Chapter Text
“Tsk, fucking nerd,” Bakugou grumbles, scooping the dainty boy up into his arms effortlessly, before plopping him harshly back down to his feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Izuku coughed into his fist, his trademark rouge spreading over soft freckled cheeks. Well, this plan was not at all working out the way that it should. Now, not only was he caught but he was apprehended by the oldest Bakugou son who stared impatiently at him, his mouth a thin line of distaste as he leveled the hardened crimson eyes at the younger man.
“I…w...was checking the spark plugs,” Izuku murmured, looking down at the cold cement and fiddling with his fingers anxiously. “Father thought one was missing and I just wanted to help him sir, he works so hard you know.”
“You about helped him become a childless parent,” Bakugou scolded. His tone was firm, and his eyes nearly glowed in the dark, he was so incensed. He quickly moved one by one to each vehicle, turning off the ignitions and trying desperately to reign his temper back under control. Somehow the snide man managed to control his rage as he roughly grabbed Izuku’s chin and forced him to meet his gaze head on.
“Haven’t you ever heard of carbon monoxide poisoning?” He questioned, searching the younger’s eyes for any sign of dishonesty. “You would have died and fast.”
“I’m sorry sir, of course I have,” Izuku murmured apologetically. “But I will admit it didn’t cross my mind right now. I just wanted to help.”
He coughed then and Bakugou quickly let go of his chin stepping away, his eyes still cautiously raking over the younger man’s form. Izuku’s cough was soft to start, a fist thrown over his mouth but soon it became hard raking gasps and the older man’s ferocity quickly melted into concern.
“What a Deku you are,” He murmured, “Absolutely worthless. My parents didn’t pay for you to have a five-star education so that you could throw it all away on the dirty cement floor of the garage.”
“Yes…Yes sir,” Izuku said coughing, his face becoming redder by the moment before suddenly he swooned.
*
Bakugou lunged forward and managed to scoop the boy up gently in his arms, walking towards the main estate deftly, cradling Izuku as if he were a precious jewel. Katsuki twisted his mouth, frowning slightly with concern as long lean legs led him towards the servant’s entrance of the kitchens.
Izuku Midoriya, the chauffer’s son, is an extremely brilliant and intelligent boy with great prospects for a bright future. Katsuki has had a hand in his education since he was very young, believing the boy deserved more than the life of a servant locked away above his parent’s garage. His mother always quirked an eyebrow at his interest in the young man, causing Katsuki to rant and howl every obscenity he knew at her, especially considering how close she was with the boy's mother, but deep down he knew it must seem odd that he showed any concern. Considering cheifly, that Katsuki Bakugou was famously indifferent towards people, mostly seeing them as a simple means to an end in his business dealings. He could be suave and gentile of course, oozing charm when necessary but he found those things to be counterfeit and ingenuine most of the time.
And Katsuki Bakugou was not a liar.
So, when his parents questioned him over his proposition that they take over Izuku’s education after his dear mother’s passing, he answered them honestly:
He’s special. Any fucking idiot can see that, and he deserves more than being your servant his entire life. His mother would approve, and his father will accept it. Make it happen, I’ll cover all the expenses myself if necessary.
As if he weren’t already mercilessly teased by the old hag for allowing the youngster to call him Kacchan, a silly childish nickname that would have caused the explosive man to throw most people across the room for the assumption that he was somehow soft enough to warrant such an affectionate term. He wasn’t, soft that is, and was known not only for his genius but as a ruthless tactician in the business world. Mergers, hostile takeovers, this was where he excelled. He was a formidable man of epic proportions, earning himself the title Genghis Kacchan in the business world for his ruthless business tactics, due to his idiotic brother uttering the term during a meeting that Denki was definitely still drunk for, the moron.
He readjusted the young Midoriya’s weight as he let themselves into the kitchen, setting him softly down in the window seat of the breakfast nook and brushing a curl out of his eyes. The boy was approaching his eighteenth birthday but could easily pass for twelve as he lay sleeping. Katsuki straightened up and walked over to the freshly cleaned counters, scowl firmly in place, pulling down bowls from cupboards and whisks from the drawers. He had lived a life of luxury, and had a great many cooks who prepared their family’s meals but because he worked such long and inconsistent hours, he had quickly learned to cook for himself.
