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The soft hum of city life surrounded Katsuki as he sat at an outdoor café table, tucked away in a quieter corner of Tokyo. The crisp air brushed against his skin, carrying the faint scent of roasted coffee and blooming flowers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was alone—but not truly.
Perched on his lap was his daughter, the tiny Omega who was undeniably his mirror. Her blonde hair, brushed into soft wisps, gleamed in the sunlight, a little white bow perched neatly atop her head. She wore a white, delicate dress that swayed slightly as her tiny legs kicked against him, her chubby hands reaching up to pat his cheeks.
Katsuki sat back in his chair, his usual scowl softened into something... unreadable. His crimson eyes, normally sharp and blazing, seemed almost calm as they watched the girl giggle and babble nonsense. One hand was secured around her waist, the other occasionally reaching up to adjust her bow or brush stray strands of hair away from her round, rosy face.
“Da-da-da!” the baby squealed, her voice full of unfiltered joy. She leaned forward, smacking her wet lips against his cheek in what could only be described as her attempt at a kiss. Katsuki let out a low, almost imperceptible chuckle, his lips twitching upward.
“Oi, stop slobbering all over me, brat,” he grumbled, though his tone lacked its usual bite.
The baby, oblivious to his words, continued her assault, grabbing his face with her small, sticky hands and pressing another wet “kiss” onto his nose. Katsuki sighed, the corner of his mouth tugging upward despite himself. He didn’t smile often—he didn’t even know if this could be called a smile—but there was something about her, about this moment, that made it impossible not to.
Around them, a few passersby slowed down, their gazes lingering. Whispers floated in the air—soft murmurs about the striking Omega with the golden-haired baby that looked like his tiny twin. Katsuki ignored them all, his focus entirely on the little girl in his arms.
“Ya done now?” he asked her, his voice quieter than usual.
She squealed again, her hands smacking against his chest as she laughed. Katsuki’s fingers brushed over the curve of her small back, grounding himself in her warmth. For the first time in months, maybe even years, he felt... okay. Not happy, not peaceful—just okay.
It was strange, really. The world could be falling apart around him, the media still buzzing with stories about him, the band still a distant memory, and Shindo... well, Shindo was always looming. But here, in this fleeting moment, it didn’t matter.
Just him and her.
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The video began with a shaky camera focus, the kind that screamed amateur but personal. It was taken through the bustling ambiance of a small outdoor café, the chatter of patrons and the clinking of cups in the background. The focus sharpened on a blonde-haired figure seated at a sunlit table, dressed in a soft, cream-colored sweater and light beige slacks. Katsuki Bakugou.
He was unmistakable. His hair, though slightly longer and more tamed than the wild spikes fans once adored, still shone like spun gold under the midday sun. His pale complexion seemed softer now, more delicate, but his presence was still magnetic even in this mundane moment.
Seated in his lap was a baby girl, no older than eight months. She was the perfect reflection of him—blonde hair brushed neatly, tied with a tiny white bow, and wide crimson eyes that sparkled with curiosity. She was dressed in a lacy white romper, her little feet dangling and occasionally kicking against his legs.
The clip showed Katsuki lifting her up gently, his hands steady and sure. The baby squealed in delight, leaning forward to place a wet, sloppy ‘kiss’ on his cheek. Katsuki’s lips twitched—not quite a full smile, but close enough to melt anyone watching. His eyes, however, softened in a way that no one had ever seen from him on stage or in interviews. It was the kind of look that only someone utterly in love could wear.
The person filming whispered, “Oh my god, that’s Bakugou Katsuki,” their excitement palpable even at a low volume. “And... is that his baby?”
The video only lasted a few seconds more, showing Katsuki wiping his cheek with a sleeve, murmuring something that wasn’t audible. The baby babbled back, giggling as Katsuki adjusted her in his arms and turned his attention to a waiter approaching with their drinks.
The video cut off there, but it was enough.
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It didn’t take long for the clip to explode online. Within hours, #BakugouKatsuki trended worldwide. Fans who had been starved of any updates about him since he left the spotlight flooded the internet with comments:
“He has a BABY?!?”
“He looks so happy. I’ve missed him so much.”
“Why doesn’t he come back? We just want to know he’s okay.”
But Katsuki’s fans weren’t the only ones who saw the video. As it ricocheted across timelines and fandom spaces, some of the resharing accounts overlapped with fans of Half of Us .
It was only a matter of time before Kirishima’s phone lit up with a notification, the video plastered across his feed. His stomach dropped. He opened the clip, his chest tightening as Katsuki’s familiar face filled the screen. For a moment, he couldn’t move.
“Holy... guys, you need to see this,” he muttered, already sending it to the group chat with the rest of the band.
Denki Kaminari was the first to reply:
“Wait, is that real?? Is that his kid??”
