today.” 

Shouto had once written her the same words early into his second year at UA. Up until then, it was clear that his faith in professional heroics had been severely shaken by the events of the previous year involving the League. Their family had hardly been ignorant of the failings of the system before the war, but the true scale of the corruption and inadequacies was still a lot to grapple with. From what Shouto’s letters had implied, this struggle was a common one among his peers. But after that letter, everything changed: Shouto’s tone became hopeful again, and his growing confidence in himself was evident in every conversation they had and in every new letter he wrote. 

Rei is sure that her own correspondence from that time probably tells a similar story. The prospect of finally leaving the hospital after over a decade had been simultaneously exciting and terrifying, and she knew that it would take time to adjust to life outside. 

Rei did not doubt her own resilience, especially not after everything that had happened with Touya. Still, she wanted to give herself time to acclimate and, as her therapist often reminded her,  to allow herself grace as she struggled. They had agreed that after her discharge from inpatient care, Rei  would transition to their intensive outpatient program for three days a week, and then eventually to weekly therapy. 

In preparation for Rei’s discharge, the family found an apartment for her in Fuyumi’s building. Fuyumi had taken the lead on furnishing the apartment for her, and Shouto and Natsuo had helped when they could. On Shouto’s final visit to Rei at the hospital before her discharge, he told her about how the three of them had coordinated so that they could all go shopping together during his summer break. He recounted how, on their way to lunch, they passed by a gallery with a painting in the window that they thought she would love, and had bought it immediately. 

(Only after telling this story did Shouto remember that the painting was meant to be a surprise for her, and he apologized for accidentally spoiling it. Rei assured him that she would act surprised when they all showed it to her.)

She’d loved the painting on sight. It’s a dreamlike, woodblock-inspired landscape — reminiscent of Kawase Hasui’s impressionistic style — with a contemporary twist: a peaceful koi pond recedes into the distance and, instead of converging with the sky at the horizon, turns upward at a ninety degree angle. The surface of the water is tranquil and lily pads float on the vertical depths, unperturbed by the impossibility of this arrangement. 

That painting is mounted in the dining room where the family now sits, meal long finished. Plates have been pushed aside to make room for conversation, and Shouto’s flowers, which Rei had placed in the room before calling everyone to lunch, fill the room with their delicate scent as minutes turn into an hour, and then two. 

Natsuo is the first to have to leave, doing so with barely enough time to make it to the hospital for his shift.  Fuyumi reluctantly leaves a half hour later so that she’ll have enough time to grade her student’s work before her own evening seminar starts. Rei takes a minute at the door to watch them each walk down the street, as she always does, before heading back inside.

Akihito and Shouto have cleared away the table in her few minutes of absence.  Rei can hear her husband washing dishes from inside in the kitchen, and Shouto now sits at the table, seemingly lost in thought as he drags his thumb across the accumulated condensation on his glass. There’s an envelope on the table in front of him, and Rei gestures to it as she takes the seat next to him.

“Is this for me, Shouto?” 

Shouto nods, and passes her the letter. “I wanted to get you a gift to celebrate. I looked up ideas online, and saw that the first anniversary gift is traditionally paper. It reminded me how long it’s been since I wrote you a letter.” 

Rei smiles, and unfolds the letter. It’s three pages long, each full of Shouto’s slanted and cramped writing, but she only has enough time to make out “Dear Mom,” before Shouto’s voice interrupts her. 

“You don’t have to read it right now.” He says, scratching his cheek awkwardly and looking to the side. 

“Is it too embarrassing to watch me read it in front of you?” Rei teases, and Shouto meets her eyes, smiling apologetically. Rei breathes out a laugh and folds the letter back into its envelope.  

Shouto is right, it has been quite some time since he wrote her a letter. One of the first things Rei had done after leaving the hospital was to buy a cell phone so that she could speak with her children regularly. There was little need for letters once they had the luxury of calling or texting whenever they had something they wanted to tell the other. 

Rei plays with the envelope distractedly, enjoying the weight of it in her hand as she reminisces. An idea occurs to her and she turns towards Shouto. “Will you come upstairs so that I can show you something?”

“Yes, of course,” he replies, and the two get up from their seats. 

Letter in hand, Rei leads him to the office upstairs. Lining the walls are several bookshelves, which she peruses until she finds what she’s looking for: a beautiful wooden lacquered box, adorned with butterflies and vines. She places the box on desk along with Shouto’s letter

“Do you know what this is?” she asks as Shouto joins her side, and he shakes his head. She opens the box, revealing the stack of envelopes inside. 

“Oh,” Shouto says quietly, and he leans forward to flip through the contents. “I didn’t know you saved these.” 

Rei admires the gentle smile on her son’s face as he leafs through the stack, and then looks out the window overlooking the street. 

“That first time you came to see me in the hospital, I knew immediately that you were still the same sweet boy that I remembered. But it was also obvious how much time I’d missed, and how much there was about you that I didn’t know.” Rei pauses when she feels the warmth of her son’s hand on her shoulder. She reaches up to squeeze his hand and smiles at him. “Every letter you sent me was a little glimpse into what you were thinking and the way you saw the world. You gave me the opportunity to get to know you all over again, and I don’t think I have words to describe how much that meant to me.”

Shouto, jaw set and brow lightly furrowed, is looking down at the box of letters, unaware of Rei studying him. She recognizes this expression, it’s one he often makes when he’s struggling to find his words. She gives his hand another reassuring squeeze and he exhales a chilly breath. When he meets Rei’s eyes again, his expression is softer.

“I saved all of your letters, too.” 

They enjoy a few moments of shared understanding before a quiet knock on the door breaks the silence. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Akihito says, leaning into the doorway. “I was about to make some tea and thought you might like some.” 

“I would, thank you.” Rei turns to Shouto. “Do you have time to stay a little while longer today?”

“A while,” Shouto nods. “I just want to be home in time to have dinner with Izuku when he’s done with work.”

“Two cups coming up,” Akihito says, and he shuts the door gently behind him on his way out. 

Rei takes a seat at the desk and Shouto pulls over the upholstered reading chair from the corner of the room so that he can sit by her side. She places the wooden box onto her lap so that it’s easier for her to sort through the envelopes, and then looks back toward her son. He’s relaxed in his chair, gazing out the window with a soft smile on his face. 

···

“Thinking about Izuku?” The sound of his mother’s voice pulls Shouto’s attention back from the window. Her eyebrows are raised in amusement and her smile widens. “I’m right, aren’t I?” 

He had just been thinking of Izuku. Specifically, he’d been thinking of Izuku admonishing him that morning for the small bruise he’d accidentally left on his neck the night before. Despite his annoyance, and his rush to leave the apartment in time for work, Izuku had still made sure to pause to give Shouto a kiss before leaving. 

“How did you know?” 

“Your smile: it was your Izuku Smile,” Rei says. Shouto’s confusion must be apparent because she laughs, and then continues. “You always have the same look on your face when you’re thinking about him. I think it was one of the first things that made me realize that you had feelings for him.”

“Oh,” Shouto says. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers Jirou teasing him for something very similar months before he and Izuku got together in their third year at UA. “When was that?”

Rei takes a pause to consider before answering. “It would have been the winter of your first year, I think.”

“What?” If Shouto looked confused before, he must look bewildered now. “Mom, that was before I knew.” 

“I know.” Rei smirks at him, and continues to flip through the envelopes as she speaks. “I only suspected at first, but I was pretty sure I was right. You enjoyed telling me about your friends so much, it took me a while to notice how much you brought up Izuku in particular. But there was a letter you sent me that made me take note of him, and then I started to pay more attention…” She trails off as she continues to search through the box. A few seconds later, “Here, I think this is it!” 

She skims over the letter, and then passes it to Shouto, who quickly figures out which part she must be referring to. 

We had training exercises outside again today, even though the snow was coming down so hard that it was almost impossible to see. All the other classes did their training indoors, but Aizawa said something about this being good practice for rescuing people in inclement weather. I’m ashamed to say it, but it took me a while to notice how badly the cold was affecting the rest of the class. I think that maybe I’ve been underestimating how much I rely on my quirk, but that doesn’t excuse my lack of consideration for others. I’ll have to pay more attention in the future.

I did what I could to help everyone stay warm, and it made me think about other ways that I could use my quirk to help others. I’ve spent so much time training my quirk for combat, it would be nice to find other ways I can use it. Even if it’s just in small ways. To start, I think I’ll offer to warm up Midoriya’s gloves for him next time we go outside, since it seems like the cold makes the pain in his hands worse. Not that he ever complains about it. If anything, he’d probably deny it if I asked him outright. He can be really stubborn about stuff like that. But he’s also really clever, I bet that he would have some ideas about new ways I can try to use my quirk. Maybe I will ask him tomorrow. 

