Chapter Text
The sun was shining especially bright today.
It was probably a ridiculous thing to notice—who lazed around so much that they could actually tell the difference between today's sunlight and yesterday's, or even from three days ago?
But it was no use denying it: you couldn't take the idleness out of Midoriya Eddie.
Not that he was a total slacker. He went to school, put a decent amount of effort into his homework, and his grades were far from the worst. He even went for morning runs sometimes—though prying him out of bed usually required strength equivalent to Japan's number one hero. And, to his immense and fierce delight, that very hero was sometimes at their house at that ungodly hour.
At school, people gaped at him. They whispered behind his back, some even pointing quite brazenly—look, that's him, Deku's son, right here in this classroom, sitting at that scuffed-up desk and training his incredible—
...aha, that’s what you’d think.
So, Midoriya Eddie, as one could determine from his: a) surname; b) green eyes; and, of course, the most important thing—the one and a half freckles on his cheeks—was undoubtedly the son of Japan's beloved hero, who had been topping the unofficial hero rankings for years now—Midoriya Izuku.
He was the younger son, and not the only one—but that could wait for later. For now, Eddie was sprawled in the shade of a tall tree he'd claimed as his own, hands behind his head, eyes half-closed.
The sun warmed his side pleasantly. A bird chirped overhead, not too bothersome. Eddie was used to birds—for nearly fourteen years, he'd shared a roof with at least one, and usually two, of them.
Pino had been the unofficial nanny in their house for as long as he could remember. And she was far from the only one; his whole childhood, their home was full of adults keeping an eye on them, though by some miracle it never felt overcrowded.
There was Uncle Roro and Aunt Lala, and Inko-obaa-chan, and that was without even starting on Papa's countless friends-who-were-also-famous-pro-heroes.
To be perfectly honest, his parents had always fussed over him a bit more — or so Haruki liked to tell him.
And no, Haruki wasn't another one of Papa's friends. And he wasn’t even one of Dad's. He wasn't just a babysitter, either. He was the genuine article: Eddie's own older brother, his one and only one.
And speaking of him—
"Eddie! Hey! You asleep there again?"
Eddie tilted his head slightly toward the voice. The figure was blurry from his perch, but he knew the shape well enough—tall, waving a hand impatiently, and—
"Whoa!" Eddie jerked sideways, rolling away just as a squirrel of an unimaginable color landed precisely where his stomach had been a second before. He shot an indignant look at his brother, who was now standing close by, smiling innocently.
The squirrel, which hadn’t taken out his liver thanks only to his spectacular reflexes, would have bewildered anyone: it was green, with pink tufts on its ears and a white-and-pink tail—completely unlike any respectable squirrel native to Japan.
Having evidently fulfilled its purpose, the improper squirrel bounded over to Haruki in two leaps, scrambled up his gray jumpsuit, and settled on his shoulder.
Eddie sat up; almost simultaneously, his brother crouched down to his level.
"I came to fetch you for lunch," Haru said, smiling. A black smudge adorned his cheek, and the thought that he had walked all the way from U.A. to his school looking like that made Eddie break into a grin in return. Haruki, of course, interpreted this in his own way; he could be terribly naive at times (just like Papa, as Dad would say). "The three of us are having lunch together today! Papa said we get to pick the place."
Eddie's eyebrows rose involuntarily. "I thought he was busy until the end of the week."
"Me too!" Haruki's voice even shot up two tones in excitement, "but he called an hour ago and said he'd promised us for a long time, so we definitely have a few hours!"
Haruki's gray eyes sparkled at the prospect. He was almost five years older than Eddie—that big already—and yet he was bouncing on his feet with childlike glee. His squirrel, Koko, was equally excited, chattering loudly as it darted from one of his shoulders to the other... or whatever sound squirrels make. In fourteen years, Eddie had never found the right word for it.
Eddie would have loved to share his brother's exhilaration, but unfortunately, the chance to have lunch with his own father wasn't something that made him want to leap for joy. However, seeing Haruki happy, as always, made him happy in turn. And this had nothing to do with his brother's quirk, as anyone who knew about it might assume. And naturally, that would be the first thought of anyone who learned that through his peculiar green animal, Haruki could manipulate others' emotions—and that the squirrel wasn't always a squirrel.
