Chapter Text
Eijiro Kirishima was beginning to suspect that being a hero involved significantly more paperwork than advertised.
When he'd received his provisional license, he'd imagined dramatic rescues. Villains. Chases. Explosions. The occasional inspiring speech about justice.
What he had not imagined was spending forty minutes trying to remember what a villain had been wearing.
"Hey, Mina," he said, staring down at the report in front of him. "Do you remember what that villain from yesterday was wearing?"
Across the room, Mina didn't even look up from her own paperwork.
"Black leather pants. Thigh-high boots. Yellow crop top with stars."
Kirishima blinked.
"...What?"
"The villain."
"No, I got that part."
Mina finally glanced up.
"What?"
"How do you know that?"
She looked genuinely confused.
"Because I have eyes?"
"The fight lasted, like, thirty seconds!"
"And?"
"My report currently says 'yellow'."
Mina stared at him.
"Kirishima."
"What?"
"I love you."
Kirishima immediately looked alarmed.
"But your fashion sense is that of a brick."
"...Oh."
"I'm honestly impressed you remembered the yellow part."
"Okay, wow."
"I'm just saying."
"You could've been nicer."
"I could've." Mina smiled. "I chose not to."
Kirishima opened his mouth to defend himself, then closed it again.
Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.
The office door opened before he could think of a comeback.
Fat Gum stepped inside with Amajiki-senpai trailing behind him.
"You're back!" Mina said.
"How'd it go?"
Fat sighed dramatically.
"Terribly."
"That's not good."
"No new leads."
"That's really not good."
"But—"
Fat clapped his hands together, instantly recovering.
"Now I'm hungry."
That was more familiar.
The room relaxed.
"Who's up for a snack?" Fat asked. "My treat."
Amajiki looked up, which was already unusual enough.
"Are we going to the coffee shop?"
Fat immediately brightened.
Kirishima wasn't sure whether it was the coffee shop or the fact that Amajiki had voluntarily expressed a preference.
Probably both.
"It's been a while since I've seen Hayashi-san," Amajiki added quietly. "And their pancakes are really good."
The smile on Fat's face could probably be seen from space.
"Young pupils!"
Uh-oh. That tone never led anywhere normal.
"Go get changed." The smile somehow got bigger. "I'm taking you to meet my wife."
Five minutes later, Kirishima was still trying to process that sentence. Beside him, Mina wasn't doing much better.
"Did you know Fat Gum was married?" she whispered.
Kirishima shook his head. Honestly, he was surprised. Not because Fat Gum wasn't amazing—quite the opposite. Fat was kind, reliable, strong. The sort of person who made everyone around him feel safe.
But heroes had dangerous jobs. Dangerous enough that most people didn't talk about family unless they absolutely had to. The thought of publicly having something so important—someone so important—felt terrifying.
Ahead of them, Fat and Amajiki were talking about something. Probably food. Definitely food. The conversation seemed suspiciously animated for two people who normally occupied opposite ends of the social-energy spectrum.
They turned down a quieter street.
The city noise softened.
The afternoon sunlight painted long shadows across the pavement.
Then Mina suddenly grabbed Kirishima's arm.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Isn't that Aizawa-sensei?"
Sure enough.
A few meters ahead stood Aizawa, looking exhausted as usual.
Beside him was Shinso, looking slightly less exhausted.
"Aizawa!" Fat called.
Both turned. Aizawa gave a nod. Shinso immediately looked like he regretted being perceived.
Fat reached him first, ruffling his hair.
"Hey, kiddo."
Shinso rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked any real annoyance.
"We brought cookies."
That immediately made Fat tense.
Kirishima watched the transition happen in real time: confusion, concern, then fear.
"Shinso Hitoshi."
The teenager looked innocent.
A dangerous sign.
"Yes?"
"Are they actually cookies?"
The innocence intensified.
Fat narrowed his eyes.
"What happened?"
"They're cookies."
Fat turned to Aizawa. Aizawa stared back. The two heroes appeared to hold an entire conversation without speaking.
After a moment, Fat relaxed.
Uh, what's happening?
"So," Fat said. "What's the story?"
"Dad decided to try a new cookie recipe." Shinso sighed.
