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Shouto had never really considered how much his mother dealt with until he found himself chasing his four-year-old son down shouting, “Don’t mess with the candle!” in an attempt to keep him from burning their house down. How had she managed to wrangle one kid with a fire quirk, much less two? And that wasn’t even counting Fuyumi and Natsuo’s quirks. They might not have been as strong, but combined with Touya’s, he couldn’t imagine living in a house filled with four children and their dangerous quirks.
“Papa, look!” Ryouta exclaimed, reaching out with a hand. The flame flickering over the candle shot into his palm from across the room, nearly lighting half the furniture on the way. “I got fire like you!”
Before his son could do something disastrous with the fire growing stronger in his hand, Shouto clamped his left hand over his son’s, pushing his hand into a fist and smothering the flame. Ryouta pouted while Shouto sighed in relief. When his quirk had manifested a month ago, both he and Ochako had been ecstatic, if not a little wary. Truth be told, he had known that his son would have some sort of fire-related quirk the moment he was born and opened his eyes. That telltale right blue eye said everything.
Ryouta peered up at him. “Papa?”
Shouto closed his eyes. “What did I say about using your quirk inside the house?”
“Not to do it?”
“And what did you just do?”
Even without looking, Shouto could feel Ryouta deflate as he muttered, “Used my quirk in the house.”
It was so hard to stray frustrated with his son for long when he sounded that put out, even though he was the one who hadn’t been following the rules. Letting out a breath, Shouto opened his eyes and let go of his son’s hand, patting his head instead. “That’s right.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryouta said. “I just wanted to show you that I’m like you.”
“I know, but it’s dangerous to use inside of the house,” Shouto told him.
Ryouta tilted his head. “You use your quirk inside.”
“I’ve had a little more practice with it than you,” Shouto pointed out somewhat dryly. Besides, when he had been his son’s age, his father had already started to train him and his quirk, so he hadn’t had a choice but to use it. “Now go on and play outside before dinner is ready. I’ll be out there in a bit.”
As if a switch was flicked, Ryouta straightened and beamed, chirping, “Okay!” before darting out of the room.
Running his fingers through his hair, Shouto let out another breath and meandered into the kitchen to finish cooking. There were a lot of things Shouto had sworn the moment Ochako told him that she was pregnant. He wouldn’t be like his father. He wouldn’t be controlling, aggressive, or demanding. He would let his child be a child. He would love them. Fuck, he would love them so much, and they would know it, even if he still had moments when he struggled to show how he felt.
The second most important thing – the one rule he demanded he lived by – was that he would let his child’s quirk be their own.
For most people, it went without saying, but he’d noticed on more than one occasion since breaking into the pro hero scene that other pro heroes’ spoke about their children’s quirks differently. In truth, it wasn’t common for a lot of the top heroes to have a family and kids – that took too much time and energy and pulled them away from their job – but the heroes that did often gravitated towards each other because it was difficult to manage both.
And what he found, much to his frustration, was that a lot of hero parents spoke about their children’s quirks as if they weren’t theirs. Oh, sure, when he brought it up, they would backtrack and explain themselves further, but the number of times he’d heard a hero talk about how his kid’s quirk was an off-shoot of his and how it would make them a good hero in the future. They didn’t mean any harm in it – not like his father had – but there was a strange possessiveness that didn’t sit right with him.
Had Ryouta’s quirk branched off his? Yes, because that was usually how quirks worked, especially elemental ones – they were inherited and sometimes evolved. Shouto had fire from his father and ice from his mother; Natsuo could create steam; Fuyumi could conjure snow and small flurries; and Touya had fire from their father and ice resistance from their mother. It made sense that Ryouta had inherited a type of fire quirk from him since elemental quirks were also strong.
Ochako’s quirk had been different. Neither of her parents had the quirks involved with gravity, so she had been quite a surprise when her quirk manifested. Shouto didn’t like admitting that he’d hoped their son’s quirk would take after hers or be entirely different, not when he stressed how Ryouta’s quirk was his and had nothing to do with him, but it was the painful truth.
He hadn’t been disappointed when Ryouta first controlled fire so much as afraid. He’d felt that same fear from when he was a kid, flinching away from flames because of how much he hated them. There was also the chance that he hadn’t inherited flame resistance like Touya, and he’d suddenly remembered hearing his older brother’s screams during training before it had been his turn.
It wasn’t like that though. Ryouta was different. Shouto was different. With a fire quirk, he would have to instill care and control in his son so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone or himself, but he would never be like his father. He wouldn’t put a child through extreme regiments or training. He wouldn’t–
“Shouto?”
Snapping out of his thoughts, Shouto glanced away from the stove just in time to see Ochako before she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his back. She squeezed him tightly, nuzzling her nose in his shirt, and let out a content sigh, her body relaxing against his.
All the dark clouds he’d been battling slowly faded as she held onto him, as if she was making them float away. He could believe it. She’d always been like this for as long as he could remember. He’d craved this contact from her since finding out how much she could calm him with a simple touch when they were teenagers. He didn’t know how she did it, but he wasn’t about to complain now after a little over four years of marriage.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Ochako said, her voice muffled from his shirt. He could feel her hot breath blow against him as she spoke. It would’ve been very pleasant if she hadn’t been gently scolding him.
Instead of admitting it, Shouto decided to play dumb. “Doing what? Cooking you your favorite meal for dinner?”
