Chapter Text
After celebrating with some fans and my family in the stands, I walk back into gorilla position with my little boy at my side. As a gesture of thanks, I make a bow towards Kacchan mirroring what he did for me a year earlier. I don’t bow quite so low as he did, but he understands and appreciates the gesture all the same.
“Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll just kick the shit out of some poor jobber on Monday.” I tease, giving my old friend a hug.
“Oh you can bet on it.” Kacchan chuckles, before turning to Kota. “Sorry for hurting your dad, it’s all just part of the job. My name’s Katsuki, it’s nice to-”
Kacchan is immediately cut off by Kota nailing him square in the nuts. I feel a strange mix of sympathetic pain and pride in my new son.
“Don’t ever hurt my dad again!” Kota warns, his eyes dark with fury.
“Yes sir.” Kacchan says immediately.
Everyone knows what Katsuki’s doing, he’s deliberately making the kid feel tough instead of shutting him down because there’s no point in big timing a little kid and also because the show is over and there’s no reason to scare Kota, but we also know that Kacchan literally just replied “yes sir” when threatened by my son.
We all crack up.
“Alright, with all that out of the way, that was a great match. Congrats on the win champ and congrats on a well fought match Katsuki! You made him work for every win you got.” Triple H congratulates, hugging both of us. “We’re gonna keep an eye on the audience in the next few weeks, we didn’t get quite the reaction we thought we would, so we’ll play it by ear.” Hunter explains looking at me.
I nod. “Makes sense. A 6-1 squash maybe wasn’t quite what the audience wanted for a main event.”
“Yeah, but it works for the story doesn’t it?” Kacchan argues. “I’ve been nothing but an asshole for a year straight, and I finally got what was coming to me right?”
“Oh no it makes perfect, but I think it being so uneven could’ve made the audience care less. I think 4-3 or even a 5-2 split could’ve maintained interest more.”
“No use in arguing about it now boys. The match is done, the tickets are sold, the show is over, and your money is made. Get yourselves looked at then head home.” Hunter dismisses. “Get some of the katsudon stuff you love so much.” He suggests, patting us both on our shoulders and grinning like a proud parent.
“That sounds like a great idea Hunter. Do you know where my dad and Toshi are?” I ask.
“On the bus with Inko and Ochako entertaining Mitsuki and Masaru.” Hunter answers.
“And Tenko?”
“Talking to some of the 2K guys, he’s still mad about how buggy the last game was.”
“I mean in fairness, it was pretty buggy.” Kacchan comments.
“True that.” I chuckle.
“I’ll take your word for it boys, but seriously, get the hell out of here.” Hunter laughs, starting to shove us out of the way. “You get patched up, you go find your parents and make sure your mother doesn’t kill anyone.” He instructs, pointing to me and then Kacchan.
“You mind Tenko too? I was thinking we’d all get some dinner together.” I ask, looking to Kacchan.
“I’d better, as much as Hunter thinks my mom is going to kill someone, I think Mr. Eczema is probably more likely to murder one of those developers.” Katsuki chuckles, patting me on the back before walking away.
I smile at my friend as he leaves then let out a deep breath.
God what a night it’s been.
“You okay dad?” Kota asks, looking up at me with concerned eyes.
My smile turns even brighter. “I’ve never been better, Kota.” I answer.
“So a shoot is when you’re talking about real life stuff that doesn’t have to do a story, kayfabe is when it’s just the story and no real life stuff, and a work is kind of a mix of the two?” Kota asks as he watches the doctor put the stitches in my forehead.
“You’ve got it buddy!” I answer, smiling proudly.
“And you’re all set, Deku.” The doctor smiles, tying up the strand and wiping my forehead with a sanitized wipe.
“Thanks doc.” I nod as the older man gets up and walks out of the locker room. His last patient of the night. A job well done.
“Hey dad, why do you call yourself Deku?”
“Well, when I was younger and first getting into pro wrestling, the first guy I worked for wanted me to emphasize the fact that I was Japanese, but he didn’t want me to use my real name, and I always thought American wrestlers with only one name were pretty cool. You know, like Goldberg, Kane, The Undertaker, Batista, all those guys, so I thought I'd do something like that. But I was also wrestling in a promotion where I did a lot of really dangerous matches, so I wanted to pick a name that showed that I had zero regard for my own safety or well being. So I picked Deku because it means worthless person. I told people I didn’t care about myself because I thought I was worthless.”
“But you’re not worthless dad!”
“I know I’m not buddy, that’s just a ring name.” I chuckle, pulling Kota in closer.
“So why did you keep it after you stopped doing matches like that?”
“Well calling myself Deku brought me to the dance, and I didn’t really want to change anything about my image in order to get into WWE and get over while I was here.” I mull over my words for a moment. “That’s important Kota. Wherever you go, you can’t change who you are just to make other people happy. That’s not just true in pro wrestling or sports entertainment or whatever you want to call it, that’s true in life in general.” I explain.
Much to my pride, I see Kota nod, his face tensing as he considers my words.
“So like I shouldn’t change at all?”
“Only the person that you are. You can change little things that aren’t that important or are actively hurting people around you, but the core of who you are, that shouldn’t change.”
Kota nods again. “Hey dad, do you think I could become a wrestler?”
“If that’s what you want, then yes.” I answer, smiling brightly. “I think you could become anything you wanted if you set your mind to it.”
“Hey dad.” Kota says again.
“Yeah Kota?”
“I’m really glad you and mom picked me.”
And now here comes those famous Midoriya tears.
“Of course Kota. We love you so much.” I reply, hugging Kota tightly.
“OH COME ON DAD!” Kota groans, rolling his eyes but not pulling away from me.
“You’re a Midoriya now. You gotta get used to it.” I tease, gently rubbing my son’s back as we hold each other.