"...A recipe."
"Several recipes."
Kirishima frowned.
There was clearly context here. Important context. Context everyone understood except him and Mina.
The feeling was becoming increasingly familiar.
"Aizawa-sensei can cook?" he blurted.
Five people looked at him. Amajiki included.
"No," Aizawa said flatly.
"Oh."
"He means Hizashi."
"...Right."
That made considerably more sense.
"Did Yamada-sensei get hurt again?" Fat asked.
"No, just a cold."
Fat relaxed again. Apparently Present Mic with free time was a public safety concern.
"His voice is scratchy, so he's staying home for a few days."
"And making cookies."
"And making cookies."
The teenager raised the box hopefully.
"Please take some."
Fat narrowed his eyes.
"How many batches are we talking?"
"..."
"Shinso."
"...Several."
Fat sighed.
The sigh of a man who had survived something before.
"Oh no."
Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose.
"The situation is escalating."
"The situation always escalates."
Mina looked between them, then at Kirishima, then back again.
Neither of them understood anything.
"What is happening?" she whispered.
"I have no idea."
Fat looked from the cookie box to Shinso, then to Aizawa, as though asking the universe for patience.
Finally, he accepted the package.
Both father and son relaxed at once.
The synchronization was honestly a little creepy.
"There we go," Shinso said. "Crisis averted."
"For now," Aizawa corrected.
"For now."
Kirishima was ninety percent sure they were talking about cookies.
The remaining ten percent suspected organized crime.
____
The coffee shop looked nothing like Kirishima expected.
For one thing, it was beautiful. For another, it looked aggressively alive.
The sign above the entrance read:
HIMARI COFFEE SHOP
The lettering was elegant.
The building itself wasn't.
At least not in the polished, expensive way many trendy cafés tried to be.
It looked... loved.
Like someone had spent years adding little pieces of themselves to it.
Flower boxes sat beneath every window, vines climbed the brick walls, and a small herb garden occupied one corner of the patio. Even the benches had flowers carved into the wood.
The moment they stepped inside, Mina stopped walking.
"Oh."
Kirishima understood immediately. The place felt magical. Not because it was fancy, but because it was warm.
A giant tree stood in the center of the café, its branches spreading across the ceiling like a protective canopy. Small lights hung from the limbs, casting a soft golden glow over the room. The scent of coffee mingled with flowers and fresh pastries.
Comfort.
That was it—the entire place smelled like comfort.
"Wow," Mina breathed.
"Right?" Fat said proudly.
As they walked farther inside, his attention snagged on a small handwritten sign hanging near the counter.
Please tell Jun if the plants are trying to steal your seat again.
Someone had scribbled underneath:
They're winning.
Another handwriting replied:
Skill issue.
Kirishima stared.
"...What does that mean?"
"It means the plants are winning," Aizawa said.
"That does not clarify anything."
"It wasn't supposed to."
That somehow felt like the most Aizawa answer possible.
Looking around, Kirishima noticed that plants and flowers seemed to occupy every available surface.
Not in an expensive or carefully curated designer way, but more like somebody genuinely enjoyed having them around.
Some were potted. Others climbed trellises. A few hung from the ceiling. One particularly ambitious vine appeared to be making a genuine attempt to consume an armchair.
"Hey, Jun!" Fat called.
The man behind the counter looked up. He couldn't have been much younger than Fat himself. Dark hair, gray eyes, easy smile. The kind of person who immediately looked familiar, even if you'd never met him before.
"Oh, hey guys."
His gaze swept over the group, landing briefly on Shinso, then Aizawa, then Fat, and finally the interns.
Something softened in his expression.
"New victims?"
"Students," Fat corrected.
"Same thing."
Kirishima immediately liked him.
"Is Gal around?" Fat asked.
Jun snorted.
"Out back," he said, a dangerous amount of amusement entering his voice. "Arguing with the tomatoes again."
There was a brief silence.
Then:
"What did they do?"
"Apparently they're encouraging the basil."
Mina made a choking noise.
"What?"
"I don't know," Jun said. "I stopped asking years ago. Honestly, I think the basil started it."
Amajiki nodded solemnly.