Waking the servants at 2am to make him something to eat was something his childish brother might do but Katsuki recognized that they were people and thereby deserved their rest as much as anyone else in the big house. Besides, he liked cooking after a long day at the office. It was a good way to decompress and compartmentalize his day so that he could rest easier. Cooking was step by step, with clear concise instructions but seasoning a meal was like art. It enveloped all five senses, taking precision and great care in order to create a masterpiece.
When he was a boy, he would sit on the countertops while Inko Midoriya talked out loud to him about how various spices created specific flavor profiles for different cuisines, inviting him to taste and smell, chop and stir. It was, in fact, some of his happiest childhood memories and he still felt close to her when he worked inside the lavish room preparing his own meals. So, Katsuki Bakugou set to work, skillfully chopping vegetables, boiling pasta, adding heavy cream and butter for a rich, comforting sauce. Mama Midoriya’s homemade alfredo sauce smothered in red pepper flakes was one of his favorite meals after a long day studying, hearty and filling, rich and comforting- so he prepared it for her unruly headed son as an act of service to the kitchen matron whom he had loved so much.
Slowly, the enticing smells seemed to stir the younger boy, his nose lifting slightly to scent the air, before crinkling with a small smile. He opened his eyes, huge, gorgeous pools of seafoam green blinking owlishly in the soft light, before a smile crossed over soft pink lips.
“Kacchan? You’re cooking?” He asked, his voice full of awe and wonder.
“Hmph,” Katsuki grunted as he prepared two plates, and walked them over the small table, “S’your mom’s recipe. So, clean your plate.”
“Of course, Kacchan,” the beautiful boy laughed, his eyes alight with happiness. “Kacchan’s cooking is the best. I would never leave any behind.”
A small blush dusted the high cheekbones and he smirked, before shaking his head and rolling his eyes towards the high vaulted ceiling. The two quietly dug into their food, a small smile on the younger’s face as they began what had become a familiar ritual between the two. It was not uncommon for Katsuki to return home late from the office to find Izuku sketching in the garden under the fairy lights and invite the small nerd in for a meal with him. They always ate in mostly silence, but the boy’s presence was a comfort. It felt good to not always be so alone.
“Are you excited for Paris?” He asked, still staring down towards his fork. “I know your father is pleased you’ve decided to go.”
The younger pushed noodles around his plate for a moment before heaving a small sigh that caused the verdant locks to dance across his forehead. “I...I am, I guess.”
“You don’t sound excited,” He questioned, lifting one golden eyebrow towards the ceiling in query, searching the boy’s face for any anxiety. He had been prone to panic attacks after his mother’s passing, and Katsuki had witnessed the terrifying event on more than one occasion.
“I am,” Izuku said softly, “It’s a great opportunity. I’m very blessed.”
“S’normal to be nervous,” Katsuki grunted out as he stood to clean his plate at the sink, “But don’t let fear stop you, kid.”
“I won’t Kacchan!” He replied enthusiastically and Katsuki looked over his shoulder to see him beaming, a bright smile overtaking his face, the lingering shadows banished away by the sunshine it radiated. He quickly turned back around before the nerd could see him smiling in return.
“Alright, get to bed asshole so you don’t miss your flight,” He commanded, turning on the tap and wiggling his fingers under the stream as he waited the water to heat up. “And you know, have fun or whatever. Do your best.”
“I will Kacchan, thank you for the meal.”
He watched as the boy scampered across the driveway towards the garage and rolled his eyes. He was becoming such a fucking sap.
****
“So much of our world consists of pure art,” the professor, Madame Guyon, stated dramatically as she whipped her long flowing robes around the classroom tables while she walked. “Murals, sculptures, architecture, graffiti, graphic novels- they are all art, and they are all beautiful.”
Izuku watched her with glazed over eyes, his mind wandering over her words before drifting back to long, silken hair and golden eyes.
“But there is no greater beauty than the human form,” she continued, “The human physique varies wildly in shape and color, it’s dimension, breadth, pigment all different for each individual.”
Izuku thought back over the people in his life as his teacher spoke: His mother, short, soft and round. Her emerald hair straight down her back, rosy cheeks and always smiling. His father- pale freckled skin, dark, tight curls clipped short, tall and lean. His face was thin and all sharp angles, so much different than his own. Kacchan, his soft ashen hair, almost white in the sunlight, deep piercing ember eyes, high cheeks and strong jaw.
