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A New Kind of Love
The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater. The calm was deceptive, though—it buzzed with the kind of nervous energy that came with an entirely new, fragile reality.
Bakugou Katsuki sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the baby monitor in his hand like it was a live grenade. His crimson eyes were sharp but softened by an unease Shinsou Hitoshi wasn’t used to seeing on him.
From the couch, Shinsou smirked as he finished towel-drying his damp hair. His usual sweatpants and oversized hoodie hung loose on his lanky frame, giving him a relaxed air that Bakugou was almost jealous of. Almost.
“Still staring at that thing like it’s gonna explode?” Shinsou teased, dropping into a lazy sprawl on the couch.
Bakugou didn’t look up, his shoulders tense. “It’s too quiet,” he muttered. His grip on the monitor tightened. “She’s supposed to cry, isn’t she? Or make noise? How the hell do we know if she’s okay?”
“Or,” Shinsou drawled, suppressing a grin, “she could just be sleeping. You know, like most babies do at this hour.”
Bakugou shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual bite. “What if she needs somethin’? We wouldn’t know.”
Shinsou rolled his eyes but pushed himself up and walked over to sit beside him. He draped an arm over Bakugou’s shoulders, leaning close as he glanced at the monitor. “Katsuki,” he said softly, “you’re gonna hear it if something’s wrong. She’s got lungs like yours—trust me, we’ll know.”
Bakugou’s scowl deepened, though his shoulders relaxed slightly under Shinsou’s touch. “Don’t know how you’re so calm about this,” he muttered.
“Who says I’m calm?” Shinsou countered, his voice low and steady. “I just hide it better.”
Bakugou huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitching. His eyes darted back toward the baby monitor. In the nursery down the hall, their one-year-old daughter, Sakura, was supposed to be sleeping peacefully. The little girl had only been with them for three days, but she had already taken over their world in ways they hadn’t even begun to process.
Sakura had come into their lives through a mix of unexpected heartbreak and hope. A distant cousin of Bakugou’s—someone he hadn’t been close to but still cared for in his own quiet way—had passed away, leaving behind a small, wide-eyed girl with nowhere to go. The decision to take her in had been both immediate and terrifying.
They’d gone through every hurdle the system could throw at them—paperwork, inspections, interviews with social workers. They’d baby-proofed the apartment, read every parenting book they could find, and watched countless YouTube videos on how to hold, feed, and comfort a baby. None of it had prepared them for the moment they first held her.
Sakura had looked up at them with big, curious eyes and a tuft of messy light hair, clutching a stuffed bunny in her tiny hands. She’d been wary at first, shy and quiet, but when Bakugou had crouched to her level and offered her his hand, she’d taken it without hesitation.
That was all it took for Bakugou’s heart to be stolen forever.
“She’s so small,” he murmured now, his voice unusually quiet. “What if I screw it up?”
Shinsou gave him a soft nudge. “Katsuki, you’re not gonna screw it up.”
“You don’t know that,” Bakugou muttered, his jaw tightening. “She needs more than just... effort. She needs us to get it right.”
“And we will,” Shinsou said simply. His hand moved to rub slow, reassuring circles on Bakugou’s back. “She doesn’t care if we don’t know what we’re doing yet. She just needs us to be here and love her.”
Bakugou’s breath hitched slightly, though he hid it well. “Yeah. Okay.”
Shinsou smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to Bakugou’s temple. “You’re gonna be a great dad, Katsuki. You already are.”
Before Bakugou could argue, the baby monitor crackled to life. A soft cry echoed through the device, growing louder and more insistent. Both men froze.
“She’s awake,” Bakugou said, his voice tight.
“No kidding,” Shinsou replied, already standing.
They made their way down the hall together, their steps cautious and uncertain. Shinsou pushed the nursery door open gently, revealing Sakura standing in her crib. She clutched the bars with her tiny hands, her dark eyes shiny with tears as she let out another wail.
“Hey, hey,” Bakugou murmured, stepping inside. His voice, so often sharp and commanding, was impossibly soft. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Shinsou flicked on the small lamp by the changing table, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. The walls were decorated with starry decals and a few framed photos of the three of them, though most of the room still felt new and unfamiliar.
Sakura’s cries quieted slightly as she spotted them, her chubby arms stretching out toward Bakugou.
Bakugou didn’t hesitate. He scooped her up with a gentleness that still surprised him, cradling her against his chest. “There, I gotcha,” he murmured, rocking her slightly. “You’re okay.”
