Chapter Text
Izuku knew silence.
Silence could be different. Sometimes it was like a breath of cool air after a suffocating day. It had to be savored, each fleeting moment tasted to the fullest — because another scorching day could follow right after. The problem was, no matter how hard a person tried to master this phenomenon, the element remained unpredictable. Struggle all you want, you could never say with full certainty what a day would bring.
Silence was fleeting — because a single moment was enough to shatter it. Enough for that long-awaited breath to turn back into a searing gust, mercilessly drying you out from within, leaving nothing but a pitiful semblance of a silhouette.
That was exactly how Izuku felt, lying in the hospital room that night, listening to Rody's steady breathing. He didn't feel like a person. He didn't feel like something alive. And he certainly didn't feel like a hero — not even the tiniest, most pathetic part of him did.
It had happened again. For years, he'd done everything to keep the air breathable — so his children could enjoy it every day without worrying about how the wind might change in the next moment.
He had scoured the whole world, found the most useful quirks, struck the most reliable deals — and still, one of his sons had been snatched right from under his nose, and the other...
And all because he'd been too preoccupied with saving the remaining civilians.
All because he had entrusted the most precious thing he had to the one who should never have been responsible for it: that very precious thing.
Haruki shouldn't have to save anyone — Izuku should.
Haruki shouldn't get hurt — Izuku should.
Haruki shouldn't be under threat — Izuku, Izuku, Izuku should.
Not Haru.
...and never, never Eddie.
Izuku was the one who should.
He felt a weightless touch on the crown of his head — and only then realized he had covered his face with his hand.
Familiar, warm fingers playfully combed through a few strands of his hair, then began tracing soothing circles on his temples.
"Let's talk, mm?" Rody offered in a tone that promised nothing. Izuku shook his head, burrowing greedily into the hand caressing him — he wanted to dissolve into a state where nothing existed in the world but this wonderful hand.
Izuku suddenly grabbed it and pressed his lips to it — today, he could have lost this too.
He kissed the back of the hand, the wrist — turned it over and traced the knuckles with his lips, then let out an almost pained groan and pressed his cheek against it.
Because, contrary to popular belief, Japan's unspoken number one hero could also feel very, very hurt — and it happened much more often than anyone might think.
"I failed you," Izuku exhaled in defeat. "I failed all of you again."
Rody responded with a thoughtful "Hmm," which could have meant anything, but coming from Rody, it meant nothing but a gentle nudge to continue.
But there was nothing to add. Over their life together, Izuku had lost count of his apologies — because they seemed endless.
Once, long ago, Izuku had made a choice — a monstrously wrong choice, one that had almost cost him the happiness of his entire life. Back then, someone had knocked some sense into him — albeit belatedly.
He had begged for forgiveness and sworn he would never again choose between his family and heroism — and Rody, infinitely wonderful and merciful, had forgiven him.
Izuku couldn't have imagined back then that fifteen years later, he would find himself in a similar situation. He had been so sure of himself and his word — so sure he would never betray his family again.
Suddenly, he felt his own insignificance in its entirety — the guilt lay entirely on his shoulders, and he had the audacity to seek comfort from the person who had suffered because of him.
Izuku carefully lowered Rody's hand and sat up on the edge of the bed. Without the warmth of the body pressed against him, it immediately grew very cold — a special kind of cold that ordinary warmth couldn't chase away.
...Something stirred in his hair.
He reached up and disentangled Pino, placing her on his palm. Unlike Rody, she had never grown and looked exactly the same as during their first meeting — only now, she looked at him completely differently.
Her gaze was sad — but shone with a devotion he simply didn't deserve. She let out a soft chirp and snuggled closer into his palm, fluffing up her feathers.
"Seems she's not mad at you," Rody noted in the same soft tone, barely disturbing the night's idyll. Closing his eyes, Izuku could almost pretend that nothing from today had happened at all — that they were lying in their own bedroom at home, having lost sleep over some silly, trivial matter.
