Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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5

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It took all of three weeks for Kohaku to become a fixed part of their routine. Eijirou was almost frightened by how easy it was. Wake up, 30 minutes in the gym, kiss Katsuki and get breakfast. None of that had changed. But now, instead of sitting down right away to have a bowl slid to him expertly, only for it to stop exactly in front of him - Katsuki’s usual perfectionism coming into play - not anymore. Now he bent down, kissing a crown of blond hair sitting on the high seat next to his own. Now, two bowls slid across the bench, stopping precisely in front of the two different hungry people, before Katsuki turned around the bench and sat down on Eijirou’s other side, tilting his cheek for a kiss only second every morning.

Katsuki, allowing himself to be second. And absolutely having no problem with it. It almost made him wonder if he should go to a quirk centre to see if he was under the influence of a hallucination quirk, or whether he was in a coma living a dream somewhere.

But he can’t even care if he is, because every morning now, he sat surrounded by two people - one whom he loved, and one whom he really, really hoped he could keep in his life. Three weeks.

He found himself already shopping for three when he was buying treats at the combini on the way home, and picking up children’s shampoo - only to put it back when Momo told him a 12-year-old may find a baby bubble-bath soap rather patronising. He still got him what he thought was a cool shampoo with Deku on it. Katsuki would pout at it, but Red Riot was also on it, and it was so, so flattering that Kohaku was such a staunch fan of his.

The first week had been both faster and slower, with Katsuki at home and both of them sick, so it had only been focussed on recovery, recognising the issues and hurdles they may face and tailoring their routine accordingly. Katsuki had made Kohaku tell him his favourite foods, so he could modify his meal plan to include them, and Eijirou had secretly high-fived him when he’d said burgers. Eijirou hadn’t gotten burgers often because Katsuki hated store-bought ready ones, and didn’t often enjoy the process of hand-making them. But now they were added to monthly planner rotation, and more and more, it felt like Kohaku just fit . Katsuki had sent Eijirou shopping for beef mince, and Real Steel had teased him for hours about his stupid smile.

And speaking of shopping - that had been most of the second week. Katsuki had turned into a detail fiend, the way he got when something was really, really important to him. Denki called him a dumbass and said Katsuki turned into a demon when he got like that, but Eijirou couldn’t help but sigh and love him more. He could see the drive and passion and sheer grit he dedicated to a task. Like when he’d learned a recipe perfectly - Eijirou’s grandma’s recipe for nabeyaki udon, going so far as to track down the exact shop in Kyoto she bought the Matsumae kombu she used to make the stock from, made the udon by hand, dried, rehydrated and then fried the shiitake in sugar and soy. He’d been obsessively cooking for weeks before he met Eijirou’s family, presenting them with the food without a comment, and letting them realise on their own that - yes, yes. Katsuki had done what none of his aunts and uncles had, and replicated grandma’s udon perfectly . Grandma, who had been quiet throughout the meal, dropped the bowl with a clang, smacked her lips, called Katsuki a brat for getting it right, and then welcomed him into the family.

Whether it was that, or a new hand-to-hand technique … or fighting a battle with a stubborn stain on one of their shirts, he never stopped fighting until he got it right, not when it really mattered. So it was no surprise that Katsuki was taking parenthood as seriously as he took everything. He had purchased parenting books, had booked dentist and quirk evaluation appointments, was keeping on top of all things, and Eijirou looked at him, smiled like a fool while Denki yammered, and simply allowed him to terrorise everyone who deserved it, while redirecting his energy when he wasn’t giving it to someone who did.

Right, right; shopping and terrorising. Katsuki had gone on a veritable spree. He was so conservative with money, never really splurging on things like clothes or luxuries (again, unless they were for Eijirou), or things that weren’t for their home or kitchen. But after they had pushed through the front door to the Ueno household in full uniform and beelined for the bedroom Kohaku had marked as his, only to find that of the three duffle bags they had brought for a quick relocation, they could barely fill one with everything the boy owned, and had even found some of his listed belongings on his step-brother’s side, nothing could have stopped Eijirou’s husband.

Eijirou had allowed Katsuki to tear Mrs Ueno a new one - a tirade that had lasted the whole of 46 minutes and 39 seconds straight, Eijirou had timed it - and left the woman a mess of stuttering excuses he’d murdered with another verbal lashing - this one only lasting 13 minutes since Katsuki eviscerated her mothering skills, her housekeeping by running a finger up the railing and coming up dusty, and even telling her he bet she used store bought powdered dashi to make her soup bases like a gaijin . He’d turned to her dad and told him to finish raising her, because she’d taken out her husband’s infidelity on a child, had been an awful example to her children, and had turned both teens into bullies.

They’d walked out into a cuttingly cold drizzle that had made the sombre mood feel even more stark, and the look the resident teenage boy had given them, open mouthed and coming up the driveway, had made Eijirou feel petty, and follow his husband’s example in telling the boy where his brother was, how he wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore, and how they weren’t going to report his conduct to his school, but they were going to keep an eye on his progress to make sure bullying wasn’t a trait he was going to develop over the next few years.

They’d hardly been home five minutes before going back out, uniforms off, caps and facemasks on, little Kohaku between them. They’d gone to the underground department stores in Tokyo, avoiding the rain and getting new clothes, new shoes, and even new hero merch for the boy. Kohaku had been so hesitant and embarrassed, had almost burst into tears at the shoe store - it was one way to learn that his mother had died on the way to buy him a new pair for a school trip, and Eijirou wished they could have discussed it calmly at home. They’d gotten through it, though, and went home several bags heavier, stopping for barbeque where Katsuki patiently showed Kohaku the best way to grill the meat on the open netted flame without burning it or dropping his chopsticks.

