Chapter Text
‘It’s so dark in here.’
So, so dark and quiet. This feels oddly creepy yet… peaceful.
Finally, I can rest. I just wanna stay here for a while. Where there is no hunger, no cold, and no dad.
You close your eyes for who-knows-long, drifting in nothingness until a small crack of light wakes you from your slumber. (if you can even call it that.)
You turn your back facing the other way from the light and close your eyes again.
Just let me sleep.
Another crack in the void appears, and shines right in front of you. You grimace, once again, too stubborn to wake up.
No, I’m too tired to see the light. Please, I just wanna stay here.
So you turn another way. But one more crack appears.
And another, and another, until the lights surround you. So you flee, actually, try to scramble away. Panicking at the thought of what awaits you behind that binding light.
‘I don’t wanna go back! I don’t wanna!’ you try to scream. But no sound comes from your gaping mouth.
Of course, you couldn’t run away for long.
The void around you breaks like glass under your feet, making you fall directly into the light.
You squeeze your eyes shut and try to scream one more time.
You sob, not expecting a sound to come out, yet still try. Until you do.
You’re surprised by the sounds surrounding you. And your own baffles you as well, momentarily pausing your cries.
But, you still don’t open your eyes, afraid of what you might face. What if you see him again? Why can’t you just rest in peace already, haven’t you suffered enough!
You shut your eyes tightly closed, and let your other senses take over instead. You brace yourself for some shouting, or a hand to come at you maybe. Instead, the noises around you are much more different than what you were expecting, soothing even.
You’re trying to register the sounds coming through and realize there was a voice of a man next to you.
It’s an unfamiliar voice. Huh? Your mind raced. Finding the courage to open your eyes, you look around you curiously.
Tears from your earlier sobbing blur your vision. You try to refocus on the figure hovering over you like the shade of a tree.
As your eyes regain clear vision of your surroundings, you finally see the man’s face better this time.
He looks worried and confused, making you worried and confused.
You open your mouth, ready to ask who this man was, and a million of other questions in mind, but then your throat croaks out a strange noise.
“Bwaah?”
It is safe to say you cried yourself to sleep from surprise.
Once you realized you were now an infant, you were shocked to the point of sobbing yourself unconscious.
Now, as you woke up from that short nap sniffling, you realized the man in front of you was your dad.
No, not that dad, dad. A whole different dad.
You observed your surroundings with a frown trying to get as much info as possible.
You’re not sure of your exact age yet but since you can see clearly, you must be at least 4 months old from the looks of it.
Your father seems to be the only one raising you at the moment, no woman in sight.
He looks to be extremely inexperienced in handling kids as he stacks a ton of books on the floor—mostly about babies, but one with a bold title peeks out from the bottom of the pile:‘Quirk Development: The First 36 Months.’
Huh…A strange word. Must be a parenting term or something I don’t know about.
That’s all you got so far about your current situation.
Ever since you woke up, the man wouldn’t leave your side, very much fussing over you with concern.
It was annoying to say the least, ‘can’t a baby have a moment of peace?’
You’d huff at his now annoying-looking face every time he’d come close up to check on you, which immediately aroused concern for the man as he quickly grabbed a few books flipping through pages to understand why the kid in front of him just blew air. Way to go, man
He kept trying to speak to you, voicing his thoughts out loud just like the books suggested.
“Baby, are you okay? Do I need to pat your back?? Was that a hiccup just now..” he’d mutter as he picks up another book holding it next to your face, looking at pictures of kids in distress and comparing them to your own to see if you were in any pain.
“Well you’re not crying anymore… is this a good thing? Baby, are you hungry?” He closes the book, scooting over to you, laying stomach down next to the blankets on the floor and resting his head over his folded arms.
He looked at you in some kinda weird way… It was a look you saw other parents giving their own children, but never yours.
Maybe your mom once looked at you like this, but your father for sure never gave you that look…
Irritated by the unpleasant memory, you turned your small head away from his face, giving him the cold shoulder as he chuckled and poked your cheek.
“Is that a no, baby? You sure you don’t wanna eat right now?” You wanted to bite his finger off, but with no teeth you’d probably inflict zero pain.