(Haruki strongly disapproved of the term "manipulate" and preferred the modest "guide," and Eddie, amused, always humored his brother in this small, harmless convention).
So he smiled again—this time genuinely—then reached out and wiped the smudge from Haruki's cheek as best he could; it felt oily and rather disgusting, and he wrinkled his nose.
Haruki's entire jumpsuit was dotted with similar stains, and Eddie wiped his hand on it without a shred of guilt. Haruki laughed and ruffled his hair in retaliation; Eddie considered starting a scuffle—all it would take was a good yank to topple Haruki down. But his brother was in such a hurry that he hadn't even bothered to change out of his work clothes—and Eddie didn't want to delay their meeting.
"Alright," he said, getting to his feet. "We haven't made a dent in the family budget in a while. How about a good steak?"
If there were any perks to being from the Midoriya family, limitless possibilities were definitely one of them.
Say you spontaneously got a craving to visit a high-end establishment that served steak so good it could make your soul ascend beyond the stratosphere—well, one call and an unspecified amount of time later, you'd be seated in a secluded, private corner where no one but a discreet waiter could disturb you.
"He's late," Haruki muttered for the third time, checking his phone. His lips started moving in a silent debate with himself, prompting a twitch at the corner of Eddie's mouth. Haruki's mind was a warehouse of thoughts so vast they frequently got jammed in the doorway.
It was great that this idea factory had a practical outlet: Haruki could happily vanish into U.A.’s workshop for days, turning a heap of scrap metal into a hyper-modified, mega-useful contraption. The catch was, he had a habit of overloading the circuit—both the machines on his workbench and the one in his head.
A green bird circled overhead—one might notice it bore a terrifying resemblance to the squirrel that had earlier threatened Eddie's well-being—and then clutch their head in realization at seeing something similar in a squirrel and a bird, and go get an extra hour of sleep.
On its next pass, Eddie snatched the bird out of the air and set it on his knee. It chirped anxiously, and he began to stroke its head. With each stroke, its chirping grew quieter and quieter, until it finally ceased altogether.
Haruki took a deep breath and sent him a grateful smile. A dimple etched itself almost imperceptibly into his left cheek—and Eddie was struck once again by how much he resembled Papa. Only a fool would say otherwise—yes, maybe his eyes were gray, not green, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail like Dad's used to be—but everything about him practically screamed—
The door to the room flew open.
"I'm here! I made i—" Without a shred of grace, tripping over the threshold, the hero of their day—and probably not just their day, Eddie hadn't bothered to check the news yet—finally arrived. A bit disheveled and sweaty, and—was that a torn sleeve?
Haruki shot up from the table; the bird from Eddie's knee rocketed upward and flew straight into Papa's neck with happy sounds. He grunted in surprise, then laughed, opening his arm invitingly, which Haruki immediately took advantage of. It was a truly touching sight—until Papa's sharp gaze shifted to him, still sitting serenely at the table. Eddie scratched the back of his head, held still for a moment, then rose and joined the hug, feeling his ears burn.
"Sorry," Papa mumbled indistinctly, "ran into some trouble on the way."
"We figured," Eddie said without malice.
"Are you okay?" Haruki asked hoarsely, and Papa's grip on them tightened; Eddie let out a quiet gasp.
"Completely fine," Papa said, his tone suggesting he was already getting reflexively emotional, too. And Eddie was categorically against collectively flooding the district: when Papa and Haruki caught the wave, which happened all the time, that threat became very real.
"Alright then, let's get this order going," he said, emerging first from the pile of limbs. "We haven't eaten in a century."
"I'll have beef!" A completely unexpected fourth voice chimed in from behind them.
Eddie, being the only one not currently entangled, turned toward the sound with a wide grin. A pink lightning bolt zipped into the room, cheering happily; leaning against the doorframe stood Dad, smiling serenely.
"Dad!" Haruki exclaimed in surprise, hugging Pino close. "Weren't you supposed to be back only this evening?"
Dad pushed himself off the doorframe and crossed the room, his hand gently tousling both their hairs in turn. But then his gaze found Papa, and it shifted in that subtle, unmistakable way—a look that was for Papa alone. It was the kind of look that always made Eddie and Haruki exchange a quick, knowing glance before pretending to be interested in something else. A look so full of warmth, devotion, and utterly unguarded love that it could make the air itself feel warmer.
