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Shouto was always tense whenever his father was around his son. Realistically speaking, he knew nothing would happen. He didn’t have to keep one or the other in his sights to make sure nothing went wrong. It wasn’t like his old man would drag Ryouta into the training room for a brutal session. Maybe his eyes lit up with interest whenever Ryouta bounced a ball of fire between his hands, but he didn’t say anything that set off alarms.
Unfortunately, Shouto was always on alert when his son was near his father and doubted that would change any time soon. He'd been uncomfortable before, but ever since Ryouta’s quirk manifested a year ago, he felt on edge. His father knew better than to bring up something that would anger him - and smart enough to know what set him off - but that didn’t stop Shouto from thinking about what was on his father’s mind whenever his eyes locked onto his grandson.
Fuyumi could insist their father wasn’t the same man they’d grown up with, Natsuo could say their old man was done for, and Ochako could proclaim she would kick his ass before he ever put a finger on their son’s head, but the mere hint of interest from his father was enough to unsettle Shouto. He didn’t like it. All he could think about was that hungry expression on his father’s face when his quirk finally manifested.
The one consolation was that his father didn’t see his son very often. They very rarely visited him. For a while, they used the guise that they were busy and lived too far away to take time off, but after Ryouta was born, Shouto didn’t feel the desire to hold up pretenses. He didn’t hate his father; he didn’t want him dead; and on some level, he would always respect him for the work he’d done as a hero. The man had been a powerhouse, his strength outshining so many others before him, absolutely incredible.
And he'd also been a shit father. He might be better now - one could almost say he was mildly decent at the whole father thing - but he would never be good. They would never have a warm, friendly relationship with one another. To be frank, Shouto didn’t want one. He didn’t need it. As far as he was concerned, the rather professional relationship he had with his father was good enough. Holidays and the occasional birthday were fine with him.
After marrying Ochako, moving away had been easy to do. Sure, they missed their friends, but as pros, they were often too busy to hang out all at once anyway. They moved on. Midoriya bounced around the world doing pro hero work while Iida was busy running the Ingenium Agency alongside Momo. It had been more difficult to move away from his family since he’d lost so much time with them in his youth, but his mother was supportive. She could live on her own now and didn’t need him to help her. She wanted him to move as far away as possible. Start a new life - his own life. Breathe.
The only reason they were back in town now was because of his niece’s birthday. It made perfect sense to Shouto that Fuyumi had the first kid, but finding out his sister was dating pro hero Hawks definitely had thrown them all for a loop, none more so than their father. Ochako used to tease him that half the reason he approved of Hawks was because him dating Fuyumi pissed their father off. She wasn’t wrong.
Them staying together through everything that happened was the most shocking part of it all, but as they did with most things in their lives, they simply didn’t talk about it. Hawks wasn’t a bad guy. Had he done some shady shit in the past? Yes, but hadn’t they all? Shouto couldn't proclaim to have a clean record. Maybe Ochako and Fuyumi could. Maybe their kids could in the future if they did right by them.
Much like their childhood home, the Takami household was expansive, but there was a lot more warmth to it, no doubt thanks to Fuyumi. Hawks had confided in him that he’d never really known how to add personal touches to things, if only because it never felt like his. Nothing was ever his, not when he was owned by the public and the people that created him. Shouto could understand that, and so he didn’t begrudge Hawks for his shortcomings. All he wanted was for Fuyumi to be happy. If she was - if she had what she wanted - then he had no complaints.
Judging by the backyard filled with decorations, he had no reason to argue with his sister for her taste in men. Hawks might no longer be the Number Two Hero, but he seemed happier for it, flying under the radar of the Top Ten and simply doing his damn job. Shouto had taken his place a while back but, like him, had little interest in fighting for the top position. Bakugou and Midoriya could duke it out. As much as he loved Midoriya, he was kind of rooting for someone random to take them both out for a year.
For the most part, despite the place being filled with heroes, they tried not to talk shop for at least one day unless one of the kids asked. Hero work wasn’t exactly a conversation topic meant for a six-year-old’s birthday party. Emica was two years older than Ryouta and predictably loved birds - specifically penguins, which meant the entire place was Arctic-themed. Ochako thought it was the most adorable thing. For his fourth birthday, Ryouta wanted it to be alien-themed, and she’d loved that as well.
