Archive of Our Own

The whispers started before the last bell had even finished echoing through the halls.

Clustered just outside the elementary school gates, a group of teenagers occupied far more space and attention than they pretended to. Leaned against the fence, sprawled across the sidewalk, or stood like they had nowhere better to be, all while very obviously being something worth staring at. 

Five U.A. uniforms in one place wasn’t exactly subtle, no matter how casually they tried to play it.

Children spilled out of the building in uneven waves, their chatter rising and falling like a tide.

Backpacks bounced, shoes scuffed, and conversations faltered mid-sentence as eyes drifted toward the older students. A few kids slowed to a near stop, tugging on sleeves and whispering urgently. 

Three of the teens were unmistakable faces that had been broadcast across screens as the winners of the last sports festival.

“They’re staring again,” Touya muttered, voice low, hands buried deep in his pockets as he shifted his weight against the fence.

“No kidding,” Rumi shot back, completely unfazed. If anything, she leaned into it, stretching her arms high above her head with a lazy confidence, as if she might as well give them something to look at. “Let ’em stare. Free publicity’s the best kind.”

“We’re not even pros yet,” Hana sighed, though she hovered just slightly off the ground for a second before she forced herself back down to show off for the kids, brushing it off as if nothing had happened.

A little apart from the noise, Fuyumi stood with her usual quiet composure, hands folded neatly in front of her. “They’re just curious,” she said gently, a soft huff of amusement in her voice. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“Are you sure he gets out this late?” Natsu cut in, leaning forward off the fence. His eyes stayed locked on the school doors like sheer willpower might make them open faster.

“He does,” Fuyumi answered, “They had extra lessons today.”

“Extra lessons?” Rumi echoed, nose wrinkling. “Isn’t he like five?”

Tenko stood closest to the gate, hands tucked into his sleeves despite the warm afternoon air. His gaze moved methodically over the crowd, scanning until it stopped.

“There he is,” he said suddenly, pointing.

Every head turned at once.

Shoto stepped out with the rest of the students, but he stood apart without trying. His posture was straight, and his expression composed in a way that didn’t quite belong to someone his age. A teacher caught him briefly, saying something as he passed. He nodded once politely and continued.

“Natsu lit up immediately. “Sho-bro!” he called, his voice cutting clean through the surrounding noise.

Shoto’s head snapped toward them, and the careful neutrality cracked straight in two. His face brightened, something softer and unmistakably younger breaking through as he quickened his pace.

“Nii-san,” he said when he reached them.

Natsu grinned widely, already reaching out. He ruffled Shoto’s hair before the younger boy could even think to dodge. “Man, you’re slow,” he teased. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

“I had class,” Shoto replied, accepting the affection with a small smile, though he immediately smoothed his hair back into place the moment his brother let go.

“They’re here again,” one kid whispered, not quite quiet enough to go unnoticed.

A couple of others lingered near the edge of the crowd, pretending to adjust their bags or tie their shoes while sneaking glances over.

Tenko narrowed his eyes slightly at the watching kids. “They are observing a pattern,” he said flatly. “It is statistically consistent.”

An arm slung over his shoulders out of nowhere. “Get it, little genius,” Hawks chimed, grin easy and unbothered.

Tenko immediately shoved him off with an annoyed snarl.

Meanwhile, Fuyumi stepped forward, her attention fully on Shoto. She reached up, gently fixing the mess Natsu had made of his hair, smoothing it back into place.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked softly.

The boy nodded once. “Yes. Thank you for the lunch, it was really good.”

Fuyumi’s smile softened, “I’m glad,” she said, brushing a stray lock back into place before stepping aside.

“Alright,” Rumi clapped her hands once. “Field trip’s over. Let’s move before we get mobbed by the elementary school paparazzi.”

“We’re literally just standing here,” Touya muttered, but he pushed himself off the fence anyway. As he fell into step beside Shoto, he reached over just to mess up his hair again on purpose.

The group peeled away from the school gates, naturally tightening again around Shoto within a few steps. Taller frames shifted without thinking much of it, adjusting their pace, closing gaps until the youngest was tucked safely in the middle.

Behind them, the whispers didn’t fade so much as trail after them, stretching down the sidewalk.

“Do you always get escorted home by half of U.A.?” one of the older kids called out, voice carrying with confidence now that there was distance between them.

Natsu twisted around mid-step, walking backwards for a second so that he could flash a grin. “Only on weekdays!”

“Don’t encourage them,” Hana sighed, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her. She nudged Natsu forward again with the side of her foot.

“Speak for yourself,” Rumi chimed in, already waving at a cluster of staring kids like she was on a parade float. One of them lit up instantly, waving back so hard they nearly tripped over their own shoes. Rumi laughed, delighted. “See? I’m building a fanbase.”

Shoto stayed quiet between them, his smaller stride quickening just slightly to keep up with the easy, long-legged pace of the others. Every now and then, Touya would slow a fraction just enough that he didn’t feel like he had to try so hard.

“What did you learn today?” Fuyumi asked as they turned a corner, her voice soft but steady, naturally pulling the focus back to him.

Shoto glanced up at her, considering. “We practiced reading aloud,” he said. “And math. Multiplication.”

“Multiplication, huh?” Natsu leaned over, draping an arm briefly across Shoto’s shoulders, “Big stuff. You gonna put us all to shame soon?”

“You already do that on your own,” Touya cut in dryly.

Natsu gasped, “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own blood in broad daylight.”

“You’ll survive,” Hana said, floating a few inches off the ground to avoid a crack in the pavement before settling again.

Hawks had his hands laced behind his head and strolled along the outer edge of the group. Now and then, his wing would shift slightly, just brushing close enough to nudge someone back in line if they drifted too far out toward the street. 

By the time they reached the apartment building, the conversation had dissolved into overlapping threads, half-finished stories, complaints, interruptions, and laughter layered on top of each other until it was hard to tell who had started what.