Shouto has no recollection of the training exercise anymore, but he still remembers writing this letter. It was just after sunset and he was in the common room of the dorms, across the room from where Izuku was sitting. Izuku had a mess of textbooks sprawled in front of him on the coffee table while he worked on his homework, but his fingers were stiff and he seemed to have trouble gripping the pencil. It wasn’t the first time Shouto had noticed this happen. 

He remembers wishing there was something he could do when Asui and Momo came in to offer everyone some tea. When Izuku’s drink was delivered, he picked it up and gave a sigh of relief. He kept his crooked fingers wrapped around the steaming mug and sat like that for almost a minute before he even took a sip. When Izuku finally sat the mug back down and picked up his pencil, he wrote with much more ease. 

“I think I did love him then, even if I hadn’t realized it yet.” Shouto folds up the letter back into the envelope, then passes it back to his mother. “No, actually, I’m sure I did.” 

His mother hums in agreement and carefully places the envelope in its place in the box. “When did you realize, then? I don’t think you ever told me.” 

“It was when he went on a date with someone else.”

“Oh,” Rei says, and she looks at him sympathetically. “That must have been difficult.” 

Shouto nods; there’s not much for him to say. It was during their second year at UA: the two of them had been doing homework in Shouto’s room when Izuku confided that he and Uraraka had plans to meet up for a date during the coming summer break. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” Izuku asked. They apparently wanted to keep the relationship private, at least at first, so that they could figure things out without scrutiny or pressure.

“Why are you telling me?” Shouto asked. 

“Because I trust you,” Izuku said seriously before blushing and waving his hands frantically in front of him. “I mean, not that I don’t trust the others. But I know that you wouldn’t tease us or judge us or anything. Plus, talking to you about stuff always makes me feel better, so…” 

Maybe Shouto could have been flattered by Izuku’s professed faith in him if it wasn’t for the hand that had seemingly reached inside him, grabbed his gut, and twisted. The despondence was sudden, absolute, and heavy —  enough so that it pinned him to his mattress under its crushing weight later that night, long after Izuku had returned to his room to sleep. Worse still was the realization of what that pain meant, and the bitter regret that it had taken him so long to understand.

But, in that moment, Shouto was able to push those feelings aside when he saw the anxiety on Izuku’s face. There may be little that Shouto could do to mend his own hurt, but he could at least try to put his friend — his closest, dearest friend — at ease. 

“I’m here anytime you want to talk, Midoriya,” Shouto said. “I hope everything goes well.”

Somehow, he even managed to mean it.

Shouto had kept himself busy over summer break with training, studying, and anything else that might occupy his mind enough that it wouldn’t wander to Izuku and the date. Spending time with his family was quickly becoming his favorite method of doing so, but even that was only able to offer him brief respite from his self-inflicted torture. 

Despite his fears to the contrary, returning to school after the break made things a little easier. Shouto was thankful for the demanding schedule of classes, training, homework, and internships because the resulting physical and mental exhaustion ensured — for the most part, at least — that he didn’t spend sleepless nights alone with nothing to occupy him but his thoughts.

It also helped that Izuku and Uraraka were still keeping their relationship under wraps. If Shouto hadn’t been aware that their occasional ‘coincidental’ absences from group activities were due to continued secret dates, he might have even been able to pretend that nothing had changed. 

And so things continued until, several weeks after they had returned to the dorms,  Izuku reported that he and Uraraka had decided that they were better off as friends. 

“I always felt so tense before our dates,” Izuku explained to Shouto as they jogged the wooded path around the school. “During them, too. Even after! Which is silly since we were already friends, you know? We already like each other.”

“It’s probably normal to be nervous, I think,” Shouto said.

“True, but it was more than that,” Izuku said. “If I had only felt that way before the first or second date, maybe I could have chalked it up to nerves, but that wasn’t the case. It was like there was this part of me that knew that it didn’t feel right, but instead of listening to that voice I was trying to ignore it or fight it or something. Eventually, I realized that I had to accept that it just wasn’t working. And it sucks. But the more I think about it, the more I’m sure that we made the right call.  I dunno, I just think that when it’s right it should feel natural. Like, being with them should make me feel more like myself, not less. Does that make sense?”

Shouto remembers looking up from the path to meet Izuku’s eyes. He remembers the imploring look that Izuku gave him, as if he really cared about what Shouto thought. He remembers realizing that, despite the pain that it had caused him, he was truly gratified that he was the one that Izuku had trusted enough to share these thoughts with.

“That makes perfect sense to me.” Shouto said. 

Izuku gave him a thoughtful look, eyes darting over Shouto’s face for a brief moment, and then he shook his head slightly and smiled at him. Shouto couldn’t help but smile back.

Shouto’s not sure how it happened, but the next second Izuku was spread eagle on the path with a cloud of dust kicked up around him. “Are you okay?” Shouto asked, offering Izuku a hand and noting his flushed complexion with some concern.

“I’m normal— I MEAN FINE! I’m fine .” Izuku stammered, accepting Shouto’s hand. “I just wasn’t paying attention to the path and tripped.” He tried to put his weight on his ankle and winced. 

Despite Izuku’s protestations that he could just walk it off, Shouto insisted on bringing him back to school. They slowly made their way down the path, Izuku’s arm thrown over Shouto’s shoulder and Shouto’s arm secured around his waist for support. Recovery Girl had not been amused when the pair showed up at the infirmary a half hour later. 

There’s a knock at the door and suddenly Shouto is back in the present. He hops to his feet to open the door for Akihito, who is carrying two cups of tea on a tray.  

“Thank you, Shouto,” he says. Shouto accepts his cup and watches as Akihito places his hand softly on Rei’s shoulder before leaning over her to set hers on the desk. “I’m going to head next door for a few minutes, I told Matsui-san that I’d walk his dog while he’s traveling today.” 

“Sounds good,” Rei says, lightly touching Akihito’s hand before he leaves. After the door has closed again, she turns back to Shouto and studies him. “I never knew that Izuku dated anyone else.” 

“It was a long time ago.” Shouto says, staring into his glass of tea. “It wasn’t very serious.”

“Still, it must have hurt to see him with someone else, considering the way you felt.” Rei presses. “Did you have anyone to talk about it with?”

“No,” he admits. He looks up and sees the frown on his mother’s face, and he rushes to explain before she gets the wrong idea. “I didn’t tell anyone because Izuku asked me to keep things quiet until they decided if they wanted to be official, but I had people I could have talked to.”

“That was very considerate of you.”

Shouto shrugs. “It was the right thing to do.”

“I’m still allowed to compliment you for it,” Rei admonishes, and Shouto smiles. They sit in silence for a minute, enjoying their tea, before she speaks again. “If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you tell Izuku how you felt about him after they ended things?” 

Shouto takes another drink while mulling over his answer. It’s not the first time he’s been asked this question; Momo had asked him the same thing  in third year during one of their many midnight heart-to-hearts. He tried to explain the simple truth that it had just never occurred to him to act on his feelings. She’d pressed him about it further, but he hadn’t been able to find a satisfying explanation for it.

In that same conversation, Momo had said something else that he’s never been able to make sense of: she’d said that he was allowed to want things for himself. It seemed like such an obvious statement — so much so that he’d wondered what the point was in saying it at all. Years later and he’s still no closer to figuring out what she meant by it. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers, settling on the truth. 

His mother nods thoughtfully. “Do you think you would have, eventually? If he hadn’t asked you out first?” 

Shouto wishes that he could give an immediate yes in response and mean it with absolute certainty, but that isn’t the case. In a way, it feels inevitable that they must have come together eventually, but Shouto suspects that this is largely because he has no interest in imagining any other sort of path he could have followed without Izuku by his side. 

But the reality is that Shouto can easily imagine an alternate life where he had somehow missed his chance and been fated to watch from the edges as Izuku gave his love to someone else. 

Rei watches him for a minute, almost appraisingly, and then sets her cup down on the desk. 

“Shouto, I’d like to tell you something that I’ve only shared with my therapist. Is that okay?” Rei asks.  Shouto nods in response, and then she continues. “The first time that Akihito invited me on a date, I turned him down.” 

···

Rei watches a variety of emotions flicker over her son’s face as he processes this new information. Shouto has always been reserved, but the subtle movements of his brows, eyes, and lips still give him away. Rei supposes that she must have gotten better at reading him over time, but she’s certain that he’s become more expressive over the years as well. 

“Oh,” Shouto finally says, expression still one of mild confusion. 

Rei can’t help but burst into laughter, and the resulting puzzled frown on her son’s face only makes it worse. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh,” she says,  wiping a tear from her eye. “It’s just so obvious that you don’t know how you’re supposed to react to that.” She waits for the giggles to subside, then continues. “I probably wouldn’t know how to react either, but I promise that I have a reason for bringing this up. Will you humor me?” 

Rei watches as Shouto’s expression softens again. He settles further into his armchair, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable. “Sure,” he says, eyes on her. 

