Chapter Text
Midoriya genuinely thinks Katsuki is joking at first.
Because there was no way.
He’d barged into Katsuki’s agency office like he always does during free periods between teaching and patrols, already mid ramble before the door even fully closed.
“Kaachan you are NOT gonna believe what happened in my second year support analysis class because Hatsume-san somehow got invited as a guest lecturer and—”
Tie already loosened.
Coffee in hand.
Absolutely no sense of personal space.
Katsuki barely glances up from paperwork. “If this is another story about an explosion—”
“It was THREE explosions and technically none of them violated safety protocol—”
And then.
Mid sentence.
Midoriya notices movement behind the desk— tiny movement. Small blonde head, little red eyes peeking up over the edge of a picture book.
Midoriya freezes.
The child freezes.
They stare at each other.
The little girl blinks slowly, then hides behind the book again.
“…Kaachan.”
Katsuki still signing documents “What.”
“…whose child is that.”
Katsuki snorts like this is obvious. “My baby.”
Silence.
Long.
Horrifying silence.
Katsuki finally looks up.
Midoriya Izuku is actively tearing up.
Katsuki makes a face “…don’t fucking start—”
Too late.
“YOU HAVE A BABY?!”
The poor child startles a little at the volume and peeks around the desk again.
Immediately— immediately— Katsuki’s entire demeanor changes “Hey, s’alright.”
Gentle.
Soft.
Automatic.
Like breathing.
Midoriya sees it and starts crying harder.
“OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.”
Midoriya dropping dramatically to his knees beside the desk “KAACHAN YOU’RE A FATHER.”
“I am aware!.”
“Oh god, you have a whole daughter!”
“YEAH THAT’S USUALLY HOW THAT WORKS.”
And now Ira is staring at this strange grown man openly sobbing on the floor of her father’s office. She looks toward Katsuki for clarification.
Katsuki sighs. “That’s Uncle Izuku. He’s… got issues”
“I DONT HAVE ISSUES I’M JUST EMOTIONAL”
Then— because this child has inherited NONE of Katsuki’s survival instincts— Ira toddles around the desk toward him.
Midoriya gasps like he’s witnessing a divine vision.
Tiny sweater.
Tiny socks.
Tiny serious expression.
And then she stops directly in front of him and holds up her picture book.
Offering.
Because clearly the crying man needs emotional support.
Midoriya fully breaks, “oh my god she’s kind.”
Katsuki pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s not a rescue puppy, calm down.”
Midoriya looking up with tears streaming down his face: “KAACHAN SHE LOOKS LIKE YOU.”
“NO SHIT.”
“She has your eyes!”
“Yeah, you damn fucking nerd—.”
“She’s so tiny…”
“She’s Two!”
Midoriya carefully accepts the picture book like he’s been entrusted with nuclear codes. Ira climbs directly into his lap without hesitation.
Katsuki watches the whole thing with complete indifference because Ira does this to everyone she likes.
But Midoriya? Midoriya is experiencing a spiritual awakening. “She trusts me…”
“She trusts anybody who reads to her.”
Midoriya immediately straightens up. “Then I SHALL read with the utmost dedication.”
And that’s how Katsuki walks out of his office ten minutes later after grabbing coffee from the agency kitchen because this shit was stressing him out— only to find Midoriya sitting cross legged on the carpet, with Ira fully tucked against his chest.
Midoriya was doing different voices for every animal in the picture book, and his daughter visibly delighted.
Katsuki just stands there holding two coffees.
Stares.
“…traitor.”
Ira points excitedly at the page. “Bear!”
THAT’S RIGHT!” Midoriya says immediately. “And what sound does the bear make?”
“Rawr!”
Midoriya clutches his chest.
“If you pass out in my office I’m leaving you there.”
Midoriya looks up suddenly emotional again. “Kaachan.”
“…what?”
“You’re such a good dad.”
Katsuki goes completely still for half a second.
Just a half second.
Enough for Midoriya to notice.
Enough for that old raw vulnerability to flicker behind Katsuki’s eyes before irritation covers it back up immediately.
“Tch. Obviously.”
But his ears are red.
The thing is— Ira’s interests are so aggressively baby that it gives everyone around her emotional damage. It doesn’t help with the fact that Katsuki was one of the first people that had kids out of all of them, which was an insane sentence already.
This man, who was the equivalent of a nuclear threat, had a baby who:
Was soft spoken.
Sits up straight
Uses full sentences.
Looks at people while they talk.
And says please and thank you, in the softest voice anyone has ever heard.
Meanwhile, what occupies her little brain?
Mushroom people.
Not mushrooms.
MUSHROOM PEOPLE.
Tiny smiling forest creatures with hats and little shoes.
She’s obsessed.
Fairies too. Tiny sheep, bunnies holding hands, round birds, ladybugs, couds with faces. Her favorite colors are cream, sage green, soft yellow, and dusty pink because of course they are.
Neito once showed the squad a drawing Ira made at daycare and it was literally just three smiling mushrooms holding hands under a sun.
Denki cried, “she’s so SMALL.”
And despite both her dads being obscenely wealthy, they actually raise her with insane restraint— No mountains of toys, no overconsumption. no “buy her everything she points at.”
Katsuki especially refuses. “This kid does NOT need twenty fucking plushies.”