Touya moved ahead first when they reached the door, fishing the key out of his pocket and unlocking it. The second it opened, they all spilled inside. Shoes were kicked off near the door in a chaotic pile, some neatly placed, most absolutely not. Bags dropped wherever there was space. Chairs scraped against the floor.

Natsu made a beeline for the couch like his life depended on it, collapsing across it dramatically. “We are not starting homework yet,” he groaned, already halfway horizontal, one arm flung over his face like he’d just returned from battle.

“Yes, we are,” Fuyumi replied without missing a beat, setting her bag down neatly by the table. She didn’t even look at him.

Natsu groaned louder, sliding deeper into the cushions. “I just got here,” he whined.

“You got here ten seconds ago,” Hana said, drifting past him toward the kitchen, already scanning for snacks.

“That’s not enough recovery time.”

Hawks dropped into a chair backwards, arms hooked over the backrest. “C’mon, let the kid breathe,” he said, though he made no move to help.

Fuyumi didn’t argue. She poured a glass of water, chilled it slightly with her quirk, and set it down in front of Shoto before taking her own seat. Then she looked around at all of them.

There was a collective, dramatic sigh.
—

Rumi’s head dropped forward with a soft thunk against her textbook. “I’m gonna be a dang pro hero,” she groaned into the pages, voice muffled. “Why would I ever need the quadratic formula?”

Hana didn’t even look up from her notes. “Because villains don’t conveniently attack in straight lines?” she offered dryly.

“That sounds like bull,” Rumi mumbled into the pages, “Name me one villain who’s like, ‘hold on, let me calculate my trajectory.’”

“Don’t encourage her,” Touya cut in before anyone could reply to that. He flipped around in his book with all the enthusiasm of someone opening a bill. “If Rumi starts thinking too hard, something might break.”

Rumi lifted her head just enough to glare. “Say that again, and I’ll break something for real.”

From the couch, Natsu raised a lazy hand without opening his eyes. “I support violence if it gets us out of homework.”

“You’re not even doing yours,” Hana pointed out, finally glancing over.

“I’m doing it mentally.”

Hawks snorted, tipping his chair back onto two legs and balancing it easily with a slight shift of his wings. “Bold strategy. Let me know how that works out when you fail.”

“I won’t fail,” Natsu said confidently. “I’ll simply not pass.”

“That is the same thing,” Fuyumi replied, her voice carried a quiet thread of laughter as she turned a page. “And you will do your work.”

A chorus of groans followed that.

Shoto sat at the table, already halfway through his assignments. Every so often, he’d pause when something someone said caught his attention.

And for just a second, a smile would settle on his face before he looked back down and kept going right in the middle of all the noise.

“Hey, Sho,” Natsu called, voice muffled slightly as he leaned over the back of the couch, chin propped against the cushion like he didn’t have the strength to sit properly. “How much you got left?”

Shoto didn’t even pause his pencil. “Two pages.”

Natsu groaned like he’d just been handed devastating news. “Of course you do,” he muttered, flopping one arm dramatically over the backrest. He gestured vaguely toward Shoto without even looking. “He’s eight and already better than all of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tenko said, closing the book he’d been writing in with a soft thap. He leaned back just slightly, rolling his shoulders. “Some of us are competent.”

“Debatable,” Touya replied immediately.

Rumi didn’t even look up before kicking the leg of his chair.

Touya kicked back.

What started as retaliation turned into a full-on, silent war under the table of sharp nudges, retaliatory taps, escalating into a painful, stubborn game of footsies neither of them was willing to lose.

Fuyumi sighed softly, but she was smiling. “Focus, all of you.”

There was a brief stretch — miraculously — where the room settled down. Even Natsu, after a long internal battle, dragged himself upright with a theatrical groan like he was being asked to rise from the dead. He reached blindly for his bag, missed, tried again, and finally pulled it onto his lap.

A few minutes passed before Rumi groaned again, louder than the last time, with more suffering. “If I fail this class,” she declared into the void, “I’m blaming all of you.”

“You were failing before we got here,” Touya said, leaning slightly to the side to glance at Shoto’s paper. “That’s not new.”

“That is so not - ” Rumi cut herself off, squinting at her own page.

Hana huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Accountability is a beautiful thing, Rumi. You should try it sometime.”

“I am being accountable,” Rumi shot back, flipping her pencil between her fingers with restless energy. “I’m holding all of you accountable for my academic downfall.”

“That’s not how that works, but go off,” Hawks said, not even looking up as he scribbled something down that looked suspiciously like doodles and not notes.

“It could be,” Natsu chimed in, glancing over like he was genuinely weighing the possibility. “If we commit hard enough. Rest is important for growth.”

“You’re not growing,” Touya replied, not even looking up this time.

Natsu gasped like he’d been struck. A hand pressed dramatically to his chest before his expression melted into a grin. “What, scared I’ll be taller than you?”

Touya’s eyes flicked up, dark and unimpressed. “Not even remotely.”

A quiet snort escaped Hana as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms. “You’re all impossible.”

For a while, it actually worked.

Rumi complained every five minutes like clockwork, Hawks’ “notes” remained highly questionable, and Natsu needed at least three reminders to stay conscious, and one light shove to stay upright. 

Now and then, someone would lean over Shoto’s shoulder. Touya checking his progress, Hana pointing out a mistake and correcting him, and Fuyumi quietly sliding his eraser closer when it rolled out of reach. 

Eventually, Fuyumi closed her book with a quiet exhale. “I’m done,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of tired satisfaction.

Hana glanced down at her own page, reread the last line, then nodded once before snapping her notebook shut. “Same.”

Touya leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped. “Finally.”

Rumi froze mid-doodle. Her eyes darted between them.

Slam.

She shut her book so fast it made Shoto flinch slightly. “I’m done too!”

“You are not - ” Fuyumi started.

“I am,” Rumi insisted, already halfway out of her chair, grabbing her bag like she might make a run for it.

Hawks tipped his chair forward with a soft thunk, grinning as he stretched. “Good enough for me. If the responsible ones are done, I’m calling it.”

“That is not how standards work,” Fuyumi said, but she was outnumbered, and she knew it.