Shinsou leaned against the crib, his smirk softening as he watched Sakura burrow into Bakugou’s sweater, her little hands clutching the fabric. “Told you she likes you best,” he teased.
Bakugou shot him a glare, but his attention quickly returned to the little girl in his arms. He rubbed a soothing hand over her back, his thumb tracing slow circles. “What’s wrong, huh?” he asked quietly. “Bad dream?”
Sakura sniffled, her big eyes blinking up at him as if trying to answer.
Shinsou stepped closer, brushing a hand over her messy hair. “Or maybe she just wanted company,” he suggested, his voice low and warm.
“Yeah, well, she’s got it now,” Bakugou muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
Together, they carried her back to the living room. Shinsou grabbed a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around both of their shoulders as they settled onto the floor with Sakura still in Bakugou’s arms.
The three of them sat in the quiet glow of the Christmas lights, the apartment filled with a new kind of peace. Shinsou leaned into Bakugou’s side, his head resting on his shoulder as Sakura’s breaths evened out, her tiny fingers clutching Bakugou’s sweater.
“We’re gonna mess up sometimes,” Shinsou murmured, his voice soft and thoughtful.
“Yeah,” Bakugou admitted, his eyes never leaving Sakura’s sleeping face.
“But we’ll figure it out,” Shinsou continued, his hand brushing against Bakugou’s. “She’s already got everything she needs.”
Bakugou swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. “Yeah. She’s got us.”
Shinsou smiled, leaning closer to press a kiss to Bakugou’s jaw. “Exactly.”
Bakugou glanced down at the little girl in his arms, her small body warm and safe against him. She stirred slightly, her face scrunching before relaxing into a peaceful sigh.
In that moment, surrounded by the soft hum of their new life together, Bakugou felt something he hadn’t expected: a deep, unshakable certainty that they were going to be okay.
And for the first time in days, he let himself believe it.
A Love Shared
The nursery was quiet, filled only with the faint sound of Sakura’s soft breathing. Shinsou stood by the crib, one hand resting on the rail as he watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful, her tiny hands curled into fists, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sight filled him with a deep warmth—but tonight, that warmth was laced with doubt.
It had started small. Little moments where he felt...off. Watching Bakugou seamlessly scoop her up, soothe her cries, or make her laugh with silly faces. Seeing the way Sakura clung to him, her giggles bubbling up the moment her Papa walked into the room.
Bakugou was good at this. Unfairly good, in Shinsou’s eyes. It wasn’t just that he was attentive or careful—it was the way he seemed to know exactly what to do without hesitation, like he was born for this.
Shinsou, on the other hand, felt like he was fumbling in the dark.
He loved Sakura fiercely. That wasn’t the issue. But sometimes, when she cried, he wasn’t the one she reached for. Sometimes, when he tried to comfort her, his efforts felt clumsy compared to Bakugou’s natural ease. And no matter how much he told himself it was normal, that they were both learning, a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered doubts he couldn’t shake.
“Hey.”
Shinsou turned to see Bakugou leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. He wore his usual sleepwear—sweatpants and a loose t-shirt—but his eyes were sharp, studying Shinsou like he could see right through him.
“You’ve been in here a while,” Bakugou said, his voice low but not unkind. “What’s goin’ on in that big beautiful brain o’ yours?”
“Nothing,” Shinsou replied too quickly, his gaze flicking back to Sakura. “Just checking on her.”
Bakugou stepped closer, his footsteps soft on the carpet. “Toshi,” he said, his tone softer now. “Talk to me.”
Shinsou sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just...thinking.”
“About what?” Bakugou asked, stopping beside him.
Shinsou hesitated. He didn’t want to admit it—didn’t want to sound ungrateful or insecure—but the weight on his chest was too heavy to keep to himself.
“It’s just...” He trailed off, his thumb brushing against the edge of the crib. “You’re so good at this, Kats. With her. You always know what to do, what she needs. And I—” He paused, swallowing hard. “I feel like I’m just...here. Like I’m not doing enough.”
Bakugou stared at him for a long moment, his brows furrowing. Then, to Shinsou’s surprise, he let out a short laugh—not mocking, but incredulous.
“You serious?” Bakugou said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You think you’re not doin’ enough?”
Shinsou frowned, crossing his arms. “That’s what it feels like.”
Bakugou sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Hitoshi,” he said firmly, “you’re not just ‘here.’ You’re her dad. And she loves you.”
“Yeah?” Shinsou muttered, looking away. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”
Before Bakugou could respond, a soft whine came from the crib. Both men turned their attention to Sakura, who was stirring, her tiny face scrunching up as she woke.