Eijirou had already gone to his agency’s stores and gotten him an exact copy of his bag, although Katsuki had held off on giving it to him until they were all gathered at the table, and he’d made it a point to say that his old backpack was more than welcome to stay. Kohaku had cried again, hugging both bags, before he dropped them and hugged both men. He’d cried again when Sero came by to help him puzzle out and reattach his torn photographs - Sero lived on the fifth floor of their complex, so he stayed for dinner, which ended up bringing Mina and Izuku and Uraraka over too. Kohaku had dried his tears fast, but he had cried again when Izuku had brought his coloured printer over to print the photos of his mother from the file. They had found five, and then scoured social media to find a further 14. They printed them all, replacing some of the photos in the guest room, and even agreeing to go frame shopping.

Kohaku had fallen asleep in Katsuki’s lap, still looking so thin and frail, too small for a 12-year-old, with pointy lashes and mop of shoulder-length hair that clearly hadn’t seen a proper haircut in a while. He’d spent half the night being star-struck and half the night being a sobbing mess, so it was no surprise that he was tuckered out.

That second week had introduced Kohaku to a few more of their friends, apart from Fuyumi coming regularly and Natsuo giving him a clean bill of health at the end of it, so that meant they had to go get school supplies - because again, Kohaku had little to nothing. Getting him a school standard backpack, and then decorating it with a Red Riot keychain from the Daiso had apparently been the highlight of his day (and Eijirou genuinely couldn’t understand how Katsuki wasn’t salty about it, again not even mildly bothered by the fact that he was second). He’d made exceptions before - Eijirou had always been the top of his exception list - so at least that hadn’t changed with the role model for their … foster son.

It was real. They had a son. A foster son, but it was real. It felt so real.

The third week cemented that feeling. Kohaku went back to school, Katsuki going with him the first time to show him the proper trains to take, and went to speak to his school to hand in signed paper-work and contacts, the case worker’s number and confirming the new pick-up list.

It became a new routine. Wake up, 30 minute gym. Kiss both his people in the house. Go to work, patrol, paperwork. Sometimes paperwork and patrol. Go home at a relatively steady time - even more than before, he was counting down the minutes to get onto the train in civvies and heading to their place, rushing up to the lift and then walking into some heavenly scent to see three sets of shoes, homework spread out, kanji practice books, and even a few new photos.

Katsuki was taking care of most of everything, but it was Eijirou who found the perfect psychiatrist office, organised visits and took him to them the first few days, picking him up at school. He couldn’t help noticing how lonely he looked, coming out of school on his own every day. Neither he nor Katsuki wanted any of the students to know who he was living with, not only due to the implications of the media getting wind of it, but because most of the kids would pretend to be his friends, and Kohaku was more than a little fragile. He couldn’t take fake friends right now, and the psychiatrist had confirmed that he needed both a course of mild antidepressants, mild because of his weight, and some proper grief counselling. 

Three weeks. Every day, Eijirou would wake up, follow his routine, check his calendar to see how he and Katsuki had delegated their chores for the day, and then go home to his family. It felt like it had been three years.

Eijirou had been trying to get a cat to round his family off. Katsuki had brought home a kid. A kid who could, when he sneezed too much, sprout cat-ears. His silly, infuriating overachiever.

By the middle of the third week, however, they ran into a major hurdle that set them back considerably. Ironically, the hurdle was having no obstacle to their fostering process. Mr Ueno had signed over the child’s custody so fast it was a wonder that the paper hadn’t caught fire. And while Kohaku had initially seemed happy with it, he’d gotten progressively quieter and quieter as the days went by. He had stopped asking for things, stopped speaking at the table, and often ate very little.

Katsuki was absolutely beside himself by the very end of the week, and Eijirou put a stop to it once Kohaku came out of his counselling session with swollen red eyes again.

“Ok, kid. We’ve given you space, but we absolutely are worried sick. Is the counselling dredging up some hurtful feelings? Is someone bullying you in school? We feel like you’re regressing. Tell us how to help you?” Eijirou asked him, sitting around the dinner table after yet another nibbled meal.

“I …” Kohaku began. Then he started trembling, and he hid his face in his hands. “I feel so stupid, crying all the time! I used to, used to not cry at all, and now I do it all the time! And I don’t even know why I care , I shouldn’t care , I should be glad and I should be saying good riddance but I can’t and I’m so mad! ”

They both gathered around him, surprised when he started yelling and kicking the table, sprouting a tail and ears, standing up and beginning to pace and yell and kick things, until he devolved into tears again.

“Why!” he wailed. “Why did he make me if he didn’t want me at all!”

They let him vent, changing their evening plans to movies and ice-cream instead of homework, which wasn’t too bad for a Saturday night. Later that night, when they were all almost asleep, Eijirou held Katsuki as he ground his teeth, and blinked away tears of his own.

“Eiji,” he said, a hiss through his teeth, “Eiji I need to blow shit up early tomorrow morning, or I’m going to find that asshole father and I’m going to commit murder .”

“This time,” Eijirou replied, holding onto Katsuki with as much strength as he dared, “I’ll fucking hold him, and you fucking punch.”

“Swear jar,” Katsuki said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“Leave me alone I need to swear in the privacy of my bedroom before I seriously take you up on it instead of helping you redirect the anger. Katsuki, I really want to punch him with Unbreakable on. But I don't want to go to jail and leave you a single dad, so I’ll make that sacrifice and not murder him.”

“Same,” his husband replied. “You have work tomorrow, love. Just morning shift, yeah? I swapped mine with Denki; I’m going to spend the day teaching Kohaku to cook. Do you mind missing it?”

“No, I think you two need quality time. He has my merch and all, but I think Kohaku already has a favourite dad.”

Katsuki’s breathing hopped. “Foster,” he said, quietly and carefully.