Denki- long golden hair blowing in the wind, his gilded eyes glowing with merriment, soft bitable pink lips…so beautiful. So unattainable.
“And since the human form is so complex and varies so widely, it makes sense that many artists shy away from it.” Madame continued; her cultured voice emboldened with confidence as she walked slowly back up to the center of the classroom. “But not us, mes bebes, no! We will take the worthless lumps of clay in front of us and create art!”
Izuku did his best to continue listening to the lecture, staring vacantly at the naked models in the center of the classroom but not really seeing them. Sculpting was never his favorite, he had signed up for the class thinking it would be nice to try something new but the more the aging woman blathered on in front of them, the more his attention waned.
Soon, she was clapping her hands, and the class was to begin their assignments. Izuku looked wildly to and fro, knowing that he had indeed missed something very important as the class set busily to work while he remained clueless on where to start.
“First you need to pick a model my dear boy,” a kind voice said over Izuku’s shoulder causing him to jump out of his skin. “Sorry, sorry! I did not mean to startle you.”
“No,” Izuku laughed, rubbing his neck, “It’s my fault for not paying attention.”
He looked up at the towering man beside him, his eyes were sunken but remained a piercing blue that denoted perception and a keen intellect. His was far too thin and had to be well over six feet tall. His clothes spoke volumes, proclaiming the man was aristocracy of some sort but Izuku could only see kindness radiating from the older gentleman as he offered him a warm smile.
“I’m Izuku Midoriya, sir,” he said with a small bow. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much for helping me.”
“Tis a pleasure my dear boy,” the man reiterated, “you are quite distracted and a foreigner as well. I assumed a little help would be appreciated.”
“Oh, it is sir!” Izuku replied enthusiastically, his trademark smile now radiating in full force.
“Good,” the man replied, “I am the Baron Yagi. I retake this class every fall. It brings me comfort and helps soothe my loneliness.”
“Loneliness, sir?” Izuku questioned, his lips slightly downturned. He hated the idea that someone so kind and generous was lonely.
“Hmm,” the Baron nodded. “I was a great adventurer once. Creating art and taking photographs all over the world until I had a terrible accident.” The man patted his side, hinting at a hidden wound that lie underneath the fine white dress shirt and silken vest. “I have many friends all over the world, but none close to home.”
“You can’t travel to see them?” Izuku inquired, his lump of clay long forgotten as he engaged in conversation with the older gentlemen. The class happily bustled on around them, periodically punctuated with “Good job!” or “Too thick”, or even “See the form inside the clay!” from the Madame as she floated through the classroom.
“My condition inhibits my travelling, I’m afraid.” Yagi replied with a small smile. “Though I do miss my friends terribly.”
“I’ll be your friend sir!” Izuku chirped, “I’d be happy too! I…uh, I don’t have any friends here either.” He finished shyly. He could feel the red rising in his cheeks and realized he must sound like a horrible baby to the cultured man, but Yagi only laughed.
“Splendid!” He decreed, “Why, my dear Midoriya I believe you and I will get a long splendidly but for now let’s work! Or Madame will come over here and rap our knuckles with her ruler.”
Izuku’s eyes went large with worry, quickly scanning for the matron as he fretted over his formless blob.
“Yes sir.” He said, gulping nervously, “Let’s get to work. What, uh, was the assignment again?”
Yagi only laughed.
***
“So, this Kacchan, he is your lover?” Yagi asked as they sipped tea in a nearby café, his eyes twinkling with merriment.
“What?!” Izuku spluttered, choking on the fragrant jasmine drink, and proceeding to launch into a coughing fit that made the other man roar with laughter.
“Of course, he’s not! He just lives at the main estate with my father’s employers. His, uh parents, you see.” Izuku blushed hard, and tucked a wild green curl behind his ear. “Kacchan is a very nice man, intimidating sure! He hides his kindness under this hard exterior but he has always shown a softer side to me. He was quite close with my mother.”
“Yet he pays for your education?” Yagi probed, picking up a biscuit and dunking it in his tea.
“He does, but pretends it’s his mother’s doing. Mrs. Bakugou and my mom were friends, despite their different social classes and Kacchan spent a lot of time with my mother in the kitchens when he was young. His family is not very close to one another sir.”
“I see,” Yagi said with a nod before thoughtfully nibbling his treat, “So he is not the one you love?”