All eyes turned to Natsu, who was staring at his paper with all the intensity he could. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, shaking his head quickly.

“You have one question left,” Touya pointed out.

He groaned, dragging his pencil across the page with the air of someone signing away their soul. A few aggressive, barely legible scribbles later, he dropped it dramatically onto the paper.

“Done.”

“That was not - ” Fuyumi started again, already turning toward him.

“Done,” he repeated, louder this time, like volume alone might make it true. He was already pushing himself up off the couch, abandoning the paper on the coffee table without a second glance.

But it didn’t matter anymore. The spell had broken. Chairs scraped back. Books snapped shut or got shoved haphazardly into bags. Papers were stacked or shoved into folders, and the room shifted in seconds from reluctant focus to restless, pent-up energy finally let loose.

Natsu stretched his arms high overhead, back arching with a satisfied sigh, before immediately zeroing in on his next target.

“Alright,” he said, pointing between Shoto and Tenko, already grinning. “That’s enough suffering for one day. Video games?”

Shoto glanced down at his finished work, then he nodded, something bright flickering in his eyes. “Okay.”

“Let’s go!” Natsu cheered, already halfway down the hall before anyone else could even stand.

Tenko stood pushing his chair, doubling back to grab his bag, which probably held more games, before following. Shoto lingered just long enough to stack his papers neatly before heading after them.

The faint click of a console turning on echoed down the hallway seconds later, followed by Natsu’s triumphant shout and the low hum of a game loading up.

Touya watched them disappear, leaning back slightly in his chair, arms crossing loosely. There was something softer in his expression for a second, gone just as quickly as it came.

“Food first,” Fuyumi said, standing as she gathered her things. She pulled her hair back, tying it up so it wouldn’t fall into her face. “If we don’t eat now, they’ll forget and then complain later.”

Still half-sprawled in his chair. “We can’t have that.” Hawks tutted sarcastically.

Fuyumi exhaled softly, rolling her shoulders once before heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll start dinner,” she said, almost under her breath.

“By yourself?” Hana asked, raising a brow as she closed her notebook and stood, already watching her.

Fuyumi smiled faintly, waving it off without turning around. “It’s fine. You all did enough today.”

“Nuh-uh,” Touya muttered immediately, pushing himself up and following after her without hesitation.

The kitchen light flicked on with a soft hum.

It was small — barely enough room for two people to move without bumping into each other — but Fuyumi moved through it like it had been designed just for her. Cabinets opened in the right order, ingredients came out without searching, and everything was placed exactly where it needed to be.

She tied her hair tighter, washed her hands, and started setting things out.

“So what are we making?” Touya asked, leaning against the counter, arms loosely crossed, but not in a way that suggested he was leaving anytime soon.

“Something simple,” Fuyumi replied, reaching into the fridge. “You can go sit. I’ve got it.”

He didn’t move.

A moment later, Hana appeared in the doorway, drawn in by the sound of running water and the soft rhythm of dishes being set out. She paused there, taking in the cramped space, Fuyumi already halfway through prep, Touya pretending he wasn’t about to help.

She rolled her eyes and stepped in. “Fuyumi, what do you need?”

“Nothing, I’ve got it,” Fuyumi said immediately, not even turning around this time.

Both of them ignored that.

“I can chop,” Hana offered, already reaching for a knife like the decision had been made five seconds ago.

“I said it’s fine - ”

“I’m chopping,” Hana repeated, pulling a cutting board out of one of the bottom cabinets.

Fuyumi hesitated, then she sighed, but there was a small, unmistakable smile tugging at her expression. “Alright. Just be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name,” Hana said, already lining up vegetables with precise, practiced movements.

“That is absolutely not true,” Touya muttered.

He reached past Fuyumi to grab a pan from the cabinet, bumping her shoulder lightly in the process.

She glanced at him, a little surprised. “You’re helping?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he shot back, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I live here too, y’know.”

“That doesn’t mean you cook here,” she replied, a hint of teasing slipping into her voice.

“Wow. Okay.” Touya narrowed his eyes in exaggerated offense, lips pressing into a thin line that didn’t quite hide the hint of a smirk. “I see how it is.”

From the doorway, Rumi leaned just enough into the already cramped kitchen to be involved without actually committing, arms crossed as she watched the three of them with open amusement. “He burns water, y’know. I wouldn’t trust him.”

“I do not burn water,” Touya shot back immediately, grabbing the nearest pan and pointing it at her like it was a weapon.

“You absolutely do,” Hawks added from somewhere behind her, craning his neck over her shoulder to get a better view inside. 

Fuyumi let out a small, startled laugh before she could stop herself. She turned quickly back to the stove, shoulders shaking just slightly like she hadn’t.

“Alright, Mr. Comedian,” he said, setting the pan down, “If you’ve got so much to say, you can help too.”

Rumi pushed off the doorway instantly, like she’d been waiting for that exact invitation. “Finally,” she said, cracking her knuckles with dramatic flair as she stepped fully into the kitchen.“What am I doing?”

“Not touching anything important,” Fuyumi said quickly.

“Ouch,” Rumi squeezed into the already overcrowded kitchen. “I'm hurt, Frosty.’

“You’ll survive,” Touya said flatly. “Grab the vegetables and don’t mess them up.”

“That’s vague, but alright." Brushing past him just a little too close on purpose, her hip bumping his.

“If they’re ugly, I’m blaming you.”

“They’re vegetables,” Touya shot back. “Not a fashion show.”

“Please don’t style the carrots,” Hana muttered under her breath, not looking up from what she was doing.

“I make no promises.”

Hawks drifted in after her under the very thin excuse of “supervision,” immediately reaching over the counter to swipe something.

Smack.

Fuyumi didn’t even look up.

“Ow - hey!” Hawks pulled his hand back, almost pouting.

“Hands off,” She scolded.

Soon enough, the small kitchen felt even smaller.

Touya ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with Hana at the counter, the two of them moving around each other in a way that suggested this wasn’t new. He nudged her lightly when he needed space; she drifted aside just enough, and then drifted right back like it didn’t even register.