“Love,” Eijirou replied, “We both know that he’s ours now. I’m not fucking giving him back. He’s mine. You’re mine.”

“I’m such a bad influence, oh gods,” Katsuki groaned. He turned in Eijirou’s arms, peppering his face with kisses, and the redhead felt himself relax. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s rest; tell me if you need anything after my patrol tomorrow. Are you going to make those burgers at last?”

Katsuki chuckled. “That’s a great idea. I’ll need the buns for it, so you can pick those up.”

“Ok, dear,” he said, and allowed the quieter, calmer silence to envelop them. “I love you, good night.”

“I love you more,” Katsuki slurred against his neck. “Good night.”

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Katsuki sat in the waiting area for the grief counselling office, finishing paperwork from his last drug’s bust. He was only a few days late on it, and sick days were mandatory especially for heroes like him with such a potentially destructive quirk. But he hated being late with anything, so he was going to submit these by today; may as well use the time sitting here instead of walking a trench into her tiles through the sheer worry he was feeling.

The sessions were usually only an hour long, but Katsuki had booked a double session for today. Eijirou had always been in charge of their mental health, because Katsuki wasn’t good at that sort of thing, and so he trusted his husband with that part of their care. So of course, now it was also him who had vetted and chosen the office they were using for the grief counselling. After Kohaku’s last blow-up they’d all been given ‘homework’ to go through, which were exercises in family bonding. The counsellor practised both family and grief counselling, considering they so often went hand-in-hand, so it was helping.

He was half-way through his last report - a prospective damage report that took the parameters of all their quirks into consideration, so the police could properly triangulate between precincts to cordon off the proper area, and the correct amount of people could be potentially evacuated with sufficient advance and discretion - when the door to the therapist’s office opened. Katsuki looked up, blinking at Kohaku, who was standing at the door and looking at the floor. He looked at the clock, and realised that there was still a three-quarter of an hour stretch to go.

“What’s up? You done for today?” he asked. Maybe it had been too heavy for Kohaku; they could always continue next time.

“No, I …” he bit his lip, moving his weight from foot to foot. Hmm, judging by his behaviour the past few days, if he was reading him right, he needed to ask for something. Katsuki put the pen into the canvas folder, straightened the papers and tablet, then closed it, zipping it up. 

“What is it?” he asked, putting the portable desk in his bag and standing. 

“Can you … come in?” he asked, still looking at the floor. Katsuki didn’t question it, just walked to the door and offered his hand, allowing Kohaku to take it and lead him in. He asked the boy where he wanted him to sit, and Kohaku simply pulled him down onto the sleek black couch with him. In fact, he wrapped both of his arms around Katsuki’s, hugging it to his thin chest, and he still wouldn’t look at him.

“Ok.” Katsuki said, looking from Kohaku to the counsellor and back. “What’s this about? Can you tell me, or would you rather the doctor did?”

Kohaku opened his mouth, but then closed it and shook his head, nodding his chin towards the doctor. Katsuki smiled and turned to her.

“I assigned some more ‘homework’, and Kohaku is worried he’s costing you a lot of money,” she said.

“Don’t say it like that,” Kohaku muttered, and he squeezed his arm harder, like he was afraid that this would drive Katsuki away. After the first three sessions, the therapist had given them a report on the things and order they needed to work on - general anxiety, mostly caused by separation tension, abandonment issues and food uncertainty. They had started working on the food uncertainty first, since they didn’t want it to devolve into an eating disorder, and systemic therapy techniques were helping with the rest slowly.

“Ok, do we have to buy him a car? Because the brat can use the trains,” he said, purposefully being a little shit, so Kohaku would look up at him with an annoyed pout. He could understand why Eijirou liked to rile him so much.

“No! I can’t drive anyway, I’m too young!” he protested, and Katsuki had to stop himself from snickering. Hook, line and sinker.

“Yeah, brat, that’s what I’m saying. Get a licence first before you want a car, and then if you keep your grades up, we’ll buy you one,” he said, his mouth twisting in his attempt to keep it from smiling. Kohaku straight up growled at him, his cat ears popping out only to flatten and disappear into his hair. Katsuki ruffled his hair slightly.

“You’re being so annoying,” he said, face pouting, and Katsuki absolutely had to resist squishing his cheeks to make his lips pop more. He had such pep, and he’d been keeping it locked up. He absolutely adored seeing it coming out.

“Mr Bakugou, please,” the therapist said, and they both looked at her. He could absolutely tell that she was also trying not to laugh. “We have been speaking, and what he needs are mostly supplies for his project. But Kohaku- kun is really worried that he’s already made you spend a lot of money for his schooling supplies and clothing, so he was unsure whether it would be ok with you to finance the supplies this close to the last expense. I suggested we ask you in, since I would like you all to participate in some of these exercises anyway, and I would like you to stay for the rest of the session.”

“Right,” he said, catching Kohaku up into his lap. He ignored his squeak, and again ignored his gentle elbowing and grumble. “If you don’t want me to pick you up like a sack of rice, maybe weigh more than one, brat. I’m going to hide those protein bars Eiji got you so you stay small and portable.”

“I’ll tell Eijirou!” he replied, still with that pout, and Katsuki just smirked at him. His sass was too endearing.

“You just try, pipsqueak,” he retorted. “So, what does he need?” he finally asked.

The therapist was openly smiling now, looking at them quietly and waiting for them to finish. Last he’d spoken to her, she had remarked that he seemed to have become Kohaku’s reference point, or life anchor, that it was a very crucial but very delicate and potentially dangerous role if Katsuki didn’t treat it with the appropriate tact.