She’s reminded of something that Izuku once said to her shortly after he and Shouto started dating. She and Izuku had been introduced already the previous year, but this was the first time that they’d spoken since the start of the relationship, and the first time they’d ever done so without Shouto present. 

“He listens to me. Really listens to me, I mean.” Izuku had said. “I could be talking about the dumbest thing, but the way he pays attention… I know that he cares about what I’m saying, that it matters.” 

It was around this same time that Akihito had blindsided her by asking her to dinner. 

“I know you’ve always liked Akihito,” Rei says, and Shouto nods. “You’ve been so supportive and welcoming, even before he and I started our relationship. I know that means a lot to him.”

“He was good to you,” Shouto says simply. “He made you happy.”

Rei smiles. “Yes, that’s true.”

Rei thinks back to the first few weeks after she left the hospital, before she met and befriended Akihito. The world had changed quite a lot in the ten years she’d been separated from it, and it took her some time to become reacquainted with it again.

That wasn't to say that it was a categorically lonely experience — in fact, it was one full of happy memories. She and Fuyumi had spent almost every evening cooking dinner and watching TV together in one of their apartments. Natsuo, still an undergraduate, came over as frequently as his schedule allowed and took it upon himself to familiarize Rei with a myriad of new technologies. Shouto, then in his second year at UA, would also visit every weekend that he could get away from school, and called her at least once a week to talk. Nonetheless, Rei found herself with a lot of free time. What was once a rare luxury was now dauntingly abundant, and it took her a while to get used to it.

Rei enjoyed getting to know her fellow building residents and exploring Fuyumi’s neighborhood, and over time her explorations brought her farther and farther into the city. When the weather was pleasant, she’d bring a book with her and find some shaded place to sit in the local park, and she’d stay there for hours reading and enjoying the warm, fall breeze. She hadn’t had much time for books since the early days of her marriage to Enji, but their pages welcomed her back with open arms.

If the weather turned, she would retreat indoors, often to local bookstores to peruse their shelves in search of the next story. It was on such a day that she first entered the place that would become her second home. 

The prefecture’s library was large — so much so that Rei hadn’t realized that it was a library when she’d previously passed the building. She might have continued to walk past it unknowingly, but when forced to seek shelter from unexpected afternoon showers under a neighboring awning,  she spotted the sculpture of two children holding books near the main entrance and became curious. 

Deciding to brave the downpour, she stepped out from the awning, ran across the street and hurried inside, where she was met with a warm, modern atrium. She crossed the lobby and spoke with someone at the information desk — apologizing once she noticed the trail of water she’d left in her wake — and was given a map of the library’s layout. 

Eventually the sky cleared and the sun returned, illuminating the rows of books as its light flooded through the many windows lining the walls and ceiling. Previous plans for the day abandoned, Rei continued her tour through the shelves until late afternoon when she begrudgingly tore herself away to make it home in time to have dinner with Fuyumi. 

She came back to the library the next morning and signed up for a library card. 

Rei quickly developed a routine: on the days where she wasn’t expected at the treatment center, she’d arrive at the library in the morning and spend a half-hour or so wandering the shelves until a book caught her eye. She’d find a seat in one of the quiet reading areas — usually one of the spots near the children’s section on the first floor — where she’d read until lunchtime. Then, she’d check out her books at the information desk, and she’d either eat a packed lunch on the outside terrace or treat herself to lunch at the attached cafe before heading home. 

A few weeks into this new routine, she was eating lunch in the cafe when a man politely asked if he could join her table. He gestured to the other seats in the cafe, all of which were occupied. She recognized him as one of the librarians employed at the information desk, and welcomed him to take a seat. Before then, they’d only made polite small talk whenever she needed assistance finding something or was checking out a book, but as they ate their lunch together at the cramped table, they quickly fell into discussion of their current reads. As the man packed up to return to work, Rei told him that he was welcome to join her again, and a few days later he did just that. So started her friendship with Yasuhara Akihito. 

(He would much, much later admit to having wanted to find an excuse to speak with her ever since the first time they’d chatted at the information desk. She would try to hide the fact that she did not recall their first meeting, and she would fail, which would make him laugh.)

“I hadn’t expected to make a friend so soon after leaving the hospital,” Rei muses, folding her legs underneath herself in her chair. “The thought of going out and interacting with strangers was intimidating. With our family’s history as public as it was, I’d wonder every time I met someone what they already knew about me, and what sort of person they thought I must be.” Shouto hums in understanding, and Rei gives him a sympathetic smile. “I know you’ve struggled with this, too.” 

“I hated that people only thought of me as 'Endeavor’s Son,'” he says. “I thought that I’d always be tied to his legacy until Izuku and my friends and teachers showed me that I could decide what kind of hero I wanted to become.” Shouto pauses again. “I don’t think those thoughts ever really went away; I’m just better at dealing with them now.” 

“I know what you mean. ” Rei says. She takes a sip of her tea, and glances to the bookcase on the side of the room. On the shelf right above where Shouto’s box is usually stored sits another wooden lacquered box full of letters, this one’s lid emblazoned with a phoenix. “Touya mentioned in a recent letter that he apologized to you. He said that you forgave him.”

Touya’s phone and visitation privileges in prison are extremely limited, but this may hopefully change soon, contingent upon his continued good behavior. Until then, his family writes to him as often as they can, and he writes them back. 

“He said that there are a lot of things that he wishes he could change, but his biggest regret is trying to hurt us to get vengeance on Father.” Shouto says, looking out the window. “I never blamed Touya-nii for telling the world about our family’s secrets. He was in a lot of pain then, and he needed someone to acknowledge that. I know that I also did a lot of cruel things when I was unhappy that I later regretted, so I understood.” 

“You’ve never been cruel, Shouto.” Rei says. She leans forward in her seat to squeeze her son’s hand and he pulls his gaze from the window so that he can face her. “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

Shouto smiles and squeezes her hand back. “I’m proud of you, too, Mom.”

Shouto releases Rei’s hand so that he can grab a tissue, which he offers to her. Rei, just noticing the dampness on her cheek, accepts it and dabs at her eyes.  Once she’s collected herself,  Shouto reheats their tea with his quirk and they settle back into their seats. 

“You still haven’t explained why you turned Akihito down,” Shouto prompts. 

Rei takes a sip of her tea and thinks about how to proceed. “Well, like I was saying before, I wasn’t very optimistic about making friends when I left the hospital, so Akihito took me by surprise. It was so easy to speak with him and to tell him about things that were usually difficult to talk about. Part of this is just because of who he is as a person, but it was also because he treated me like someone worth getting to know.” 

Within a few weeks of their first conversation, Rei was in the habit of packing two lunches when she went to the library so that she and Akihito could eat together during his break.

“I don’t think I’ve asked you what your all time favorite book is,” Akihito said one day after they had finished their meal. He stood from the table and collected their empty bento boxes. 

“I’m afraid my answer isn’t very impressive,” Rei replied, joining his side at the small break room sink so that they continue talking while he washed the boxes, as had become part of their routine. 

“I highly doubt that your answer will make me think any less of you.”

“Okay then, if you’re so sure,” Rei said, and Akihito paused his washing in anticipation. “My favorite book is I Am a Cat by Natsume Sōseki.” 

She remembers waiting for his response. She wasn’t apprehensive; he wasn’t the type of man to mock, but she was curious what he would think. He was impressively well read, as one would expect from a librarian. 

“An interesting choice,” Akihito said after a moment’s pause.  “A satire of Meiji period society from the perspective of a cat. I’m familiar with it, but I—” He paused again as his glasses started to slide down his nose. Hands still soapy, he attempted to nudge the glasses back into place with his shoulder, but instead pushed them further askew. Rei leaned forward and gave them a nudge. “Thank you.” He smiled, then continued. “I know of it, but I’ve never actually read it myself. Why is it your favorite?”

“I’ve liked it ever since I first read it in school.” Rei explains. “I always thought the cat’s observations about people were funny: ‘Why, for instance, do they use two legs when they all have four available?’ I appreciated the satire more when I was older, but it didn’t become my favorite until much later when I’d read it to my children to help them fall asleep. I actually read to them from the same old copy that I had as a girl. I wish I knew what happened to it  — I think Enji got rid of it when I went to the hospital.” Rei hadn’t meant for her story to head in this direction, but it’s hard to uncouple the happy memories from the difficult ones sometimes. Akitiho was looking at her with sympathy. She smiled at him, finding it easier to get back on track when he smiles back. “Shouto especially loved the book. Or, it would be more accurate to say that he loved everything except for the ending. Do you mind if I spoil it for you?” 

“No, go ahead.” 

“Well, the cat dies in the final chapter,” Rei explained. “I’d forgotten about that part, somehow. Shouto was so upset after I read it — he refused to go to bed until we held a funeral for the cat. Enji was on some mission I think, and Touya and Natsuo were already asleep, but Fuyumi was awake. The three of us burned incense and recited some sutras for the cat until Shouto was satisfied.” 