“No of course he isn…Wait! I never said I was in love!” Izuku replied, sticking out his tongue and wrinkling the adorably freckled nose, making Yagi laugh harder. “Why would you think that! I’ve never implied…”
“Not with words, perhaps.” The older gentleman interrupted with a knowing smile, “But I can still recognize the signs of yearning when I see them, even in my old age.”
“Is it that obvious?” Izuku murmured slinking lower into his chair.
“It is I’m afraid and I fear it must not be going too well.”
“It’ not going at all,” Izuku huffed, “He doesn’t even know I exist.”
“Yes, I assumed as much.” The wise old man gave a sage nod of his head before sipping his tea once more. He smacked his lips wildly before leaning forward across the table with his elbows resting beside his plate. “A man happy in love sculpts with fervor, drawing from the passion in his soul. A man unhappy in love sees only unformed clay. Not what it may become. It remains lifeless and static, like his heart, inside his hands.”
“So I’m doomed to fail then.” Midoriya mumbled. “Here lies Izuku, dead of a broken heart.”
“Of course not my boy, of course not!” Yagi proclaimed bristling up at Izuku’s insinuation. “We have at all times, the ability to change our circumstances should we only take the time to recognize our opportunities when they arise.”
“Well,” Izuku countered bitterly, “That’s easy to say and much harder to do. For one, I’m in Paris and he’s still in Long Island and two, he doesn’t even know who I am. I may as well be reaching for the moon!”
“My dear sweet summer child,” Yagi chuckled, his face beaming. “Don’t you know? We have built rockets that reach the moon!”
Izuku chuckled at his new mentor’s enthusiasm, grateful for his company and his kindness but it did nothing to lift the sullen air that surrounded him at their small table.
“There’s nothing I can do Yagi,” He whispered, “It’s completely hopeless.”
“Nonsense!” Yagi leaned forward once more, catching Izuku’s curls with his fingers, “It may help if you didn’t resemble a vegetable, you know!”
“A vegetable!?” Izuku squeaked, before catching the mischievous glint in the other man’s eyes.
“Oh!” He laughed, rolling his eyes, “You mean my hair.”
“I do,” Yagi nodded, “You know, young Midoriya, I have been alive a long time. I have seen many things and tasted love in all it’s forms. I have photographed it, painted it, sang songs about it. So, if there is one thing I know, it is that true love always finds a way. Sometimes, it requires change, which is hard to be sure,” He continued with a small nod, “But we were never meant to stay the same.” He leveled the crystalline blue eyes at Izuku before he continued. “Are you willing to fight and to change?”
“I am,” Izuku said softly, his voice barely a whisper, threatening to be caught away on the autumn breeze. “But, I don’t know how.”
“Good!” Yagi proclaimed slapping both hands on the table. “Then I will help you! I will teach you how to be a cultured gentleman while you study your art here in Paris and when you go home, your love will not only notice you but beg for your company. I guarantee it!”
“You can’t promise that sir,” Izuku laughed, “No matter how much I may wish it!”
“I can and I do!” The old man insisted, “We will start today my young protégé! Soon you will be an expert on love in all its forms! Your art will grow, your heart will grow, and you will one day look in the mirror and see the man you always were meant to be.”
Both men laughed gleefully as they began their schemes at the small wrought iron table, nibbling baguettes and biscuits. There was no way for Izuku to know just how true the baron’s words would be, all he knew as he lavished the feeling of fresh air in his lungs and upon his cheeks, was that he was so grateful for his new friend. Vowing to make him proud, in every way. Whether Denki ever loved him or not.
***
“Hisashi! Hisashi!”
Ochako called as she ran from the kitchen gleefully, Tsu, Iida and Todoroki hot on her heels. She was laughing wildly as she waved a soft white envelope back and forth in the air. Her soft white dress shoes from her maid uniform scuffing slightly on the dark asphalt as she tripped. Luckily, Shouto was there to grasp her arm before she fell. She offered him a shining grin and a soft ‘thank you’ before continuing her assault against the pavement.
“There’s a letter!” She decreed triumphantly with a small leap over the large puddled that had accumulated where Hisashi was washing the white Rolls Royce watching her approach. “A letter from Izuku!”