Katsuki had promptly decided that his own mother’s style of parenting was absolutely what was necessary here. Needle and nettle lovingly until the little brat was actually biting him, but never, ever let him forget that it was all done with love. He was, by now, as addicted to physical touch thanks to Eijirou, so he made absolutely sure that along with the gentle gibes and ribbing, he touched him gently and ruffled his hair, and, as often as possible, picked him up like he was a small backpack. It seemed to be working, with Kohaku growing more used to saying no, asking for things, and not flinching every time a loud noise happened, as if he was expecting a yelling match to start at any minute.

“Ok, so I suggested he start a scrap book or a journal, something to document his journey in his new life. He seems to like the idea better than writing a therapy journal, so I see no reason why we can’t go with that. Whether it will be a private journal or one he will share with you, or with both of you, will be up to him.”

“No issue there. My brat can throw it at my head if he wants me to read it.  Anything else?” Katsuki replied, and Kohaku relaxed into his arms, all his show of reluctance gone now that the ice was broken and Katsuki hadn’t reacted negatively at all. 

“I also suggested he make a Memory Box, where he can keep his keepsakes from his mum. Since his experiences at his father’s house made his object security very tenuous, we thought him putting his mum’s last mementos in a safe place, one he can visit when he wants to feel close to her, may be a good idea. We’ve also been discussing the possibility of speaking to you both about his monetary situation, but that made him very uncomfortable, and we shelved that topic for the moment.”

Katsuki frowned, hugging Kohaku a little when he felt the boy stiffen.

“I understand, but just for the sake of clarification, is this an inheritance issue on his possessions, or is this a day-to-day resources issue? I hadn’t realised we hadn’t given him an allowance. I completely forgot that. Sorry, kid.”

Kohaku looked at him, clearly surprised. 

“But …” he started.

“You are not working, it’s illegal here, kid. You can get a part-time when you’re older, feeling better, and don’t weigh as much as a small gerbil,” he said, picking him off his lap easily to make a point.

“That’s not my fault! You’re the one with the freakish superhuman upper-body strength!” he shot back. Katsuki dropped him back into his lap just to see him squeak and pop a bunny tail. 

“Yeah, yeah, excuses. Prove me wrong, kid. Get healthy and we’ll revisit the part-time. I started modelling for my mum and doing odd-jobs for extra cash when I was 15, between cramming for highschool. You had a shit couple of months, kid, so let us take care of you.”

“I … don’t want to be a burden,” he said, with a bit lip. “And … having money that I made myself would … make me feel better.” Good kid, he was so much better than Katsuki at verbalising his emotions.

“Hmm,” he replied noncommittally. “Well, the doctor said to shelve it for now. Let’s take care of that health. Maybe a student placement at the agency in the summer will give you some savings, yeah?”

“Oh … Yeah. It’s a long time till summer, though,” Kohaku said. He puffed his cheeks and huffed, then let his head fall against Katsuki’s chest with an audible thump, no doubt on purpose.

“Anyway, I’ll tell Eijirou. You can go get the box with him - he has the worse taste in colour. You’re going to have a fun trip to Daiso again. Just don’t let pinky come with you or you’ll end up with neon animal print. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, perfect; and this third thing is an idea he came up with himself,” the therapist said. She smiled down at Kohaku, who was pointedly hiding.

“It’s a dumb idea, though,” he said.

“We already discussed that it isn’t, Kohaku- kun . And all the issues you see with it are all valid, but I’m sure there are work-arounds if you talk about it with Bakugou-tachi.”

“What is it?” Katsuki asked, looking down at Kohaku. There was a long stretch of silence, then …

“Um, friendship bracelets,” he said. “We learned to do them in scouts . You take some thread, and some hair for each person and you weave them together. But you’re pro-heroes and Eijirou would break it in five seconds when he hardens so it’s dumb.”

“We can just take them off before we wear the uniform,” Katsuki replied.

“You’re not supposed to take them off, that’s the point, You’re supposed to let them break off,” Kohaku said, fiddling with Katsuki’s sleeve.

“Well, can’t we make them anyway, and put a clasp on? I like the idea, and Eiji’s a sap, he’s going to be over the moon that you even want to make them. He showed off his engagement ring to everything with a pulse for months. Mementos are really important to him, and I like having physical reminders of the people I love,” Katsuki said.

“Oh,” Kohaku said, blushing slightly. “I … suppose being able to take it off doesn’t make it any less important?”

“Nah, it just means it’s precious and you have a way to protect it. It’s important for our peace of mind, too, that we can take off and put on the things we’re given by our loved ones. Be kind to us too, ok? We also want to have things from you.”

“Oh … ok.”

Katsuki let that sit, allowing breathing and thinking room. Kohaku was still resting his head on Katsuki’s chest, fiddling with his hands as he automatically hugged his arm. 

“I had them with my friends in Australia,” he said. “We all met at scouts, and then two of us realised we went to school together. We thought we’d be together forever. My bracelet broke in the accident.”

“Hmm,” Katsuki replied. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t make new ones and mail them to them when we get the supplies. But I’m claiming the first bracelet.”

“I can’t, I’d need their hair, dum dum,” Kohaku replied. They were quiet for a minute, the clock on the wall ticking away in a room that didn’t feel as heavy.

“Maybe, we can go there in the summer,” Katsuki said, unsure. “I can’t promise when, or even if we can this summer. We have to be available for patrol and coordinate with the others. I’m sorry I can’t give you sure dates, but we need to be able to keep the city safe.”

“It’s … I never thought … Whenever, I mean, if we go. Just thinking about it. I’ll work hard in school, and I’ll improve my kanji and my Japanese pronunciation, I swear.”

“You do that for yourself, but we’ll try to get you there for a visit when we can, yeah? It’s a ten hour flight, so we’ll have time to talk while we go too. You can take us to your favourite places.”