“Knife,” he said, holding out his hand without looking.

“You have two hands,” Hana replied calmly.

“Yeah, and one of them is busy.”

“With what?”

He paused, glancing down. “Holding the pan.”

“You’re not even holding the pan,” she pointed out, handing him the knife anyway with a small shake of her head.

Behind them: thunk. thunk. thunk.

Rumi was absolutely demolishing the vegetables like they had killed her parents, dropped kicked her puppy, and egged her car all at the same time.

“Rumi,” Fuyumi said carefully, glancing over with mild concern. “They don’t need to be that small.”

“They will be,” Rumi replied, not slowing down in the slightest.

Touya glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows lifting. “Dude, you’re massacring them.”

“You told me not to mess them up,” she shot back, finally looking up for half a second. “This is my interpretation of ‘not messed up.’”

Hana reached over without comment and nudged a stray piece of carrot back into Rumi’s pile.

Hawks, still lingering, snagged something else off the counter when no one was looking this time, and this time, Touya smacked his hand away.

“Get out of my kitchen.”

From down the hall, Tenko and Natsu’s voices rang out loudly, arguing about something, followed by the unmistakable sound of Shoto laughing. The noise carried into the kitchen, filling the small space just as much as the people did.

Fuyumi let out another soft laugh, shaking her head as she stepped closer. She gently reached in, steadying Rumi’s hand mid-chop.

“Here - like this,” she adjusted her grip just slightly, guiding the motion instead of stopping it. “You don’t need to rush.”

“I’m not rushing,” Rumi insisted.

“You are absolutely rushing,” Touya said.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Touya snorted, “Yeah, no,” he said, shaking his head, already turning back to the stove. “You’d like that too much.”

“Wow,” Hawks leaned in from behind them, peering between shoulders like he’d been waiting for an opening, “he admits defeat. Is the world ending?”

“I didn’t admit anything,” Touya snapped back immediately.

Fuyumi glanced over at him again, something softer in her expression as she watched the scene. “It’s nice,” she said, almost to herself.

Touya blinked, thrown off just enough to look at her properly. “What is?”

“You,” she replied simply.

She turned back to the stove like she hadn’t said anything at all. For a second, Touya didn’t move.

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, a little rougher than usual, but not nearly as sharp.

Rumi watched the exchange, “Aww,” she drawled. “Big brother’s going soft.”

Touya didn’t even hesitate, he flicked a piece of chopped vegetables at her. Rumi caught it mid-air without looking and threw it into her mouth.

“Disgusting,” Touya said, nose scrunching.

“You’re just jealous of my reflexes.”

“I’m jealous of nothing about you.”

Fuyumi shook her head, a quiet laugh slipping out again as she stirred the pan. “You’re the one who told her to help.”

Touya turned on her immediately, narrowing his eyes just slightly. “Don’t act like you weren’t complaining five minutes ago.”

“I was not complaining!”

“No, you were like - ” he waved a hand dramatically, pitching his voice higher, “‘oh no, Touya’s in the kitchen, everything’s doomed, the world’s gonna implode in on itself - !’”

Fuyumi huffed, crossing her arms for half a second before turning back to the stove. “You’re exaggerating.”

“You’re in denial,” he shot back.

“Touya-nii!” The word slipped out of her before she could stop it.

Touya groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face like he’d just been physically struck. He could feel it.

“Do not - ”

“‘Touya-nii,’” Hawks echoed under his breath, grinning.

“‘Touya-nii,’” Rumi repeated in the same tone, leaning into it shamelessly.

Touya pointed the knife at her without hesitation. “Shut up, you jack rabbit.”

Rumi blinked once, then slowly her grin spread wider. “Jack rabbit?” she echoed, tilting her head.

“More like jacked rabbit,” she corrected, lifting her arms to flex dramatically, only to bump awkwardly into Hawks in the process.

Hawks let out a startled noise as she elbowed him. “Watch it - ”

Touya stared at her, completely unimpressed. “Put those toothpicks away before you hurt yourself, protein shake.”

Rumi dropped her arms with an offended scoff. “Oh, that’s weak. C’mon, cremation station, you can do better.”

Hawks snorted. “Okay, cremation station is kinda good.”

“Stay out of it, feather duster,” Touya shot back without even looking at him.

“Feather duster?” Hawks squawked, instinctively bristling, which only proved the point further.

“That’s just sad,” Hana murmured from the counter, not even glancing up as she kept chopping with steady precision.

Rumi leaned forward, planting both hands on the counter behind her. “What’s wrong, overcooked marshmallow?” she challenged, grin sharp. “Getting nervous?”

Touya’s eye twitched.

“Nervous?” he echoed flatly. “Of you? Please, discount Energizer Bunny. You’d trip over your own ego before you ever land a hit on me.”

“Ooooh,” Hawks leaned in, fully invested now.

Rumi’s eyes had something competitive flickering behind them. “Say that again, you expired campfire.”

Behind them, Hawks snagged another piece of food — successfully this time — and retreated a step before anyone could smack his hand again.

Touya straightened slowly, like he was giving the moment time to breathe before he broke it. The knife hit the counter with a soft clink.

“Make me, carrot killer.”

Hana’s hand paused mid-chop.

Rumi’s grin sharpened instantly, something bright and reckless lighting behind her eyes. She rolled her neck once, a quiet crack, shoulders loosening like she’d been waiting for this exact excuse. “Oh, you’re asking for it, burnt toast.”

Hawks leaned back against the counter, already folding his arms like he’d just secured the best seat in the house. “Oh, this is so happening.”

Touya rolled his shoulders, slow and loose, then jerked his head toward the living room. “Kitchen’s too small, gym reject.”

Rumi tilted her head, grin going a little feral. “Good thing there’s a living room, space heater.”

Hawks slapped the counter with a loud smack, delighted. “Oh, we are absolutely doing this.”

“No - ” Fuyumi started.

The living room did not survive the next thirty seconds.

