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Eri’s skin was deathly pale, the only sign of life was her labored breathing and flushed cheeks. It reminds Hisashi of his brother that was always stuck in bed, vomiting blood because of his chronic illness. The sight pulls at his heartstrings.
Without facing the Doctor, Hisashi orders, “Make sure she’s okay… Because if she isn’t by next week, I’m postponing your Nomu projects.” His voice was stone-cold, contrasting to his warm gaze directed at his sick daughter.
Hisashi didn’t even notice the Doctor leaving in cold sweat, focused on making sure Eri was comfortable. A tub of warm water is on the side, dried towels beside them. One is already on Eri’s forehead, placed by him to cool her feverish body.
Hisashi settles down on a chair, rubbing his forehead as a migraine threatens him. Two weeks after bringing Eri in, she collapsed during breakfast yesterday morning, causing Hisashi’s heart to nearly stop.
When the Doctor said it was a high fever that could threaten her life, Hisashi saw red. It was only after Tomura reminded him that going on a murderous rampage was inconvenient did Hisashi calm down—but only a little bit, not enough for him to stop threatening people.
Right now, Tomura was in the kitchen with Kurogiri, preparing Eri a quick meal. Izuku was sitting on the carpeted floor (Hisashi told him not to, but the child didn’t listen), resting his chin in his arms while staring at Eri’s face scrunched up in pain.
“She’s so quiet,” Izuku mumbles, “Why is she so quiet? I would usually be crying out now since her fever is so high.” He glances at Hisashi, green eyes filled with concern. “She’ll be okay, right?”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. But if she still isn’t, I’m going out to get a healing quirk fit for her body,” Hisashi answers, his anxiety clear with his furrowed brows. “What happened for a fever to break out…” He grumbles under his breath.
The door is then quietly opened, Tomura coming in with a bowl of chicken soup. “Is she still asleep?” He whispers, placing the tray of food on a drawer.
“No,” Hisashi and Izuku say in unison.
Tomura glances at Eri, conflicted emotions in his eyes. “Anything about her recovery?” He questions in a hushed tone, using Izuku’s vacant chair. “And why she even has it in the first place?”
The silence in the room gave Tomura an answer, one that he didn’t like that much. With everyone clearly distressed, no one attempted to break the ice. It was suffocating not knowing what could happen to Eri, a girl only four years old, someone they already started to care about.
“Could be because of stress, ya know,” Tomura says, volume higher than before. Feeling the questioning gazes of Hisashi and Izuku, he continues, “Overhaul’s an ass, so it’s obvious she hasn’t been cared for properly. He could have even, uh, hit her for being noisy, explaining why she’s like a mouse. Maybe she’s still not used to the love- and you have to agree…”
Tomura pauses for a second, diverting his eyes. “Sensei's been smothering her from day one...” He mutters, ignoring the expected burning stare that Hisashi gives.
Izuku snickers at Tomura’s words, also receiving Hisashi’s annoyance. “Well, what should we do then? Just stop it altogether? Was it a bad idea for her to be here? I don’t want to give her up. She’s now my little sister, Tomura-nii, and I’m sure you and Dad neither want it as well,” he mumbles continuously, a habit he can’t get rid of no matter what.
Eyes go towards Hisashi, the man silent the entire time. “You should make her do things she wants next time, Sensei,” Tomura says faintly in a scolding tone, “Taking Eri out dress shopping on the first was... Stupid." He didn't want to use the word, but there wasn't anything else to describe his thoughts. "An unfamiliar place could have overwhelmed her.”
“Tomura-”
Before Hisashi could speak, a cry was heard. ”Hungry…” Eri hushedly whimpers, twisting in her bed—awake with a still burning fever.
“Siri, how do you make those caramel apples?”
Hisashi glares down at the washed apples, wishing there was a quirk that could magically create the treat. But alas, there was no such thing. It forces Hisashi to search up recipes and ways, even asking Kurogiri if he knows (he doesn’t, by the way).
In his hand is a stick, wondering if stabbing it right through would be a good idea. From all the pictures he saw, there was always a stick as a handle. So adding one must be needed, right?
Hisashi regrets it—since when he did, he nearly broke the marble counter, the apple broke apart, and the stick snapped in half. All in all, the kitchen looked as if an animal came inside and caused trouble.