And Eddie might have made a face, as was expected from every decent boy of his age, but the truth was, he admired that look—one that hadn't faded even after all these years—and he was genuinely happy to see his parents still connected by such feelings.
"I'm home," Dad said, smiling.
"Welcome back!" Papa replied with radiant joy, and they hugged.
Eddie and Haruki discreetly bumped fists.
***
"So, how did you manage it?" Haruki asked, addressing Dad. They'd placed their order and were now catching up on recent events.
"Easy," he replied casually. "I told the higher-ups I urgently needed to have lunch with my kids, and they had no choice but to reschedule my flight."
Koko, currently bird again, landed on Dad's shoulder; the moment her little claws gripped his shirt, she instantly settled, and her eyes closed. Dad had wisely moved Pino out of sight, but unfortunately for him, she wasn't the only mood barometer in their family. He tried to give Haruki a stern look, but halfway through, he chuckled, his eyes flicking back to Papa.
"We've ended up with far too clever children," he said with unconcealed satisfaction, then covered his mouth with his hand and let out a wide yawn. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but even without them, it was obvious: such a significant change in his flight schedule had cost him dearly. "I just missed you all," he added with a shrug. Koko tumbled off from the movement, and he deftly caught her, a skill honed by decades of experience. She vanished from sight, just like Pino had—presumably into his pocket.
"So you came straight from the flight?" Haruki asked, his voice full of concern. And there it was - the famous Midoriya family glassy-eyed look, unmistakable to anyone who knew them.
"No, no," Dad said quickly. "I stopped by home first. It's fine, Haru - though I'll definitely sleep well tonight."
Haruki nodded, because what else could he do, and Papa smoothly took over the worrying duties:
"Was there any trouble during the flight?"
"Just a couple of troublemakers, from what I heard," Dad replied with a grimace. "Nothing the crew couldn't handle. But what happened to you?" He nodded pointedly towards his torn sleeve.
A bit self-consciously, Papa covered the tear with his hand.
"I underestimated how multifunctional a quirk can be," he answered evasively, then gave a helpless laugh. "Let's hope this doesn't make it to the news…"
"There's another set of your costume at the workshop," Haruki interjected, "if you need—"
"It's fine," Papa brushed it off. "This can be stitched up. Better tell me how your projects are going."
A spark ignited behind Haruki's eyes.
"Right! So— you remember the new shoulder rig? The one with the persistent overheating issue? I was this close to scrapping the whole project, but then, during the last recalibration, Hatsume-san offered a suggestion, and I finally—"
Eddie's gaze flicked to Dad. Dad met it, and a silent, understanding smile passed between them.
When Haruki launched into one of his unstoppable, enthusiastic rants, few people could keep up. But Papa was the undisputed champion; he listened intently, nodding in all the right places, and interjected with his own advice and solutions, which Haruki would eagerly latch onto, instantly pivoting his ideas.
"Kacchan's threatening to pluck you right out of U.A. for his own agency," Papa teased during a rare moment when Haruki paused for air. A slight flush instantly crept up Haruki's neck.
"I said it already," he muttered, crumpling a napkin in his hand. "I need to get more experience… I can't work in the support department of a top agency with only a couple of years at the academy under my belt…"
"He gifted you their custom suit for your graduation," Eddie added. "That means they're both waiting for you with open arms."
Haruki was silent for a moment before lifting his head with newfound resolve.
"No," he said quietly but firmly. "I'm not ready yet. I want my inventions to help people, not cause them harm. Hatsume-san is letting me continue my work at U.A., and I'm going to stay there until I achieve something real."
"He'll respect your drive and your honesty," Dad nodded. "But when that day comes, don't forget what I always taught you."
"Never open negotiations for less than a million," Haruki recited, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Euros," Dad stressed, his tone turning conspiratorial. "This family has standards."
"Rody," Papa said with a soft, chiding tone. "We discussed this."
"Izuku," Dad countered, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Bakugou and I had this exact conversation over ten years ago. Him changing his last name doesn't get him out of his promises."
This was clearly some kind of inside joke, one that Eddie was completely out of the loop on—a mysterious conversation from ten-something years ago, of course. The idea that every inch of soil he and Haruki had ever walked on was worth no less than a million euros was a lesson Dad had drilled into them for as long as they could remember.