“About that,” the therapist interjected. “I thought Kohaku could join a local chapter of the scouts when he feels ready, or perhaps do some more outdoors things with you two. He told me some of his happiest memories a few sessions ago, and they all revolve around doing something outside. Now I don't know if you two have outdoors’ hobbies, but -”

Katsuki burst out laughing. He cackled until he got himself under control, then snickered and snorted for another five minutes when he caught the pout on Kohaku’s face.

“Sorry, sorry; it's just … Well. Hiking was Eijirou and I’s first date, where I proposed to him, and … we have a cabin in the mountains.”

“You do ?” Kohaku asked, rounding on him and switching to English with more enthusiasm than he'd shown in all the time they'd had him. “I always wanted to go skiing or mountain climbing but we lived in flat plains and it was so far and expensive to get to any mountains, and mum promised she'd fund it when I was old enough to go on my senior trip, but, well, um, and I don't really like the beach much and forests are ok, but there are so many spiders and danger noodles, and-”

Katsuki snorted again. Then burst out straight laughing when Kohaku pouted at him. 

“You won't have to worry as much about ‘danger noodles’, here,” the therapist said, smiling.

“You're just making fun of me now!” he said, throwing his hands up. Katsuki didn't stop the chuckle, but he did hug him hard and then noog him. “That hurt, jerk.”

“Yeah, yeah, a jerk who feeds you burgers,” he replied, and Kohaku opened his mouth to reply, before he stopped, closed his mouth, and looked down. 

The mood in the room shifted again. Heavy, ugly. Kohaku was suddenly stiff, biting his lip.

Katsuki could kick himself. So much for being careful with the teasing.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I'm only teasing you, but I'm always going to care for you and feed you. I'm sorry if I made you think-”

“You didn't!” Kohaku replied. They sat, quiet again, the ticking of the clock anything but merry, now. “I like how much you care. I'd be dumb not to. I'm just … still hung up, I suppose. About … about how easy it was. I’m happy I get to be with you and have a space with you, but I still, I guess, what I’m trying to say is, it’s not that easy, right? To not love your children? It’s not normal? Because you always read stories about how parents go into fire and water and all sorts, and even heroes try to save kids real bad. But he … didn’t. Really easily. It’s like the children he had here were his real children, and I was just … the bonus son. Or, I don’t know. The spare wheel? Not even; I …”

“I don’t like hearing you speak of yourself like that, Kohaku- kun ,” the therapist said.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Kohaku said, with an explosive sigh and averted glance. “I’m not as angry as I was. But it still, it still stings. It still really stings.”

“Kid, I … Hmm. Sensei I do have something to say here, but I need you to stop me if I’m speaking nonsense, ok?” The therapist nodded at him, tilting her head in interest. “Ok, so, when I was going to therapy myself, after the war, there were a lot of questions exploding around in my head. I was only just realising that I was in love with a meat-loving, redheaded idiot, which was news to me, even though it had been coming on slowly. It brought on a lot of questions for me too, about the nature of love and how you know you love someone, the different kinds of love, and even why you love some people, and not others.

“I had good teachers, and a really, really good school counsellor. Cece told me that people don't always love you back the way you want them to. They will love you back the way they can. You cannot dictate when and how they will shape their love for you, because that depends on the life they have led. However, it is your place to decide if it is enough and right for you.

“And the thing is, it won't be the same throughout your life. Thing is, if you decide to walk the road together, you will become part of the life that shapes that love, and they will become part of the life that shapes yours. And sometimes it means you grow and change together, and sometimes it means you grow and change apart. It's never up to us to try to mould another person's soul on purpose, but it's always our responsibility to create the shape we take, to be the happiest we can be.”

“He’s right,” the therapist said with a nod to him. “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but I have to say, it’s a good metaphor. After all, the idea of what ‘us’ is inside our head is an abstract thing, without real shape, and it does change over time as we grow and learn. And of course, the part of yourself that loves is the same as the part of yourself that thinks and feels.”

“So set boundaries, kid,” Katsuki said, giving him a hug, looking down at his large eyes. “Write down lines on yourself that to you mean you are respecting yourself. Once those lines are crossed, you'll know that the shape of yourself inside you that can love people is being moved around and changed, and you owe it to yourself to see that it isn't damaged for your future self, and the future people you want to love the best you can. If you are not OK with how people love you, because you're not ok with how that love changes the shape of you inside you, then you know you need to step back. 

“Talk to the people who shape you, because maybe they didn't realise, or maybe they didn't know how much your shape depends on them. Communication is important, no matter how old and tired that line gets. If they keep pushing you into a shape you don't want to be? Well, there's the problem you have to make a choice on. Do you want to be the shape they see? Are they making you better by loving you in a way that changes your insides? Or are they hurting you, until you're all out of shape? You have to decide. Then once you do, if you see it's the wrong shape for you, you have a choice there too. Either close yourself to them, reduce their importance in your life so they no longer have the chance to do it, or remove them from your life entirely. Sometimes the physical distance makes the other distance easier. Sometimes it takes time, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes you make a mistake and they were right all along, but you have to keep walking forward, and remember for next time.”

“Is that what happened with, um, Eijirou?” Kohaku asked, his voice low as if he was discussing a secret, or was afraid to ask in the first place. Katsuki nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, he loved me, and loved me, and loved me, until I couldn’t deny it to myself anymore. And not even romantically, not at first. I was the first one to realise that we loved each other more than friends, and then I didn’t let him go. You’ll meet someone like that, someday, but it won’t necessarily work out the first time, so don’t worry about it. Just remember what I’m telling you about your boundaries and the shape of your heart when you do.”

“You didn’t love Eijirou right away?” Kohaku asked. Katsuki snorted - fantastic, another sappy romantic in his house. He was going to be outnumbered. 