Staring at the chaos, Hisashi’s face is blank, unlike his messy thoughts. “Using force was a bad idea,” he mumbles to himself, irritated at his moment of stupidity.
Maybe this is why Inko never allowed him to cook new things.
As Hisashi drowns in his thoughts, a head pops out from the doorway. “Need help?” Izuku cheekily asks, a sly look in his eyes. “I’m sure you need a little helper to clean up your accidents, Dad,” he teasingly says.
Hisashi, despite being unwilling to admit defeat before it even began, knew this would take longer if he didn’t accept Izuku’s aid. Plus, if it means spending quality time with his son, Hisashi wouldn’t ignore the offer.
“If you don’t mind.”
At Hisashi’s positive response, Izuku ran somewhere, coming back minutes later. In his hands is Kurogiri’s pink apron, a gift the Nomu received from Tomura one Christmas. Izuku presents it in front of Hisashi, a bright smile on his lips which contrasts to Hisashi’s deepening frown.
Understanding the meaning of it, Hisashi is quick to say—”No.”
In retort, Izuku prepared his deal. “Seven hours of watching whatever show you want. Five hugs, interval is ten minutes. I’ll even drag Tomura-nii so you can get two-in-one, Dad. Will you let this deal down? As an added bonus, you’re getting Eri her favorite snack.”
“...”
Sometimes, Hisashi feels more scared than proud whenever Izuku persuades him.
Knock, knock.
“Did you have a nice lunch, Eri?” Hisashi is at the doorway, a welcoming smile on his face. “Are you still feeling sick? If you are, you can stay in bed.”
Eri observes his nearing form, wariness in her ruby eyes—’Though less guarded,' Hisashi notes, 'Before she wouldn’t even meet my own. Now, she’s willing to make a request without a sorry following after. That’s a good change.’
“I-it was tasty,” Eri whispers her response, gathering her fluffy blanket into her arms. “T-there was c-corn in the soup… Also with meat- super, super tasty,” she adds, meeting similar-looking eyes.
Hisashi grins at her long answer, taking a seat at the end of Eri’s bed. “I’m glad. Does your head still hurt? Do you feel like fainting? We can talk another time if you feel sick.”
Eri profusely shakes her head. “N-no! I’m okay…” She denies his concern, “My head doesn’t hurt. You don’t have to worry about me-”
“Eri.”
Being cut off, the young child was cautious. Despite her words (lies), Eri had a head-splitting headache that muddled her thoughts. But she didn’t want to bother the nice people that saved her—they might throw her out if she was too whiny.
They’ve given her nice dresses and warm food, especially the man in front of her. He was the one that saved her from that horrible place where—painpainpainpain… She no longer has to wake up and quietly tell herself “it’s alright”, nor be reminded with memories of being strapped to a chair and cut open.
That’s why—
“You don’t have to lie,” Hisashi’s words bring Eri out of her thoughts. Unlike Eri’s expected reaction, he stays calm with a gentle expression. “You have a headache, don’t you? Here, I’ll make it go away.”
A hand pats Eri’s head, making her freeze at the affectionate action. Though she relaxes when her headache fades away, imagining a warm light that embraces her. It makes her feel safe—and a little bit sleepy.
“You said you liked the apples before, right?”
Eri opens her eyes that she subconsciously closed, widening at the sight of her favorite snack coated in… Sugar? Caramel? Either way, it looks so delectable that it makes Eri’s mouth water a bit. Her hands moved, trying to grab and take a bite of the candied apple.
“It’s a get-well gift, Eri. I hope you won’t become sick like this ever again,” Hisashi declares, giving the candied apple to Eri—the child taking a massive bite while humming in delight. “Promise me you won’t lie and tell me about what you feel, alright?”
“... I promise,” Eri whispers, feeling her blissful heart swell in delight with every bite, “I won’t lie.” She raises her head to meet Hisashi’s red eyes—they would always be a shade darker than hers, but Eri liked it.
For the first time since she arrived—
“It’s tasty, Pa… P-papa.”
Eri smiled.
Omake: fatherly instincts
Aizawa from another world: Why do I feel unpleasant? All my problem children are safe, and the other three are with the youngest... Is it the sleep-deprived one?