“Looks like she’s got somethin’ to say about that,” Bakugou said, his voice softening.
Shinsou stepped closer instinctively, his hands hovering uncertainly. Before he could decide what to do, Sakura’s eyes blinked open, and she let out a small, sleepy cry. Her gaze shifted, landing on Shinsou—and then her little arms stretched up toward him.
“Da,” she murmured, her voice tiny and full of trust.
Shinsou’s heart nearly stopped. He hesitated for only a second before scooping her up, cradling her against his chest. “Hey, pumpkin,” he murmured, his voice thick. “What’s wrong?”
Sakura buried her face in his shoulder, her little hands clutching at his shirt. “Da,” she said again, her voice muffled but insistent.
“She wanted you,” Bakugou said quietly, his tone carrying none of its usual edge.
Shinsou held her a little tighter, his doubts momentarily forgotten. He swayed gently, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back as she snuggled closer.
“See?” Bakugou continued, stepping closer and placing a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder. “You’re the one she wanted. Not me. You.”
Shinsou glanced at him, his throat tightening. “But you’re so—”
“Stop,” Bakugou interrupted, his voice firm but not harsh. “Yeah, I’ve got my moments, but so do you. You think I didn’t notice how she lights up when you walk in the room? Or how she won’t let go of that stupid cat plush you bought her? She loves you, Hitoshi. She knows you’re her dad.”
Shinsou swallowed hard, his fingers brushing over Sakura’s soft hair. “I just... I don’t want to let her down.”
“You won’t,” Bakugou said, his grip on Shinsou’s shoulder tightening. “You’re doin’ everything right, okay? Don’t let your head mess with you.”
Sakura chose that moment to lean back, her big eyes blinking up at Shinsou. “Da,” she said again, her little voice full of affection. Then she reached up, placing her tiny hands on his cheeks and pressing a sloppy kiss to his jaw.
Shinsou froze, his heart melting into a puddle in his chest.
Bakugou snorted. “Looks like she’s got somethin’ to say about your dumb-butt doubts.”
Shinsou laughed softly, his hold on her tightening. “Guess so.”
Sakura giggled, leaning forward to nuzzle her face against his neck. “Da,” she whispered, her voice soft and sleepy.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Shinsou murmured, his voice breaking slightly. He looked at Bakugou, his eyes glistening. “Thanks, Katsuki.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes, but his smirk was gentle. “Don’t thank me. Just believe it, alright? You’re a damn good dad.”
Shinsou nodded, holding Sakura close as she drifted off in his arms. With Bakugou’s steady presence beside him and Sakura’s warmth in his embrace, the doubts that had plagued him faded into the background.
He wasn’t perfect, and he didn’t have to be. He was enough. And to Sakura, he was everything.
First Words (Soft of)
The living room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of the late afternoon sun, the warm light making everything feel a little softer. Bakugou sat cross-legged on the floor, with Sakura perched comfortably in his lap, her little body nestled against him as she clutched a soft, fluffy cat doll. Her chubby fingers were wrapped around its ear, and she was chewing on it with all the focus of a little one deeply invested in her task.
“Careful, Sakura,” Bakugou said, his voice gruff but filled with affection.
“Now, now, squirt, you’ll hurt the cat biting it like that.”From the couch, Shinsou raised an eyebrow, setting his book aside and watching the two with an amused smile. “Yeah, like she’s really gonna listen to that.”
“She’s gotta learn sometime,” Bakugou muttered, glancing over his shoulder at Shinsou.
Shinsou smirked, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him. “I’ve seen you try to teach her things. This will be interesting.”
Sakura babbled happily, blissfully unaware of the ongoing conversation between her dads. She reached for a bright red block, her tiny hands furrowing in concentration as she tried to fit it onto the tower nearby. It wobbled, teetered for a moment, and then stayed standing.
“Atta girl,” Bakugou said, his chest swelling with pride. “That’s my kid.”
Shinsou, looking up from his spot on the couch, grinned. “She’s been babbling a lot more recently, huh?” he observed. “Think she’s close to saying something we can actually understand?”
Bakugou snorted, brushing off the idea with a casual flick of his hand. “Of course she’s close. She’s my kid. She’s gonna talk circles around all the other brats at daycare. None of them are gonna be able to keep up.”
Shinsou chuckled, clearly not buying into Bakugou’s confidence. “You’re awfully confident, huh?”