Jirou followed with a simpler message:
“When did he have his baby? When this happen?”
It didn’t take long for the entire group chat to erupt in activity. Even Izuku, who had been quiet for months when the topic of Katsuki came up, broke his silence.
“Why didn’t he tell us?” was all he typed, but the words carried a weight that lingered.
The band hadn’t spoken to Katsuki since his departure. They knew the media storm around him and Shindo had turned chaotic, but this? A child? The knowledge felt like an ache, a sharp reminder of the distance between them and the person they once considered family.
As the video continued to spread, the questions only grew louder. Who was Katsuki now? Was he happy? And most of all, what had they lost in letting him go?
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The interview was already the talk of the nation before it even aired. After the viral clip of Katsuki Bakugou with his baby girl surfaced online, the public’s thirst for answers was unquenchable. Fans, media outlets, and critics alike speculated endlessly about his life. Who was his daughter? What was Katsuki’s life like now? And, perhaps most pressing, what had happened to the once-bold and brash Omega who dominated the music world?
The interview opened with a sweeping shot of a sleek, minimalistic living room—cream walls, black leather furniture, and carefully curated art on the walls. It was a clear blend of Katsuki’s once-bold aesthetic and Shindo’s preference for formality. Seated on the couch were Katsuki and Shindo.
Katsuki was dressed in a soft lavender sweater with a high neckline, his blonde hair neatly combed, though still retaining some of its natural wildness. His makeup was subtle, just enough to highlight his delicate features, and his pale skin looked almost translucent under the bright studio lights. In his arms sat Hasumi, her little hands gripping the hem of Katsuki’s sweater. Her face was going to be blurred, but viewers could see the tufts of blonde hair tied with a small bow.
Shindo sat beside them, his arm draped across the back of the couch, exuding a calm, calculated confidence. He was dressed sharply in a tailored dark suit, his expression stoic but controlled.
The interviewer, a composed woman in her early forties, smiled warmly. “Thank you both f wer4or agreeing to this interview. Katsuki, Shindo, it’s been some time since we’ve seen you both in the public eye, especially you, Katsuki.”
Katsuki’s crimson eyes flickered briefly to the camera before shifting to the interviewer. His jaw tightened, but he nodded politely. “Yeah, guess it’s been a while.”
The interviewer smiled knowingly. “Let’s start with the most talked-about topic: the clip of you and your daughter, Hasumi, that went viral last week. The world couldn’t stop talking about it. How did it feel to see such an intimate moment of yours shared so widely?”
Before Katsuki could speak, Shindo leaned forward, his deep voice cutting through the air. “We were surprised, of course. Privacy is something we value deeply, especially with our daughter involved. However, we understand the public’s curiosity, and that’s why we decided to address it directly in this interview.”
Katsuki’s lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers brushed over Hasumi’s tiny hand, his gaze fixed on her instead of the interviewer. “It’s not exactly what we wanted, but... it is what it is.”
The interviewer tilted her head. “Hasumi is beautiful, even with the privacy measures you’ve taken. She seems to have quite a bit of your personality, Katsuki.”
That earned the faintest of smirks from Katsuki. “Yeah, she’s stubborn as hell already.” His tone was soft, almost affectionate, and it contrasted sharply with the Katsuki the world remembered.
The interviewer leaned forward slightly. “Katsuki, many of your fans have expressed how much they miss you. Seeing you with Hasumi stirred a lot of emotions—joy, but also sadness. Some feel like they’ve lost a part of you. How would you respond to them?”
This time, Katsuki didn’t let Shindo jump in. He straightened slightly, his crimson eyes meeting the interviewer’s with a rare intensity. “I get it. I know I’ve been gone for a while, and yeah, things are different now. I’m different. But I’m still... me. Just... figuring things out, y’know?” His voice wavered slightly at the end, something fans might’ve missed if they weren’t listening closely.
The interviewer nodded, clearly sensing the unspoken tension. “And Shindo, as Katsuki’s partner, how have you both navigated this new chapter of your lives?”
Shindo’s hand rested on Katsuki’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “We’re a team. Raising Hasumi and building our life together has been our priority. Katsuki has adjusted beautifully to parenthood, and I couldn’t be prouder of him.”
Katsuki’s jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he adjusted Hasumi in his lap, his fingers gently brushing her blonde hair.
The interview continued with questions about their life, their parenting styles, and even some lighthearted moments about Hasumi’s growing personality. But as the camera panned out at the end, Katsuki’s expression told a different story. While he answered the questions and smiled faintly for the audience, there was an undeniable weight in his eyes—an Omega seemingly caught between two worlds, neither of which truly felt like home.
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The interviewer leaned forward, her warm smile laced with curiosity. “Now, Katsuki, I have to ask: with so many of your fans longing to hear your voice again, is there any chance you’ll return to music?”