“There are many, many shapes of love, kid. Like, you loved your friends back home, yeah? Or your ma and grandpa? You won’t love them the same as you’ll love the person you’ll want to be with for romantic reasons. And remember; our parents have the biggest hand in how your insides are shaped, kid. You saw how your mum treated you, and how your grandpa treated your mum, and that’s how you learned the proper way to be good, and to love yourself and your friends.

“Our parents are the ones who have us when we're wide open and don't know we even should close ourselves up to certain things. Yours made mistakes, sure, but now it's up to you to decide how far those mistakes will move around the shape you'll love yourself and other people with in the future. No need to rush. Just think about it a while. It's not going to be a fast thing to even find those lines and boundaries, and you'll make mistakes yourself that may change that shape. So sleep on it. Think about it. Just, don't forget to love yourself, too, ok?”

“I. I never thought about it like that,” Kohaku said. He nuzzled his head against Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki could have fucking melted. “The, um, I like the shape I have now, but I think I have a few bumps.”

“Yeah, we all have our fair share of bumps and dents, and dings,” the therapist confirmed, with a smile. “I learned a lot myself, today. I really find your analogy interesting and useful, Bakugou- san . I hope you don’t mind, but I may be using it to explain to other children.”

“Make sure to ask Iida Cece,” he replied with a smirk, and he saw her eyebrows rising. Ah, so she had connected the dots. “But I’m sure she won’t mind. She’s a firebox, but she really loves her job.” He gave a bit of a chuckle. “Ah, she’s going to have a field day when she learns I’m the first one from 1A to have a kid. Iida probably already told her. I suppose I should tell my mother before Cece does.”

“I will make sure to consult her,” the therapist said. “So, can I count on you to get him his supplies for the tasks at hand?”

“Of course. We’ll go get a few things right now, but Eiji will be sad if I cut him out of it, so I’ll leave the box-buying to them two. That’s ok with you?” he asked, looking down.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Kohaku said. Katsuki smiled at him, ruffling his hair.

“Alright, let’s get out of her hair. I think your allotted time is almost over, and unless you have any other thing you’d like to talk about?”

“I … since I’ll get an allowance, will I have chores?” he asked. Smart, smart kid. 

“A few, but mostly they’ll be about you keeping your room in order and clean. I won’t be having with any dirty socks running around, or dirty underwear under the bed. I used to raid Eiji’s bedroom in highschool, and I’ve kept a lot of his socks hostage. I won’t take your things, we both know I will never do things to hurt you, but I will make the WiFi password a maths equation if you force me to clean your room.”

“Joke’s on you, I like maths,” he replied, poking his tongue out. 

“Oh yeah, good luck with the Quadratic equations,” Katsuki teased.  

“Rude,” he grumbled. “I’ll google them and learn!”

“That’s the spirit,” Katsuki said. He smiled up at the therapist. “Do you think we can call it a day? We have another session scheduled for next week - do you want Eiji to participate too?”

“It won’t do any harm. Another double session would be ideal, so I can have my scheduled session with Kohaku and then you two can join us, if you both can, for the last part of the session.”

“Sounds good. We’ll see you next week, doc,” he said, standing and pretending to forget he was holding Kohaku, who protested, but was smiling his face in half when he was held upside down and kicking, while Katsuki told him he could bench-press him in his sleep. They were going straight to a combini to buy ingredients to make food, but also desert, because Kohaku had hopped right on the ‘making food is fun and therapeutic’ train.

Teaching him to make taiyaki was going to be the highlight of his day.

=0=

Eijirou had never been a slouch, in anything. He’d worked hard to enter UA, to improve while he was there, to survive during the war, to thrive and help the recovery effort. He’d dedicated himself with commitment to his relationship with Katsuki once they’d started going out, and then to their agency once they had begun building it together. The rebuild had taken a toll, and they’d always been there for each other, supporting each other, and loving and marrying Katsuki had been one of the better decisions of his life.

But Eijirou was never faster than when he was rushing down a hospital corridor, heading towards Katsuki’s door.

He slammed the door open, to find Katsuki scowling down at himself. He had a swollen eye, skin mottled in technicolour on that side of his face. There was a bandage around his crown leaving his hair at odd angles. A gauze was taped to his cheek, his shoulder was bandaged, and his arm was in a cast.

“Katsuki, what the fuck ,” where the first words out of Eijirou’s mouth. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to be told that you were run over by a truck ?”

“Technically, I ran over it ,” he grumbled. “Stupid idiot thought he could hijack a delivery truck without even knowing how to drive. I had to get into the cabin and stop it myself, and then I didn’t have a seatbelt on because I was hanging half out the window, and …” he waved with his spare arm.

“You,” Eijirou replied. “Are an arsehole. You have any idea how worried we were? Did you think you had my quirk all of a sudden?” 

He sighed, long and hard, sitting down onto the bed before he gently gathered him into his arms for a hug.

“Don’t stop trucks with your face, love, that's my thing” he whispered into Katsuki’s ear, enjoying his husband’s snort. “Especially now. Kohaku had a massive panic attack. He’s going to be here soon.”

“Oh, shit, that's -”

The door to the room slammed open, making them jump apart. Kohaku stood there, breathing heavily, already sporting cat ears, ram horns, one wing and a tail.

He walked up to the bed and kicked it, then slapped Katsuki's outstretched hand away.

“You're not allowed to die!” he screamed while pointing at Katsuki's face. “You horrible man, what you take me in for if all you're going to do is die in a car like mum did! I hate you! You're a shit parent! You're not allowed to die!!”

Eijirou grabbed him in what Katsuki liked to call the panic hug, which considering Eijirou's strength was like a straight jacket. Eijirou could see that Katsuki had to keep his own tears back.