"She's too kind," the words came out strangled, roughly cutting through the air; Izuku flinched. "She has every right to be angry and shout and—"
"She knows you've already punished yourself more than anyone else ever could," the bed creaked, and then it was warm again — his favorite hands wrapped around him from behind, and a sharp chin settled on his shoulder.
Izuku truly didn't deserve this blessing in his life — but once, someone had told him that sometimes you need to be selfish and know how to hold onto something with all your might — even if you feel you don't deserve it.
Izuku turned his head and kissed the bandaged temple — then closed his eyes, because in the end, tears always found him, no matter how old he was.
If events had unfolded just slightly differently...
He could have returned home alone — a widower and childless.
The thought nearly drove him insane on the spot; he shuddered in the raw horror that washed over him, turned around, and hugged Rody, not registering that he might be hurting him, that Rody should be lying down because he'd gotten a concussion today due to his mistake—
"Shh," Rody stroked his back, and Izuku couldn't catch his breath.
Haru's birthday had been one of the happiest days of his life — as happy as Eddie's. How could anyone stay calm at the thought that their lives could have ended today?
He defeated villains every day — the weak, the strong, the exceptionally strong, the unnaturally strong. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how the hero profession thrived, for every new one of them, there were several others — those who, for some reason, had taken a wrong turn.
And they could all plunge into the abyss and rot alive — from the outside or the inside, he didn't care, they could all burn with the blue flame of that rot — as long as they didn't touch the one precious thing in his life.
Why had he received, mastered, and nurtured his quirk if he couldn't protect his own family? He might as well have stayed quirkless. The world would never have known the hero Deku. Ordinary Deku would have remained an unnoticed smudge on the pages of history — and he would have been fine with that.
Rody took his face in his hands and looked into his eyes — and through a blurred haze, Izuku saw that his gray eyes were shining, too.
"It's okay," Rody said; nothing was okay, everything was horribly not okay — it's just that at some point in their lives, this had managed to become almost routine.
Maybe that was the only reason Rody still tolerated it—
Rody kissed him. Izuku pulled back in confusion, but Rody grabbed his collar and kissed him again — he held him for so long until Izuku, with a shuddering exhale, gave in and slumped, and then he kissed him once more — softly, barely brushing his lips.
"Done with those thoughts?" he asked, and Izuku froze, lowering his eyes in shame.
Rody knew him too well not to guess where his mind would wander.
Izuku nodded, absently licking his lips.
A completely different thought, which had been simmering in his grief-numbed brain for half the night, clicked its teeth again, urging him to action — because over the past day, Izuku had been through twenty circles of hell, and because at some point he had realized that the treasure once entrusted to him by his mentor had long since lost its top spot in his priorities.
Actually, it hadn't happened today or yesterday — long, happy years had passed, giving Izuku true meaning and completely changing his perspective.
That's why the thought of parting with One For All couldn't stir a drop of regret in him — or perhaps just the tiniest bit, but only because the idea hadn't manifested its power sooner — before everything had happened.
Eddie was a wonderful kid — and also, despite what the scans and doctors said, he remained quirkless to this day. Yet his physical condition was incomparable to what Izuku's had been at his age — because, remembering his own past struggles, Izuku had taken care of that for both children from an early age. Of course, for this plan to work, Eddie would have to try very, very hard — over the years of wielding One For All, Izuku had pushed its potential to almost unreachable heights, but…
If once a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy, who had never heard a single word of encouragement, had gotten this chance and succeeded, why should things be different now?
"I want to discuss something with you," Izuku said, looking decisively at his husband.
***
"So say again, you mean you woke up, and he—"
Eddie rolled his eyes to the ceiling, sighing soundlessly.
It was long past midnight, but the light was still on in Natsu's bedroom — because she still couldn't process what she had missed today, and because there seemed to be no end to Eddie's interrogation in sight.
Haruki, that damn genius, had retreated to sleep in Kenji's bedroom — and unlike his sister, Kenji, though not much younger, had much more tact. He was probably even similar to Haru in some ways — at least when it came to their relationship with Uncle Kacchan.