Rei remembered the way her two children had solemnly sat, wiping sleep from their eyes and yawning, until their makeshift service concluded. Shouto had been so young at the time, only a few weeks away from when his quirk came in and his childhood ended. 

“That’s a sweet story,” Akihito said, interrupting her thoughts. He picked up a towel and dried the clean bento boxes in a thoughtful silence. He didn’t speak again until the boxes were packed back safely in Rei’s bag. “I actually always wanted to have kids.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Rei said. 

“I’m not able to have any of my own, but I thought that if I ever married, I would adopt.” He stood at the sink, eyes cast down on the towel. “That never happened, though.” 

“You would have been a great father.” Rei spoke before she had time to consider what she was saying. She hoped that her comment wasn’t out of place, but she didn’t regret her words since she knew with certainty that they were true. 

“Thank you,” Akihito spoke softly. He ran his hand over the towel again, smoothing out a final crease, and then he smiled and looked up at Rei. “Do you miss being around children?”

“I do,” Rei admitted. “I think that if I hadn’t married right after school, I would have liked to work with kids .” 

“And how about now?”

Rei looked at Akihito in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You said that you were going to leave the therapy program at the hospital soon, and that you only need to see your therapist once or twice a week after that, right?” Akihito asked, and Rei nodded. “Well, our children’s reading support center could always use some volunteers. I think you’d be really good at it, if you’re interested." 

“Oh,” Rei said, and she paused to consider it. “And you’re not just saying that because me being here more often means more homemade lunch?” 

“Of course,” Akihito said earnestly, then smiled. “Although, I’d never say no to more of your cooking.” 

Rei had laughed and promised that she’d consider it. She brought up the suggestion with her therapist and her family, all of whom supported the idea if Rei wanted to pursue it. Within a few weeks she was volunteering regularly at the reading center. 

“Akihito believed in me and supported me in a way that none of my friends ever had before,” Rei says to Shouto and he nods again. “He knew everything about me — everything I did and everything I didn’t do and everything I wish I could do differently — and he never judged me. He never pitied me, either. He said he thought that I was brave.” 

“He’s right,” Shouto says immediately. 

Rei smiles weakly at him. “I didn’t feel very brave when Akihito told me how he felt and I couldn’t even look him in the eye to turn him down properly.” 

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Shouto insists. 

“I know,” Rei says. Despite her progress over the years, shame remains so familiar that it’s almost comforting, so easily accessible that she can slip back into it almost without noticing. But she’s better equipped to deal with shame when it arises now: she takes a moment to do as she’s practiced with her therapist and reminds herself that her past self didn’t have the tools or support that she does now, and that she was doing the best she could at the time. Sometimes she has to repeat this to herself multiple times before she can feel the shame ease away, but Shouto’s patient smile makes the process easier. She takes a deep breath and then she’s ready to continue. “Truthfully, I was caught off guard when he told me. I think that I might have reacted better if I had seen it coming ahead of time.” 

Shouto nods thoughtfully. “When did he tell you?”

“It was after the first clinic,” Rei explains, and Shouto’s brow furrows a little. “You probably wouldn’t remember, you only had time to stop by for a few minutes on your way to your first date with Izuku.” 

The Children's Book Surgery Clinic had been Rei’s idea. She’d been inspired by the hospital’s Stuffed Animal Surgery Clinic, a monthly event where organizers raised money for the children’s wing and kids could bring their toys in for free repairs. She still remembers when she first mentioned the idea to Akihito, musing about how it might be fun to do a similar event where volunteers could repair damaged children’s books and fundraise for local charities. He’d loved the idea and had encouraged Rei to bring a formal proposal to the library’s director. 

The event itself was a hectic blur, leaving Rei with barely a moment to rest as she divided time between wrangling volunteers, managing supplies, and helping the attendees. Natsuo, Fuyumi and Shouto each found time to stop by, even if only briefly, to congratulate her on the event’s success. She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled so much. 

It was near the end of the day when it happened. The multipurpose hall where they’d hosted the event had already been cleaned up by other volunteers, so the final task of the afternoon was to take down event posters and signs and put them into storage for safekeeping until the clinic would open again the following month. Rei was carefully peeling the last poster from the wall when she heard Akihito’s voice behind her. 

“Rei, will you have dinner with me?” 

“Sure,” Rei replied, back still turned to him. “Should we go to the usual place?”

“No, I—” Akihito cut himself off with a sigh. “I didn’t make myself clear. I’d like to take you on a date.” Rei froze. She could hear him take a step closer before he continued speaking. “I have feelings for you. Quite strong feelings. I didn’t plan to do this today, but it’s gotten to the point where withholding this from you feels like telling a lie. You are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known, and this past year spent getting to know you has been the happiest of my life. I think that I could make you happy, too.” 

Rei couldn’t move from where she stood. Her throat was tight and her heart had stopped in her chest. She heard Akihito call out her name behind her, but she couldn’t turn. She didn’t have to look, she knew what she’d see: a small smudge on the frame of his glasses, a smattering of gray hair at his temples, concern written on the small frown that was surely growing. With difficulty, she found her voice. “I need to sit down, please.” 

The chairs had already been put away, so Akihito wordlessly led her out of the room, hand gentle on the back of her arm, and brought her through the back door to the outdoor terrace. She took a seat on one of the benches and stared at her trembling hands silently. Thoughts of the past year ran through her mind. Thoughts of how she felt like she’d finally built a life that was fully hers. Thoughts of how she wasn’t ready to let that change. 

“I’m sorry,” Rei whispered, still unable to lift her gaze from her lap. 

Akihito sighed and took a seat next to her. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “I can see that I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. I can finish up everything here myself so that you can go home; does that sound okay?” 

Rei didn’t know what she wanted, but she found herself nodding anyway. She faintly heard Akihito asking her to stay for a minute longer so that he could grab something. Either a few seconds or a few minutes passed, and then Akihito was sliding a book into her lap. 

“I have a friend who sells antique and rare books, and I asked him to keep an eye out for this. I bought it from him a few months ago, and I’ve kept it in my office ever since. I’d planned to give it to you when I took you on a date.” Akihito paused, giving Rei a chance to reply. When no response came, he continued. “Rei, please know that you mean too much to me for me to be angry at you over a rejection. Becoming your friend has been a great privilege, and I’d like to stay your friend if you’ll let me.” 

Rei glanced to her side, where Akihito was sitting. She kept her gaze low, unwilling to see the expression he was wearing. Instead, her eyes found a small piece of tape stuck to his sweater on the back of his elbow, where he wouldn’t be able to see it. She reached out and gently pulled the tape off his sweater, taking a few pieces of the soft blue fiber with it. 

She doesn’t remember much of her trip back home; mostly she just recalls staring at the book on her lap as the train swayed around her. It was a copy of I Am a Cat — the same edition that she’d lost, the one that she’d had when she was a girl. When she got home, she placed it carefully on her shelf and then sat down. 

She was holding the piece of tape, the frayed pieces of blue somehow still stuck to it. 

That’s when the tears finally came.

···

His mother is right; Shouto remembers very little of the first Children's Book Surgery Clinic. The few memories he has of that day are almost entirely monopolized by Izuku: the feeling of his hand in Shouto’s, the scent of the cologne that he had accidentally over-applied, and the way his hair had looked after his botched attempt to style his curls. He remembers calling his mother the day after the date, as he promised he would, to tell her how it went. 

It seems he’d been too caught up in his own happiness to pay attention to anything else around him. 

It’s been almost a minute since Rei stopped speaking, and she’s staring distractedly at the bookshelf. Shouto follows her gaze, and tries to figure out what exactly she’s looking at, but it’s difficult to tell. He turns back to his mother to read the expression on her face, which is much easier to decipher: it’s one of regret. 

“I’m sorry,” Shouto says. 

Rei snaps her head up and gives him a confused look. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize that there was something going on,” he says while staring at his hands. “I was so focused on things with Izuku, I can’t even remember if we talked about anything else.”

“Oh, Shouto,” Rei shakes her head and sighs. “You have nothing to apologize for. You can’t expect yourself to be some kind of mind reader. You didn’t know what was going on because I chose not to tell you. And the main reason I did that was because I didn’t want to spoil your memories of that weekend.”

Shouto hums in response, unconvinced. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Rei says. “Even though I didn’t tell you or your siblings about what had happened, I still had all of you there to support me. Akihito was there for me too; he and I talked about it the next time we saw each other. He never held the rejection against me, and he was so kind and so understanding. And I had my therapist, of course. We spent a lot of time talking about why his invitation triggered so much panic, and she helped me deal with those feelings.” 

“I should have been paying more attention,” Shouto insists. “If I had known about what was going on I wouldn’t have kept bringing up my dates with Izuku.” 