And yet we grew up to be such humble people, Eddie thought, smiling to himself.
"I'd like to hear that story sometime," he said, cutting short the good-natured bickering.
"Some other time," Haruki said, jumping in ahead of everyone else and seeming oddly surprised by his own interjection.
"You remember?.." Papa frowned.
"Of course," Haruki replied. "Why wouldn't I?"
"But you were... so small."
Dad let out a soft snort:
"Old enough to attack some junk with a screwdriver."
"That was my glove!" Papa protested in mock indignation, and they all laughed.
Pino, who had miraculously reappeared from the depths of Dad’s pocket, chirped in joy from her perch on his shoulder.
The food arrived then, a welcome distraction that filled the table with steaming plates and cheerful chaos. As they began passing dishes around, the conversation melted into the comfortable, overlapping white noise. Haruki was already explaining a new alloy concept to Papa, while Eddie stole a spring roll from his plate when he wasn't looking.
It had been a long time since Eddie had felt this... at peace.
Dad had been away for over a week, flying here and there, sending them photos of new places, complaining about hotel service and faulty air conditioning, and writing that he missed Japanese food—which was his way of saying how much he missed them, since Dad actually hated Japanese food.
As for Papa... he and Haruki hadn't seen him for two whole days—which, when he thought about it, wasn't really that long. Eddie could recall periods in their lives when Papa was gone for much longer stretches. Back in those days, it seemed like everyone except the laziest of heroes took shifts keeping an eye on their home. To this day, Eddie still didn't know exactly what that had been about—if Haruki knew, he kept quiet, and their parents seemed to ignore that such an experience had ever happened.
For quite a while—at least two years—things had been relatively stable. Papa would leave in the morning and return in the evening. Sometimes he'd pick Eddie up after school, walk him home, then head back out to save the world. Eddie knew he sometimes brought Haruki lunch, and on rare occasions even ate with him—right there at U.A. Overall, the ebb and flow of parental presence at home varied, but on average, it remained acceptable—until recently.
Something had happened. The city had grown more tense—everyone tried hard to pretend it wasn't, but Eddie was neither a fool nor blind. If anyone thought the heroes lurking around his school went unnoticed, they were sorely mistaken.
Robberies and crimes were on the rise, too. Papa preferred not to turn on the TV when they were around, as if that would somehow shield them from the truth—the internet had long been far more informative in that regard—and at the dinner table, they carefully avoided the subject.
"Be kids. Let us handle our jobs," Papa had joked once when Eddie asked about it, and Eddie didn't press further. After all, it was the truth—and besides, there was nothing Eddie could do to change the situation anyway. So he let it go, leaving Papa to do what he did best—saving the whole damn world.
Eddie… wasn’t angry. Papa possessed an incredible quirk—the only one of its kind in the world, as far as Eddie knew, and he had looked. Nowhere in Japan, nor in the entire universe, did anyone have anything even remotely similar. And of course, it was impossible to imagine that, having a power like that at his disposal, he wouldn’t use it... for the sake of boundless good, naturally.
Sometimes Eddie would laugh to himself, thinking that if Papa really wanted to, he could probably take over the entire country without breaking a sweat. And who knew how far it could go if fully developed—Eddie's imagination didn't stretch much beyond a few neighboring nations. Maybe he should ask Haruki what he thought; his brother always had ideas to spare.
Jokes aside, Eddie knew the world needed his father. Yes, it wasn't just Japan that called upon his gift to solve its problems. But that didn't make the occasional... loneliness any easier to bear.
For Haruki. Of course, he meant his brother. It often seemed like Haruki was the one who needed more attention. He was always so happy when they were all together, always striving to make their parents notice his efforts. There weren't many people whose praise meant anything to him, but their father's was definitely at the top of the list—it certainly had been once, though Eddie wasn't sure how things stood now.
Haruki was... good. Pure. The concept of malice didn't seem to apply to him, much like the word "dry" couldn't describe water, or "selfish" Papa. He never complained about their parents' demanding lives, meeting every absence with a depth of understanding and patience that Eddie had witnessed his whole life. It was as if Haruki had been born with the soul of an old sage who had already unraveled all of life's mysteries.