Just as you tried to shake your head in annoyance, your stomach grumbled on the spot.
You turned around slowly with a pale expression to the man, and blabbered in contempt.
‘What are you waiting for, old man? Feed me! I’m dying of hunger here!’ You tried to lift your curled fists in the air demanding food now.
This is the first time you’ve experienced infant hunger, with consciousness of course, and this felt terrible.
You now understand why babies cried when in hunger. This really was stressful with your small empty stomach.
The man quickly got up and prepared your bottle before finally feeding you in a cradle hold.
“Here you go, baby. Maybe this was why you were moody earlier. Always so extra when hungry.” He chuckled to himself.
Not long after that meal, you quickly felt your eyelids droop down as you yawn, very drowsy.
Who knew being a baby was this tiring?
It’s been a few days of staying with this.. stranger. And after these few days of observation, you’ve come to a couple more conclusions.
It’s only you and the man staying in the current house together, and he didn’t seem to have a job.
‘Well, maybe not right now, I’m not sure if there’s a law about maternity leaves for fathers but maybe his workplace offered him some time off?’
Oh, and you’ve also realized you were in Japan. Although you were DEFINITELY not Japanese before dying, you somehow still seemed to understand and read Japanese fluently without a language barrier.
Okay, maybe your 4 month old self developed understanding towards the language until now, but what does that have to do with you reading it clearly?
That question was left unanswered as you focused on something else.
“Baby, do you want me to read you a story? Look, it’s a princess!” The man scooped you up into his lap as he opened a children’s picture book.
The man was very much talkative, taking the recommendations in those baby books too seriously.
He kept speaking on auto mode, barely taking a moment to pause and catch his breath, his voice a low drone under the chatter of the afternoon news playing softly on the TV behind him. A reporter’s voice, bright and clear, cut through: “—thanks to the swift intervention of the Water Hose hero duo in Shizuoka. No casualties reported.” You barely processed it, too focused on your own silent outrage. Hero duo? Must be some kind of show.
”Haha, this bunny looks just like you, baby! What is it, baby? Don’t like this one? Baby, how about this?”
That darn nickname, or whatever… At first, you tried to ignore it, but now it was really getting under your skin.
‘Baby, baby, baby.. on and on again! Hey are you seriously just gonna address me by that?? Don’t tell me you still haven’t picked a name, damnit!’
You held your baby fists up as you poured all of your thoughts out, but of course the only noises coming out of your mouth were something like goo goo ga ga.
The stranger smiled, amused at your display of anger and just closed the book with a shake of his head.
“I’m sorry for calling you a bunny, baby.” He laughed squishing your cheeks and this made you even angrier.
‘What you should be apologizing for is calling me a baby till now, old man! Oh wait- That’s it, you don’t give me a name and I’ll just call you old man! Haha how about that, huh?’
You chuckled evilly, and the man stared at you in disbelief. You took advantage of catching him off guard and quickly strike up a hand to curl in the roots of his hair, tugging on a hair patch now.
“Agh! Baby, no! My poor hair! I’m so sorry, baby!”
This fueled your anger further, causing your other hand to also go up and into his hair, holding another patch from the roots of his scalp— totally on reflex, by the way.
‘Stop calling me baby!!’
And with that, you were both screeching on the floor engaging in a fierce, one-sided fight. The stranger helplessly took the beating with no way to defend himself against a barely-5 months-old child.
And did you feel pity for him throughout the whole fight?
Nope. Not once.
It’s been a full week now since waking up from that void.
Throughout that whole week, you’ve been giving the old man a hard time, throwing tantrums and doing whatever to make him irritated. Just as you were.
But he’s only ever been concerned about your health, never truly angry at you.
Which made you rethink your actions once or twice at this point, were you being too harsh?
He clearly didn’t do anything wrong, yet you were venting out your anger at him for no reason.
Well, it wasn’t exactly for no reason. He was the one that brought you out from the light! It must be because of him! You’ve been blaming him for a while now, for supposedly pulling you out of the dark, just when you were finally resting in peace. Making it sound like it was his fault you’re awake in this small body and strange place.
