The house stood as a tired sentinel at the end of the street, a plain two-story structure with peeling paint and a sagging porch. Faded curtains hung limp in the windows, and the patchy lawn led to a cracked driveway. It wasn't much, but it was home, a place of weary comfort.
Izuku fumbled with his key before pushing the door open. The moment he stepped inside, the air thickened with tension. His father stood in the dim hallway, arms crossed, his face a storm of disappointment and concern.
"Where have you been?" Hisashi demanded in Japanese, his voice low but sharp.
Izuku avoided his gaze, toeing off his shoes before answering. "Partying."
Hisashi's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie." In one swift motion, he tugged at Izuku's shirt, revealing the mottled bruises beneath. His breath hitched. "What happened?"
Izuku exhaled, shoulders slumping. "I got into a fight. They were trying to kill someone."
For a moment, Hisashi said nothing. Then, despite himself, the faintest smile tugged at his lips. 'Even without a Quirk, he still rushes headfirst into danger. Still tries to be a hero.'
"Have you gone to the hospital?" Hisashi asked, forcing his voice steady.
Izuku shook his head. "Not yet. Just… wanted to rest first."
Hisashi took a deep breath, weighing his next words. "Go sleep. We'll go to the hospital after you've rested."
"Thanks, Tou-san," Izuku murmured before trudging upstairs, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion.
Alone in the dim hallway, Hisashi clenched his fists. 'If only I could give him my Quirk. If only he didn't have to keep getting hurt.'
Hours Later,
Izuku stirred awake, his body still heavy with exhaustion. He sat on the edge of his bed, fingers pressing into the mattress as the events of the fight replayed in his mind.
'I need more experience. That was too close. If I'm going to keep doing this, I have to be faster. Smarter.'
He dragged himself to the shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering ache in his muscles. Afterward, he dressed in clean clothes something presentable for the hospital visit with his father.
Downstairs, the living room was quiet except for the low hum of the TV. Hisashi had fallen asleep in his armchair, an American football game still playing on the screen. Izuku paused, watching the steady rise and fall of his father's chest before turning toward the kitchen.
The scent of cooked food greeted him. The counter was lined with dishes. Hisashi must have prepared it before dozing off. A small smile tugged at Izuku's lips as he piled his plate high. He needed the fuel every gram of protein, every calorie, if he wanted to grow stronger.
As he ate in silence, he caught movement in the corner of his eye. For a fleeting moment, his mother sat across from him, smiling as she used to when she watched him eat. His chest tightened. Then, just as quickly, the illusion faded, leaving only an empty chair. He exhaled slowly, pushing down the ache before finishing his meal.
After washing his plate, the creak of the armchair signaled Hisashi waking up. His father stretched, rubbing his eyes before spotting Izuku.
"I'll wait in the car," Hisashi said, voice rough with sleep.
Izuku gave a thumbs-up. A few minutes later, he slid into the passenger seat, buckling up as the engine purred to life.
"Did you win?" Hisashi asked as they pulled onto the road.
"Yeah."
A quiet pride flickered in Hisashi's expression.
"What's next for you?" Hisashi asked after a beat.
"Making support gear for heroes," Izuku said. "I've got the experience. The connections."
Hisashi's grip on the wheel tightened slightly. "Not planning to be a hero yourself?"
"I'd love to," Izuku admitted. "But it's not possible."
A stretch of silence. Then...
"If you could get a Quirk… would you?"
Izuku didn't hesitate. "No. The company's my focus now."
Hisashi nodded, though something unreadable passed over his face.
Another pause. Then, almost teasingly.
"Got a girlfriend?"
Izuku snorted. "I don't approach girls."
"None caught your eye?" Hisashi prodded.
"Sure, some are beautiful. But now's not the time."
Hisashi chuckled. "Sometimes, talking to you feels like talking to an old man."
Izuku smirked. "Maybe I am one."
The two shared a quiet laugh, the tension easing as the car rolled forward, carrying them toward whatever came next.
Twenty Minutes Later
The hospital's sterile lights buzzed overhead as Izuku sat on the examination table, his shirt folded beside him. The doctor, a middle-aged man with wire-frame glasses paused mid-motion, his professional composure slipping as he took in the mottled bruises painting Izuku's torso.
"Good grief," the doctor muttered, adjusting his glasses. "These are fresh. You're sure you don't want me to heal them with my Quirk?"
Izuku tilted his head. "How does it work?"
"It accelerates cell regeneration, so—"
"No." Izuku's voice was firm, cutting him off. "I'll pass."
The doctor blinked. Most patients jumped at the offer especially ones with injuries this severe. Yet this boy didn't even flinch.
"You're certain? These bruises must hurt."
Izuku just shrugged.
With a sigh, the doctor ordered an X-ray to check for fractures. When the results came back clean, his eyebrows shot up. "No broken ribs, no fractures. Just… deep tissue bruising." He shook his head. "You're either very lucky or very stubborn."
In the consultation room afterward, the Midoriyas sat across from the doctor, who steepled his fingers.
"Since your son declined accelerated healing, I recommend rest, ice, and time. The bruises will fade on their own."
Hisashi shot Izuku a sidelong glance. "You really don't want the Quirk treatment?"
Izuku met his gaze evenly. "No. Forced cell regeneration shortens lifespan. I'm not risking it."
A beat of silence. Then Hisashi huffed half exasperation, half amusement before bowing to the doctor. "Thank you for your time."
As they stepped into the hallway, Hisashi nudged Izuku's shoulder. "Since when did you become a medical expert?"
Izuku smirked. "Since I started paying attention."
After their earlier activities, the pair made their way to a nearby restaurant. Izuku, ravenous from the day's events, ordered an impressive amount of food. Hisashi raised an eyebrow as he watched his son devour meal after meal.
"Did your appetite get even bigger?" Hisashi asked, amused.
"Yeah," Izuku replied between bites, though his attention soon drifted. His sharp eyes scanned the room, landing on a man lingering near the counter, his posture tense, his gaze fixed on one of the waitresses.
'Is he stalking her?' Izuku's grip tightened around his chopsticks.
"Hmm." The low hum escaped him before he could stop it.
Hisashi noticed Izuku's distraction but said nothing. His son had always been observant too observant, sometimes. With a quiet sigh, Hisashi shook his head and let him be.
Minutes passed. Just as Izuku finished his last bite, the suspicious man slipped away toward the restroom. Seizing the opportunity, Izuku stood.
"Be right back," he muttered before heading in the same direction.
Inside, the man stood at the urinal, oblivious. Izuku moved to the sink, washing his hands slowly but his reflection in the mirror never wavered from his target.
The man finally noticed. "What're you staring at, kid?" he sneered.
Izuku didn't hesitate. "Are you stalking that girl?"
A smirk twisted the man's lips. "What if I am? Gonna do something about it?"
The taunt was barely out of his mouth before Izuku lunged. The man barely had time to react, Izuku's roundhouse kick connected with his temple, sending him crumpling to the floor in an unconscious heap.
Without another glance, Izuku stepped over him and exited. As he passed the waitress; the very one the man had been watching,he leaned in slightly, voice low.
"Someone was following you. Be careful, and go home early tonight."
Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to the table where Hisashi waited.
Hisashi took one look at him and sighed. "Alright. Let's go."
And with that, the Midoriyas left the restaurant behind.