“Shouto,” Rei says firmly, “you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” 

Shouto stills, caught off guard by hearing his own words turned back on him. He notices how tense he is and how hard he's gripping his knees. He doesn’t remember when he started doing that. He slowly releases his hands and flexes his fingers, taking a second to collect himself before speaking again. 

“Thank you.” 

His mother smiles at him, and he smiles back.

“Despite what you think, I’m actually really glad that you told me so much about your relationship with Izuku,” Rei says. “That’s actually part of the reason I decided to tell you about the incident with Akihito.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“If it hadn’t been for my conversations with you, I don’t know that I would have gotten to the place where I could say yes to Akihito,” Rei explains. “I think I might have, eventually, but I know it would have taken me much longer.” 

Shouto is still confused, and tries to recall what he might have told his mother about his relationship with Izuku that would have influenced her decision. Izuku is a common topic of discussion, and has been ever since he entered Shouto’s life — it’s almost impossible for Shouto to talk about his life and not bring up Izuku. 

Still, there are many things that Shouto doesn’t tell his mother about their relationship. He doesn’t tell her about their fights until they’ve made up because he doesn’t want to misrepresent Izuku by speaking in anger. He doesn’t tell her about the countless times they’ve bandaged each other up or been awoken by the other’s nightmares because she has reason enough to worry about them every day as it is. He doesn’t tell her about the near-perpetual loop of giggles they fall into when they’ve had too much to drink, or just how much the two of them rely on take out and delivery, or about how they don’t actually love the shirts she bought them last year for Christmas as much as they had pretended to when they’d opened them. 

And then there are the things that Shouto doesn’t tell anyone about, the knowledge that exists only between him and Izuku. Like how a single look from Izuku across the room at a party can make the blood course louder in his veins. Or the way that Shouto can feel Izuku’s pulse jump when he brings his lips to his neck in the doorway of their apartment while Izuku fumbles with the keys, and the breathy laugh Izuku makes when Shouto gets his shirt stuck over his head in the hallway to their bedroom. Or how it feels to have his fingers tangled in Izuku’s curly hair as he’s being pressed downwards into the mattress, or the sound of Shouto’s name on Izuku’s lips when all other words are lost to pleasure. 

Shouto wracks his memories, but is unable to figure out what Rei is referring to. “I still don’t think I understand.” 

“How do I explain…” Rei murmurs, tapping her fingers idly on the desk. “Well let’s start with when Izuku asked you out.”

“Ah,” Shouto nods. He has a better picture of where she’s going with this now. 

Everything had come to a head in March of their third year of UA. Graduation was only a few weeks away and Shouto had been aware that he was in love with Izuku for over a year. Still, despite this realization and despite Momo’s urging that Shouto act on his feelings, not much had changed in that time. At some point along the way, while getting distracted by cat videos when they had meant to be working on homework, Izuku had told Shouto that he could use his given name and Shouto had responded in kind. He was still getting used to calling him Izuku instead of Midoriya when he was introduced to Inko for the first time, but he was more acclimated by the time that he introduced Izuku to Rei. 

Shouto was aware of the pull to be by Izuku’s side, and how this pull only ever seemed to grow stronger over time, but he was careful not to ask too much of his friend’s time. He tried to contain this thing that was growing inside him, tried to soften the inevitable blow that would come when he had to watch Izuku fall for someone else. Despite these efforts, he and Izuku spent more and more time together; it seemed that for every falter on Shouto’s end, Izuku was always willing to bridge the distance. 

The day that it happened, Izuku had asked Shouto to spar after class. Shouto wasn’t surprised by the invitation: Izuku loved to spar with all his classmates, but he chose Shouto as his partner more often than not. At least once a week they would meet in one of the gyms after class so that they could test new moves on or practice hand-to-hand combat with each other until their muscles screamed in exhaustion. 

That exhaustion caught up to Shouto much faster than it did to Izuku. One second he was on his feet and the next he was on his back with the air knocked out of his lungs. That moment of disorientation was all the time that Izuku needed: he trapped Shouto’s left thigh under his knee, secured his left wrist to the floor in an iron grip, and threw himself across Shouto’s torso, using his weight to pin his shoulders and other arm to the mat. Shouto tried in vain to create some leverage with his free leg, but he knew he was beat. 

“I yield,” Shouto said, already feeling the fight leaving his body. 

Izuku released Shouto’s wrist and adjusted his weight so that he could sit up without crushing Shouto’s legs. “Best three out of five?” he asked, smiling down at Shouto. 

Shouto groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back on the mat. “No more,” he said, brushing the sweaty hair from his face with his cool hand. “Let’s just call it a draw.” 

When he opened his eyes again, Shouto was surprised to find Izuku still hovering over him, face flushed and closer than he had been before. That flush deepened when their eyes met, and then, before Shouto’s brain had time to catch up and form a coherent thought, Izuku was pulling away.

Izuku sat next to Shouto on the mat, knees pulled up to his chest and face hidden from view. Shouto watched him from where he lay, unsure what to make of the sudden shift in the atmosphere. He counted the seconds as they passed, waiting for Izuku to say something, but all he could hear was faint muttering. 

Shouto pushed himself up on his elbows. “I’m going to grab my water, do you want yours?” No response. He sighed and sat up fully, preparing to clamber to his feet, but stopping short when he could finally hear what Izuku was saying. 

“…got to keep it together. You have to do this the right way. You can’t just kiss him out of nowhere, you have to tell Shouto how you feel properly and ask him out. Let him know that you’ll still be his friend if he says no, and tell him…”

Shouto’s mouth was dry, and he realized after a delay that that was because his mouth had fallen open in shock. He closed his jaw and tried to compose himself, but he would have had an easier time holding water in his hands: ice and fire were itching under his skin, his heart was stuttering, and most disconcertingly, a sickening pit was forming in his gut. 

Why was this happening? Shouldn’t he be pleased? Hadn’t he spent countless nights wondering how wonderful it might be to have his feelings reciprocated? He’d thought that maybe such a revelation would have made him euphoric; he hadn’t ever expected that it might make him feel so distressed. 

Shouto realized that there was an important element he’d missed in all his idle daydreams about being with Izuku. The reality that he was now forced to confront was that, for better or worse, there would be no turning back once they took this step together. He might learn what it’s like to have Izuku only to eventually know what it’s like to lose him. Possibly forever. 

Yes, Shouto definitely knows now why his mother is bringing this up. 

“Do you mean the part where it almost didn’t happen?” he says, meeting his mother’s eyes. “The part where I considered pretending that I didn’t hear him and letting things stay as they were?” 

Rei nods. “Do you remember how you felt at the time?”

“Scared,” he says. “Like I had too much to lose.” 

“And what changed your mind?” Rei presses. 

“Izuku did.” 

The sound of Izuku’s voice is what pulled Shouto back from the precipice, as it had done countless times before. Izuku had been muttering to himself this whole time, seemingly unaware that he was speaking aloud. Shouto couldn’t focus on the words at first, but he let Izuku’s voice ground him until his thoughts were no longer reeling. 

His gaze eventually fell to Izuku’s hand, which was running nervously through his hair. To the scars along his fingers, like flashes of lightning against his skin. To the sweatband on his wrist that Shouto had given him for his birthday. The design was based on All Might’s Silver Age costume, but the bright primary colors had faded over time to softer tones, almost pastel, after constant wear. 

“Izuku?” Shouto said, and Izuku jolted. Shouto smiled and waited for Izuku to turn and face him before he spoke again. “I’d love to go out with you.” 

Izuku choked on his spit. 

Shouto quickly stood and jogged to grab his water. He took a seat again, directly in front of Izuku this time, and passed him the bottle. He watched while Izuku took a drink, wiped his mouth on his sweatband, and then finally looked back up at him, eyes wide. 

“You heard all that?”

“Part of it, yes.” 

“And you want to? Go out with me?” 

“Yes,” Shouto said, and then after a moment of consideration. “I’d like to kiss you, too.”

Izuku nodded dazedly at him, his gaze dropping to Shouto’s lips and lingering.

Shouto leaned in tentatively — only an inch or so — and then Izuku leaned in as well. Izuku’s cheeks were crimson, a sunset vibrant enough to almost hide his freckles. Another inch, and Shouto hand was on Izuku’s knee. An inch further, and Izuku’s hands were gripping at the fabric of Shouto’s shirt. Closer still, and Shouto could feel Izuku’s shallow exhale on his lips. All it would take is one final tip of head forward and then he would…

“Wait,” Izuku said. 

Shouto jerked backwards, but Izuku’s hand, still gripping his shirt, didn’t allow him to get very far. Shouto looked at him in confusion. 

“I don’t understa—”

“I want this,” Izuku interrupted him, eyes imploring. “So much. So, so much. God, you have no idea.” His hands loosened on Shouto’s shirt and slid down to his arms, pausing to squeeze them gently, and then he took Shouto’s hands in his. Shouto felt the tension dissipate from his body as quickly as it had come, and he laced his fingers between Izuku’s. “I just really want to do this the right way and-”

“So I’ve heard,” Shouto said, smiling at their intertwined hands. 