Why do you have to go through all this baby stuff once again? And while you’re very much aware and conscious of it too. It’s humiliating enough that you can’t even go to the bathroom of your own choice, but having someone change your diapers for you was another low!
More than that, you were deeply annoyed at how well he treated you, making the past memories even more bitter…
Yeah, annoying. That’s all it was.
Who even wants a stranger to take care of you every second?
Rub your back when you’re angry, hug you tight when you cry, and rock you to sleep with a soft lullaby.
Who.. wants that…
No, no. Why are you lying to yourself?
You do want that. Desperately. For someone to solely be on your side, and cater to your every need.
But that’s not why you were pushing him away.
No, no. Why are you lying to yourself?
It was actually the fear of getting used to this warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest that had you rejecting the man’s smile.
Couldn’t he just get angry at you already so you can stop clinging to the hope of having a… a loving parent so much?
Why won’t he just yell at you or something! And why did it make your chest squeeze when he looked at you like this.
Yes, that look he’s giving you again. Even when you’re being so messy with your food and leaving stains everywhere.
Shouldn’t he be frowning? What’s with that stupid smile! You hated it.
Hated how you’ve never been looked at like that before. Your father why couldn’t he… Aghhh, you’re already thinking back to unpleasant memories once more.
You’ve only been calling the other figure in your head father, unable to call the man in front of you the same. You had one father and that was him.
“Mom, mama! Please, help me!” you'd cry to your mom in pain as you clutch her apron, begging at her knees.
“Stand up.” The cane in his hand smacked against his palm in a warning. The noise made you flinch ‘thwack, thwack!’ And you looked up hesitating.
”I said get up, you fool!” He muttered a few other names before you finally stood up and clutched at your skirt, lifting it slightly over the knee for him to whip at your calves.
That man and this man were nothing alike. Oh, well, except for the fact they both don’t call you by your name.
But that’s besides the point. You felt like you didn’t deserve such a man to be your… father.
Did the ones above take pity on me for having a hard time in my past life?
It’s not like there aren’t kids who suffered much worse so shouldn’t they be the ones in your place right now?
How could you ever feel depressed for such small inconveniences. How dare you, rang the familiar voice in your ears once again.
Pausing the messy eating for a second, a single tear fell on the back of your chubby hand. And then another tear, until it registered to you that you were crying.
You silently sob with a few hics and sniffs, you held your breathe trying really hard to stop tears from falling any further.
You just watched as the small tray filled with food stains also collected tears. You didn’t even have the willpower to stop yourself from crying anymore, just letting the tears flow down on their own, head leaned forward in shame. Shame that you have to show this vulnerable side of yourself to the stranger in front of you.
‘Why does nothing go right in my life?’
You were so sad. Your heart twisting in pain at the memories of neglect, at the jealousy you felt from other people’s parents, and at the thought you might’ve robbed an innocent soul from this loving parent who was now standing on your side.
He looked on the verge of tears as well, watching you sob so heartbroken. He wishes to know what’s going on in that small brain of yours, wishes to get rid of anything that made you teary.
He holds you up in his arms, cradling you to his chest as he tries to console you. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m sorry your dad here doesn’t know how to make broth, don’t cry.” He whispers and you felt your tears roll down harder.
For all the blame you heaped upon this man in front of you, he was blaming himself twice as much. For he thought it was all his fault. Convinced even.
‘No, you old man. That broth wasn’t bad, it was actually.. really good. So good I wish I didn’t make a mess out of it.’ You meant what you said, it truly was a shame you wasted such a good meal like a play. You wish you could communicate your thoughts to him more clearly, tell him how much you actually appreciate his care despite all the tantrums you’ve thrown his way so far.
It’s the first time you ate something specifically made for you, not leftovers or preordered food.
You selfishly hoped he’d make more of it in the future. Would it be too much to ask for a warm meal every once in a while? Just once a week, once a month is enough for you. Anything would do, just… stay with me if you could.
You planted your small hands on his shirt, and then held your face further into his chest. You were still a mess with food remains, and you know you were staining up his white shirt with it, yet he didn’t say anything.