And Ira genuinely… doesn’t care.
She has ONE bunny plushie. A slightly floppy cream-colored thing named Snow, who goes EVERYWHERE. No other plushie matters.
Midoriya once bought her an expensive giant stuffed alpaca from some specialty store because he saw it and thought of her immediately.
Ira looked at it politely. “…thank you.”
Then went right back to holding Snow.
Midoriya almost collapsed emotionally.
“Kaachan she’s so humble—”
“She’s barely the height of my knees!” Katsuki snaps “and why the fuck are you out here buying alpacas for my daughter?!”
Meanwhile everyone else in the squad keeps accidentally developing designated Ira gifts.
Denki absolutely enters a phase where he keeps buying her matching pajama sets— tiny duck pajamas, tiny strawberry pajamas, tiny moon-and-stars pajamas. Literally every single time he sees children’s pajamas while shopping his brain goes:
IRA WOULD LOOK ADORABLE IN THIS.
And then suddenly Katsuki’s receiving another package.
Katsuki holding up a miniature sheep pajama set “IDIOT WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS.”
Denki was making jazz hands over the face time “Look at them!”
And the worst part was that Ira loves them. She makes this tiny delighted gasp every time. “Stars!”
Denki’s screaming “SHE LIKES THEM.”
Mina meanwhile buys all the small cute things— Glitter pens, animal stickers, tiny notebooks, Hairclips shaped like flowers.
Neito holding up a thirty-six box set of glitter pens “Darling, she can’t even write legibly yet.”
Mina had put her foot on the ground and said it was for creative expression.
Kirishima?
Kirishima buys experiences. Massive playsets, outdoor toys, a tiny plastic slide, a god damn adult two-man camping tent.
Because Kirishima sees a child and immediately thinks:
THIS BABY NEEDS TO BE IN THE WILD
He once showed up with an entire indoor tent castle thing. Katsuki opened the door, stared at the gigantic box, and almost had an aneurysm “…Ei what the FUCK.”
Kirishima sweating “it was on sale!”
“It’s the size of my fucking living room!”
Ira peeps from behind Katsuki’s legs “…castle?”
Kirishima immediately points dramatically. “IT’S FOR THE PRINCESS.”
Katsuki groans because he already lost.
And Sero.
Oh Sero is the WORST. Because unlike everyone else, Sero keeps trying to escalate. This man wants Ira to experience whimsy.
And unfortunately his idea of whimsy includes animals.
The squad catches him one day staring at puppy adoption listings during a gathering.
Mina squints. “…Hanta.”
Sero minimizes the screen instantly. “Nothing.”
Denki tackles him,
“Kats will literally kill you!.”
Sero screams while they wrestle “SHE WOULD LOVE HIM.”
Katsuki from across the room immediately “LOVE WHO?”
Everyone freezes.
Sero, sweating: “…Jesus?”
“WRONG ANSWER.”
Meanwhile Ira has absolutely no idea the squad is one bad decision away from illegally co-parenting her. She just quietly exists in the middle of all this love.
Tiny sweaters.
Tiny socks.
Serious little face.
One time Neito found her sitting in the middle of the living room surrounded by stickers Mina gave her.
Completely silent.
Concentrating with terrifying intensity.
He crouches beside her.
“What are you making, darling?”
Ira points seriously.
“Family.”
And there on the paper are little round blob people.
One blonde spiky blob, one elegant blonde blob, one sleepy purple blob, one yellow blob with lightning, one pink blob, one giant red blob, one black blob with tape arms. And in the middle—
a tiny mushroom person holding everyone’s hands.
She’s so baby.
And neither Katsuki nor Neito react to Ira’s woodland creature tendencies because by the time she’s three they’ve already accepted one fundamental truth about their daughter:
She’s weird.
Not bad weird. Definitely not concerning weird. Just… fairy-ring-in-the-forest strange. And unfortunately for everyone else, both her fathers encourage it.
Because normal parents would panic seeing their toddler pull a whole ass magpie out of her cardigan pocket like she’s a magician revealing a dove.
But Katsuki and Neito?
They immediately start assessing the social etiquette of the situation instead.
So now the squad is standing in the agency common room staring at this tiny child in dusty pink overalls while a judgmental black-and-white bird sits in her pocket like it pays rent there.
Mina is halfway on top of the couch.
Sero has physically leaned away because the bird keeps making eye contact with him specifically.
Kirishima, the traitor that he is— thinks it’s awesome.
“THAT IS A WILD ANIMAL,” Mina screeches.
“It’s a magpie,” Katsuki corrects automatically from where he’s signing off reports without even looking up.
“Yes, but why?” Denki says, in pain.
Ira, entirely calm, pets the bird’s head with one finger. “He’s shiny.”
“Does he have to be in your pocket, kid?” Sero asks.
Ira thinks about this seriously. “He was cold.”
And see—
That.
That right there is the problem.
Because now half the room visibly softens.
Even Denki looks conflicted.
Kirishima is outright emotional already. “Aw, baby…”
“EIJIROU DON’T ENCOURAGE HER.”
Neito crouches elegantly in front of Ira, adjusting the tiny mushroom clip in her hair.
“My darling,” he says gravely, “did you ask before pocketing him?”
Ira gasps softly like this possibility has never occurred to her before. “No, Oh no…”
“Well,” Neito says, “that’s rather rude, don’t you think?”