The quiet older man looked over at her with a small smile before walking to the garage in order to shut off the water to his hose. He dried his hands promptly against the dark grey trousers as he crossed to meet the energetic girl waving a new letter from his son in the bright early morning sunshine. He was thinner than he used to be, almost gaunt as he stood, and the dark midnight hair now contained grey at his temples and in his mustache. He instantly looked younger though as a bright smile graced the proud, stoic face at the prospect of correspondence from his beloved only child.
Ochako had begun working for the Bakugous when she was only sixteen to help her parents pay bills at home and was only two years older than Izuku. The two had instantly become the best of friends on the large estate, relishing in one another’s company as Izuku studied in the breakfast nook and Ochako helped Tsu clean. Todoroki and Iida were hired together at eighteen and Tsu replaced her mother as the kitchen help at the tender age of seventeen when her mother developed osteoarthritis and couldn’t work twelve-hour days on her feet anymore.
Needless to say, the youngsters had immediately clicked off together and formed a small family. After all, working on the Bakugou property was a dream come true. The pay was ridiculously good, and it was worth Miss Mitsuki and Katsuki’s occasional temper tantrums to take care of their families. Iida was helping his brother who was left paralyzed from an accident and Todoroki, well. He was just an odd bird. He was already affluently wealthy, having gone to boarding school with Denki, and only accepted a servant’s job in order to piss off his father.
Nonetheless, the four were thick as thieves and had immediately taken the youngest Midoriya into their small pack as one of their own. He had a way of bringing light and laughter to everyone who met him, and even the oldest Midoriya couldn’t help but grow fond of the young adults who called themselves his son’s closest friends.
He quickly sat on the stairs that led to the apartment above the garage, handling the small envelope passed to him like it was made of gold. It had been difficult for him to send his son away, but he knew that Izuku deserved more than a servant’s life, trapped on their benefactor’s expansive property. He deserved more than simply doing the bidding of others. He deserved to follow his own dreams and to live his own life.
Getting him away from the youngest Bakugou son was simply an added bonus. Denki was a notorious playboy and basically had a weekly column dedicated just to his exploits in the society column of Long Island’s newspaper. He had caused more scandals then Hisashi could count on his hands, as the boys carefree lackadaisical attitude caused him to give no care or concern to the people he hurt with his exploits. He was narcissistic in the worst way, in Hisashi’s opinion, caring for nothing in life but chasing his own pleasure. The older Midoriya simply couldn’t stand the thought that someday his careless actions may cause Izuku to become one of his many victims. His sensitive, artistic son deserved someone who would treasure him like a jewel, not some sybarite who would discard him as soon as he found a new toy.
“Open it! Open it! Hurry!” Ochako cried shaking the older man’s arm as she laughed and Hisashi cleared his throat. Gently tearing the white paper to reveal the gift inside. It was in his son’s neat, small black penmanship, cramming so many words onto the single page that there was barely room for his scrawling signature at the bottom.
Hisashi read quietly to himself, the other four adults crowding around him as they waited for news on their beloved sunshine boy and Hisashi couldn’t help but relish he warm feeling that spread through his bones at being surrounded by the people who so truly loved his son.
“He says he’s doing quite well,” Hisashi said, “He will even have a piece at this week’s art exhibit hosted by the school. Only a dozen students get the opportunity to present their works so he is quite thankful to have been chosen.”
“Nooo,” Ochako whined, “Get to the good stuff! What does he say about Denki?”
“Uraraka,” Iida scolded, pushing the small wire rim glasses up his nose, “Please be polite. You know Midoriya senior has sent Izuku away to get over this silly crush!”
“But he could be like Cinderella!” Ochako whined, a small laugh escaping her, “Imagine it Iida! Falling in love with a rich prince and being swept off your feet! It’s so romantic!”
“It’s unrealistic,” Todoroki intoned, with a bland, emotionless expression. “Remember the Van Horns? Their son fell in love with the butler’s daughter, got her pregnant and the family paid them $50,000 to either get rid of the baby or move across the country!”
“Yes, but Izuku can’t get pregnant!” Ochako began but Hisashi cleared his throat causing the argument to instantly cease.
“Would you like to hear the rest of the letter or not?” He asked with a soft smile, causing the younger girl to redden with embarrassment as she looked shyly towards the ground.
“Of course, sir,” She said in a small voice, “My apologies.”