“Move, move people - move it!” Hawks clapped his hands, already darting ahead and grabbing one end of the coffee table like he was directing traffic.

“I am moving,” Hana replied loudly, but she was already lifting the other side with effortless ease. Together, they shuffled it out of the way.

Touya didn’t bother being careful; he kicked the ratty old couch back with his foot, then grabbed the arm and dragged it across the floor with a loud scrape that made Fuyumi visibly flinch.

“If this thing breaks, I’m blaming you, demolition derby,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Blame yourself, stove face,” Rumi shot back, already on the other side. She grabbed the couch too and shoved it harder than necessary just to be difficult.

“Hey - watch it!” Touya snapped, readjusting his grip before it could slam into the wall.

Fuyumi stood there for half a second, staring at what used to be her neatly arranged living room. The rug was crooked. The table was off to the side. The couch was definitely not where it had been.

She sighed. “At least don’t scratch the floor,” she said, a little helplessly.

“No promises!” Hawks chirped happily, already backing out of the newly cleared space. “This is the best day of my life.”

Hana stepped back too, brushing her hands off and leaning against the wall like she’d clocked out of responsibility entirely. “This is going to end badly.”

“Define badly,” Hawks said, grinning as he slid further out of the way. “Because I’m seeing a lot of potential here.”

Touya stepped into the open space, rolling his neck once more, then pointed at Rumi. “Alright. No crying when you lose, battery acid.”

Rumi bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, already settling into a stance like it was second nature. “No whining when you get folded, stale bonfire.”

“Folded?” he scoffed. “You can’t fold laundry, let alone me.”

“Keep talking, smoke alarm.”

“Make me, gym membership!”

“Oh, I will, clearance rack!”

Hawks slid between them for half a second, hands up like a referee who absolutely could not be trusted. “Rules?”

“None,” Touya said immediately.

“Try not to break anything important,” Fuyumi added, which — based on the room — was already optimistic.

Hana tilted her head slightly, eyes tracking both of them. “Five seconds,” she muttered. “That’s my guess.”

“Three,” Fuyumi countered.

There was a split second of stillness, and then they launched at each other. Rumi launched first, fast with no hesitation, driving straight for his center.

Touya pivoted on instinct, catching her arm and twisting, trying to redirect her momentum. “Too slow, jump rope - ”

She twisted mid-grab, faster than he expected, hooking her leg behind his and yanking hard.

He stumbled slightly but caught himself, a sharp laugh breaking out of him. “Aw, that was cute.”

“Shut up,” shoving forward again.

They crashed onto the rug in a tangle of limbs, momentum carrying them both down. Hands grabbed, shoulders shoved, legs tangled as they fought for leverage immediately.

Touya braced a hand against the floor, trying to roll them, while Rumi twisted sideways, trying to pin him first.

“Wow,” Hawks breathed from the sidelines. “They’re actually trying to kill each other.”

“Stay down - ” Touya grunted, trying to pin her shoulder.

“Make me, bonfire reject - ” she shot back, bracing her foot against his hip and shoving him back.

Hawks whooped, cupping his hands around his mouth like this was a baseball game and not two teenagers duking it out in minimal space. ”Get him!”

Fuyumi hovered just at the edge of the chaos, hands half-raised like she couldn’t decide whether to intervene or just accept her fate.

“Focus,” Hana said, though it didn’t sound like she cared if they did.

Touya grabbed her wrist again, this time managing to twist behind her slightly. “You’re predictable, caffeine overdose - ”

Touya hooked his arm around Rumi’s shoulder, trying to leverage her weight.

She immediately shoved back, laughing under her breath despite herself. “And you’re sloppy.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Better than overcooked.”

“Say that again - ”

“Overcooked.”

Fuyumi just shook her head with a smile there as she watched them struggle, bicker, and refuse to give an inch.

On the rug, neither of them let go. Not really trying to hurt each other but absolutely refusing to lose.

“Stay down - ” Touya grunted, trying to pin her shoulder, one hand pressing down while the other fought for balance against the rug.

“Make me, discount lighter - ” Rumi shot back instantly, planting her foot against his hip and shoving hard enough to send his weight shifting.

Rumi laughed breathlessly, and instead of resisting, she threw her weight backward on purpose.

They hit the floor harder this time.

“Predict this, glowstick!” she shouted, twisting sharply out from under him before he could lock in.

Touya huffed out a laugh despite himself as he scrambled to keep up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it, gas leak!”

“In your nightmares!”

They rolled again, momentum carrying them sideways until they bumped into the edge of the couch with a dull thud.

“Careful!” Fuyumi yelped.

Touya braced his palm against the couch and shoved them both away from it, redirecting the movement before they could slam into anything worse.

“Stay down,” he muttered again, trying again to pin her.

“Make me, oven malfunction.”

Their faces ended up way too close, breathing uneven, grins already breaking through whatever competitive edge they had left.

Laughter broke through first from Rumi, sharp and uncontrollable, and Touya followed right after, the tension dissolving even as they kept grappling, half-hearted now but still refusing to give up.

Hawks wiped at his eyes dramatically. “They’re not even fighting anymore.” He said between giggles.

“They are,” Hana corrected, watching them roll ineffectively across the rug. “Just very, very poorly.”

Touya tried to regain some kind of control, still laughing under his breath as he hooked an arm around her again. “You’re going down, crash test dummy - ”

“Nah,” Rumi shot back, equally breathless. “You’re losing, charcoal.”

She shifted and managed to flip their position just enough to pin him for a fraction of a second.

“Doesn’t count!” Touya snapped immediately, already trying to push back.

“Sounds like denial, popcorn!”

“Get off - ”

“Say please, fried chicken.”

“Doesn’t count!” Touya snapped immediately, already twisting to break out.

He barked out another laugh, shoving her off with a final push. They broke apart, rolling in opposite directions until they ended up sprawled on the floor, breathing hard, staring up at the ceiling.

There was a second of silence.

“Again,” Rumi said immediately, not even turning her head.

Touya snorted, turning to look at her, grin already back. “You’re on.”