"As basil often does."
The fact that nobody found this strange was becoming increasingly alarming.
"Anyway," Jun continued, "she's in the greenhouse."
He paused.
Then added:
"Oh. And if she asks, I absolutely did not tell you she spent twenty minutes trying to convince a rose bush that murder is illegal."
Fat immediately laughed. Even Aizawa's mouth twitched.
"Noted," Fat said.
"Excellent."
The relationship between all of them felt easy—the teasing, the complete absence of formality.
Almost like family.
"Usual?" Jun asked.
Aizawa nodded.
Shinso nodded.
Amajiki nodded.
Fat nodded.
"See?" Mina whispered, as if reading Eijiro's mind. "Everyone has a usual."
She pointed accusingly.
"This is family behavior."
"...You make a compelling argument."
Jun turned toward the interns.
"What about you two?"
"Pancakes?" Fat suggested.
"They're really good."
"They are," Shinso agreed.
Amajiki nodded.
Even Aizawa looked reluctantly convinced.
Jun looked scandalized.
"You people make it sound like I only serve pancakes."
"You also serve emotional support."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
Jun pointed his wooden spoon at Aizawa.
"You are banned from making observations."
"Fair."
After placing their orders, everyone settled around a large table near the tree.
Fat disappeared through a door near the flower section at the back. Presumably in search of his wife.
Or the rebellious tomatoes.
Possibly both.
The moment he was gone, Mina leaned forward.
"You guys are weird."
Shinso laughed.
A real laugh. Small, but genuine.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
"You guys look confused."
"A little?" Kirishima admitted.
"A lot," Mina corrected.
"Understandable."
The teenager rested his chin on one hand.
"I guess the easiest explanation is that Fat's basically my uncle."
Mina blinked.
"What."
Kirishima pointed.
"What."
"Fat's basically my uncle," Shinso repeated.
Mina pointed at him.
"See? That's exactly the kind of information you should've shared sooner."
"It's not exactly relevant."
"It's incredibly relevant."
"To what?"
"To me."
"That explains nothing."
"It doesn't need to."
Aizawa sighed—the sigh of a man who had long since accepted that logic was optional around teenagers.
"We're not related," he explained. "We're just close to Hayashi."
Everyone looked up as laughter drifted in from the back room.
Aizawa immediately closed his eyes.
Fat was walking back toward the table, grinning and looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Slung over one shoulder was a woman.
"Taishiro, you brute!" she protested.
The protest was somewhat undermined by the fact that she was laughing.
"Put me down!"
"No."
"Put me down."
"No."
"Taishiro."
"No."
"Taishiro."
"No."
"This is kidnapping."
"You married me."
"That is not how laws work."
Kirishima and Mina stared. Amajiki looked mildly amused. Shinso looked resigned. Aizawa looked like this happened often enough that he no longer had the energy to care.
Finally, Fat lowered her back to the floor.
The woman immediately fixed her shirt, then punched him in the arm.
Not hard. Just enough to establish principles.
"There."
"Feel better?"
"Immensely."
Then she noticed the table.
Not dramatically. Just enough to realize there were people she hadn't met yet.
"Oh."
Fat immediately brightened.
The poor fool.
The absolute fool.
"Kiddos!"
The hero threw an arm around her shoulders.
"Meet my beautiful, amazing, wonderful, one-of-a-kind wife—"
"Oh no."
"—the love of my life—"
"Taishiro."
"—the most talented woman in this city—"
"Taishiro."
"—Hayashi Galadriel!"
Gal buried her face in one hand.
"God, I hate you."
"You love me."
"I do."
The answer came instantly.
Without hesitation.
Fat's smile somehow got even bigger.
The room collectively made sounds of emotional distress.
"Gross," Shinso informed them.
The woman standing in front of their table was tiny.
Not short—tiny.
Kirishima was fairly sure Uraraka had a few centimeters on her.
Standing beside Fat Gum made the difference even more ridiculous.
The hero looked capable of carrying her under one arm like an oversized housecat.
She had long black hair, warm brown eyes, freckles scattered across her cheeks, and pointed ears that gave her an almost fairy-like appearance.
But what immediately drew attention were her wings.