“I can’t believe you’re teasing me right now,” Izuku laughed wetly, and Shouto looked up to see his damp eyes and wobbly smile.

“Sorry,” Shouto lied, and Izuku squeezed his hands again.

“I want to take you on a date first,” Izuku said, rubbing his thumb against the back of Shouto’s hand. 

Shouto nodded, throat tight. And then, after a second of consideration, “I’m free now.” 

Izuku laughed again, harder this time. His hands broke away from Shouto’s so that he could wipe at his eyes, shoulders shaking in mirth. 

Shouto hadn’t meant his statement as a joke, but that was okay. 

“How about this Saturday?” Izuku said when he’d finally caught his breath. “That will give me enough time to plan something.”  

“I was going to go stop by Mom’s thing at the library that morning, but after that I’m free.” 

“Okay then,” Izuku leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Shouto’s jaw. “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” Shouto agreed, absentmindedly pressing his fingers to the spot.

A sense of disbelief followed Shouto home that afternoon, more a feeling of unreality than that of skepticism. It was difficult for him to shake, in part due to the fact that he didn’t understand what exactly it was that he was feeling. The closest comparison that came to mind was the discordant sensation at the conclusion of a battle when everything is quiet but he can still feel adrenaline coursing through his limbs; when his body is tense, preparing to react to a threat that he knows has already passed. 

It’s only with time that this kind of feeling usually resolves, so time is what Shouto gave himself. He allowed himself time to adjust, time to assure himself that the ground was solid beneath his feet and that he could believe what his senses were telling him. There were things that helped make this process go by smoother: the congratulations from his classmates when they found out, and the teasing remarks that followed shortly after. The series of text messages between him and Izuku in which their date was planned, which Shouto would reread at night in bed. The warmth of Izuku’s hand finding his over and over. 

“I was scared until I remembered that it was Izuku,” Shouto explains. “I wasn’t just saying yes to a date, but to a date with Izuku. I didn’t really know what to expect from a relationship, but I also hadn’t known what it would mean to have friends until he made me want to try.” He pauses to look over at his mother, and she smiles at him. “I’d never regretted putting my trust in Izuku, so I just had to be willing to trust him again.” 

“And you didn’t ever regret taking the chance, did you,” Rei says, more statement than question. 

“Never,” Shouto confirms. 

Shouto remembers leaving the library to start their date, and Izuku asking if he thought Rei approved of him. Shouto had snorted at the absurdity of the idea of her doing anything but, and had assured Izuku that he had nothing to worry about. He remembers sitting on the bus on the way to the amusement park, Izuku’s leg pressed tight against his in their seats as he discussed the different rides he wanted to take Shouto on. Later in the day, Izuku teased Shouto for saying that his favorite ride was the slow-paced gondola with cloud-shaped cars, but it had a short line and it was quiet enough that they could talk to each other, so they ended up riding it three times. 

Shouto remembers Izuku pulling him indoors to the mirror maze so that they could escape the afternoon sun. He remembers scattered light, bright colors, and laughter as they seemed to get more and more turned around. He remembers brushing Izuku’s hair behind his ear, asking if he had to wait until the end of the date to kiss him or if he could do it now. He remembers Izuku responding with a hand on the back of Shouto's neck, pulling him down until there was no distance left between them. He remembers how he had tasted like strawberries.

He remembers his drawer of clothes at Izuku’s apartment after graduation, and the drawer of Izuku’s clothes at his own apartment on the other side of the city. He remembers instant noodles, long hours, small paychecks, and days where the most they had of each other was a handful of texts and missed calls. He remembers feet up on the coffee table, a blanket on their lap, and saying yes when Izuku suggested moving in together when their leases were up. 

He remembers unpacking boxes, organizing cabinets, and building furniture together. He remembers going to the shelter and bringing home a ginger tabby that they named Texas Smash. He remembers waking up this morning, Izuku asleep at his side and Tex purring at their feet, and knowing that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

···

Shouto is wearing that smile again, his Izuku Smile. There’s no mistaking it: eyes soft, lips slightly turned up, expression relaxed. Content. Rei loves seeing her son like this, and she decides not to tease him about it this time. 

“In hindsight, it’s obvious that it wasn’t really a risk at all,” Shouto says. “Sometimes I feel foolish for wasting so much time.” 

“You were taking a risk,” Rei corrects. 

Shouto’s expression is one of dismay. “No, wait.” He speaks quickly, tripping over his words. “That’s not what I— I didn’t mean that—”

“It’s okay,” Rei says, leaning forward to squeeze his arm gently. “I know you weren’t talking about me.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Rei says. “You were right, in a sense; you weren’t diving into the unknown. You were entering a relationship with someone you already trusted and relied on, someone you’d built a strong friendship with. But you were still taking a risk, that’s why it felt so scary.”

Rei reclines back in her seat while she collects her thoughts. She thinks of the many conversations she’s had about this topic with her therapist, and tries to remember how she had put it. 

“It’s difficult for many people to feel safe when opening up to someone, but it’s especially difficult for people who’ve been in situations like ours. People who’ve been hurt by someone who they should’ve been able to trust,” Rei says. “Putting your trust in someone can feel like handing over control, and it’s not easy to do that if you’ve had to fight for your independence.” 

Shouto nods thoughtfully. “Is that why you turned Akihito down?”

“It was part of the reason, but just part,” Rei says. “It was like how it was with you and Izuku. I already knew that Akihito was someone I could rely on; he’d proved that to me countless times. So it wasn’t really a question of whether or not I could trust him.” 

“What was it then?” 

“Well, that was exactly my problem: I didn’t know. That’s why I was curious about why you didn’t ask Izuku out once you knew how you felt,” Rei explains. “Do you remember what your reasons were at the time?” 

“I didn’t think he felt the same way,” Shouto says. “I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or do anything that would ruin our friendship.” 

“But do you really think that Izuku would let your friendship end over something like that?” 

Shouto shakes his head.

“So you knew that you could trust him, and you knew that you didn’t have anything to lose, but you still weren’t ready to take that risk yet?” Rei asks. Shouto nods, and she continues speaking. “It was the same for me. I even had the benefit of watching your relationship with Izuku develop — getting to see what it looked like  to overcome those fears and build something beautiful — but it wasn’t enough. I was frozen in place. It took me a while to figure out what it was that was holding me back.” 

“What made you figure it out?”

“You did,” Rei says.

Shouto stares at her owlishly and blinks. “How?” he finally asks.

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” Rei says. “I didn’t let on at the time how big of an impact your words had on me.” 

She pauses and looks over to her son; his look of mild bewilderment has been replaced with something more thoughtful, and he nods to show he is listening. 

“It was the day that you and Izuku moved into your first apartment together,” Rei continues. “You and your friends had just finished moving in the last boxes, and everyone had left for the day. I think Izuku was out picking up takeout, and you had me on speakerphone while you were unpacking the kitchen. You were telling me about everything that had gone wrong.” 

“The movers,” Shouto utters, rolling his eyes. 

“Yep, the mix up with the movers,” Rei laughs. “Also something about that cable guy who never showed up for the installation. And how the elevator wasn’t working and that one box split after you had carried it up six flights of stairs, and all of your bowls broke?” 

“I liked those bowls,” Shouto frowns. 

“I know, I think you spent at least five minutes on just the bowls,” Rei teases, and then she looks out the window to admire the setting sun. “I could tell on the phone how overwhelmed and tired you were, but then, when I asked you how you were feeling, do you remember what you said?” 

She turns back to Shouto and he shakes his head. 

“You said, ‘Mom, I didn’t think I could be this happy,’” Rei says, voice wavering. “We got off the phone shortly after that, and I started to cry.” Even now, Rei can feel the tears beginning to collect in her eyes. She wipes them away, and when she returns her hand to the armrest, she finds her son’s hand waiting for her. She squeezes it as she struggles to find her voice. “Mostly, I was so happy for you, but I also felt this overwhelming shame. What kind of mother could ever let her son believe that he deserved anything less than happiness? How could I have failed so you badly?” 

“Don’t say that,” Shouto interjects, his voice resolute. He leans further forward in his seat so that he can look directly at her. He squeezes her hand again, and speaks in a quieter voice. “Mom, please don’t say that. It’s not true.” 

Rei nods and she breathes in shakily. “I promise, I’m trying not to be as hard on myself now. I’m still working on it.” She squeezes her son’s hand again, and then breaks their hold so that she can again wipe the tears  from her eyes. Feeling more composed, she continues, “There’s more to it, though. I was so proud of you: you hadn’t just found happiness, you had created it. When you can’t see a future for yourself, it can be hard to recognize an opportunity when it comes because all you can see is the risk. But you’ve always been so fearless, Shouto, and any time that you were given a chance to move forward, you took it. 