He only patted your back softly in assurance for whatever hardship this small infant could be fighting.
Then he held you up in the air up above his head, as he smiled gently, that look planted on his face.
“You’re very loved, baby. Very loved. I know you will always be my beloved child. No matter what.”
How… how did he know the exact right words to say to you? It was just what you wanted to hear. What you desperately wished to be real.
“Which is what I’ll call you from now on.“
Ah… Now you understand what that look was about. It was a look of affection and adoration.
Your sob faltered. You hiccuped slightly and he continued with a thumb stroking away your tears, a soft grin complimenting his features.
“That’s right, Aiko.”
“Aiko, Aiko, Aiko!” The man lifted you up into the air as he spun you around in delight. The same couldn’t be said about you though, fearing for your life he might get dizzy and drop you or something.
It’s been over two months together and you still struggle getting along with this stranger that’s spinning you around like a maniac.
‘Let me down, old man!’ You screeched in fear. But he mistook that for an excited shriek, grinning further as you both spun around more.
“Say it again, baby! You can do it, c’mon, say dada!” You squeaked getting dizzy and he finally stopped spinning with sparkling eyes waiting for you to utter those words again.
‘It was a slip of tongue, old man! I was testing my verbal skills!’ He didn’t get a thing you were blabbering about, and kept looking at you with those dang expectant eyes.
Fine, you’ll amuse him for a bit, you guess.
“Dah, da da.” You struggled but finally get the words out, causing the man to go on another rampage of spinning.
“That’s right, Aiko! I’m dada, ME!” He laughed like he got the best present for Christmas— and to him, maybe he did.
Because that’s how you spent the day of Christmas together.
After more chuckles together, you both finally settle down next to the furnace and close to the window that’s slightly condensed from the cold.
You sit in his lap and look out the window with fascination at how pretty the snow looks in this part of Japan. It painted the nearby buildings white, including the large, stylized mural on the apartment complex across the street—a sleek, modern design of a man with what looked like engine exhausts coming from his calves. Weird advertisement, you thought, before pressing your face against the glass with a smile.
And the stranger? He was content with just seeing you smile in his arms, happy as long as you were too.
And this time, not by accident and not because anyone asked you to, you finally called the man who held you in his arms for who he truly was.
“Dada.” He was your father.
It’s been more than a year since you’ve accepted that the man in front of you was your father.
“Happy birthday, dear Aiko! Happy birthday to youuuuu~” He clapped hooray and you quickly got up to blow over the candle shaped in a number 2.
That’s right, you’re turning 2 years old today. And it was the middle of May—the weather was right in the middle, between not too hot and not too cold.
Lots of things were different than your past life: your birthday, your name, and your appearance.
You had green eyes and short, curly pink hair that didn’t go past your ears. It was super short but maybe that’s for the best, since you know it would be such an inconvenience for your father to learn how to do different hairstyles. Single dad struggles.
Overall, you had a striking resemblance to your father. No one can deny that.
As you studied him for a few moments with a frown, he tilted his head and smiled, pausing his claps to nudge you and break you out of your thoughts.
“Go on, make a wish!” And so you did, closing your eyes and clasping your hands tightly in a prayer.
“Done!” You grinned and he ruffled your hair with his hands.
“What did you wish for?” He asked sitting on the floor with you, cross legged and resting his chin on his hand.
“You know I can’t say, dada.” You scolded him and in return he scooped up a bit of whipped cream on his finger than wiped it on your nose with a boop.
You gasp dramatically then recited his words perfectly, the same ones he tore your eardrums with, “Dada, did you just play with your food? You can’t do that! Food is for eating, not playing.” Tsk tsk, you shook your finger around trying to copy his mannerisms.
He rolled his eyes at the dramatic baby before waving his hands up in the air like a white flag of defeat. “Oooh, party-pooper. It’s just a bit of cream, monkey.”
You grumbled, annoyed at how well your dad is at having the last word of almost every argument.
Oh well, you’ll let it slide today. The cake’s cream is pretty tasty. You held a finger to your mouth, licking in delight at the tasty strawberry batter your father worked hard on making today.