Ochako pulled her face away from his back, but she didn’t let go of him. “No – well, okay, yes, you are doing that as well – but that’s not what I’m talking about.” She leaned to the side so she could peer at his profile while he continued to look ahead and cook. “You’re panicking and feeling guilty.”
“If I was panicking, the temperature would be fluctuating a lot more in this kitchen,” Shouto pointed out.
“Oh, pffft.” Ochako moved to let go of him, but he reached back quickly to grab her hip and still her. He wasn’t about to let her leave just yet.
After setting the wooden spoon down and turning the stove down to a simmer, Shouto let go of her hip and turned around in her arms so that he was facing her. She was looking at him with a hint of concern in her eyes, but also something so warm that it made his stomach flip even now. Honestly, he wasn’t trying to avoid talking about this. He couldn’t help but cup her face so he could lean down and kiss her. She tasted sweet, like she’d been sneaking candy from the cupboard, and he smiled against her lips.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait until after dinner to eat dessert?” Shouto asked in a low murmur, kissing along her jaw to her ear so he could nibble on it.
“It was a rough day at work,” Ochako whined, squirming against him.
He chuckled under his breath and leaned back, moving to rest against the counter beside the stove so she could lean against him. Both of them knew they didn’t have the time or privacy to go any further than that. Ryouta had been sleeping in his own room since he was six months old, but he still had a habit of bursting into their room when it stormed or he had a nightmare. It had been a while since they’d been able to take it nice and slow.
Ochako harrumphed when he dropped his hand from her face and squeezed her hip. “No changing the subject.”
Shouto shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
Looking him in the eyes, Ochako asked him, “What are you worrying about?”
“I don’t know,” Shouto admitted. “I know I won’t be like my father. Ryouta won’t suffer like Touya or struggle like I did, but… I guess I’m still concerned about how I’ll guide him.”
“It’s not entirely on your shoulders, you know,” Ochako told him. “He’s my son too.”
“I know,” Shouto sighed, “and I know you’ll be with him every step of the way. It’s just…”
“You feel responsible since he has a fire quirk too,” Ochako finished for him.
Shouto nodded. “Yeah, fire is in our blood, and it burns. I don’t know anyone who wasn’t hurt by fire in the end, but I don’t want Ryouta to go through that too. I want it to be different for him. I want it to be better .”
Slipping her arms out from under his, Ochako reached up and held his face in her hands, both her pinkies sticking out so she didn’t float him. “And it will be. I know it will.” There was no hesitation in her voice, no uncertainty in her eyes. She had complete faith in him; she didn’t doubt him for a moment. He might’ve not known what being a father meant, but he’d learned and was continuing to do so. “He’s so happy to have a quirk like you, but you need to be happy for him too. It’s scary and confusing, but you’re not alone, and neither is he.”
“How do you always know exactly what to say?” Shouto asked, eyeing her mock-suspiciously.
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Ochako teased. “Figuring out what you’re thinking is my greatest talent.”
Shouto’s hands slid further down her hips. “So what am I thinking now?”
“Something that isn’t going to happen for a few more hours if we’re lucky,” Ochako said smartly, pulling out of his grip so she could take up the spoon and check on the food. A grin quirked at his lips, but he only folded his arms across his chest and watched her pick up where he’d left off with dinner. They were a good team. It was one of his favorite things about their relationship.
“Papa, c’mon!” Ryouta shouted from their backyard. “I wanna play!”
Ochako waved the spoon at him. “Go on. I’m shocked he waited this long for you.”
Knowing she wasn’t wrong, Shouto pushed away from the counter and walked out of the kitchen. When he reached the door for the backyard, he found his son playing fetch with his dog. He’d never been allowed a pet when he was a kid – none of them had – so when Ryouta had asked for a puppy, well… Ochako had been surprised when they returned home with a puppy in hand, but she hadn’t complained too much.
Ryouta paused when he caught sight of him standing in the doorway. “Papa?”
Glancing down briefly at his left hand, Shouto opened the door and stepped into the backyard. “Hey, guess what.”
“What?”
“Where are we now?”
Confused at first, Ryouta looked around. “Outside?”
“Yeah, and what can we do outside that we can’t do inside?” Shouto asked.
It didn’t click right away, but when it did, Ryouta lit up like a firecracker and bounced over to him excitedly. “Can I? Can I really?” Both his brown and blue eyes were glowing, but there was something about that blue that burned brighter, reminding him of Touya’s flames. It only hurt him a little thinking of that, but Shouto pushed it away. Now was not the time to be sad.
“Not too much because we have to be careful,” Shouto told his son, crouching down to his level. “It’s important that you learn how to use your quirk and not be afraid of your fire.”
“I’m not afraid of fire,” Ryouta insisted. “It’s you.”
The wind was knocked right out of Shouto’s lungs. Ryouta’s response was so simple, so straightforward, so honest, but it was never something he’d expected to want to hear. Growing up, he had also related fire to his father, and it had always been negative and painful. He’d hated it, regretted it, feared it. Never once had he looked at fire and thought of it as something good or safe, at least not until he started to accept that half of his quirk as his own.
Fire meant his father, and that was awful.
And yet fire meant his father to Ryouta, and that was good. He wasn’t afraid of fire because it reminded him of his father.
Shouto smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “Yeah, it’s me, and it’s also you.”
It was Ryouta’s power, but Shouto would do everything in his power to guide him along the way. Ochako was right. He really shouldn’t worry about that, not when he wasn’t alone anymore. They could all do this together, as a family, the one thing he’d never considered he would have. He could be happy with that.