“I couldn’t say the same for myself. I thought about the first time that you came to visit me in the hospital. For years, I’d assumed that you’d never want to see me again after what I’d done, and I thought that I had made my peace with that. But really, I think I was just trying to convince myself that I didn’t want something that I thought I’d never have.” Rei finds it difficult to speak now, her voice thick and caught in her throat. She feels tears coming again, and looks toward the ceiling, trying to blink them back. “I never thought I’d leave that hospital. I never thought I’d get to speak to Touya again, and I never thought you’d walk through that door. But then you did. And—” She can no longer hold back, and a sob racks through her body. “And sometimes I think about all the years that we could have had if I hadn’t given up hope, and if I’d been willing to take the risk and reach out to you.”

Rei’s only aware of how much she’s shaking when she feels her son’s arms wrap around her, and she returns his embrace with all of her strength. Underneath her arms, she can feel the rise and fall of each breath he takes, and can feel each beat of his heart. She matches her own uneven inhales and exhales to his until she feels her breath even and slow. Eventually, once the tension has left her body, she pulls back. Shouto, eyes red, hands her another tissue, which she accepts with thanks, and she wipes her eyes before speaking. 

“That phone call with you made me realize that I was doing the same thing again,” Rei explains. “I was letting a chance at happiness pass me by because I couldn’t see it for what it was. I didn’t believe it was okay to want more, that I could have more. You were the one that showed me I was wrong.” 

“You’re allowed to want things for yourself,” Shouto says quietly. He’s looking off the bookshelf, but his mind seems far away. 

“It’s good advice, isn’t it?” 

“Huh,” Shouto says, seemingly pulled back to the present. Rei repeats her question, and Shouto runs hands through his hair while he thinks. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Rei smiles at her son. “You know, there’s a reason why I brought this up.” 

Shouto’s hand falls from his hair. “There is?”

“Yes,” Rei says. “Shouto, I think there might be something that you want that you’re assuming you can’t have. Do you think there is any truth to that?” 

Shouto stares at her. He opens his mouth, but then closes it again a second later. He stares down at his hands, turning them over in his lap. He looks back up at Rei, tries to speak again, but frowns when he doesn’t.

“You don’t have to answer that right now,” Rei assures. “Just something to think about.” 

Shouto nods. 

There’s a knock on the door, and then it opens and Akihito pokes his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know it’s getting late.” 

Rei watches as Shouto checks the time on his phone and gets to his feet. “I should leave now,” he says apologetically. 

“We’ll walk you out,” Rei says, getting to her feet.  She glances at her son as they make their way downstairs and notes that he seems lost in thought. All too soon, he’s standing at the doorway, shoes on and ready to go. 

“Here,” Akihito says, handing Shouto a small, plastic container.  “I saved a piece of cake for Izuku.”

“Thank you, he’ll appreciate that,” Shouto says, accepting the container and then a hug from Akihito. 

Once they separate, Rei pulls her son into her arms. “Promise me that you’ll think about what I said?” She feels him nod, and gives him an extra squeeze before pulling back to meet his eyes.  “I love you, Shouto.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Akihito joins Rei’s side, and the two watch as Shouto walks down their road back toward the train station. Akihito weaves his arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple. 

“How was your talk?”  he asks. 

“It went well.” 

“Do you think he’s going to do it?” 

Rei takes a moment to consider, and thinks back to the day that she’d first begun to wonder the same thing. 

Shouto had accompanied her to a jewelry store to pick out Akihito’s wedding band. She remembers turning towards her son as the sales assistant was finalizing her purchase and finding that his gaze was on the display case of rings. She could see the melancholy written into the pinched set of his mouth and the angle of his brows. She continued to watch him until the sales assistant passed her card back. When she turned again to her son, he was by her side and that expression was gone. 

She regretted not saying something in that moment, but she hadn’t known how to even begin. But this might have been for the best, since words are rarely enough to move someone alone; she thinks that the time that has transpired since then, especially the year since the wedding, might have made a more convincing argument than any she could have made at the time.

If she knew her son less well, she might still have some doubts, but she speaks with certainty when she smiles at her husband and answers his question. 

“I do.”

···

The streets are quieter now, the neighborhood kids and dogs safe at home by this hour. The sun is still out, but barely, leaving streaks of pink in the sky and long shadows on the sidewalk. Before Shouto rounds the corner to head toward the train station, he stops to take a final look backwards at his mother’s house. 

She and Akihito are both still on the front stoop, and at that moment they’re not looking at him but at each other. Akihito has his arm wrapped around Rei while he speaks to her, and she is looking up at him with a smile. This smile is peaceful, confident, and lovely — it’s one that’s become increasingly familiar to Shouto in the past few years. 

Something Rei said earlier in the afternoon echoes in Shouto’s head, and it occurs to him why this smile has become so familiar: it was her Akihito Smile.

Just then, the both of them look up and wave at him, and the image of the two of them together brings forth a memory of their wedding. It had been a small celebration, the ceremony and reception both held in the event space of Akihito’s library with just a few friends and family in attendance. Shouto thinks of his mother and Akihito standing side by side, his arm again around her waist, both of them smiling and raising their glasses after Shouto’s toast. He can’t remember what he said, but it seemed he’d done a decent job; his speech had brought Izuku to tears, as it had done each time he’d helped Shouto practice it. 

But, then again, Izuku always cries at weddings. He’d done so at Rei and Akihito’s, at Toshinori and Inko’s, and at Mirio and Tamaki’s. He’d done so when Bakugo had told them that he had bought a ring for Kirishima, and then when they got the phone call that Kirishima had beaten him to the proposal, and then again when the four of them went out for drinks to celebrate. Shouto suspects Izuku will bawl whenever Bakugo gets around to asking him to be his best man.

Izuku loves weddings; it’s a simple and pure joy in witnessing the happiness of the people he loves. He’s aware of the complicated associations that Shouto has with marriage, and had assured Shouto that he didn’t need to get married to know that Shouto was his future, and that he was Shouto’s. 

They did not need to get married, but Shouto suspected that it was what Izuku wanted. And as for himself…

Shouto waves a final goodbye to Rei and Akihito and then he turns the corner, mind full of Izuku, toasts, rings, and wanting. He walks with a brisk pace, and then breaks into a jog after checking the time on his phone. He arrives at the flower shop right as the florist is locking up, but she stops as she sees him approach. 

“Am I too late?” Shouto asks as he comes to a stop in front of her. The florist gives him her apologies, and he sighs in defeat. “I understand. Thank you anyway.” 

He makes it halfway down the block before he hears the florist speak again. 

“You know, my grandson told me an interesting story today,” she says, and Shouto turns to look at her. “He told me about how a nice stranger helped him and his friends catch their dog when it ran away this afternoon. He said that he felt bad, because the stranger’s pretty yellow and pink flowers got trampled in all the chaos.”

It takes a few seconds for the woman’s words to make sense to Shouto, but then it clicks. He tries to think of a reply, but the florist just smiles and gestures at him to follow her as she unlocks the shop again. He leaves the shop ten minutes later, a fresh bouquet of flowers in hand and a large tip left on the counter. 

The trip home is a quick one by all objective measurements, but to Shouto it feels achingly slow. He stands in the train instead of sitting, shifting weight restlessly from leg to leg. He balances his flowers and the box of cake in the same hand so that he can pull out his phone to check the time, then pockets it, only to pull it out again and be dismayed that not even a minute has passed. His journey passes like this, with brief disruptions to change lines and to respond when Izuku texts that he’s arrived home. 

The street lights are on by the time that Shouto gets to his block, although there is still some light in the sky. Shouto briefly pauses to nod his thanks to the doorman who lets him into the apartment building, then he makes his way across the lobby and presses the elevator call button. He frowns when he sees that the elevator is ten floors away, and considers taking the stairs instead of waiting, but decides against it; he has yet to figure out what he wants to say, and being out of breath won’t make finding the words any easier. 

And then time seems to speed up, as if rebounding after being stretched to its elastic limit. In what seems like a heartbeat later, Shouto finds himself unlocking the front door, no closer to a plan but moving forward anyway. 

He hears Izuku before he sees him. Izuku has a podcast playing from his phone in the kitchen — his new favorite, about the early evolution of mutation quirks — and he stands with his back turned to the hall, refilling his water bottle from the sink. His hair is damp still from his shower at the agency; he must have left without properly drying it in his rush to get home. He’s wearing track pants, a t-shirt, and his fuzzy All Might socks, and he’s leaning against the counter as he stands. He looks tired. 

Then, Shouto must have made some sort of sound, because Izuku turns around and visibly brightens. 

“Hey, Sho!” He says with a smile. He turns off the tap behind him and pauses the podcast, then spins back to face Shouto. “How was the party? Did Natsuo-kun finally bring his girlfriend? Did you tell everyone that I sa—”

Izuku is cut off as Shouto, who had crossed the room and deposited the flowers and cake on the counter while he was speaking, cups his face and pulls him into a kiss. Izuku makes a small sound of surprise, and then a hum as he allows Shouto to deepen the kiss. 