It was homemade, and although not as fancy-looking as those made in a pâtisserie, it was a hundred times tastier.
You grinned at him as he pulled out a baby wipe and wiped the cream off your nose and fingers. The house is already running low on wet wipes cause of how messy you are, he glanced at the nearly empty pack of wipes with a sigh you knew meant a shopping trip was coming.
Anyways, you quickly urge him to cut you a big slice of cake from the middle, where there’s the most whipped cream and two strawberries!
He shook his head, sighing, yet still complying with your evil tactic to harvest the most sugar in one slice. He cuts the slice just as you instructed, and placed a plate with a small, silicone fork in your chubby hand for you to dig in.
The slice was so big he wasn’t even sure you’d be able to finish it. But he didn’t have to worry about food going to waste, no not today. Because you gobbled that slice with ease, right after placing the plate in front of you, you even licked the plate clean.
He gave you a loot of disbelief, and you gave back an innocent smile as you shamelessly continued licking the plate, savoring the cream.
“Unbelievable… What did you do to my daughter you chunky monkey! Release the poor plate!” He dramatically exclaimed, taking the plate from your hand before you start chomping on it next.
You giggled like a child, forgetting your mental age is of that of much older whenever you hung out with this man. Your dad really brought out the childish self inside you.
Taking the plates and cleaning up the small party you guys held on the floor, he goes to the kitchen to do the dishes in the sink. And you watched with a smile, leaning and holding your toes with your hands. A very comfortable baby pose, you’re really getting the hang of this baby thing here.
Not long after, he came back to your side with his hands behind his back. Of course, you knew he was hiding your present behind him since you were watching him the whole time, yet you feigned ignorance.
“Aiko~ It is time! For the moment you have been waiting for!” He makes some sound effects like a drumroll.
“Tada! It’s present time!” He held up the small box in front of you, and you faked a surprised gasp, squishing your cheeks to make your act even more believable.
You snatched the box from his hands before he can point out the faults in your amateur acting skills.
“What is it, dada? Can I shake the box? Can I?” You asked curiously, but he quickly reached out his hands and shook his head repeatedly.
“Nonono! It’s very fragile—ahem, which means breakable. Don’t shake!” You gulp. That was a close call, you almost ruined your gift!
And so, you complied and stopped treating the box roughly. Instead, you carefully tugged at the ribbons around the box and teared away the paper wrapping gently.
Until the gift was now in sight.
You looked up at him deadpanned, “Really dada? Fragile??” You slurred the last word, still having a hard time with the alphabets for a toddler.
The gift was a stuffed teddy bear, with a cute bow tie in a pink shade. It’s not that you hated the gift, no, you immediately hugged the teddy smiling.
But still, it was very silly how he tricked you with his acting. Making you stick out your tongue at him while hugging the teddy bear tighter.
“Oh, sorry monkey. Must’ve gotten my gifts mixed up.” He says with a scoff before pulling out another gift—one you hadn’t notice him hide this time— and placing it in front of you.
It was slightly smaller in size and you looked at it confused. ‘Two gifts? Is it cause I turned two?? Hooray can’t wait for my third birthday!’
You quickly unwrap it and a shiny figurine of All Might in a sealed box appears in your hands.
You gasp jumping wildly before slinging your hands around your father’s neck muttering “tankyou,tankyou,tankyouuu!” your thanks mispronounced.
Needless to say, just like any other kid, you were also fascinated by All Might.
He hugs you back, and once again says “Happy birthday, Aiko.”
Of course, it took you some time to find out that you were in a very familiar world, My Hero Academia.
It was a bit before your birthday that you realized these news and shows aired on TV weren’t fiction anymore.
It left your jaw slacked open when you saw an extremely high quality footage of All Might, no, the footage isn't "high quality"—it's raw, shaky, from a news helicopter. It's undeniably real. The famous line, "I AM HERE!" booms from the speakers, and the camera shakes from the force of his landing.
And that hits you with realization all over again.
Those people you saw on TV with weird characteristics were real?!?