“It’s quite all right!” Hisashi replied with a boisterous laugh, “You and Izuku have always been idealists my dear Ochako but it’s important to remember that those fanciful notions are simply that. Vague inclination only, not based in any reality. That is why I sent him to Paris, to aspire towards a new dream.”
The small girl nodded, before bringing a beaming smile back to her face, her eyes alight with a fire to see his young son succeed.
“Tell us about the exhibit!”
The other three nodded enthusiastically and Hisashi went back to reading the letter aloud to them. Occasionally adding their own commentary to punctuate the long eloquent sentences found within.
I’ve met a marvelous man here who has taken it upon himself to name his protégé! The Baron even took me to a wonderful gala as his plus one, where I meant so many wonderful people and aspiring artists such as myself!
“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Tsu chirped.
“Yes,” Iida agreed, “That’s good!”
“But what about Denki?” Ochako whined while slightly pouting, ever relentless in giving up the dream she has for her dear friend.
“Forget Denki,” Todoroki piped up, “This guy is a Baron!”
The Baron Yagi is fifty-three years old and very cultured. He has a box at the opera and racing stables where he keeps the most magnificent horses. He bought me a beautiful tuxedo to wear with emerald cuff links and said I was the Belle of the ball! Can you imagine, father? Me!
“Hrmp,” Ochako intoned, crossing her arms. “Seems like the old Baron is just a friend.” She stuck her tongue out playfully at Todoroki which earned her a fierce eye roll and a chuckle from Tsu.
My painting classes are so inspiring and I’m learning so much! Though I can’t help but be grateful that sculpting is ending! It nearly killed me. The exhibit that I will be featured in will be exclusively drawing and charcoals, a study in the human form, which I am quite proud of! The Baron believes that they will all sell, and I won’t have any left to bring back home to share with you. So, I promise to take plenty of photographs for your wall back home! There are only three labeled not for sale that I am especially partial too. One is of mom, one of the Baron and one of Kacchan cooking in the kitchen. Don’t tell him that though! His eyes glow like the devil when he’s mad!
“Isn’t that the truth!” Tsu murmured under her breath, sharing a small smile with Ochako who enthusiastically nodded her head.
I can’t bring myself to do Denki’s portrait, the pain is still too fresh, and I miss him terribly.
Hisashi let loose a deep disappointed sigh. His son was a hopeless romantic at heart, a trait he no doubt inherited from his beautiful and kind-hearted mother. He knew that Izuku’s feelings were nothing but folly, misplaced childhood adoration directed at the only available boy near his age growing up, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. He truly hoped Izuku would meet someone overseas, settle down and be happy but his son was as stubborn as ever.
Nevertheless, I find myself to be quite happy here in Paris and have discovered sides to myself that I never knew existed. Please give my love to everyone! Tell Ochako I’m scouting the Baron’s rich friends for her and that I’ll hopefully find her a filthy rich husband soon.
Ochako beamed and laughed so loudly that Hisashi could not help but follow suit.
Tell Iida to do at least one fun thing a day and to not be so serious.
Causing the severe man to smile as he adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat from the gathering of emotion that threatened to spill forth from his airway.
Tell Todoroki to keep George happy for me and to please take time to make himself happy as well...
Earning a crimson stain to rise up on the soft features of the other man.
..and tell Tsu that I miss her cooking terribly! French cuisine is so rich, and certainly delicious, but I miss Katsudon so badly I could cry! I haven’t been able to find it anywhere!
“I should send him my recipe,” Tsu murmured, “Perhaps he could make it for the Baron.”
I love you father and I miss you so much. Please take some time for yourself each day and try not to be lonely. I promise to write again soon and send pictures of the exhibit. I will save most of the money I earn but I also plan to spoil you with gifts when I return!
Hisashi finished the letter quietly, the small group lapsing into a solemn and somber silence. Izuku’s voice and laughter somehow ringing through their ears despite the distance, each vowing to follow his advice no matter the cost. They parted way soon after, the two girls scrambling towards the kitchen to cook and prepare their benefactor’s lunches and the two men, strolling through the grounds under the falling Autumn leaves talking softly together. Determined to do as Izuku bade and bring themselves some small slice of happiness before returning to their duties.
Hisashi Midoriya, now alone, wiped a single tear from his dark eyes and pocketed the letter in his shirt pocket close to his heart. Missing his beloved sunshine boy so much more then he had, only hours ago.