Katsuki stilled, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on Hasumi’s tiny hand. His crimson eyes flickered with hesitation before darting to the baby in his lap. She was toying with the edge of his sweater, blissfully unaware of the pressure building in the room.
“I might be coming back to music, but—” He paused, his voice trailing off as he glanced briefly at the camera, then down at Hasumi again. His tone softened, as though the admission was meant for her more than anyone else. “...solo, of course.”
The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence heavy with anticipation. Katsuki’s lips tightened into a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Like before, I’m going to write all my music and produce it myself. I kinda been...missing it.”
Hasumi babbled something incoherent, grabbing at his fingers as he spoke. Katsuki’s faint smile grew, and he brushed his thumb over her tiny knuckles. “But some things—” His gaze lingered on her, his voice growing quieter. “...some people...come first.”
His eyes flicked up briefly, locking with Shindo’s for just a moment. The room didn’t miss the subtle shift in Katsuki’s expression, one that seemed to hold both love and something far more complicated.
The interviewer smiled, her voice warm. “That’s wonderful to hear, Katsuki. I’m sure your fans will be thrilled at the possibility of hearing your music again, even if it’s under different circumstances.”
Before Katsuki could respond, Hasumi turned her wide, sparkling eyes toward Shindo. Her small hand stretched toward him as she chirped, clear as day, “Pa-pa!”
The sound cut through the room, startling Katsuki and drawing a rumble of soft laughter from the interviewer. “Oh, how sweet! She’s already learning to talk!”
Katsuki’s shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, though he recovered quickly, offering a strained smile. Shindo, on the other hand, leaned in with a rare warmth in his expression, brushing a large hand over Hasumi’s head. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s here.”
He turned back to the interviewer, his voice smooth and commanding. “Hasumi is our priority. Katsuki’s focus has always been on his family, and I think his fans will appreciate his careful balance between his personal life and his artistry.”
Katsuki’s jaw tightened at the interruption, but he said nothing, his hand resting protectively over Hasumi’s back. The interviewer didn’t seem to notice the slight tension as she pivoted seamlessly into another question.
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The interview dropped on a crisp Friday morning, and within minutes, it spread like wildfire across social media. The hashtag #KatsukiReturns skyrocketed to the top of trending lists, as fans flooded timelines with clips, commentary, and excitement.
“Did you hear him? He’s coming back to music!! SOLO!! I’m crying rn!!”
“The way Katsuki looked at his baby before saying some people come first?? That’s GROWTH. He’s so soft now!”
“He looks so good?? Like fatherhood has made him glow. And I’m obsessed with the white aesthetic he’s rocking lately. Ugh, Katsuki, I missed you!”
But for every hundred comments of praise, there were a handful of dissenters nitpicking the smallest details.
“Why blur the baby’s face? Are we not good enough to see Hasumi? They’re public figures anyway.”
“He looked miserable when Shindo talked. I’m not buying this ‘happy family’ act.”
Still, the positivity drowned out the negativity. Fans gushed over Katsuki’s admission that he might return to music, dissecting his every word and gesture for hidden meanings. And as the interview clip made its rounds, it inevitably ended up on the timelines of Half of Us fans—fans who were still loyal to both the band and Katsuki, despite the years that had passed since his departure.
“Katsuki talking about making music again… God, I miss him in half of us. Imagine if he reunited with the band.”
“Not me crying because I remembered when he said he still loves them even though they’re on bad terms. I need them to make up!!”
It wasn’t long before someone tagged the official half of us accounts in a flurry of posts. The band members’ names trended alongside Katsuki’s as fans speculated about their reactions.
Izuku Midoriya, who rarely posted on social media, logged in to find his notifications flooded with clips of the interview. His sharp green eyes scanned through the comments, his jaw tightening. A familiar pang settled in his chest as he watched Katsuki’s soft, almost hesitant smile during the segment about his music.
Beside him, Eijiro Kirishima groaned, tossing his phone onto the couch. “He’s everywhere again.”
Jirou, sprawled across a nearby chair, scrolled silently through her own phone, her lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s like the universe is forcing us to deal with this.”
Mina leaned against the kitchen counter, her usually bright demeanor dimmed. “Did you see the part where in his last interview, he said he still loves us? Even though we’re on bad terms?” Her voice wavered slightly.
Denki, perched on the armrest of the couch, huffed. “Yeah, and then he said ‘solo.’ Not ‘with the band,’ but ‘solo.’” He crossed his arms, his omega scent prickling faintly with irritation.
Kirishima sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe...maybe it’s time we reach out again.”
“Like he’ll answer.” Jirou’s voice was sharp, but there was no mistaking the sadness beneath it.
“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” Izuku said firmly, standing. His voice carried the authority of an alpha who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “If we don’t, we’ll regret it.”
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