“You’re so embarrassing.” He grumbles, nuzzling his face into my shoulder.
“And that’s why I’m lucky to have such a cool kid as my son.” I reply.
I walk onto the tour bus I share with Ochako to find Toshi and Hisashi recounting a tale from the old days back in Japan.
“You see this guy actually got the idea for the League from his little brother, Yoichi.” Toshi explains.
“Yes, yes, the idea was that he was managing a group of seven other wrestlers who would all be going after me because I was holding seven titles across Japan.” Hisashi explains. “It was the IWGP Heavyweight belt, All Japan’s Triple Crown belt, Noah’s GHC Heavyweight belt, DDT’s KO-D Openweight championship, the NWA world championship, the Ring of Honor world championship, and the CZW world championship. And so when I came to WWE, I saw there were a lot of young talents and a few veterans who could really use a shine, so I talked to management about them all working for me while I helped them pursue gold.”
“Who all were in the group?” Mitsuki asks, actually intrigued for once.
“Ryouji Futatsuya and Isamu Mitsunami were the first two guys Yoichi called in.” Toshinori recalls. “If I remember right, they went after the Triple Crown and the GHC. Then it was Hikage Shinomori, he was always an odd duck so he went after the KO-D belt. Daigoro Banjo-”
Masaru snickered at that. “Wait, his last name was actually Banjo?” The younger man chuckles.
“It actually was!” Toshi laughs. “Now if I remember right, he went after the CZW belt actually, he wasn’t much of a Death Match guy by trade, but he had the most experience in it out all of us so he went it while En Rokubou, went after the ROH belt, which we all agreed, fit him like a glove. I think all of us could’ve gone after any title if tried, but En in Ring of Honor just fit, you know?”
“You’re burying the lead like usual pops.” I tease, making myself known after several minutes of conversation.
“Izuku! Kota! How good to see you two! How are things?”
“Got about 10 stitches in my forehead thanks to that one.” I tease, pointing to Kacchan.
“Only 10? I gave you 12 last year! I must be getting soft.” Katsuki teases back.
“Amateur. I gave him 14 the year before your first match.” Tenko quips, smirking at us.
“Alright alright, back to the story.” Toshi chuckles.
“Besides, you’re both pathetic compared to what we did back in the day. I had this poor man puking up blood after our match.” Hisashi quips.
“That is true. Though if I remember right, I think I detached your retina too.” Toshi smirks.
“Back to the story.” The older of the two men dismisses.
“Right, so my adoptive mother, Nana Shimura, she wound up going for the IWGP and became the only woman to ever hold that belt, while I went after the NWA belt and became only the second non-American to win that belt while it was part of TNA.” Toshi explained.
“And that’s how I went from a septuple champion at the start of 2004 to taking my first retirement.” Hisashi laughed.
“It was mostly to help me at home seeing as how we’d just had this one the year before and a sweetheart like him was proving to be a handful.” My mom recalled, looking up at me and putting a hand to my face. “And to think, I didn’t even like wrestling before meeting you.” She teased, looking back to her ex.
“And now you’ve been married to two, raised a third while he married a fourth.” Hishashi quipped.
“AND THEY’RE RAISING A FIFTH!” Kota hollers excitedly. “I’M GONNA BE A WRESTLER LIKE MY MOM AND DAD!”
“I thought you wanted to be a firefighter like your birth parents?” Ochako asks.
“I’m gonna do both!” Kota replies. “I’m gonna wrestle every weekend like my new mom and dad, then I’m gonna come back to Atlanta to stop fires like my old mom and dad in heaven!”
My mom and I exchange glances and we’re already welling up.
“Hisashi, how come you’re not much of a crier?” Toshi asks, looking back to his former rival.
“I actually took her name when we married. Shigaraki was my legal name before we wed.”
“Alright, are we gonna talk all fucking night or are we gonna fucking eat? I gotta try some of this damn Atlanta katsudon and see if it’s actually any better than the shit we have back home.” Katsuki hollers out, ignoring a stern look from Ochako about his language.
“He’s being raised by pro wrestlers, he’s gonna hear that kind of talk a lot.” The angry blonde replies.
“Still.” Ochako grumbles.
The night is then filled with laughter, food, and drinks. Toshi, Tenko, Masaru, and I make sure not to have any alcohol. An unspoken pact that we be the designated drivers.
We’re all sitting around a table at a small Japanese restaurant in Atlanta. Me, my mom, my dad, my step dad, my step brother, my brother in arms, my honorary aunt and uncle, my beautiful wife, and my amazing son. And then there’s my championship laying down in my lap.
A pretty great prize in its own right, but nothing next to these amazing people.
I don’t know what the future holds for me. Maybe I’ll retire as one of the rare babyfaces who never broke bad, maybe I’ll turn heel in a few more weeks. Maybe I’ll break my neck on monday and be forced into retirement, maybe I’ll retire in twenty years having never lost this title after tonight. I don’t know and I’m not sure I care. If it all ended tomorrow that would be okay because I have these people around me.
Even Kacchan. He might be a brute who used to bully me in school and drove me to my lowest point, but if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be here right now. He’s been as great an opponent to me as he has been a friend since we both arrived in NXT.
“Hey.” I say softly, grabbing my old friend’s shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“I forgive you.”
Kacchan lets out a breath that I’m not sure he knew he was holding in. “Thank you.” He whispers soft enough for only me to hear.
“Of course.” I nod.
“You’re my best friend, Izuku. I should’ve treated you better.”
“You’re my best friend too, Kacchan. And yeah, you should’ve but you’re better now and that means a lot.”
“Thanks Izuku.”
“Thank you for the great matches.”
“They were pretty great weren’t they?”
“Yeah. They were.”