Across the room, Fuyumi pressed her fingers to her temple, taking in the state of what used to be her living room.

She sighed but didn’t stop them.

Touya pushed himself up first, rolling one shoulder like he was resetting. “Round two, collagen.”

Rumi popped up just as fast, bouncing once on her heels like she had energy to spare. “Bring it, candlestick.”

Hawks clapped loudly, already hyped. “Round two! Place your bets!”

“You don’t have money,” Hana reminded him.

This time, Touya moved first, reaching for her shoulder.

Rumi ducked under his arm smoothly. “Too predictable, toaster strudel - ”

He twisted immediately, catching the back of her shirt before she could slip away completely. “Says the wind-up toy - !”

She yanked forward anyway, dragging him with her, spinning so they both crashed sideways into the rug again in a tangle of limbs.

She went straight for his leg.

“Not twice, gym rat,” he snapped, blocking it this time and shifting his weight to pin her down properly.

“Wow,” Hawks leaned forward, impressed. “He’s learning.”

“Miracles do happen,” Hana muttered.

Rumi braced both hands against Touya’s shoulders and shoved hard, grin wide and feral. “You’re heavier than you look, overcooked ramen.”

“And you talk too much!” he shot back, digging in, trying to hold her there.

“Make me, expired lighter!”

They rolled again, the rug bunching under them this time as their momentum dragged it out of place. Touya’s knee hit the floor hard, Rumi twisted, and suddenly she was halfway on top again, pinning him just long enough to matter.

“HA!” Hawks pointed. “That’s a pin! That’s a - ”

“It’s not - ” Touya cut himself off as Rumi leaned in closer, smirking.

“Looks like you’re losing, charcoal briquette.”

“In your dreams, creatine!” he shot back, grabbing her wrist and flipping their position again with a sharp twist.

She let out a surprised laugh as her back hit the floor. “Okay - okay, that was actually decent,” Rumi admitted between breaths, grin still sharp even as she hit the floor.

“Yeah, I know,” Touya shot back, a little too smug for someone still half-straddled on the rug trying not to lose his balance.

“Don’t get cocky, Smokey,” she warned, already bracing her feet like she was fully prepared to throw him through the roof.

“Oh, I’m way past cocky - ”

“What are you doing?”

The room went still so abruptly it felt like someone had cut the sound clean out of the air.

Touya’s head turned first, like instinct alone had pulled him out of whatever he was about to do next. Rumi paused mid-motion, fingers still hooked around his shoulder as if she’d been frozen mid-takedown. 

Even Hawks, who had been half-bent over laughing, stopped mid-comment with his mouth still slightly open.

Standing at the end of the hallway was Shoto.

Behind him, Tenko lingered a step back, one shoulder pressed lazily to the wall, arms crossed tight. Expression flat in a way that suggested he had already decided, several minutes ago, that none of this was his problem.

His eyes flicked over the overturned rug, the couch shoved at an angle, Touya and Rumi still half-collapsed on the floor.

“Wow,” he said at last, voice dull with judgment. “You’re all children.”

“Excuse you,” Hawks said immediately, offended purely out of habit.

Shoto didn’t move, his gaze dropped to the crooked rug, then to the couch shoved halfway across the room, then to Touya.

“Nii-san,” he said carefully.

Touya blinked once, then let go of Rumi’s wrist like nothing had happened at all.

“Hey,” he replied, voice shifting instantly like someone had turned a dial. “You done already?”

Shoto stepped further into the room. His shoes barely made a sound against the floor.

“You said,” he began, brows knitting together just slightly, “not to break anything.”

“That’s - ” Touya sat up, dragging a hand through his white hair like the accusation was mildly insulting. “Okay, first of all, nothing’s broken.”

He lifted a finger and pointed. “The table is over there.”

Touya followed the point, then huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. He stood, offering Rumi a hand without looking at her. She took it, letting him pull her up with ease.

“C’mon,” he said, brushing it off like it was a minor misunderstanding. “We were just demonstrating self-defense.”

“That was not self-defense,” Hana called from the wall where she’d been watching the entire disaster unfold.

“Advanced self-defense,” Touya corrected immediately, completely unfazed. Then he crouched down in front of Shoto so they were eye level, like the rest of the room didn’t exist.

“You eat yet?” he asked.

Shoto blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing at the shift. He shook his head. “No.”

“Good,” Touya said with a decisive nod. “Then you’re just in time before they burn it.”

“Hey!” Fuyumi protested from the kitchen.

Touya didn’t even look in her direction. Instead, he lightly tugged at the edge of Shoto’s sleeve.

“C’mon,” he said again, already turning him gently toward the dining area. “Go sit. I’ll grab your plate.”

Shoto hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Okay.”

Touya stood, giving his shoulder a light, familiar nudge as he guided him forward.

Behind them, Hawks leaned toward Tenko like he was sharing state secrets.

“He’s totally got a favorite,” he whispered.

Tenko pushed off the wall with a quiet scoff, hands buried deeper into his sleeves as he trailed after them.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Hana’s head snapped toward him instantly.

“Oh, please,” she said, already bending to fix the displaced rug with sharp, efficient tugs. “You act like you wouldn’t do the same thing.”

“I wouldn’t,” Tenko replied without missing a beat, dropping into a chair like gravity had decided he was done standing. His posture collapsed immediately, all angles and slouch. “I have standards.”

“You have an attitude,” Hana corrected, dragging the coffee table back into place with a scraping sound. “There’s a difference.”

From the kitchen, Fuyumi leaned out just enough to assess the damage, wooden spoon still in hand.

“Tenko, sit up properly,” she said.

He sank even lower in response, cheek resting on his fist, eyes half-lidded in theatrical defeat. “I am sitting.”

“That’s not sitting,” Hana said, pointing without even looking at him. 

“Then I’m conserving energy.”

“For what?” she shot back. “Being insufferable?”

Hawks let out a quiet, amused snort from where he’d reclaimed his chair, tipping it back just enough to flirt with disaster. “Kid’s got commitment,” he drawled, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “I’ll give him that.”