You thought your dad was making you watch cartoons! You wouldn’t have thought it was anything out of the ordinary to see such characters in a kids show or something!!
You gasped out loud making your dad run to the living room in a jump scare.
You were already at his knees, jumping before he can approach you, and you quickly ask to confirm “dada, DADA! Is All Might real?!!??”
He looks at you in surprise and laughs heartily which you had no time for, sir! You kicked his shin annoyed, and he finally stopped to wipe away his tears.
“Of course he is, monkey! Did you think he was fake?” And you grumbled.
“You said not to believe everything on TV,” you lifted a finger his way, frowning.
“Okay, fair point.” He muttered under his breathe and lifted you up into his arms.
“Do you like All Might?” He asks and your eyes wide look at him in shock, like was that seriously a question??
“Yeshh!” You reply with hands in the air.
“By how much?” Your dad laughs, in which you return with your arms extended to show him how much.
“And how much do you like me?” He asks back
Knowing he’s messing with you, you hold your hands at a smaller distance than before and raise an eyebrow, “this much?”
He gasps, spinning you around in punishment, knowing you don’t like it much, “You can’t like him more than your father!” And you yelp begging for mercy, “Okay, okay! I like you the most, dada!”
In which he finally stops spinning you with a smile and a boop to your nose, “Forgiven.”
Not before turning to the TV, his eyes darkening at the standing figure—All Might in a reportage. He looked at him with furrowed brows.
“Real, indeed.” he says cryptically but you were too busy seeing stars and wobbling to notice.
So dizzy…
A few days after the birthday party, your mind started really processing things more clearly.
You’ve been blinded by the love your new parent has been giving you for the past year and a half, acting like an actual toddler, to notice the weird stuff about your stay.
Blinded by how good it felt to be loved. Your dad being there every second, his laugh, his patience that felt like a warm blanket—it had put your grown-up brain to sleep. You were so busy fighting old memories and soaking up his kindness that you stopped looking at anything else. You just took your tiny world for granted.
Now, with this new truth about heroes buzzing in your head, you started seeing your life for what it was.
You were alone. You were two, and you’d never played with another kid. Never been to a playground. Your whole world was this apartment. Your dad didn’t leave for work. He was just… always here. Sure, sometimes he’d type on his computer for a few hours, calling it his “side gig.” But you never heard him talk to a boss. No one ever called. The food, the toys, the All Might figure—it all seemed to be purchased online.
He kept you inside. He didn’t like going out. The few times you did were quick, nervous trips to the store. The handful of times had been swift, tightly choreographed missions: the pharmacy, the grocery store for specific ingredients, and the homeward shop for supplies whenever we had a plumbing issue or whatever else could be needed.
He’d never let you out of his eyesight, always keeping you close by as he picked out the things he needed to purchase
You’d thought he was just being a worried father, raising his daughter all on his own without much experience. Now, you weren’t so sure.
A silly idea popped up: Maybe he’s a germaphobe?
You immediately shot it down, the memory vivid and incongruous. Just last week, you’d sneezed a spectacular, sticky mess all over. He hadn’t flinched. He’d just smiled that soft smile, wiped your nose gently with a tissue, and said, “Bless you, monkey,” before reaching for a wet wipe.
’Blegh, even I was taken aback by the scene!’
No, it wasn’t a fear of contamination. It was something else. Something deliberate.
Maybe you’re overthinking it, maybe it’s just an overprotective single-dad thingy but that doesn’t explain the lack of picture frames, nor the fact he was like a ghost.
He never talked about family and no friends ever came over.
You felt a bit of pity towards your father at that lonely thought. Was he cast out by his family and friends for having a child with no mom?
It didn’t really make you lonely essentially, he was more than enough company for you so you didn’t even bother thinking about why no one visits or why you had no mother. Didn’t ask either, felt like a heavy topic for him…
In your eyes, your dad looked like a pushover. He had light pink hair, fair skin, and dark blue eyes. His features made him seem very innocent, exactly the appearance you’d expect of a shy character that would be the pushover in multiple TV episodes.
You huffed, irritated at who would dare isolate this man you call dada?!