And yet, a few words spoken many years ago still made Eddie doubt that unwavering composure.
"Haru, why isn't Papa home again?" a younger Eddie had whined. Uncle Ei had just put them to bed, and he was tossing and turning stubbornly, refusing to close his eyes.
Haruki was facing him, clearly already half-asleep and without the same restless energy.
"Be happy, Eddie," he had mumbled, drifting off. "Papa's home almost every day now. When I was little, I barely saw him at all."
Eddie didn't remember how old they were, but those words were etched into his memory with perfect clarity—as was the sight of the profound loneliness in the eyes of the lanky green squirrel nestled beside him, still trying to offer him comfort.
To this day, Eddie didn't know for sure if the echoes of those words still lived in his brother's heart, or if they were just a product of the moment, existing only there, in their shared childhood bedroom, an instant before peaceful oblivion.
The fact remained: Haruki was deeply attached to their parents and missed them when they were gone.
Of course... of course Eddie missed them too. It was just that he felt more self-sufficient. He had friends, hobbies to fill his free time, and he was rarely alone—he'd spent his whole childhood in the various hero agencies of Papa's friends. Plus, the company of his older brother was usually enough for him. He explained it to himself like this: he'd gotten more than enough attention as a kid, so he had no unresolved issues there, and he handled short-term solitude much more calmly. After all, they were never left for a month or years on end—and Eddie knew some professions worked like that—and, if you thought about it, you couldn't cling to your parents forever.
All these thoughts lined up in neat, logical rows in his head—most of the time. The moments when he ate alone in the empty apartment, wistfully imagining three more people joining him at the table, seemed almost trivial in comparison.
And besides, he could always just cross a few streets and complain about his woes to Nat-
"And how are things with you?" The question jolted him from his thoughts. The piece of steak he'd been about to eat slipped from his fork and splattered back onto the plate. Eddie wiped his face with a grimace.
"Nothing worth mentioning," he replied smoothly, subtly trying to adjust his hair.
Unfortunately, not subtly enough.
Papa's hand was at his face before he could pull away, brushing aside his bangs to reveal a nasty-looking bruise.
"Eddie... what happened?"
Eddie knew any explanation would be useless now.
Just when everything had been going so well.
He leaned back, letting his hair fall forward again. "Just tripped in P.E."
He watched in slow motion as his father's expression shifted. That familiar, troubled look appeared the moment the words left his mouth. The wrong words.
Papa's mouth opened and closed silently several times. "Eddie," he began, voice strained, "you know that... if someone's troubling you—"
"Papa," Eddie cut in, "I fell during P.E."
"If someone is causing you problems, then—"
"Izuku," Dad interjected, and Eddie nearly sighed in relief, "it's fine. He just tripped."
Eddie thought Papa's face even paled a little.
"Yeah, Rody, I fell a lot in school too," he said, his voice suddenly edged with unexpected anger. Eddie shot a confused look at his brother, who responded with a pained head shake.
"Izuku," Dad repeated more firmly, "it happens."
Papa looked down at his plate and nodded slowly. "Yeah," he gave a hollow laugh, rubbing his hand, "usually more often than people realize."
"Papa, really," Eddie tried, but he seemed not to hear. As he stared at his plate, a shadow crossed his face. When he looked up, his eyes held a dangerous intensity.
"Eddie," he said, swallowing hard, "you know you can always come to me if you're having problems, right? And if someone's bothering you just... just because your quirk hasn't—"
"Papa, enough," Eddie pushed his plate away.
"Izuku—"
"Izuku what?" he snapped, "I know exactly how this goes, Rody! I lived it, from beginning to end, and I kept quiet too!" His breathing had become noticeably faster, and Eddie started feeling genuinely concerned.
"Then be grateful our children are smarter than you were back then," Dad cut in sharply. The atmosphere was growing increasingly tense.
Papa looked helplessly between Eddie and Dad, so distracted he didn't notice Koko flying up to perch on his head. He flinched, chin jerking upward, then focused on Haruki. The tense, glittering look in his eyes gradually softened as his breathing steadied.
Finally calm, he leaned back, moved Koko from his head to the table edge, and kept his eyes on her as he released a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, looking up. "You know I just... worry. Especially about you, Eddie. Kids... can be very cruel. Especially to—to those who are... different."