Before Bakugou could fire back a retort, Sakura let out an excited squeal, waving her hands around in the air. “Pa! Pa-pa-pa!” Her voice was high-pitched and filled with enthusiasm.
Both men froze, their eyes wide as they turned to look at her. Bakugou’s heart skipped a beat, and he blinked down at the little girl perched in his lap. “Did... did she just say—?”
Shinsou raised his hand to stop him. “Wait, hold on. Let me hear it again.” He stood up and moved closer, crouching down beside them. “She might’ve been saying something else, right?”
“Like what?” Bakugou shot back, the heat rising in his cheeks. “She said ‘Pa.’ Clear as day.”
“Could’ve been ‘ba’ or ‘ma,’” Shinsou countered, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to reason through it.
But before either of them could continue, Sakura’s voice rang out again, this time even more enthusiastic: “Da-da-da!” Her tone was nearly identical to the previous one, but the sound was unmistakably different.
Shinsou froze, his grin spreading slowly across his face. “There! Did you hear that? She said ‘Da.’”
Bakugou’s frown deepened, his brows furrowing even further. “The hell she did. She said ‘Pa.’ I’m tellin’ ya.”
“No, Katsuki,” Shinsou said, his voice growing smug and playful as he crouched next to them. “That was definitely ‘Da.’”
“You’re hearing things,” Bakugou muttered, crossing his arms stubbornly. “She said ‘Pa.’ Loud and clear.”
The playful bickering between the two began, the tension rising as both of them tried to make their cases. They both knew it was nothing but harmless teasing, but the competitive streak in each of them had already been triggered.
“It’s obvious she said ‘Pa.’ She’s been hanging around me more,” Bakugou said, his voice rising with mock indignation.
Shinsou shot him a teasing smile. “Please. She spends half the day with me. It was ‘Da.’”
“No way,” Bakugou retorted. “She’s got my sharp tongue. Of course it’s ‘Pa.’”
Shinsou shook his head. “No, no. You’re just jealous. She’s got my chill demeanor, and she said ‘Da.’”
Their back-and-forth continued, growing louder with each passing moment, while Sakura sat in the middle, watching them with wide, fascinated eyes, her little head tilting back and forth as if she was watching a tennis match.
Bakugou and Shinsou were so wrapped up in their playful argument that they didn’t notice when Sakura raised her hands up, wiggling her fingers in the air like she was trying to grab their attention. Then, as clear as day, she exclaimed, “No!”
The word rang out sharply, its clarity causing both men to stop in their tracks. The room seemed to go quiet for a moment, their arguments forgotten as they stared at Sakura in awe.
“Did... did she just say ‘no’?” Bakugou asked, his voice barely above a whisper, a look of disbelief on his face.
Shinsou’s mouth fell open. “Sounded like it.”
Sakura, oblivious to the shock she’d just caused, picked up a block and smacked it onto the floor with a triumphant giggle. “No!”
“Great,” Bakugou muttered, his eyes still wide. “We’ve got a little rebel on our hands already.”
Shinsou, after a moment of stunned silence, couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, I guess that settles it. We can’t argue with that. Her first word was ‘no.’”
Bakugou let out a heavy sigh, slumping slightly. “Yeah, fine. ‘No’ wins. But for the record, it was definitely ‘Pa.’” He crossed his arms stubbornly, refusing to give up.
Shinsou leaned back, stretching his arms behind him as he grinned. “Sure, Kats. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Sakura, clearly proud of her newfound ability, looked up at them and said, “No!” again, her tiny face lighting up with excitement as she repeated the word.
“Did she just…” Bakugou’s eyes widened in disbelief. “She really knows what she’s doing, doesn’t she?”
Shinsou chuckled, wrapping an arm around Bakugou’s shoulder in a half-joking, half-affectionate manner. “Looks like it. But let’s be real—she said ‘Da.’”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Toshi,” Bakugou muttered, but the warmth in his eyes was undeniable.
Sakura’s happy giggles filled the room, her joy infectious. She looked up at her dads and proudly announced, “No!”
“You know,” Shinsou said thoughtfully, “I’m starting to think maybe ‘No’ is actually her first word. But we’ll agree to disagree.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, ‘No’ is definitely her first word,” he agreed reluctantly. “But ‘Pa’ was a close second.”
And though the debate over who was truly the first to be called would pop up now and then, they both secretly loved the idea of Sakura’s first word being “no”—a word that would become a cornerstone of their parenting for years to come.
Because whether it was “Pa,” “Da,” or “No,” every word Sakura spoke was a gift, a little milestone they would treasure forever—one tiny step at a time.