Two pairs extended from her back, delicate and translucent like those of a dragonfly.
Sunlight filtering through the café windows caught them, making them shimmer faintly with hints of gold, green, and blue.
Dark veins spread across the wings in intricate patterns, tiny flowers blooming along them as naturally as leaves on a branch.
Beautiful.
Strange.
Entirely unlike anything Kirishima had ever seen.
The woman smiled.
Not flashy or dramatic.
Just warm.
The kind of smile that immediately made people feel welcome.
"It's nice to meet you. You guys can call me Gal. Taishiro's been talking about you nonstop."
Mina immediately straightened.
"Really?"
"Oh, constantly."
"He exaggerates."
"I absolutely do not."
"He doesn't," Amajiki quietly added.
The entire table turned toward him.
Amajiki blinked, realizing too late he'd contributed.
"...Sorry."
"Tamaki, sweetheart, you're literally the only honest person at this table."
"I know," he answered, quietly attempting to join the teasing. "It's tragic."
The flowers woven through Gal's wings shifted slightly as she laughed.
Only then did Kirishima notice that most of her upper left wing was missing.
Not damaged.
Just missing.
Old enough to be healed.
Permanent enough to have become part of her silhouette.
The woman noticed.
The way people who'd spent years being stared at always noticed.
But she simply smiled and moved on, like it didn't matter.
Before he could think about it further, Gal turned toward Shinso, immediately softening.
"Hey, sweetheart."
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
The teenager looked deeply offended.
Which, in Shinso language, meant he was pleased.
"How are you?"
"Alive."
"That's encouraging."
"It's more than Dad can promise some days."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
Aizawa chose not to defend himself.
Then Gal noticed the box sitting on the table.
Everything changed.
Not dramatically.
Just instantly.
Her eyes narrowed, the warmth vanished, and the room grew suspicious.
Even Fat looked nervous.
"...Shota."
Aizawa sat up straighter.
Never a good sign.
"Yes?"
"What's in the box?"
"Cookies."
"Shota."
"Cookies."
"Shota."
Aizawa sighed.
"They are actually cookies."
The suspicion remained.
Gal looked toward Shinso. Then Aizawa. Then the box.
Then back again.
Like someone evaluating a bomb.
Finally:
"If there is a single cupcake in there..."
The table went still.
"...I am personally going to strangle both you and your husband."
Mina immediately choked.
Kirishima nearly inhaled his own tongue.
Across the table, Aizawa looked completely unfazed.
"You know you're the only person in the world who physically cannot do that."
"Oh, go fuck yourself, Shota."
"Language," Aizawa immediately rebuked, glancing toward the teenagers.
"They're sixteen."
"They're my students."
"They know swear words."
"I am attempting to maintain a professional image."
Gal laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound bright and completely unrestrained.
"Shota."
"What."
"You expelled yourself from professionalism years ago."
For the first time all afternoon, Aizawa looked offended.
The entire table lost it.
Even Shinso.
Even Amajiki.
Especially Fat.
And while everyone was still recovering, Jun appeared carrying plates.
Towering stacks of pancakes, coffee, tea, juice, and a suspicious amount of whipped cream.
The table immediately fell silent.
Because priorities existed.
And pancakes were one of them.
As Jun distributed plates, Mina pointed dramatically at the box.
"No."
Everyone looked at her.
"No one gets to threaten murder over baked goods and then not explain."
Jun stopped.
Slowly looked toward Gal. Then toward Aizawa. Then toward the cookie box.
A grin spread across his face.
"Oh, are we telling about The Great Cupcake Extravaganza?"
"No."
"Oh yes."
"Jun."
"Oh, we're telling the story."
"Jun."
"The children deserve to know."
"We're literally the same age as Shinso," Kirishima weakly added, immediately ignored by everyone else.
"The children deserve to know."
Jun pulled out a chair, sat down, and folded his hands on the table.
The picture of professionalism.
"Alright."
"No."
"The Great Cupcake Extravaganza."
Around the table, everyone familiar with the story reacted immediately.
Fat started laughing.
Amajiki visibly flinched.
Aizawa looked like he was remembering wartime trauma.