Oh, and there’s something else you’ve learned about him. His full name. He was Senshi Hino, making you automatically Aiko Hino.
You thought it might unlock an important piece, but nope. Once you had both his name and appearance clear in your mind, you tried very hard to remember if there was a character like him mentioned in the anime or manga.
Nothing.. You’re now definitely sure you and your father were extras.
It doesn’t really matter, extra or not, your love for your father was still the same.
The love he offered you was real. You were certain of that now, in your bones.
Your dad walked back into the living room, holding two cups of hot chocolate. “For my favorite hero fan,” he said, placing the small, sippy-cup version in front of you.
You looked from the steaming cup, to his open, affectionate face, to the window that showed a sliver of a world full of heroes and quirks and dangers you were only beginning to comprehend. The cozy apartment suddenly felt very, very small.
“Thank you, Dada,” you said, the words automatic. But your mind was whirring, awake and clear and painfully observant for the first time in two years.
You were loved. You were safe. But you were also, you were starting to suspect, very deliberately hidden.
Senshi
Ever since he held you in his arms, he knew you were his everything.
Which is kinda funny because he never really liked kids to begin with.
Was this the maternal bonding mothers feel after childbirth?
The one they say that fathers take a while to feel that bond overtime.
Yet, he was instantly attached once he felt your small chubby cheek nuzzle against his palm.
An invisible thread pulling him to the child, giving him a sudden, overwhelming sense of purpose.
He knew he’d do anything for the tiny life in his arms. And he will.
Starting with how to raise you with care.
He knew nothing about kids, and he didn’t bother with them either. He tried to remember his own upbringings as he grew up, thinking about using that as reference, but shook the idea off immediately. He was not a normal kid. And he was definitely against the idea raising you the same way he has been raised.
And so, his journey of parenthood started with stacks of books instead.
He read and gathered information from these parenting books, starting from zero.
How to hold you properly, which foods you were and weren’t allowed to eat, what each cry means. Basically toddler things.
He thought he was doing well in the first week he held you.
You were four months old and was placed in his care since then.
He did everything the books told him to do. And he felt accomplishment seeing your positive response, nothing hinted at him doing anything incorrectly.
But starting the second week, everything changed.
You were fussy, crying nonstop, and for some reason, mad.
He didn’t know what to do with you. Suddenly, all the books he was praising started feeling like they were scams.
He searched and searched for a clue to what was wrong, what bothered you so much, or if you were in pain.
Even after a few doctor visits, they still didn’t have an answer for him. Said that she was a perfectly healthy baby.
He felt hopeless.
He tried and took every advice to heart. Even praying sometimes to whoever watched above him to just help his baby calm down.
And with some time, it finally worked.
Maybe it was his prayer, maybe the extra advice from his neighbors, you finally stopped the sobs.
He felt immense relief. But not for long.
He felt his chest clench at the heartbroken expressions you were making.
It was unbelievable to him that an infant, no older than 5 months, had a twisted expression of one that endured pain for much longer.
It was ridiculous when he thought about it again. How could a five-month-old ever make a face way past her age?
It worried him, whatever it was that you were remembering or dealing with.
He was worried it was something you remembered from before he had taken you into his care. Did someone mistreat you when he wasn’t there? Did they lay hands on you?
He wished you could just speak and tell him all your worries and problems so he can solve them for you.
In the meantime, he swore to himself he’ll make you forget all the bad moments and replace them with good memories only. Such that you will no longer dwell on the past if you ever remembered again.
.
.
By the time it was nearing the end of the year, his efforts seemed to finally pay off.
His mind was so busy trying to appease to his daughter that it completely went over his head she still didn’t have a name.
He didn’t have to think long about what to name her though. It came to him on the spot, as natural as breathing that her name couldn’t be anything but Aiko. She was loved and he wanted her to feel that way every time she heard her name being called, because she deserved it.
And from then on, the moment he held her above his head and whispered her name, he felt their connection finally click.
It was like she understood him, noticed his hard work and efforts, and graced him with the best gift ever on their first Christmas together.
“Dada.” His heart was filled with warmth as he wrapped her in his arms as they both felt mutual joy in each other’s company.