At the counter, Touya had already checked out of the conversation entirely. He moved with absent efficiency, plate in hand, food portioned neatly.

Shoto climbed into his chair without a word. His legs swung once, a small, unconscious motion, before he stilled them deliberately. He folded his hands in his lap, posture straight, patient in that quiet way of his, like he was waiting for permission no one had actually asked him to need.

Touya set the plate down in front of him with a soft clink. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said, nudging it a little closer, aligning it just right.

Shoto gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

For a second, Touya lingered. Then his hand came up, almost absentminded, and he patted Shoto’s head once, “Eat it before Natsu comes back and steals it.”

Like he’d been summoned by the accusation alone, “I heard that!”

Natsu came barreling back into the room at full speed, energy first, body second. “I would never steal from my beloved baby brother.”

Touya didn’t even glance at him. He reached out and shoved Natsu’s head lightly to the side with the flat of his palm, casual as anything. “Whatever you say, little shit.”

Natsu huffed, offended but not surprised, and peeled away to grab his own plate. “You’re so mean to me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Shut up,” Touya shot back automatically.

The room filled back up with noise almost immediately. Natsu talked with his mouth half full, words spilling out faster than he could chew. Hawks chimed in with commentary no one had asked for, just to hear himself talk. Across the room, Rumi argued loudly with someone while still half-rearranging the furniture she’d been responsible for knocking out of place in the first place.

Touya lingered near the table, one hand braced against the back of Shoto’s chair like he’d anchored himself there on purpose.

“Blow on it,” he added, tapping the back of Shoto’s head lightly when he saw him reach for his chopsticks too quickly.

Shoto paused, obedient without complaint, and did exactly that.

Across the table, Tenko watched the exchange through half-lidded eyes, chin still propped in his palm. “You hover a lot."

Touya’s gaze snapped toward him, unimpressed. “And you sulk.”

At the far end of the table, Natsu had already started eating like he hadn’t seen food in days.

“This is so good,” he said through a mouthful, making absolutely no effort to hide it.

“Chew first,” Fuyumi said automatically as she set down another plate, her tone equal parts habit and resignation.

“I am chewing,” he insisted, which was immediately disproven by the fact that he kept talking.

Rumi dropped into a chair sideways, reaching for her own plate. “If I choke, it’s on you,” she said, pointing her chopsticks vaguely at Touya. “You started a fight right before dinner.”

“You tackled me,” Touya shot back.

“Wow,” Hawks leaned further back in his chair, balancing it precariously again with a grin. “Bet it felt personal.”

“It was,” Rumi said, completely unapologetic.

Touya snorted, but his attention had already drifted again.

Shoto had started eating, just a little slower than everyone else. Without saying anything, Touya reached over and slid a cup of water closer to him, adjusting it until it sat within easy reach.

Shoto glanced up, just for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Touya muttered, like it didn’t matter.

Natsu noticed, of course, because he noticed everything when it came to his siblings.

He leaned over the table, narrowing his eyes at Touya like he’d just uncovered something deeply suspicious. Really looked at him, head tilting, expression sharpening with exaggerated realization.

“You don’t do that for me.”

Touya didn’t even pause. “You don’t need help finding your mouth.”

There was a split second of silence, and then Hana choked on a laugh, nearly inhaling her own food.

Hawks didn’t even try to hold it in. He outright cackled, tipping his chair back farther like he was daring gravity to intervene.

Natsu sat there, stunned. Genuinely, deeply offended. “I’m being discriminated against.”

Fuyumi brought a hand up to her mouth, trying — and failing — to hide her smile. Her shoulders shook just slightly as she turned away, like that might make it less obvious.

Natsu slumped dramatically into his chair, one arm thrown over the back like he’d been personally wronged by the universe.

“Unbelievable,” he said, voice heavy with betrayal. “I give, and I give - ”

“You eat, and you eat,” Touya cut in, finally glancing up just long enough to shoot him a smirk.

Natsu gasped like he’d been struck. “Are you fat-shaming me?”

A few exaggerated gasps echoed around the table, poorly concealed and entirely unhelpful. The room dissolved into laughter before Natsu could even finish the accusation.

“Yeah,” Touya deadpanned, dropping his gaze back to his plate like none of this mattered in the slightest. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. You caught me.”

“I knew it,” Natsu said immediately, pointing at him like a prosecutor who’d just closed a case. 

Across the table, Shoto had relaxed completely after his own fit of giggles.

The earlier stiffness had melted away somewhere between the noise. His shoulders weren’t so tight anymore, his posture less rigid as he worked quietly through his food. 

The overlapping conversations, the interruptions, and how no one really waited for their turn.

Touya’s arm was still hooked loosely over the back of his chair. Maybe he’d forgotten it was there.

Dinner didn’t so much end as it slowly unraveled.

Plates emptied at different speeds, conversations fading and picking back up in uneven waves. Natsu, predictably, finished first and immediately transitioned into a new role without shame.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked, already leaning halfway across the table toward Rumi’s plate.

She didn’t even look at him. “Touch it, and I’ll bite your hand off.”

Natsu leaned back just enough to stay technically out of reach, but not enough to stop eyeing it.

Fuyumi stood first, gathering dishes. “Leave them,” she said when Hana started to get up. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Nope,” popping the P and already stacking two plates before Fuyumi could intervene. “We made the mess.”

“You always make the mess,” Touya added, pushing back from the table.

Before Shoto could even reach for his own plate, Touya had already picked it up along with his own, stacking them in one hand.

From the doorway, Hawks leaned against the frame, arms crossed, smiling genuinely at the scene. “He really does have a favorite.”

Touya didn’t even turn around as he reached the sink.

“Say it again.”

“Favorite,” Hawks repeated, enouncing every letter, absolutely delighted with himself.

A dish towel hit him square in the face.

It didn’t take long for the kitchen to fill up again.

Water ran in a steady stream, dishes clinked and clacked, the noise picking right back up like it had never stopped in the first place.