Gal looked like she was reconsidering several friendships.
Mina leaned forward.
Kirishima did too.
"This was last year," Jun began.
"It was a crime," Gal interrupted.
"A tragedy," Aizawa agreed.
"A public health concern," Shinso added.
"A learning experience," Fat said.
Everyone stared at him.
"It was."
"Taishiro."
"What?"
"You ate most of them."
"And I'd do it again."
The hero looked entirely too proud of that fact.
"Anyway," Jun continued, "Yamada got sick."
"A cold," Shinso clarified.
"A tiny cold," Aizawa corrected.
"A microscopic cold," Gal agreed.
"Dad doesn't do well with being idle," Shinso explained. "Usually we have ways to redirect the energy."
"Exercise."
"Music."
"Threats."
"Shota."
"What?"
"Don't tell the children about the threats."
"The children are training to fight villains."
"Fair."
"So Dad decided baking would be productive."
"It was productive."
"It was terrifying."
Jun pointed dramatically at the two newcomers.
"Do you know how many cupcakes one man can produce in a single day?"
Nobody answered.
"Neither did we."
The accusation hung in the air.
"He started with vanilla."
"Normal enough."
"Then chocolate."
"Reasonable."
"Then strawberry."
"Still acceptable."
"Then six different frostings."
"Oh no," Mina whispered.
"By day three he was running comparative analyses."
Kirishima blinked.
"Comparative analyses?"
Aizawa closed his eyes.
"He made spreadsheets."
The silence was immediate.
"What."
"He made spreadsheets."
Mina looked horrified.
"Present Mic-sensei made spreadsheets?"
"He color-coded them."
A beat.
"And included graphs."
Fat laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
Gal buried her face in her hands.
The interns looked devastated, like their understanding of reality had just been permanently altered.
"Eventually," Shinso continued, "we were eating cupcakes every day."
"For breakfast."
"For lunch."
"For dinner."
"For emotional support."
"That's not a food group."
"It became one."
Amajiki quietly raised his hand.
Everyone looked at him.
"I still can't eat red velvet."
The room immediately erupted.
"Tamaki!"
"I'm serious."
"You poor thing."
"It was a difficult time."
Aizawa nodded solemnly.
"It really was."
The fact that nobody was joking made it infinitely funnier.
"So naturally," Gal continued, recovering enough to speak, "Shota had the brilliant idea of redirecting the problem."
"I did. And I regret nothing."
"You sent him here."
"Correct."
The hero took another sip of coffee.
Completely unrepentant.
"I thought professional feedback would help."
"You weaponized my kindness."
"I optimized resources."
"You are the worst."
"I've been told."
Mina was openly crying from laughter now.
"So Present Mic-sensei just started bringing cupcakes here?"
"Every day."
"Multiple times a day."
"A frightening number of times per day."
Jun pointed toward Fat.
"He'd leave twelve cupcakes."
Fat nodded.
"Then come back with twenty."
Another nod.
"Then thirty."
A final nod.
Gal pointed a finger at Aizawa.
"And this man..." The finger shook. "Absolutely knew what he was doing."
The hero looked completely innocent.
Nobody believed him.
Not even a little.
"Dad used you as a tactical withdrawal strategy."
"I did."
"You admit to it?"
"There's enough evidence."
"Fair."
"Anyway," Jun said, leaning forward dramatically, "we needed a solution."
At this point both interns were completely invested.
"What kind of solution?"
The grin that spread across Jun's face should have been illegal.
"Gal came up with the perfect solution."
A pause.
"The fake niece."
Mina stared.
Kirishima stared.
Fat looked delighted.
Gal looked exhausted.
"The fake niece?"
"The fake niece."
"Please explain."
Jun sat back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.
"At some point we realized we couldn't keep accepting industrial quantities of cupcakes."
"Reasonable."
"We also couldn't throw them away."
"Also reasonable."
"Gal and I grew up pretty poor," Jun explained with a shrug. "Perfectly edible food doesn't get tossed around here."
That earned a small nod from Aizawa.
"So we started giving them away."
"To customers?"
"To customers."
"But there was a problem," Gal groaned. "Hizashi was improving, he genuinely was. But he wasn't consistent yet. Some cupcakes were great. Some cupcakes were..."