Shouto loses himself in the slide of Izuku’s lips, and in the softness of his cheeks contrasted with the hard line of his jaw as he angles him into a closer fit. Izuku is still holding the half-filled water bottle in one hand, trapped between their bodies, but his other hand grasps at the collar of Shouto’s shirt as he returns his kiss. When Shouto finally pulls back, he can feel Izuku’s shaky breath against his lips followed by a puff of laughter, bringing back memories of their first kiss all those years ago. 

“What was that for?” Izuku asks with a smile. 

Shouto looks down at Izuku, who has loosened his grip on his shirt and is now smoothing out the wrinkles with his hand. When Izuku meets his eyes, Shouto finally speaks. 

“Marry me.”  

It takes a few seconds for his words to land, judging by the way that Izuku just blinks at him and tilts his head. And then, when the words finally register, Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up and he drops the water bottle. 

Izuku scrambles to catch the bottle, but it’s already hit the ground and spilled water over the floor. He picks up the bottle and places it back on the sink, then grabs a towel to clean up the mess. Shouto grabs a towel as well and crouches down to help him. As the seconds pass, the silence between them grows weightier. 

When they finish, Izuku wrings his towel in his hands, still kneeling on the floor. 

“Shouto, why are—” Izuku cuts himself off, frowns, and starts again. “I thought you didn’t want to get married. You’re not just… You’re not just doing this because you think it’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Or because you think it will make me happy? Because you don’t need to do that; you already make me so, so happy.” Izuku stares at him imploringly, his eyes flitting across Shouto’s face and his hands still tangled in the damp towel. 

Shouto sighs, tosses his own towel onto his shoulder, and stands. He can feel Izuku’s eyes on him as he walks to the countertop, retrieves the bouquet of flowers, and then rejoins him on the floor. Shouto reaches forward to unwind Izuku’s towel from his crooked fingers, then places the red blooms into his empty hands. The florist had patiently listened to Shouto describe what he wanted, and then gave a few suggestions and explained each of their meanings. Shouto, unable to choose, had asked for them all. 

“The carnations are for admiration,” Shouto says, pointing them out. “The asters are for devotion, the begonias for gratitude, and the chrysanthemums for passion.” He looks up and waits for Izuku’s eyes to meet his before continuing. “I know what I said before, but the truth is that I was too scared to admit to myself what I really wanted. 

“Listen, Izuku, if you don’t want to get married, that’s fine with me. As long as I still get to spend my life with you, I’ll be happy. More than happy. But I want to marry you. I want to celebrate anniversaries with you, and I want to call you my husband.” Shouto pauses to take Izuku’s free hand into his. “So, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Izuku rasps out, choking back his tears. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” 

And then he is flinging his arms around Shouto’s neck, surging forward to kiss him. The force of Izuku’s kiss knocks Shouto off balance and he falls backwards, bringing Izuku down with him and landing on the flowers still in his hands. But it’s hard to pay any mind to the flowers crushed beneath him when above him is Izuku, pressing him into the floor with the urgency of his kisses. 

It would be easy — so, so easy — to allow himself to get caught up in the familiar weight of his fiancé above him: in the gentle insistence of his touch, the heat of his mouth, the sounds that he makes as their hips meet… but there’s one final thing he still needs to do.

Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss and pushes lightly against Izuku, who gives way at his touch. He can see the question forming on Izuku’s face as he sits up again, but he speaks before Izuku can ask.

“Give me a minute,” Shouto says, and Izuku heaves an exasperated sigh and rolls off his lap.

“You’re killing me, Sho,” he mutters, face hidden by his hands. A flush creeps up his neck, and his hair is mussed from where Shouto’s hands had just been raking through it. It’s a distracting sight. 

Resisting temptation, Shouto picks himself up from the floor and starts rooting through the kitchen drawers, looking for something suitable for the task at hand. Izuku, curiosity apparently piqued by the clatter, peeks from behind his fingers and then sits up. 

“What are you doing?”

Shouto doesn’t answer, too focused on his search. He pulls a fork from their cutlery drawer and inspects it; the base is too thick, but the prongs might be thin enough for this to work. Satisfied, he snaps the fork at the neck, making Izuku startle.  

Shouto tosses the fork’s handle to the side, then heats the remaining metal in his left hand until it glows orange and hot in his palm. After carefully working the metal into the desired shape, he brings it to the sink and runs it under the tap. Steam billows as the water hits the hot metal, and in all the sound he almost misses Izuku picking himself up from the floor and joining his hide. Once the metal is sufficiently cooled, Shouto turns off the water and uses his right hand to further lower its temperature. 

“Careful,” he says, finally offering it to Izuku. “It might still be hot.” 

Izuku accepts it, gingerly at first, and turns it over in his hands. “This is-” he starts, then looks up at Shouto. “This is a ring.”

Shouto nods. “I’m sorry I don’t have something nicer to give you. The jewelry stores were already closed when I left mom’s place.” He takes the ring back from Izuku, then slides it onto his finger. “I can get you a real ring tomorrow, but I hope this will be okay in the meantime.”

“Are you kidding?” Izuku whispers, eyes fixed on the ring. “I’m never taking this off.”

“Izuku, please, I tempered it too quickly, it’s probably brittle. Let me get you a better one.”

“No!” Izuku says forcefully. “I don’t want a new ring, I want this one!”

Shouto sighs, pulls his fiancé against his chest and wraps his arms around him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?”

“Maybe once or twice,” Izuku says, voice muffled. Shouto chuckles, and he can feel Izuku smile against his neck. Then, surprised by the feeling of warm fingers sliding under the back of his shirt, he pulls back to look down at Izuku, who’s wearing a playful smile. “If I remember, I think we were in the middle of something…” 

“Hmm, is that so?” Shouto asks, leaning in. 

And this time, when the hand on the back of his neck pulls him close, Shouto can feel the cool band of metal against his skin. 

···

As she listens to Inko give her toast, Rei anxiously twists her napkin around in her lap. She only stops her fidgeting when she feels her husband lay his hand over hers, the warmth of his touch and the gentle squeeze grounding her. 

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be great,” he whispers. 

She looks over at Akihito — wearing the same suit that they were married in, but this time with a light blue tie to match her dress — and smiles at him, turning her hand over so that she can lace their fingers together and squeeze back. 

They keep their hands joined under the table as Inko wraps up, and then break apart to applaud with the rest of the guests. Inko, who had barely been able to make it a sentence into her speech before she started crying, pulls her equally tearful son into a fierce hug. Once she lets go of Izuku, she pulls Shouto into her arms, and Rei’s heart fills with warmth at the gentleness with which he reciprocates. 

Inko’s fondness of Shouto was just one of the many things that had endeared her to Rei early into their friendship. They later bonded over the perpetual heartache that comes along with having your children in such a risky line of work, and they’d only grown closer as they helped their sons plan their wedding.

Toshinori guides Inko back to her seat next to Rei, and pulls out her chair for her.

“I’m such a mess!” Inko laughs, sitting down and wiping the last of her tears and smeared mascara from the corner of her eye. “I doubt anyone could even understand what I was saying.”

“Nonsense,” Rei says, smiling. “That was fantastic. You’re going to be a hard act to follow.” 

Inko laughs again, and then suddenly sits up straight. “Oh shoot, where did I…” she mutters as she looks around the table. 

“Here it is, dear,” Toshinori says and passes her the microphone.  

“Thank you, Toshi,” Inko says, then she passes it along to Rei. “Go on, I think they’re ready!”

Indeed, the chattering amongst the crowd had died down again, and now the room’s attention is turned toward them. Rei feels her hands begin to tremble as she looks at all the eyes focused on her. She feels a warm hand against her back, and turns towards Akihito. 

“Just like we practiced,” he says. “If you’re nervous, just look at me or Shouto.” 

Tightening her grip on the microphone, she nods, stands, and makes her way to the center of the reception hall. As she passes their table by, Fuyumi mouths “You’ve got this, Mom!” and Natsuo gives an encouraging smile and thumbs up. 

Rei wishes so badly that Touya could be here, sitting with them. Instead, she has a letter from him tucked into her evening bag to give to Shouto before the end of the night. 

Finally, she takes her place at the center of the dance floor and turns on the microphone. She takes one last look back at her husband, who meets her gaze and presses his hand over his heart. Then she looks to her son.

Shouto has Izuku’s left hand clasped in his right on the table, and she can just make out that he’s running his thumb absentmindedly back and forth over his husband’s ring. The thought of that ring, and of the story that accompanies it, is enough to dispel the last of Rei’s remaining jitters. 

She looks back up at her son’s face to find him smiling. And, of course, it’s that smile. And she finds herself smiling into the microphone when she begins her speech. 

“Everything I know about love, I learned from my children.”