“I'm so sorry, kid. It comes with the job, but I swear, I'll be more fucking careful going forward, ok?”

“We both will be,” Eijirou said, gathering them both up, Katsuki a little more gingerly.

There were a few moments of quiet, then, “swear jar,” Kohaku said.

Katsuki and Eijirou both snorted.

“Little shit. I love you,” Katsuki said, allowing all three of them to lie back with him.

Fuck, they had a family to think of now. First thing out of the hospital, he was dragging Katsuki to R&D for more protective support gear.

=0=

“You fucking brat, you've had a kid for three months and you never told me! I've been a grandmother for three months! Three months!”

“Don't get hysterical, old hag,” Katsuki replied with a smirk. 

Kohaku was wearing a Christmas sweater, happily chopping away at his onions at the kitchen bench. He'd grown tall enough now he didn't need the foot stool anymore, and he could modify his eyes just enough the onions never bothered him. So he'd taken over onions duty from Eijirou, because he always cried like a baby, even if he hardened his face.

It felt strange to feel cold at Christmas, but then again now the day matched the postcards. They weren't going surfing, but Katsuki had invited both his and Eijirou's parents over, and when Katsuki had introduced him as ‘his kid' something warm had bloomed in his chest and refused to go out. He wouldn't say he was going out to shovel snow shirtless like Eijirou was, but he knew he wouldn't feel cold without a coat.

Christmas had been a holiday back home, but it wasn't here. Grandpa and mum had been Shinto Buddhists too, but they had celebrated Christmas, because everyone else did. It was usually a meal with family then off to the beach to surf- or go under repeatedly in Kohaku's case, no matter how many fins he grew - so when Katsuki had asked about his religion, he'd been honest. Yeah, it was super weird that December 25th wasn't a holiday like it had been all his life, but he could deal.

Yeah, no, he should have known Katsuki would overcompensate, he always did. The only times they fought - screaming matches, mind, because he was ‘becoming a shitty teenager soon, show some spunk’ and it was so, so easy to let off steam with Katsuki - was when Katsuki went overboard getting him things. He didn't need that goddamn Deku toy, why had he gone and taken five extra shifts to bribe Deku into getting him a limited edition signed one?? He'd rather they watch shit TV together on the couch!

So of course Katsuki had decided ‘a day with family’ meant everyone. He bullied Eijirou into taking the day off too, bribed Mr Midoriya and Ms Ochako to take morning shifts, had even threatened Mr Todoroki over the phone that he'd better come, bring your siblings. Mr Denki, Mr Hanta and Ms Mina just invited themselves, but he was used to that, by now. Mr Midoriya was bringing his mum, who was one of the nicest ladies he'd ever met, and now they had to borrow chairs and tables from other apartments.

The second Katsuki's mum walked in, Kohaku understood everything. She was in the kitchen with them now, supervising the frying pot while Katsuki made more tempura batter, and Eijirou spoke to the other guests, pouring drinks and helping everyone settle their coats and presents and extra chairs. Mrs Midoriya had brought Castella Cake for everyone and if Mrs Bakugou was right about the tub of strawberry sauce she'd brought along, he was really in for a treat.

And … it was all warm. It wasn't the usual warmth of the summer heat he was used to. But… his sweater was soft and cosy because Katsuki had magic laundry skills; his hair, which he refused to cut was gathered up in a half ponytail out of his face; he knew so many new skills; his Japanese was really good now, because he refused to disappoint Eijirou and Katsuki, even if they said he could take his time. He'd grown 5 inches taller, and everywhere around him were people he loved, who loved him back.

He stopped chopping the last shallot in the house - Katsuki needed, and he quoted, ‘a shit ton of onions for this many freeloaders’. Katsuki and his mum were snipping at one another, but you could see how much they loved one another if you were blind. Eijirou’s mum was trying not to cry into his shoulder about him being a dad - which, frankly, Kohaku had to hide a smile about, because ‘dad’ was a new word for him to use, but he was getting more and more used to using it in his head. He and his therapist had been working on training him to say it out loud.

And he knew what his Christmas present was going to be. Eijirou had wanted it to be a surprise, but Katsuki hadn't tracked with any of that. So they'd sat him down, told him they wanted to start the paperwork to officially adopt him, and asked him if he wanted to keep his surname because it had belonged to his mum.

They'd ended up crying, of course. He didn't know when it became a good thing instead of a bad part of his new life, but when Kohaku had enthusiastically agreed Eijirou had started, then Kohaku had followed, and Katsuki was all sniffly and dewy eyed, and they'd absolutely ended up on the couch eating ice cream and watching old cheesy Hero films.

Family. He had a family again.

He didn't wake up gasping anymore, just being cut out of a car. Or gasping because everything around him was melting and nothing made sense or was his anymore. Or gasping because his mum was calling for help and he couldn't save her, even if he knew she had died on impact.

Sometimes he still felt guilty that he was beginning to be happy. Truly happy. But his therapist had guided him through that, and now he really did see his mother would never have been unhappy that he was getting better, and the irrational thoughts had been getting quieter and quieter. 

There was a crash and a tinkle, and then another crash, and Katsuki sighed.

“Denki,” he said into the suddenly silent home, voice deadly. He hadn't even bothered to leave the kitchen. “What did you break?”

“It was an accident!” he called out. All three people in the kitchen sighed.

“Eijirou,” Katsuki said, voice a cross between tired and amused. 

“On it, hun. Denki, you're going to get that broom and help me clean this up. Oh and can someone go get more sparkly water? Maybe get it not in glass bottles?”

“Oh thank fuck, just water,” Katsuki sighed, and his mother openly chuckled at his expense.

“Can I go?” Kohaku said loudly. Everyone stopped again, looking at him. Eijirou came to peek in from the main room.