Of course he and his siblings would have weird children, but they had them. For the longest time, Shouto honestly thought he would never have kids. He either didn’t consider them, didn’t want them, or didn’t think he should have them. What if he ruined his kid like his father did him? No, he wouldn’t dare do the same things, but what did he know about being a father? What if he messed up? What if his kid hated him? What did he know about being kind, gentle, and loving?
And then there was Ochako, sliding up against him in the dark, so warm under the covers, one hand in his hair behind his head, the other grabbing his hand to press against her, whispering in his ear, “You are all those things, so show me.” She somehow proved to him time and time again that he could be until finally one day she showed him the pregnancy test and he almost dropped to his knees.
Shouto leaned against the wall of the house while he watched Ryouta chase his older cousin. It was hard to say if he would be tall like Shouto or short like Ochako. She thought he took after his build more, but all he saw was her brown hair and pink spots on his cheeks. He had her bubbly nature and penchant for drawing people in with his friendliness. He smiled much more than Shouto had in the first fifteen years of his life. It was almost perfect.
Genetically speaking, Ryouta should’ve had brown eyes like Ochako. When he was born instead with one brown and one blue eye, Shouto knew deep down that his fire quirk had passed onto his son somehow, but he’d spent years in denial over it. He watched Ryouta wiggle his hands and knew he was fighting the urge to activate his quirk. Four-year-olds did not have the best self-control.
Arms slid around his waist and a soft face pressed up against his back, but it was the faint smell of strawberries that made him relax into the hold. “What’s with the face?”
“I’m not making a face.”
“Uh huh, yes, you are.”
Shouto smiled faintly and glanced back at his wife. “Okay, maybe I’m making a face.”
Ochako arched an eyebrow and gave him an unimpressed look. “We’re at a child’s birthday party. Please try not to be all doom and gloom over here. You look like you think a villain is about to attack at any second.” Shouto opened his mouth, but she was quicker. “And don’t even suggest that this would be the perfect time since we all have our guard down and our families in one spot. No doom and gloom.”
“And what if I keep it up?” Shouto asked in a very straight tone. “What will you do then?”
“Well.” When Ochako pulled away from him, he instinctively turned to face her, desperately trying not to react in amusement to the very serious look on her face. “Your mother is watching Ryouta this weekend while we’re in town.” She smiled sharply, viciously, like a wolf. “It would be a shame if we didn’t spend some quality time together while we’re without a kid.”
Shouto narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I can hold out,” Ochako teased. “Can you?”
Before Shouto could comment on her threat, Ryouta’s shout, “Papa! Papa!” caught his attention. He looked in the direction of his son’s voice, expecting to see him doing something with Emica, only to find him with his grandfather. Shouto’s heart shot into his throat. Ryouta was pointing at the flames flickering in Endeavor’s hand, the fire glowing in his blue eyes. “He can make fire like you!”
Shouto didn’t even realize he was rushing in their direction. He felt a hand on his wrist, trying to pull him back, but he slipped out of the grip, stepping down the stairs and crossing the backyard. No one else mattered. All he could see was his father and son and the fire. He wouldn’t snap - he wouldn’t yell - but Ryouta was still caught off guard when Shouto snatched him up and ripped him away. His father put out his flames and held it up in a gesture close to surrender, if he was capable of such a thing.
“Papa?”
His son’s voice snapped him out of whatever haze he’d fallen into, and he looked into his son’s confused eyes. Ah. He didn’t know what was going on. Shouto had never picked him up like that before. He was always so careful, even when they were playing. His heart slowed to a steady beat. It could’ve been worse. He could’ve startled Ryouta by snatching him like that, but he had his mother’s bravery and her trusting nature. He would never think that Shouto would hurt him, and he wouldn’t. He would never.
“What is it?” Shouto asked calmly.