Natsu was good too. It's just… when she worried about someone, it was an aggressive kind of worry that later morphed into even more aggressive care — like father, like daughter, what can you say.
When Natsu had finally satisfied her curiosity, cursed the villains responsible to hell and back, examined Eddie from all sides once more, and confirmed that his arms and legs were indeed still attached, she flopped down on the floor next to him, bumping his shoulder:
"Weakling," she declared authoritatively. "I would've kneed him in the groin for good measure!.."
Eddie remembered the state and the height at which he'd ended up and nudged her back:
"You'd have been bawling your eyes out just as high up," he replied without a shred of pity, ignoring how sharply she flinched.
"You’ve got caught, at least,” she said venomously, turning away.
It had been years since that unfortunate incident — but not for Natsuki. Eddie could have thrown it in her face, gotten back at her — but he would never do that.
"You were caught in the end too, so we're even now. Mm?" he offered, not wanting to upset her further.
Natsuki fell silent — she was quiet for so long that Eddie began to hope the evening was finally over.
"How… How did tou-san get you away from him?" she finally asked, still not turning.
Eddie shrugged; at that moment, he hadn't been thinking clearly, too angry and scared to process what was happening properly.
"Blew up his face, something like that."
"And you just… fell?"
"Yeah," he grunted. "Just fell."
"That's like him," she said with such deep resentment and longing that Eddie couldn't bear it. He leaned over and tugged at her messy ponytail; she immediately turned and smacked his hand:
"Hey, you!.."
"You should brush your hair before bed," he drawled, rubbing his hand, "or else Haru will see you in the morning and it'll start again: 'Dande-san this, Dande-san that…'"
It worked instantly — Natsuki flared up like a match and hurled the nearest pillow at him; with one eye, he still managed to catch the faint crack that traced from her temple to her chin.
Her parents' quirks were distributed strangely in her — she seemed like a carbon copy of Uncle Kacchan, but sometimes, in particularly emotional moments, echoes of Uncle Eijiro would suddenly surface — quite ridiculous ones, admittedly, which she was terribly embarrassed about — secretly, of course.
Sure, she loved acting all grown-up and cool, but the moment Haru called her by that silly nickname—
"Weakling," he declared triumphantly, settling his head on the acquired pillow — no way was he giving it back.
"Get lost," she waved him off, but stayed lying on the floor, even though her perfectly made bed was right there. "How come you weren't hurt by that explosion?"
Come to think of it, it really was strange — the villain's injured face had been dangerously close to Eddie's, and the fact that Uncle Kacchan's explosion hadn't touched him at all would raise questions for anyone who knew his quirk well — except, of course, for the person trying his hardest to forget what happened.
"Quirk upgrade," Eddie mumbled sleepily, stretching his arm until it cramped to finally turn off the light.
"Yours?" Natsu snorted, and Eddie, putting both hands behind his head, closed his eyes with a contented sigh.
"Just updated it today," he agreed, slipping into a long-awaited, sweet sleep.
The next morning, he woke up in an empty room — and would have almost been glad about it if he weren't so irritated by what he'd dreamed about almost all night.
Shuffling his feet, he peeked into the neighboring bedroom — and found that his emotional support in the form of his older brother had also already disappeared somewhere. The room's owner was absent, too.
"Is there anyone even in this house?" he asked, stomping downstairs to the first floor. The faint echoes of a finished breakfast hung in the air, and his stomach growled loudly in protest. "Saved me just to starve me, I see," he grumbled and headed to the kitchen.
"Good morning."
Eddie didn't jump — he launched himself toward the ceiling, letting out a monstrously embarrassing sound:
"Uncle!"
"Blame yourself," Uncle Kacchan replied amiably from behind the table, pushing a cup aside.
"Morning," he muttered, sitting down opposite. "Where did everyone go so early?"