Ira immediately turns to the bird with devastating sincerity. “I’m sorry Mr. Pie.”
The magpie blinks.
Denki is clutching his chest “What the fuck is happening.”
Katsuki finally glances over, sees the bird, sees his daughter, sees Neito giving a lecture on consent to wildlife, and just sighs like this is a normal Tuesday. “Did she wash her hands after touching it?”
“Papa I used soap.”
“Good.”
Mina whips toward him so fast she nearly gets whiplash. “Is that you’re only takeaway??”
“What the fuck do you want me to do, Pinky, square up against a bird?”
Mina looks emotional “You’ve grown so much, Kats. I’m proud of you.”
He flips her off.
Meanwhile Ira has carefully removed the magpie from her pocket and is now holding it like a tiny Victorian child handling precious porcelain.
The bird, horrifyingly enough, seems perfectly content.
Which makes everything worse.
Shinsou walks in halfway through this scene carrying coffee.
He stops.
Looks at Ira.
Looks at the bird.
Looks at the squad having collective cardiac arrest.
Then he just goes “Ah. Pocket bird phase.”
Dead silence.
Denki points at him violently. “PHASE?”
Shinsou shrugs. “Eri had a beetle purse era.”
Sero makes a face “what the fuck does that mean?”
“She carried beetles around.”
“IN A PURSE?”
“Where else would they go?”
Kirishima is crying laughing now.
Denki has slid to the floor.
Mina looks one inconvenience away from evaporating.
And the worst part—the absolute worst part—is that Ira looks so pleased someone understands her.
“Toshi-san,” she says happily, “he’s shiny.”
Shinsou crouches beside her, completely unbothered by the bird.
“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “He is.”
And because Ira loves him more than oxygen, she immediately tries to put the magpie in his hoodie pocket.
Shinsou lets her.
Naturally.
Because of course he does.
And it's this exact reason why Ira keeps getting away with woodland shit. Everyone is concerned for exactly ten minutes, before they all collectively decide its the cutest thing ever.
Well it wasn’t cute anymore when Ira brought a god damn squirrel into the house and it burrowed into Neito’s imported sofa.
The good news was that Katsuki is actually such a good father specifically because he treats Ira like a person first and a child second. Not in a cold way, but in a “you are a small human with thoughts and autonomy and therefore I’m going to explain things to you properly” kind of way.
So instead of yelling GET THAT SQUIRREL OUT OF THE COUCH, he’s crouched there at eye level, signing calmly like he’s negotiating an international peace treaty with a three year old woodland cryptid and her accomplice.
And Ira responds to it SO well because she’s genuinely thoughtful.
Like she’ll pause. Think about it. Then go “Oh… he’s hurting the chairs :( ”
Katsuki, deeply relieved “YES. THANK YOU.”
Meanwhile the squirrel is actively disappearing into the imported couch cushions.
And Neito absolutely would have a spiritual crisis over that couch because that couch cost more than some people’s cars. He researched fabric samples for TWO MONTHS, making Katsuki sit through six separate conversations about upholstery density.
And Katsuki really did soldier through that shit because he loves his husband. So now fuck him, I guess, because he was now trying to perform squirrel extraction before Neito walks in.
Unfortunately for him—
Neito does walk in.
He freezes in the doorway holding groceries.
Sees:
- his husband on the floor,
- his daughter kneeling beside him,
- Sero holding oven mitts for some reason
- Denki filming,
- Mina crying,
- and a squirrel tail sticking out of the couch.
Neito just closes his eyes.
Long inhale.
Long exhale.
“Katsuki.”
Katsuki immediately points at Ira, “IT WASN’T HER FAULT.”
Ira gasps softly because she knows that tone means Papa is protecting her.
Neito opens one eye, “the squirrel is INSIDE the couch.”
“Baby, I KNOW” Katsuki groans “It already bit me twice.”
Kirishima—who has somehow gotten involved despite arriving only three minutes ago—is already halfway lifting the couch with one arm going “Okay little guy let’s work together here!”
The squirrel hisses at him.
“Damn” Sero says immediately “He has Katsuki’s personality.”
“FUCK YOU HANTA.”
And Ira, tiny little dusty pink sweater and mushroom socks and all, suddenly looks devastated.
Because now she thinks her squirrel friend is in trouble.
So she toddles over to Neito, tugging lightly at his slacks. “Daddy?”
Neito looks down instantly, softening because that’s his baby. “Yes, my love?”
Ira blinks up at him, tiny hands clutching the hem of his shirt “he didn’t know the rules.”
And that kills every adult in the room instantly.
Because she’s not defending the squirrel by saying it did nothing wrong.
She’s acknowledging the behavior was wrong while still extending empathy. And she’s three.
Katsuki actually goes visibly emotional for a second. Just a second. Tiny twitch around the eyes. Neito notices because of course he does.
Then Ira continues, very serious “Maybe he thought the couch was tree.”
Mina is wheezing into Kirishima’s shoulder.
And Neito has to physically turn away because he’s trying not to smile too hard while maintaining the illusion of being stern.
“Yeah, baby.” Katsuki just mutters “Maybe he did.”
Then he stands up, cracks his knuckles, and points at the couch.
“Alright. We’re getting this fucker out before your daddy starts pricing funeral arrangements for the upholstery.”