Ryouta pointed to his father. “Grandpa can make fire like you.” Bouncing excitedly in Shouto’s arms, he would’ve fallen if Shouto didn’t have such a tight hold on him. “I wanna make fire too. Why can’t you teach me? I’ve got a quirk now!”
Shouto’s heart started pounding in his chest again. There were a lot of reasons why Shouto couldn’t and outright wouldn’t teach his son about his quirk, at least not until he was older. For now, they settled on rules when he could use his quirk - only under proper supervision - but eventually, Shouto knew he would need to teach Ryouta how to control it. Many quirks could be dangerous, but fire quirks were particularly so, especially in rambunctious children. Kids didn’t exactly care about quirk laws.
As eager as Ryouta was to learn, Shouto couldn’t do it. He needed time. He would never train his son the way his father had him, but memories rushed to the forefront every time Ryouta asked. It was easier to placate him than explain why they had to wait.
“I know, but your quirk is different, remember?” Shouto explained. “You can’t create your own fire.”
Ryouta pouted. “Why?”
Shouto ran a hand over his son’s hair. “That’s just the way quirks work sometimes. Kids don’t always get the same quirks as their parents.”
“But you and Grandpa have the same quirk,” Ryouta complained.
“Yes, I can make fire like him,” Shouto said hesitantly, “but I can also make ice like Grandma, so I’m not the same either.”
Grabbing the front of his shirt, Ryouta leaned back as far as he could without ripping the material, nearly parallel to the ground. “Teach me! I wanna be strong like you!”
“When you’re older,” Shouto told him.
“Why?” Ryouta whined, swaying side-to-side. Such childish behavior had never been tolerated when Shouto was his age. His father didn’t allow it. He’d probably never even held him anything close like this. Growing up as fast as he was, Shouto took advantage of every time Ryouta let him hold him. It wouldn’t be long before he was too big. “I wanna learn now!”
Shouto shook his head. “You’re still young.”
Ryouta popped upright, a bright gleam in his eyes. “If you don’t wanna teach me, Grandpa can-”
“No.”
His son frowned. “But-”
“I said no, Ryouta,” Shouto cut in sharply. “Do not ask again.”
Ryouta froze, staring him in the eyes with a look on his face that Shouto had never seen. Something that looked an awful lot like fear. Disgust rolled in Shouto’s stomach and regret clouded his mind. How could he have spoken to his son like that? Yes, the suggestion had caught him off guard - even filled him with fear - but there was no way Ryouta could’ve known how badly it would affect him.
Before Shouto could apologize, Ryouta began to squirm in his arms until he set him down. As soon as his son’s feet hit the ground, he took off in his mother’s direction, throwing his arms around her legs before she could bend over to pick him up. Ochako laid a hand on Ryouta’s head as he buried his face against her and then caught eyes with Shouto. While she wasn’t mad at him for his reaction, the clench in her jaw and look in her eyes said they would be talking about this later.
Ochako was as understanding as they came and patient with him when it came to his issues with his father, but he'd promised he wouldn't let it negatively affect his relationship with their son. If it did, they talked it over. He’d even gone to therapy, which had embarrassed him but...did help in the end. She wanted what was best for him, even when he struggled to accept that best.
“Shouto.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he turned to face his father. “Yes?”
“I wouldn’t,” his father said. Shouto didn’t respond, simply staring at him. “Even if he asked me, I wouldn’t train your son. I know…” He took a measured breath, the same way Shouto did seconds ago. Like father, like son. “I wouldn’t be the right person to do it.”
“You could say that,” Shouto replied dryly. Another way of saying it would be that he was the worst teacher in the world, short of a few villains.
“How I taught you-”
Shouto grimaced. “Taught is a stretch, isn’t it?”
His father didn’t flinch. “How I trained you - how I trained Touya - it wasn’t right.”
That was the understatement of the year, but Shouto said nothing. Regardless of what his father had done, Shouto was here now. He couldn’t hate and begrudge him for the past, not when there was nothing to be done about it. Besides, it had shaped him into the man and hero he was today. He wouldn’t change anything if it meant there was a chance he wouldn’t be right here, right now, with the people in his life. If there was a possibility his past lead him to Ochako, Ryouta, Midoriya, Iida… He wouldn’t take it back.