"Morning run," Katsuki stood up, took off his glasses, and put them in their case — a rare sight. Eddie had seen him in glasses only a few times, and always only in their home. "Be grateful they didn't take you with them — Kenji talked Natsu out of waking you."
"And why not Haru?" he asked immediately, then coughed slightly in embarrassment, "I mean, thanks to him, of course. Where is Haru?"
Katsuki fiddled with the frying pan and muttered an unclear answer:
"He had some business at U.A."
"And you let him go?!" Eddie flared up, immediately ducking under the look his uncle shot over his shoulder. But when it came to family members, Eddie had courage to spare — so he bravely straightened up and met that gaze head-on. "It's dangerous!"
Uncle Kacchan turned away; the sound of whisking eggs followed:
"Do you really think I… that any of us… didn't take every necessary precaution in this matter?"
It wasn't said loudly, or even with reproach — but Eddie still felt awkward.
The four of them often joked that they lived across two families — because as long as Eddie could remember, he and his brother had always been welcome in this house, and vice versa.
"No," he mumbled, resting his head on his hands. "I don't think that. I just…"
It's just that he'd dreamed such terrifying things all night that his hair stood on end — but he stubbornly refused to admit it. And so seeing his brother's face had become almost a vital necessity — but he'd only admit that under threat of death.
He flushed painfully with shame, hiding his face — Uncle had saved his life, and here he was!..
Suddenly, he was given a slightly rough ruffle of the hair:
"Alright, don't overheat — or the house will blow up."
Probably a common joke in their house — considering the set of quirks that lived here.
"Funny," Eddie managed to reply with difficulty; Uncle Kacchan had already returned to the stove by then:
"You have no idea how much," he said in an even tone; oil hissed and crackled.
It seemed the conflict was over — if you could call it a conflict.
The tension drained from Eddie's back, and he let out a quiet sigh.
"He really managed to piss you off, though," Uncle Kacchan noted offhandedly at some point, not turning around; Eddie didn't immediately catch on, but once he realized who they were talking about, he looked at his uncle's back somewhat sheepishly:
"He… he said that… that Haru…"
Uncle Kacchan gave a knowing hum.
"And that… that I…"
'An heir with a quirk would have been a better price.'
"It's all because of that stupid quirk!" He slammed his hand on the table, instantly fired up; never before had anger taken hold of him so quickly. "How he kept going on, that b-bastard! That a child with a quirk would be more useful!"
"And isn't that true?"
Eddie froze.
Uncle Kacchan turned and looked at him calmly:
"If you had a quirk, could anyone have caught you so off guard? Couldn't you have done something to give your father time to intervene?"
Eddie tried to say anything, but all the words stuck in his throat — he could only gasp for air soundlessly.
How… How could Uncle say such things to him?
Uncle, who was always, in everything, on his and Haru's side? Uncle, who scared off anyone who picked on him for being quirkless at first opportunity ?
Uncle, whom he loved, and who… who had just been pretending all this time?
"You were so useless that Haruki was almost strangled like a dog — all while he was trying to save you."
The words hit him like a physical slap to the face. The thought he had been desperately trying to suppress, to avoid breaking down again from the guilt eating him alive over his brother, had been voiced by the last person Eddie expected to hear it from, and in such a tone.
Deeply shocked, Eddie also became terribly angry: so for almost fourteen years, Uncle had just been pretending? Pretending to love him and Haru, pretending not to care about their quirks, to…
But Haru had a quirk. And Uncle adored Haru — maybe he never said it in words, but Eddie always joked to himself that Haru was Uncle Kacchan's firstborn — because Eddie had heard from many that Haru grew up with two parents in a third one's lap.
…Traitor. Traitor!
Traitor, traitor, traitor!
So many years of pretense, just to show his true face now, when Eddie needed support the most? How unfair to their whole family!
Did Uncle Ei think the same way?
He turned red from head to toe, almost shaking with indignation; belated retorts finally bubbled up in his mouth and on the tip of his tongue, tumbling out like from a steep cliff:
"I'm not useless!" he roared, jumping up. "It's you all with your quirks who've lost your heads! Nasty, arrogant windbags, there's nothing else to you but those quirks!"