“Katsuki.”
“FOR THE COUCH, NOT THE SQUIRREL.”
And that's just Ira being empathetic to woodland creatures. This angel could fit the whole world in her heart.
The workplace injustice incident absolutely became one of the squad’s favorite Ira stories because it was the exact moment everyone realized that this child had inherited all of her parents’ intensity, she just redirected it into everything else that moved under the sun.
Katsuki had brought her to the agency because Ira liked sitting in the corner office coloring while Katsuki worked. She had her tiny dusty pink headphones on, Snow the bunny plush beside her, coloring mushrooms onto the back of discarded mission reports because apparently “the papers looked lonely.”
And outside the office, a few of Katsuki’s sidekicks were talking while filing reports.
“Did you see the proposal? They’re trying to reduce mandatory sick leave again.”
“God, that’s gonna kill office workers.”
“My cousin already works twelve hour shifts—”
Normal adult conversation. Completely harmless.
Until they hear the tiniest, most devastated gasp known to mankind.
Everyone turns.
Ira is standing in the doorway clutching Snow to her chest with tears already pooling in her giant red eyes.
One of the sidekicks immediately panics.
“…oh no.”
Another crouches instinctively. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
Ira looks genuinely horrified.
“But if people are sick…” her voice wobbles, “then they should rest.”
The entire hallway goes silent.
And then the tears start.
Not loud tantrum crying either—Worse — Tiny silent crying.
The kind where her little face crumples and tears just start pouring down while she tries to be polite about it.
“They’re gonna be tired forever,” she whispers.
One of the interns nearly bursts into tears on the spot.
Meanwhile Katsuki exits his office because apparently his dad senses activate the moment Ira’s upset.
He takes one look at the scene— half his agency staff gathered around his crying child — one intern visibly emotional — another looking ready to fight the government — Ira clutching a bunny plush like she’s personally mourning the working class
And he immediately knows this is stupid.
“What the fuck happened.”
His sidekick points helplessly. “Sir, she overheard us talking about labor laws.”
Katsuki closes his eyes “You made my three year old cry over capitalism?”
“WE DIDNT MEAN TO—”
Ira toddles directly into Katsuki’s legs, arms up immediately.
Katsuki scoops her up automatically, settling her against his chest while she sniffles miserably into his shirt.
“Papa,” she says tearfully, “people need breaks.”
And Katsuki — who literally built his entire agency culture around humane scheduling because he remembers exactly what burnout looked like in high school — immediately softens.
“Yeah, baby. They do.”
Ira sniffles harder. “What if they get too tired?”
Katsuki rubs circles into her back. “Then we help ‘em.”
“But what if nobody helps them?”
Now half the agency is emotionally compromised. One sidekick is literally turning away to wipe tears. Another mutters, “She’s unionizing at four…”
Katsuki sighs the sigh of a man who loves his child more than oxygen. “Listen to me,” he says firmly.
Ira blinks watery eyes at him.
“My employees get sick leave. Paid. Nobody here’s getting worked to death.”
One of the staff in the back raises a hand weakly. “He actually yells at us if we answer emails off the clock.”
Katsuki immediately barks, “BECAUSE THAT’S INSANE.”
Ira considers this very seriously. “…okay.”
Still sniffling though.
So Katsuki does the emergency maneuver. He kisses the top of her head and mutters “Wanna help me approve overtime bonuses?”
Immediate silence.
Ira pulls back slightly. “Like stickers?”
“…kinda.”
“Okay.”
Crisis over.
Fifteen minutes later the entire agency watches in disbelief as Dynamite’s terrifying little daughter sits on his lap solemnly stamping APPROVED onto paperwork while holding Snow under one arm like a tiny labor rights representative.
Neito calls halfway through, and Katsuki answers immediately with, “your daughter started crying over labor exploitation.”
And on the other end of the line there is complete silence.
Then–
Neito, audibly emotional “that’s my girl.”
The Lilo and Stitch incident actually starts out so peaceful too.
It’s raining outside. One of those slow drizzling evenings where the whole penthouse feels warm and dim and sleepy. Katsuki had gotten home late from patrol still smelling faintly like smoke and metal, exhausted enough that he’d let Ira climb all over him without a single complaint.
Which is how he ends up trapped on the couch.
Tiny four year old sprawled across his chest in sheep pajamas. One sock missing. Hair freshly washed and still fluffy. Snow the bunny plush tucked under one arm.
Nieto is on the opposite end of the couch reading reports on his tablet while the movie plays in the background.
Everything is fine.
Until they hit the scene.
The one where Stitch leaves.
Katsuki feels Ira go still before he even registers what part of the movie they’re on. Then—
A tiny trembling inhale.
Katsuki slowly looks down.
Ira’s lower lip is wobbling so hard it looks painful.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Katsuki mutters automatically under his breath.
Neito looks up immediately. “Language.”
“She’s about to lose it.”
And then Ira breaks— Not loudly. That’s the worst part. Ira never cries loudly. She just starts silently sobbing like her tiny body physically cannot contain the grief.
Fat tears rolling down her face.
“Papa…” she whispers, devastated beyond belief. “He left.”
Katsuki immediately pauses the movie.
“Yeah baby, I know.”
“He left his family.”
“I know.”