Rumi dried dishes with unnecessary aggression, each plate getting wiped with utmost efficiency. Hana reorganized the counter every few seconds, shifting things around like she didn’t trust anyone else to do it correctly. Touya worked the sink like it owed him money with borderline hostile scrubbing.

Fuyumi moved between them, quieter, but still the center of it somehow.

“You don’t have to do all of that,” she said softly at one point, glancing at the growing stack of clean dishes.

“Too late,” Touya replied without looking up. “We’re committed now.”

“To what?” Hawks asked from where he’d drifted closer again, still lingering like he had nowhere better to be.

“Domestic responsibility,” Hana said flatly, completely serious.
—

Natsu reappeared the second the last plate hit the drying rack like he’d been waiting just out of sight for the exact moment responsibility ended.

“Alright,” he announced, clapping his hands once, “Now we can live.”

“You were alive before,” Tenko muttered from the couch, already halfway melted into it again, one arm dangling off the side like gravity had claimed it.

“Barely,” Natsu shot back, already in motion. A blanket appeared in his hands like he’d conjured it out of thin air. “Movie time. Everyone on the floor.”

The living room shifted for the second time that night, furniture staying put, but everything else changing around it. Blankets were dragged out from closets and bedrooms, pillows appearing in armfuls from god knows where. The couch was technically still there, but it quickly became irrelevant.

Instead, they built something on the rug.

Layers of blankets spread out, overlapping and uneven. Pillows got tossed down without much thought, then adjusted, then stolen, then reclaimed. It turned into a kind of makeshift nest, just structured enough to hold all of them.

Rumi dropped first, flopping right into the center like she owned it. “I call middle!”

“You always call middle,” Hana said, stepping over her and plopping down.

“Because I always win,” Rumi shot back, already sprawling wider to prove her point.

Shoto hovered at the edge for half a second before Touya reached out and tugged him down without a word, settling him into a spot between himself and the rest of them.

“Here,” he said, adjusting a pillow behind his back.

Shoto nodded quietly. “Thank you.”

Tenko dropped down last, landing with all the grace of someone who absolutely did not care. The second he hit the blankets, he dragged one over himself and turned slightly away from everyone else.

“If anyone touches me,” he said flatly, already half-buried, “I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not,” Natsu replied, immediately draping himself halfway over him like a human inconvenience.

Tenko shoved him off with a sharp elbow. “Get off of me and die!”

“Aw,” Natsu grinned, completely unfazed. “I love you too.”

Hawks didn’t bother pretending to sit normally. He sprawled across the edge of the whole setup, limbs loose, wings shifting just enough to avoid clipping anyone, though not enough to avoid being in the way.

“Alright,” he said, already reaching for the remote. “What are we watching?”

“Mine,” Rumi said instantly, not even looking up.

“You picked last time,” Natsu shot back, pointing at her, still half-sprawled over Tenko.

“Sho picks,” Touya cut in, out of nowhere.

Shoto blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Yeah,” He said, leaning back slightly, arm settling along the back of the makeshift pile behind him. “You.”

“I support it,” Hawks added immediately.

Natsu leaned over toward Shoto, all teeth and mischief. “C’mon, Sho. No pressure. Just determine all of our entertainment for the next two hours.”

“That is pressure, though,” Shoto said quietly.

He hesitated, glancing between them. Rumi’s impatience, Natsu’s expectation, Hawks’ amusement, Fuyumi’s softer encouragement, Touya’s steady, unspoken go on.

“Can we watch something everyone likes?” he tried, tentative.

Tenko snorted from under his blanket. “That’s not a real option.”

“Pick something you like,” Hana said.

Then, carefully, “The hero one. The one from last time.”

“Oh,” Natsu said, shifting. “That one’s actually good.”

“Yeah,” Touya shrugged. “Fine.”

Hawks clicked his tongue, already navigating to it. “Democracy wins again.”
—

Touya woke up sometime during the night. Bleary-eyed, he stared at the ceiling for a moment.

He blinked slowly, vision adjusting to the dim, uneven light leaking in through the window. The TV had long since gone dark, its reflection just a dull shape now. The room had settled into that deep quiet that only came when everyone was fully out.

Warmth was the first thing he registered, once the fog in his head cleared enough to think properly.

Natsu was half sprawled over him, exactly as expected, one leg thrown across Touya’s like he’d claimed him as a mattress sometime during the night. His arm rested loosely over Touya’s middle, grip slack but stubborn even in sleep.

Shoto was tucked between them.

Curled into Touya’s side, his face half pressed into the fabric of his shirt. One hand had fisted into it at some point, fingers still curled like he’d grabbed hold and decided that was enough.

Touya exhaled slowly through his nose, and carefully, he shifted his head just enough to look around without disturbing either of them.

The living room had turned into what it always did.

Rumi was sprawled half on top of Hana, one arm thrown over her like a blanket, completely dead to the world. Hana hadn’t even bothered to move her off. One hand loosely resting against Rumi’s wrist like she’d fallen asleep mid-’I should push her away.’

Tenko was buried under two blankets that he definitely hadn’t started with beside them. Curled in tight with his back to the room like he was pretending none of them existed, even in sleep. One of Hana’s legs was hooked over his ankle anyway.

Back on his side of the pile, there was a soft shift of feathers.

Hawks had ended up half-curled around his right arm at some point, one wing draped loosely over the edge of the blankets like a shield that had lost its purpose hours ago. His head rested against Touya’s shoulder, breathing slow and even, completely unbothered.

His wings shifted just enough for Touya to get a glimpse of white hair behind him.

Just behind him, tucked into the curve of his back, Fuyumi slept on her side. One hand was lightly fisted in the fabric of his shirt near his shoulder blade and the base of his wing, the other tucked close to her chest. 

He let his head fall back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded as he took it in one last time, the uneven rise and fall of breathing, the weight of bodies pressed close, the quiet that only ever came after all the noise burned itself out.

His arm shifted just slightly where it rested around Shoto, and Natsu carefully not to wake them.

No one stirred.

The room stayed still, and eventually, so did he.