"You're as useless as your old man was," Katsuki cut him down. "Tell me, have you never asked him where his hero name came from? Deku? I'll tell you: I'm the one who gave it to him. Because at your age, he was just like that: pathetic, worthless, and utterly—"
Something happened.
Eddie only had time to feel a sudden, sharp burn in his chest; to feel how humiliation and hot hatred seemed to surge from somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He could have endured it if those cruel words were only about him, but to say so much filth about Papa—
Uncle Kacchan staggered as if slapped, and let out a barely audible gasp, grabbing his face:
"Seems Uncle Ei taught you poorly about where men hit," he said with feigned annoyance in his voice, though he looked monstrously pleased.
Eddie, whose tears welled up from the hurt and the pain of betrayal by the last person he expected this from, could only stare open-mouthed at the reddening bruise blooming on Uncle Kacchan's cheekbone; his anger instantly turned to fear.
"What," he choked out, taking a few steps back. "What was that? What was that?!"
"You're Izuku's child," Katsuki replied, and now his voice was finally its old self again. "Come on, kid."
'...His face will remember that explosion for a long time!'
'Not mine.'
'You'll understand later.'
'Alright, don't overheat — or the house will blow up.'
Eddie crashed his back into the kitchen table, not even noticing the pain; he grabbed his t-shirt over his chest and pulled it so hard the seams creaked.
"N… no…" It grew hot in his chest again, and Eddie suddenly crouched down sharply, staring down through a haze of tears.
For some reason, it became very painful — hurt and bitter and lonely — and Eddie wished Haruki were here right now. "I'm n-not…" Of course, he already understood what was happening. "I'm…"
"No, kid," Eddie heard footsteps coming his way; Uncle loomed over him, and Eddie threw up his hands — then abruptly pressed them against himself, staring at the bruise again. "No!" he blurted out in panic, mindlessly trying to scramble away; instead, he just toppled backwards from his crouch. Tears treacherously dripped from his cheeks. "No, th-that's all a lie, it w-was you!.."
Katsuki crouched in front of him and reached out — then pulled the crying Eddie firmly against him.
"No, Eddie," he sighed as Eddie clutched his clothes again. "That was you. Sorry I had to prove it that way."
"I'm not useless," he squeezed out, unable to reconcile himself with the new thought:
Eddie wasn’t quirkless.
Katsuki shook his head, inadvertently rubbing his chin against Eddie's crown:
"Not useless," he replied. "With or without a quirk — it never mattered. Did you really doubt that so easily? I'll have to tell Rody he sucks at parenting."
Eddie gave Uncle a weak punch wherever his fist landed — then let out a painful hiccup and squeezed his eyes shut, hugging him as hard as he could. At the thought that Uncle Kacchan could have thought so horribly of him, and that it had all, of course, been a lie, his legs went weak — if he'd been standing.
And how could he have believed it so easily?!
Of course you could, whispered a dark, ugly part of him, because deep down, no matter how much you pushed them away, those thoughts had always been lurking nearby.
"The eggs got burnt," Eddie sniffled a while later, wiping the last of the tears with his shoulder.
Uncle Kacchan patted him on the back, getting to his feet: "Doesn't matter. I'll make you new ones — celebration eggs, with runny yolks."
Eddie cringed, giving him a shove: "U-uncle, I'm not Haru, I don't eat them raw!"
"Oh?" Katsuki feigned surprise almost convincingly. "Seems I got you mixed up."
Eddie protested indignantly from the floor, almost missing the low, answering chuckle.
"Uncle Kacchan," he said a little later, poking at the perfectly cooked yolks with his fork. "Is it true… you're the one who named Papa that?"
"It's true," Katsuki answered without hesitation. "When I was your age… I was a real piece of work."