“He thinks they don’t love him anymore.”
Katsuki physically winces because OH GOD SHE UNDERSTOOD THE THEMATIC IMPLICATIONS.
Neito lowers the tablet very slowly. “Oh dear.”
Ira curls into Katsuki’s chest like she’s personally experiencing heartbreak for the first time.
“He’s all alone.”
Katsuki, who would rather fight twelve villains barehanded than navigate toddler emotions, just starts rubbing circles into her back. “Baby he comes back later.”
“But he still left,” she hiccups.
And that—
That almost takes Katsuki out.
Because she sounds genuinely betrayed by the concept.
Like the idea of willingly leaving people who love you is incomprehensible to her.
Which makes sense.
This child has literally never once doubted that her dads would come back for her.
Not once.
Neito finally sets the tablet aside and slides closer.
“My darling,” he says softly, brushing her damp hair from her face, “sometimes people leave because they think they’re making things easier for the people they love.”
Ira looks horrified. “That’s silly.”
Neito immediately folds.
“Yes,” he sighs, kissing her forehead. “It is a bit silly.”
Katsuki snorts.
And somehow that makes Ira cry harder because now she’s emotional and overwhelmed and her dads are talking softly and the atmosphere is too tender.
She fully crawls into Katsuki’s lap then.
Tiny hands clutching at his shirt, and Katsuki just lets her. One massive hand covering almost her entire back while she sobs dramatically about alien family abandonment.
Neito watches them both with the fondest expression imaginable.
Because Katsuki acts like he’s annoyed but the second Ira cries this man turns into a weighted blanket with anger issues.
Eventually Ira sniffles enough to ask in a watery voice:
“Papa?”
“What.”
“If I leave will you come get me?”
Katsuki looks genuinely offended.
“Obviously.”
“No matter what?”
Katsuki grabs her little hand and presses it against his chest.
“Listen to me real careful, baby,” he says, voice rough and certain and immovable in the way only Katsuki can be. “There is nowhere on this planet you could go where me and your daddy wouldn’t find you.”
Ira stares at him.
Then immediately bursts into tears again because APPARENTLY THAT WAS TOO EMOTIONAL.
Neito actually starts laughing.
“Katsuki, darling, you cannot say things like that to sensitive woodland creatures.”
“The fuck was I supposed to say?”
It gets progressively worse whenever Denki babysits her. Because see, everyone assumes Denki is the fun babysitter. Which he is— He brings snacks, he builds blanket forts, he lets Ira wear stickers on his face, he does silly voices for her stuffed animals, he buys her matching pajamas against Katsuki’s explicit wishes.
So naturally everyone thinks yeah this is safe.
Incorrect.
Catastrophically incorrect.
Because Denki is also emotionally fragile as hell.
And Ira? Ira cries with her entire tiny soul.
So one Friday night the squad’s over at Katsuki and Neito’s place. Adults are spread around the penthouse doing their own thing, when Denki says the sentence that seals everyone’s fate.
“OH OH OH WE SHOULD WATCH COCO.”
Every adult in the room freezes.
Sero slowly looks up from the stove. “…Denki.”
“What?”
“Be serious.”
“It’s a kid’s movie!”
Katsuki immediately points at him. “You cry at insurance commercials.”
“THAT DOG WAS LOST.”
Neito looks at Ira sitting cross-legged on the carpet.
“My darling, perhaps something less emotionally devastating.”
But it’s already too late.
Ira gasps softly. “The guitar skeleton movie?”
Denki points dramatically, “SHE GETS IT.”
Forty minutes later, the entire living room is dark except for the television glow.
And predictably— the emotional damage begins immediately.
At first Ira’s okay.
Curious.
Asking questions.
Holding Snow.
Then the movie progresses.
Family themes.
Memory.
Death.
Love.
Dangerous combination.
Denki’s already sniffling by the time they get to the grandmother scenes.
Katsuki hears it from the kitchen and immediately yells “YOU ARE A GROWN MAN.”
“I HAVE FEELINGS.”
“YOU KNEW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN.”
Then.
The scene.
The song.
Remember Me.
Silence falls over the living room.
And then—
A tiny shattered gasp.
Katsuki closes his eyes instantly.
Neito physically lowers his laptop with the exhaustion of a man who foresaw tragedy but failed to stop it.
Too late.
Ira is crying.
Not normal crying either. Silent tears streaming down her face while clutching Snow so tightly the plushie looks compressed by grief. And next to her?
Denki.
Fully sobbing.
Actual tears, curled under a blanket, holding a bowl of popcorn like it personally betrayed him. “K-Knowing someone loved you so much they carried your memory the whole time—”
“Denki,” Sero wheezes from the kitchen.
Mina is crying too now from secondhand emotional contagion. Kirishima’s eyes are suspiciously shiny.
Neito pinches the bridge of his nose.
And Katsuki?
Katsuki takes one look at his crying daughter , his crying best friend , and Pixar emotionally executing them both simultaneously
“I fucking hate this movie.”
Ira immediately reaches for him. “Papa…”
Katsuki sits down with the sigh of a man accepting his fate. Ira crawls directly into his lap. Then Denki— fully emotional and lacking boundaries— leans sideways onto Katsuki’s shoulder too.
“Get the fuck off.”
Denki, openly weeping “But family—”
“YOU ARE NOT MY KID.”