Jun searched for a diplomatic term.
"...aspirational."
Aizawa nearly smiled.
"So we couldn't exactly tell people they were made by the coffee shop."
"Because customers would assume that was your normal quality," Kirishima realized.
Jun pointed dramatically.
"He gets it."
"I get it."
"So Gal came up with the solution."
Every eye turned toward her.
Gal immediately pointed at Fat.
"In my defense."
"Oh no."
"He was eating twenty cupcakes a day."
"Those numbers are exaggerated."
"They are not."
"They might be slightly exaggerated."
"They are not."
Fat looked at Aizawa.
Aizawa looked away.
The traitor.
"We told customers," Gal continued, "that the cupcakes had been made by Taishiro's eleven-year-old non-existent niece."
The silence lasted exactly three seconds.
Then Mina folded in half laughing.
"No."
"Oh yes."
"You invented a child?"
"We invented a child."
"For business."
"For survival."
"FOR SURVIVAL?"
"You weren't there."
"Fair."
Kirishima was laughing so hard he was crying.
"You made up an entire person?"
"We gave her a promising future and everything."
"I need context."
"Oh, you're getting context."
Jun looked positively radiant.
"The customers loved her."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"They wanted updates. They asked questions. They were invested."
One hand slowly covered Mina's face.
"No."
"One woman came back three times because she wanted to commission a birthday cake."
"What did you tell her?"
Gal looked completely serious.
"I told her my niece had unfortunately become too busy with her elementary school responsibilities."
The entire table lost it.
Even Aizawa made a suspicious choking noise into his coffee.
"Elementary school responsibilities?" Kirishima wheezed.
"Very important business."
"Like what?"
Gal shrugged.
"Fractions."
The room exploded.
Even Aizawa laughed.
Actually laughed.
A rare enough event that Shinso immediately pointed at him.
"Everyone saw that."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You laughed."
"No."
"Dad."
"No."
"Shota."
"No."
Fat looked emotional.
"This is a beautiful moment."
"No one asked you."
"Rude."
Jun disappeared briefly behind the counter.
Then returned carrying a worn notebook.
Immediately, Gal sighed.
Recognizing it.
"No."
"Oh yes," Jun said proudly. "The feedback notebook."
"Feedback notebook?" Mina demanded.
Without a word, Jun opened it.
The pages were filled with handwritten notes.
Customer notes.
For a child that didn't exist.
The interns stared.
Then stared harder.
"No."
"YES."
Jun flipped to a random page.
"'Dear little baker, your vanilla frosting was lovely, but perhaps try using a little less sugar next time. Good luck in school.'"
Mina made a noise usually associated with dying animals.
He flipped another page.
"'Dear future pastry chef, never give up on your dreams.'"
Another.
"'I hope your math exam went well.'"
Another.
"'Please tell her she should be proud of herself.'"
The laughter softened.
Just a little.
Not enough to kill the mood.
Just enough to remind everyone that people could be unexpectedly kind.
Gal smiled.
Small and fond.
"They really cared."
"They did."
"For a fake child."
"For a fake child."
"What happened to her?" Kirishima asked.
Gal took a slow sip of her drink.
"Oh."
The room waited.
"She was accepted into a prestigious culinary academy in France."
The silence lasted half a second.
Then everyone exploded.
"YOU SENT HER TO FRANCE?"
"She had dreams."
"SHE WASN'T REAL."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Gal looked deeply offended.
"Of course she was real. She worked very hard."
"THAT CHILD NEVER EXISTED."
"Agree to disagree."
At that point Mina had fallen sideways across the table.
Kirishima wasn't doing much better.
Even Aizawa had surrendered.
The battle was lost.
The fake niece had won.
Again.
____
It was nearly dark by the time they left the café.
The sky above the city glowed orange and purple.
The lights inside the Himari Coffee Shop shone warmly through the windows.
Behind them, Jun was locking up.
Gal was arguing with one of the hanging plants.
Fat was carrying boxes she had explicitly told him not to carry.
Aizawa and Shinso were waiting near the curb.
A family.
Not perfect.
Not normal.
But real.