Eddie, not paying much attention to what was happening at the table, was diligently smearing his piece of cake around his plate. For Natsuki's sixth birthday, Uncle Kacchan and Uncle Ei had thrown a huge party, and Natsuki sat at the head of the table, receiving praise and congratulations from all sides. Eddie had already congratulated her when he arrived, so he didn't see the need to participate further and was impatiently waiting to be dismissed so he could go to her room and check out all her gifts.
"Natsu-chan," Papa said, looking at her, "I heard you've made even more progress with your quirk!"
Natsuki practically glowed with pleasure and nodded vigorously: "Soon I'll be able to fight villains too!" she declared, and the adults at the table laughed. This didn't sit well with Natsu, and she tugged on Uncle Kacchan's sleeve, offended: "Papa, you promised me yourself!"
"I said when you're older. What use are you going to be while you're still so small?" He ruffled her hair, and she swatted his hand away.
"But I'm already very useful!" she argued. "I have the same quirk as you, which means I can do what you do! And I've already learned so much from you, and—"
"When you've learned ten times that much, then we'll talk," Uncle Kacchan said, pouring something into his glass.
Eddie saw Natsu's eyes redden — the festive atmosphere at the table took a sudden nosedive.
"Eddie's of no use at all, but he's already been taken on patrol a few times!"
The piece of cake, which near-six-year-old Eddie had cunningly speared onto his fork, plopped back onto the plate. Eddie looked up at Natsuki in confusion.
He had indeed told her not long ago how Papa had taken him for a ride through the sky a few weeks back — but patrol had already been over by then, they hadn't fought any villains, and nobody had expected Eddie to be of any use.
Eddie shrugged internally and stared longingly at the fallen piece; the chocolate cream was smeared across the plate, which even upset him a little. He craned his neck, looking for his brother, wanting to find understanding and support — then followed his brother's gaze and stared in bewilderment at Uncle Kacchan.
Uncle Kacchan had a very strange expression on his face — sort of frozen and distant, but it made Eddie feel so cold, as if a winter wind had seeped into the room.
This was also very strange — because it was a very warm summer.
Eddie shivered and looked around again — Papa was looking at Uncle Kacchan with concern, and Haru…
Koko tried to land on Uncle Kacchan's shoulder, but he didn't let her. Then he got up from the table and crouched down to Natsu's eye level.
"You think Eddie is useless?" Uncle asked Natsu in a soft tone that sent shivers down Eddie's spine.
"Kacchan, don't—"
Uncle Kacchan raised a hand, and Papa stopped talking.
Natsuki stood before Uncle Kacchan, clenching her fists, glaring at him from under her brows.
"Well… he doesn't have a quirk, and… so he…" she mumbled, quickly glancing at Eddie. His desire for cake, and his desire to go to Natsu's room to see the gifts seemed to vanish somehow.
"Katsuki," Uncle Ei also stood up, but one look from Uncle Kacchan was enough to make him sit back down.
"Natsuki," Uncle Kacchan said, without raising his voice, "you know I'm a very strong and famous hero, right?"
Natsuki nodded; talking about her parents' exploits was one of her favorite pastimes. A faint hope sparked in her shining eyes.
"Listen to me very carefully," he said in a penetrating voice, and Natsu straightened up eagerly. "If I ever hear again…"
"Kacchan," Papa called Uncle Kacchan with desperation, but Uncle Kacchan was unmoved:
"One kid already grew up thinking he was useless, Izuku," he said, not turning around. "I'd rather tear my own head off than let that happen again."
Everyone at the table seemed to sober up, the smiles gone. Eddie met the unusually serious gaze of Haruki, who sat across from him. Koko, giving up on landing on Uncle Kacchan, fluttered down to the table and hopped across the tablecloth right into Eddie's hand. Eddie, still bewildered, began to stroke the bird with his other hand, forgetting about his cake.
Uncle Kacchan, his brow heavily furrowed, addressed his daughter again:
"If I ever hear the word 'useless' from you again, directed at Eddie — or at any other child you deem weaker than yourself — I will make sure you never become a hero. And I give you my word as a hero. Do you understand me?"