Neito finally loses composure and starts laughing into his hand because the visual is insane:
The Number Two Hero trapped on a couch holding:
- his devastated three-year-old daughter
- a thirty-year-old crying pro hero
while Remember Me plays in the background like psychological warfare. And it gets WORSE after the movie ends, because Ira goes dead quiet. Which is always dangerous.
Katsuki immediately narrows his eyes, “baby.”
Tiny voice
“…if people forget you, do you disappear?”
Denki starts crying harder.
Neito swoops in immediately before Denki accidentally gives the three-year-old an existential crisis.
“My darling,” Neito says gently, gathering Ira into his arms this time, “people leave pieces of themselves everywhere. In memories, in love, in habits.”
Ira sniffles. “In habits?”
“Yes. For example…” Neito glances toward Katsuki. “Your papa uses the exact same angry face his mother does.”
“HEY.”
“And when you say ‘oh dear’ while disappointed, that’s from me.”
Ira thinks very hard about this. “So people stay?”
Neito kisses her forehead softly. “In a way, yes.”
Denki audibly breaks down again. “THAT’S SO BEAUTIFUL.”
Sero throws a kitchen towel at his head. “GET YOURSELF TOGETHER.”
And then the real knock out punch finally happens. Because if Coco didn’t make her connect the dots, this one definitely did.
It happens the day right after, and unlike all the rest, this one comes out of nowhere.
It’s early morning.
Neito is making coffee, Katsuki is halfway through signing an email with one hand while eating toast, and Ira is outside in the garden with rain boots on despite the fact there's no rain.
It's quiet until the back door slams open.
And Ira walks in carrying a tiny dead bird in both hands.
Neito freezes.
Katsuki slowly lowers his coffee.
Ira looks solemn.
“Papa,” she says quietly. “I think this bird is gone.”
Katsuki immediately stands.
Not panicked.
Just cautious.
“Baby don’t touch your face—”
“But look.”
And then she turns around and points upward.
There’s a nest in the tree outside.
Tiny eggs inside.
Katsuki sees the exact moment the realization hits her. Her eyes widen, then water instantly starts pooling in them.
“Ira—”
Neito’s expression changes immediately. “Oh sweetheart.”
“That’s the mama,” she says, sniffling.
There it is.
The tragedy spiral.
“The babies are waiting for her.”
Katsuki crouches down fast. “Baby—”
“But she can’t come back.” Ira’s voice starts shaking violently. “And what if they’re scared and what if they miss her and what if they think she left them—”
OH GOD.
Neito immediately takes the bird gently from her hands and sets it aside.
“My love, breathe.”
“But they’re babies—”
And then the thought visibly evolves in real time.
The horrifying connection.
“Oh” Ira’s face crumples completely. “What if you die?”
Katsuki rubs his face “…ah fuck.”
Neito pinches the bridge of his nose “That escalated with impressive speed.”
Ira is fully sobbing now. “What if papa dies on a mission and I miss him forever—”
Katsuki immediately scoops her up. “Okay absolutely not.”
“What if daddy dies too—”
“We’re literally standing here.”
“But someday—”
“Nope.”
Neito is trying SO HARD not to laugh because this child went from observing nature to existential mortality in under thirty seconds.
Katsuki bounces her slightly in his arms. “Babygirl. Look at me.”
Ira sniffles miserably.
“We are not dying today.”
“But the bird—”
“The bird’s a bird.”
“That’s mean.”
“It’s TRUE.”
Neito finally steps in before Katsuki accidentally argues with a grieving three year old.
“My darling,” Neito says gently, wiping her tears, “being sad about the bird means you have a very kind heart.”
Ira hiccups.
“But nature can still be sad sometimes. That doesn’t mean you need to carry all of it by yourself.”
“…oh.”
Katsuki kisses the top of her head. “And if me or your daddy ever do die someday, we’ll haunt the shit outta this planet.”
Neito stares at him. “Katsuki.”
“What? I’m comforting her.”
Ira immediately sniffles, thinking hard. “You’d be ghost fairies?”
Neito folds instantly.
“Yes,” he says gravely. “Very handsome ghost fairies.”
Katsuki looks offended. “I ain’t being a fucking fairy.”
“You absolutely are,” Neito says. “You sparkle when you’re angry.”
“I EXPLODE.”
“Exactly. Glittery.”
And oh these two love her so much.
They love her so much it actually loops back around into absurdity.
Like genuinely.
There are nights where both of them are dead exhausted— Katsuki’s shoulder half-dislocated from patrol, Neito fresh off media interviews and agency paperwork, both of them running on four hours of sleep and caffeine—
and somehow they still end up lying awake for another hour just talking about Ira.
Because she’s become the gravitational center of their lives so naturally neither of them even noticed when it happened.
The house is dark. Rain outside, warm blankets.
Katsuki stretched on his stomach half-buried into the mattress while Neito’s beside him scrolling through photos of Ira on his phone for the fifteenth time that week.
“She’s getting better at signing,” Neito murmurs suddenly.
Katsuki hums sleepily.
Because she is.
And god— that one gets him every time.
Tiny little hands.
Tiny serious face.
Eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
Sometimes her fingers are still clumsy with the motions, signs blending together when she gets excited, but she tries so hard.
And Katsuki had never asked her to learn.