"They're jealous," Eddie shrugged, completely unbothered—just as Dad had taught him since childhood.
Papa tried to smile at that—but what came out was such an unhappy expression that Eddie wanted to stand up and shower him with all the love in the world.
For some reason, rooted deep in the past, Eddie's lack of a quirk seemed to break his father far more than it ever broke him.
Yes, Eddie called things by their names—he was almost fourteen, and there wasn't even the slightest hint of a quirk. The only thing he had was the single joint in his pinky toe, which gave Papa something to cling to—the hope that something might still manifest one day.
Eddie knew Haruki's quirk had manifested when he was six—three years later than most children today, but Dad explained it was hereditary: his own quirk had awakened even later, which was typical for people from Otheon. When Eddie turned four, then six, then passed eight with no changes, Dad declared that he would grow up like a fine, upstanding citizen of Otheon—and that he alone would balance out the overly colorful mass of quirks in any gathering.
His entire life, Eddie had grown up knowing that a life without a quirk could be just as good, if not better, than one with it. He never let anyone convince him otherwise and was perfectly happy – at least, most of the time.
The only one who, for some reason, couldn't seem to accept this, was Papa.
Look at me, Eddie thought, staring at him. See me—not the person you see every time you look at me with that soul-crushing gaze. And why do I always see guilt in it? Do you blame yourself for not being able to accept your child for who he is?
Eddie knew he would never dare say those words out loud. Eddie was strong. He knew Papa was strong too—incredibly strong, but… on the outside. Inside, he was… soft. Vulnerable. Eddie knew Papa loved him—and he loved him back just as fiercely. He didn’t want to hurt him. But sometimes, he just wished Papa would… understand.
Eddie Midoriya was one of the sons of Japan's strongest hero, Midoriya Izuku, and with a probability approaching absolute certainty, he was completely quirkless.
"When will you understand," he said wearily, looking at Papa, "I'm not—"
"Get down!" Papa shouted, leaping up from the table. Haruki grabbed Eddie by the collar and yanked him under the table just as the huge panoramic window shattered with an ear-splitting crash.
Under the table, there were two of them. Only two, not—
Haruki peeked out from under the long tablecloth and let out a pained, choked sound, clamping a hand over his mouth. Eddie felt all the blood in his body run cold and, with a heart that seemed to have stopped, peered out after him.
Dad was lying on the floor, facing away from them. He was unconscious, blood flowing thickly from a gash on his head.
Eddie clutched Haruki's arm, afraid he might collapse himself. There was no sign of Papa—only when he strained his ears did he hear the sounds of a struggle from the direction of the shattered window and realized it was taking place mid-air.
"H-Haruki, we have to help Dad," he stammered, his lips numb. "N-napkins— right, we need to—" Then something grabbed his leg, and he screamed.
"Eddie!"
"What do we have here, interesting," a new voice rang out. A hand—it was a hand holding him. He began to twist, trying to break free, kicking with his other leg, but the one holding him didn't even flinch. "What a nasty… little worm… calm down," he was shaken so hard his head rang, and for a moment, he lost all sense of direction.
"Let him go, bastard!" Haruki roared. Eddie saw him snatch something from his pocket and aim it at his captor's face.
"Haru, behind you!" he wheezed, but his warning came too late. Before Haruki could act, a second figure materialized from the shadows, seizing him by the throat and forcing him to drop the device. "Haru!"
Haruki clawed at the hands constricting him, thrashing wildly as he kicked back at his attacker. Eddie's eyes darted to his brother's shoes, his hope vanishing when he saw they were ordinary sneakers rather than the reinforced combat boots Haruki had designed years ago. The grip on Haruki's throat only tightened.
Gathering his strength, Eddie renewed his struggle against his own captor, but the villain just laughed, easily adjusting his hold. Twisting violently, Eddie managed to drive his heel into the man's ribs, only to receive a brutal punch to the stomach that left him gasping and doubled over in pain.
"You little piece of shit," the villain said, sounding almost entertained. "What a shame that's all you can do."
Eddie heard Haruki's choked, struggling breaths.
"Let him go," Eddie forced out, "let him go!" Haruki was beginning to turn red. "Let him—!"
He was slammed against the wall with brutal force, his body going limp. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was a flash of green lightning.