The words sounded very grave and scary — especially for a girl whose most cherished dream was to become a great hero like her father.
And so Natsu, looking as if she had just been unforgivably betrayed, burst into tears, throwing herself at Uncle Ei and wrapping her thin little arms around his legs. Uncle Ei looked like he was being torn apart inside; he gave Natsu and Uncle Kacchan a guilty look, then — even more guiltily — looked at Papa. Natsu wailed even louder, and Uncle Ei sat her on his lap facing him, whispering something in her ear.
Uncle Kacchan, maintaining that strange expression and ignoring Natsu's tears, suddenly turned towards Eddie and Papa, who were sitting nearby — and then, even more strangely, bowed to them in apology.
The piece of cake, so laboriously re-speared onto the fork, fell again, losing its shape for good. Eddie looked at it, offended.
"I apologize to both of you for what my daughter said," he said in a heavy voice, looking at the floor. "It's my failing — there won't be any more."
Uncle Kacchan looked as if the hurtful words had been said to him, not Eddie — his fists, like Natsu's, were clenched white, and his back was hunched so heavily he looked like a stray cat — Eddie loved watching them stretch and arch their backs in the sun.
Something was happening with Papa too — his eyes were shiny, and he suddenly hugged Eddie tightly with one arm, then even kissed him on the crown of his head.
Not that Eddie was against it, but…
He glanced sideways at his plate, then raised his eyes to the strangely silent gathering and timidly asked:
"Can we have more cake?"
"I see now who Natsu takes after sometimes," he mumbled around a mouthful, vaguely remembering that day for some reason.
"Oh, had enough already?" Katsuki reached for his plate with mock concern.
"Hey, g-give it back!"
"Chew, warrior," Katsuki left the plate and suddenly grew serious, lost in thought. Eddie grew serious too — right up until the moment it was time to shove a whole, beautiful, orange yolk into his mouth.
"Your old man's gonna throw a feast for all of Japan out of joy."
Eddie choked and waved his hands, grabbing his glass of water and taking a few greedy gulps; water ran down his chin, and he wiped it away with distaste.
Great, why did he have to start worrying him now?! He hadn't even come to terms with the thought that all those comforting "the scans show you have a quirk" weren't just some made-up story Papa had come up with to keep him from being sad, but the actual truth! And anyway, it threw a wrench into all his future life plans!... Not that he had his whole life planned out, but…
'That's great, Eddie, now you can get into U.A.'s Hero Course!'
'That's great, Eddie, now you can carry on my work!'
'That's great, Eddie, now I can rest easy knowing I don't have any quirkless children!'
Eddie gave a slightly pained smile, knowing Papa would never, ever say such a thing, but sometimes it felt…
"Maybe we shouldn't tell him?" he asked without much hope, looking up at Uncle Kacchan from under his brow. He, however, just shrugged:
"Your choice, kid. I'm not going to blab to anyone."
"Even though you're the first one who found out," he muttered in reply. "You… you really noticed it in the air?"
Uncle Kacchan suddenly gave him a very, very stern look — Eddie didn't like that expression.
"I realized something happened when something exploded right in front of my eyes between you two, and then you started falling."
That meant Uncle really had nothing to do with what happened, and also…
Eddie went pale, losing his appetite.
That meant if Uncle Kacchan hadn't gotten to him in time, at best there would have been a stain on the pavement left of Eddie — and that was only with a lot of luck.
"Oh," he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. "That's very, very bad…"
"It was just a confluence of circumstances," Katsuki consoled him. "Forget it. You're alive and well, and with a discovery like this — be happy."
"There's not much to be happy about," Eddie replied. Uncle Kacchan didn't smile — but the corners of his mouth twitched, whether down or up.
"Once upon a time, a kid was ready to give up everything in the world for a quirk — even if it came so late. Though," he added somewhat distantly, "you could say that…" His next words were lost in his coffee mug, and Eddie didn't press him — from now on, he had enough troubles of his own.