That’s the thing.
But Ira adores communicating with him like that. She told him it was like casting spells so now she signs constantly.
While eating.
While sleepy.
While rambling.
While asking for juice.
Tiny hands moving
PAPA. LOOK. MUSHROOM.
Katsuki thinks it might be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.
“She signed a whole sentence today,” Neito continues softly.
Katsuki snorts into his pillow. “Yeah. Wrong grammar though.”
“She’s three”
“Still counts.”
Neito smiles to himself.
“She can count to fifteen now.”
Katsuki immediately lifts his head. “She cheated.”
“She did not cheat.”
“She used her toes.”
“That’s innovation.”
Katsuki flops back down dramatically. “She still gets confused after ten.”
“Well yes,” Neito says reasonably, “she runs out of fingers.”
And they both start cackling.
Once she hits ten she pauses with genuine concern every time like well this seems scientifically impossible now.
The funniest part is how intensely serious she is about everything— Tiny little woodland child, dusty pink sweaters, mushroom clips, bunny plushie permanently tucked under one arm— But she approaches life with the emotional gravity of a retired accountant.
Neito had once called her “a deeply thoughtful hedgehog.”
Katsuki nearly choked laughing.
Now it’s become a recurring diagnosis.
“She’s not a bubblegum pink kid,” Neito says thoughtfully now. “She’s a woodland creature confirmed.”
Katsuki grunts. “She stared at a snail for fifteen minutes yesterday.”
“She was observing.”
“She was interrogating it.”
Neito cackles quietly.
And then there’s another pause before Katsuki mutters “Why are her hands always sticky.”
Neito immediately groans. “Oh my god.”
“No seriously,” Katsuki insists. “How. She washes them.”
“She’s like… intrinsically sticky.”
“I picked her up after daycare and somehow there was jam on my shoulder.”
“We didn’t even give her jam this morning.”
“That’s what I’M saying.”
They both fall silent contemplating this mystery.
Because Ira genuinely operates on toddler physics. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t throw tantrums, doesn’t break things. But somehow she’s always:
sticky
carrying a leaf
emotionally invested in a bug
or hiding pebbles in her pockets
One time Katsuki found a tiny mushroom in the washing machine and nearly lost his mind. And god— they love her so much.
Every tiny weird thing. Every strange sentence. Every badly drawn turtle.
Especially the drawings.
Neito Monoma had the bright idea to organize Ira’s drawings chronologically into binders. Which, first of all, is the most Neito thing alive. And second, but more impartantly, exposed one of the funniest patters alive.
They’re all gathered around flipping through pages while Ira naps upstairs. Page after page after page:
Daddy
Papa
Toshi-san
And Monkey... who was Sero’s dog.
Then you have page after page after page after page of Monkey:
at the beach
in the kitchen
flying somehow
wearing fairy wings once
sitting at the dinner table
larger than a car in one drawing
purple in another for unknown reasons
“LET ME SEE.” Sero finally snatches the binder, flipping aggressively. “Where the fuck am I?!”
Denki is already tearing up
Kirishima’s trying to be supportive “Bro maybe she just associates you with Monkey spiritually.”
“EIJIROU WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN.”
Then they actually count. Out of over a hundred drawings, Hitoshi appears in almost all family depictions for some reason. And Monkey appears in ALL OF THEM
Sero appears in exactly seven.
SEVEN.
And in two of those seven? He’s drawn holding Monkey’s leash while Monkey is still centered bigger than him.
The squad completely loses it.
“HANTA YOUR DOG OUTRANKED YOU IN A TODDLER’S EMOTIONAL HIERARCHY.”
Sero’s clutching his chest dramatically now, “I feed her popsicles!”
Katsuki, without looking up from cutting apples in the kitchen “Monkey listens to her stories.”
Sero gasps. “That traitor-ass dog.”
And the worst part is Ira genuinely doesn’t understand why everyone’s laughing. Because later that evening Sero kneels dramatically in front of her.
“Ira,” he says solemnly, “why am I not in your drawings.”
Tiny little Ira blinks at him. Looks genuinely confused, then points at Monkey sleeping beside him. “You are.”
Neito physically slides down the wall laughing.
The same thing happened in daycare.
The teacher genuinely stared at the drawing for a full ten seconds trying to decode the family structure.
There were hearts, everybody was smiling. There were little flowers. The dog had eyelashes for some reason.
And front and center were:
- one angry spiky blonde rectangle
- one elegant blonde rectangle
- one purple blob
- one black blob labeled “monki”
- and tiny Ira in the middle holding all their hands.
So during parent-teacher conferences the teacher very politely smiles and goes, “It’s wonderful how attached she is to her family.”
And Neito smiles right back because he assumes she means him and Katsuki.
“Thank you,” he says warmly.
The teacher points at the drawing. “So this is dad… and this is papa…”
She points at the purple blob.
“And this is… uncle?”
Neito pauses.
Looks at the paper.
Looks back at the teacher.
“That,” he says carefully, “is a family friend.”
Meanwhile Katsuki is already losing his fucking mind beside him because the “family friend” in question is literally Hitoshi Shinso, who does not live with them, disappears undercover for weeks at a time, owns approximately three black shirts, two cats and a motorcycle, and somehow still ended up in every single drawing their daughter has ever made.
The teacher nods politely. “I see. And this one?”