“You want to go out in that?” the redhead asked, pointing a thumb at the window. It was a grey day, and while it wasn't snowing, it was raining.

“I have a good coat,” he said with a shrug. He was already taking his apron off, looking at them both with pleading eyes. “Please? I want to help.”

“We need five large bottles,” Katsuki said. “Think you can handle them all? Bring the 1,5 litre ones, not the 2. Take the trolley - no, if you want to go you'll take the trolley. You're not tiring yourself out today, I want you to have fun. Let me give you the cash.”

Everyone gave him a pat - or a kiss on the head in Eijirou's case - on his way out, and Mr Bakugou (grandpa…?) had given him an extra bill to get something for himself, and that was such a confirmed Grandpa™ thing to do, he absolutely slotted him into that place in his heart.

It was bitingly cold, the light drizzle changing into harder rain and back again. He hated the stupid wheel cart, but had to admit it was nice to have a buffer of space on the train, and he hated to admit that the bottles were heavy when he grabbed them off the shelf. He was still rebuilding his muscles, and eating was still a little complicated, even if he had stopped thinking he needed to save some for later fairly early on. He got six bottles of water, because what uncultured person got five bottles out of a six pack? And then he got a box of pokey, which he was going to eat before he went back in because he did not want to get an ear thwack for ruining his appetite. Like he could . He was always, always hungry these days.

He was just out of the combini when he heard it.

He stopped short, ears pricking and itching to turn into a cat's, but the hood of his coat would get in the way.

There it was again! Over the noisy rain and city din, it was clear and distinct and … there!

He reached under a car, and up came a tiny, tiny kitten. An orange tabby, sopping wet and shivering. Kohaku blinked at it for a full half minute, before smiling and tucking it into his coat.

He hunched over in the station and train, careful not to get caught, and, dragging the trolley behind him, uncaring of the forgotten pokey he was going to get reamed for, he rushed his way home.

The warmth slapped him in the face when he walked in, and everyone reached for him for a hug, but he dodged them all to run into the kitchen, shoes and trolley left forgotten in the ganken.

“Dad,” he said, quickly. “Don't be mad!”

Katsuki looked at him with wide, wide eyes for a second. Eijirou came in behind him, his urgency no doubt worrying him.

“I mean, it's nothing wrong, I swear, and we don't have to keep him. But you didn't leave me out in the rain, and I couldn't leave HIM there!”

“Kohaku,” Katsuki said, and why the heck was he getting all misty-eyed.

“I promise it's not bad, ok? Nothing bad happened, I just-”

His coat decided this was the moment to start meowing loud enough for everyone to hear. Eijirou came up, hand on his back, and gently pulled the zipper down. A tiny orange head peeked out, still meowing loudly.

Katsuki blinked. Eijirou blinked. They looked at one another, and then Katsuki's face broke as he started laughing and slapping his knee.

“Oh my fucking gods, Eiji, happy Christmas!” he guffawed, and his laugh really was horrendous, and Kohaku loved it.

“Oh my, happy Christmas to me!” The redhead wrapped Kohaku and the kitten in a hug, pulling them off the ground. Both of them squeaked, and the kitten protested loudly.

Everyone crowded around them, the tiny thing getting passed around, and Katsuki leaving his mum in charge to go get the cat supplies he'd quietly been hiding in the box room. The kitten didn't seem to have fleas, but he was still sprayed down with a pet safe flea aerosol and then given a warm bath and put into a towel burrito while Katsuki and Mr Midoriya built the cat tree and Mrs Kirishima set the litter in the laundry room. Everything was loud laughs and coos and happy noises, and Kohaku didn't even get scolded much for the pokey because Grandpa Bakugou took the blame, admitting he'd instigated the purchase and saying he didn't even regret it. Cat food was brought out and they were all filming the tiny tabby making meowing noises as it ate.

“What do you want to call him,” Eijirou asked him, a hand on his shoulder as they watched the kitten trying not to fall asleep in the food.

It was so similar to how he himself had nearly fallen asleep in the hotpot a few months ago.

“Tiger,” he said. “Is that alright?”

He got a kiss on his head, and then Katsuki came up to give him one on his forehead.

“Perfect,” the other blond said. “Now, wash your hands, all of you. We're going to bring the food to the table. And no feeding it scraps! I don't want to be cleaning cat stomach upset after cooking all morning!”

“Yes, dad,” he said, stopping short when he realised what he said. Katsuki was wearing that dewy-eyed look again, and he got another kiss on his forehead.

“Welcome to the family, Tiger,” he said gently, and Kohaku wasn't sure if he was talking to the kitten or the boy, but he didn't care. He hugged them both, gave them each a kiss, and then went to obey and wash his hands.

It was his first Christmas without his mum. His first time in his life away from everything he knew. But it wasn't without everything he loved, not anymore. They ate and laughed and popped poppers and wore silly hats, and the kitten eventually fell asleep in his lap, while he rested on Eijirou and held Katsuki's hand. Everyone in this room loved and cared for him, and it really sunk in, at last, that he had a family again.

Dad. And dad. Maybe one in Japanese? Just to distinguish? Was a fun thought. He'd never had a dad, but he had two now.

“I love you, dads,” he said, quiet enough only they heard as everyone brought out the presents. He already knew what was in his box under the tree they'd bought especially for him.

“Love you too, kid,” Katsuki replied

“Love you more,” Eijirou replied, and Kohaku just smiled, pulling them both closer.

He wasn't alone anymore. It may have been raining outside, enough to drench him and bring up bad memories, but they didn't even touch him.

He had a family now. Soon, as soon as that box would open, and a pen was produced, he'd be Bakugou Kohaku. And while he'd never be his mother’s tiger again, that would be OK.

He could live with being a happy one.

=0=

END

=0=