“I wouldn’t put Ryouta through that,” his father continued. “I wouldn’t hurt him the way I did you.”
His eyes drifted over to Ochako and Ryouta. Their son floated upside down in the air above Ochako’s head, giggling as he spun around in a flip. He asked her to float him all the time. If she let him, he’d spend half the day floating around with no gravity, using the walls to guide him through their home. He was already almost as graceful in the air as she was. It was remarkable.
“I wouldn’t let you,” Shouto said flatly.
“I know.” His father looked back at him. “His quirk is interesting-”
“But it’s his.”
His father nodded. “It’s his.”
Shouto and his father could create fire and, on some level, manipulate it and bend it to their will - but only their own. While Ryouta could not create fire at will, he could control any fire he saw. He could play with it like a child would a toy. Watching him pull fire from a lit candle to the palm of his hand and twirl it between his fingers had been fascinating, but it scared Shouto as well. He couldn’t imagine controlling something so powerful - something so dangerous.
Fire was good. Fire was life. He didn’t have to remind himself of that nearly as much anymore.
“When the time comes, you’ll teach him well,” his father finished. “You’ll make up for where I failed.”
Shouto snorted. “Careful now. Age has made you soft, old man.”
“I wanted you to be better than me,” his father said. “I succeeded there at least.”
“It wasn’t difficult considering the baseline,” Shouto replied coolly. Before, he might’ve snapped at his father for saying something like that, but the hate and bitterness that once consumed him had dissipated over the years. He would never love his father like many sons did - like Ryouta loved him - but he didn’t hate him anymore. It was more difficult to let it go than to hold onto it, but he felt lighter for it. That hate had held him back. He didn’t want it. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
His father sighed and rubbed his temple. “Could you respond to me without sarcasm for once?”
“I could.” But he wouldn’t.
“You’re a good father, Shouto. I am proud of you.”
He didn’t need his father’s pride, yet Shouto wasn’t angry with him like he might've been before. Instead, he nodded and mumbled, “Thanks,” before turning on his heels and returning to Ochako’s side. Ryouta blinked at him but then stretched his hand out for Shouto to take, pulling him into his arms so Ochako could release her quirk.
“Why don’t you go sneak some more mochi from Aunt Fuyumi?” Shouto told him.
Ryouta perked up. “Yay! Mochi!”
“You’re going to spoil him, you know,” Ochako said after Ryouta bolted off in the direction of the food upon being set down.
Shouto slid his arms around his wife’s waist and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I know.” Their son had inherited his mother’s insatiable sweet tooth. The number of times he’d come home late to find them eating sweets while watching cartoons in the dark like gremlins were too many to count. Luckily, he was rigorous about brushing his teeth. “Can you blame me?”
“No, but that means I have to be the mean one,” Ochako whined playfully.
“I kind of like it when you’re mean,” Shouto hummed.
Ochako leaned back to slap him on the chest. “There are children around.”
“As if you didn’t joke about it earlier.”
“It was a warning, not a joke. There’s a difference.”
Shouto arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t joking either. I quite enjoy it.”
Rolling her eyes, Ochako laid her head against his chest and held him close. They stayed like that for a minute, her resting against him while he propped his chin on top of her head and watched Ryouta play with his uncles. Shouto had never dreamed of something so tender. He hadn’t thought his family was capable of simple things like this. It was nothing yet it was everything.
“Are you okay?” Ochako murmured into his shirt.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m more than okay.” Shouto kissed the top of her head again. Affection in public was something he'd gotten used to in high school, but he’d still refrained. He didn’t mind it so much now. Ochako was a physically affectionate person, but Ryouta loved to be held and cuddled. It broke him of his hesitation - of his fear and insecurity.
They changed his world, and he would do anything to protect the family they had become. It didn’t matter what rank he was or how the public viewed him; as long as he was a hero to Ryouta - as long as he was a good husband, father, son, brother, friend - he was happy. Things wouldn’t always be perfect, but that was why it was so important to have a good partner at his side. Ochako tightened her hold on him briefly. He was lucky to have one of the best.