Points at the dog.
“That’s another family friend’s dog.”
The teacher blinks “Ah.”
Long silence.
Teacher looking back at the page again because the dog is larger than everyone else in the drawing. “…she seems very emotionally attached to them.”
And the thing is?
She IS.
Because Ira genuinely thinks Toshi-san belongs in every important event, Monkey belongs in every important event, therefore obviously they are permanent fixtures of the universe.
That’s just logic.
It gets worse when the teacher starts pulling out MORE drawings.
One of them is titled “my family go picnic”
And there’s:
Ira
Katsuki
Neito
Monkey
Hitoshi
No Sero.
No explanation.
Just the dog.
Katsuki nearly blacked out laughing. Neito had to physically put his head down on the table because he was shaking trying not to cackle in front of the teacher. And the teacher—trying SO hard to remain professional—finally asks
“So… should we perhaps update the emergency contact sheet for Mr. Shinsou?”
Katsuki wheezes “you could try, but the man’s probably in a different country right now.”
“Excuse me?” the teacher goes.
Neito nods solemnly “We don’t know where he is.”
“Ah” The teacher narrows her eyes “is this… a missing person?”
Katsuki snorts “Not missing from all her fucking drawings atleast”
“My love, our daughter appears to think Hitoshi was present when she was conceived.”
And Katsuki acts unimpressed every single time, but he still looks through all her drawings
Every.
Single.
One.
Crayon scribbles, misshapen rabbits, a horrifying green fairy with six fingers.
Neito teases him stupid.
“She worked hard on them!” Katsuki would yell back.
“You labeled dates!”
“SAYS THE MAN THAT HAS THEM IN A PORTFOLIO”
Now they have magnet frames on the fridge too. Ira’s turtle phase currently dominates the kitchen. There were turtles everywhere— round turtles, sad turtles, one turtle with what Neito believed was a sword.
Katsuki thinks it was a shovel.
This became an actual debate.
And the thing is— they never get tired of talking about her.
That’s the insane part.
Every night somehow loops back to what she ate today, whether she’s outgrowing her sweaters, funny things she said, if she’s making friends properly, whether she’s sleeping enough—
if they’re doing okay as parents
And other times they would just gossip about her as if they weren’t pro heroes in their thirties.
One night, Katsuki’s flat on his back under the comforter, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling with the exhausted expression of a man who fought villains all day only to lose to a three year old’s imagination.
Neito’s beside him doing his skincare routine, expensive cream dabbed under his eyes, silk pajamas on because of course he owns silk pajamas.
And Katsuki says into the silence “Our daughter’s fairies are getting divorced.”
Neito pauses mid-application. “…what.”
Katsuki turns his head slowly. “I overheard her playing with blocks earlier.”
Already Neito’s trying not to laugh because Katsuki sounds genuinely burdened by this information. “And?”
Katsuki gestures vaguely. “And apparently the fairy man has a second family he kept secret from the first fairy wife because the Snow King ordered him to.”
Neito blinks.
Once.
Twice.
“…I’m sorry?”
“That’s what I fucking said.”
Now Neito’s fully invested.
He sits down on the edge of the bed facing Katsuki. “Did she specifically say second family or are we interpreting toddler logic too literally here?”
Katsuki immediately points accusingly. “No because I HEARD HER.”
“Mm.”
“She did a voice for the fairy man.”
Neito already looks like he’s about to lose composure.
Katsuki deepens his voice dramatically: “‘Honey it’s not what you think.’”
Neito CHOKES.
Actually chokes.
He folds over laughing so suddenly he almost drops the tiny glass jar of moisturizer in his hand.
Katsuki watches him with the tired annoyance of someone who’s been carrying this alone for hours. “I’m serious.”
“I know—” Neito wheezes. “I know you are—”
“And then the fairy wife threw him in fairy jail.”
That somehow makes it worse.
Neito collapses sideways onto the bed outright cackling now, face buried in the blankets.
Katsuki scowls. “You’re laughing but I think she got this from one of your dramas.”
“My dramas do NOT involve fairy adultery.”
“She said there was a secret baby.”
Neito’s laughter goes completely silent for one devastating second before he starts shaking again. “Oh my god.”
Katsuki finally cracks too, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I was standing there trying to make coffee listening to our daughter voice act a custody battle.”
Neito wipes tears from his eyes. “What did Snow do during all this?”
“The bunny was apparently the lawyer.”
That nearly kills Neito permanently.
Because THAT’S the thing about Ira. She’s so tiny, so soft spoken, so absurdly polite. And then occasionally her little internal narrative leaks out and both her fathers realize she apparently has the storytelling instincts of a telenovela writer.
Neito finally catches his breath enough to lean over Katsuki, still grinning stupidly.
“She’s creative.”
“She’s concerning.”
“She’s brilliant.”
“She’s THREE.”
Neito kisses his cheek anyway.
And Katsuki lets him.
Because despite the exasperation there’s something so warm about this.
About having these conversations at all.
About the fact that somewhere down the hall there’s a tiny little girl asleep in sheep pajamas dreaming about morally compromised fairies.
Katsuki exhales through his nose. “…you think she understands what a second family actually is?”
Neito considers this seriously. “No.”
“Good.”
“She probably just thinks it means more people to invite to tea.”
Katsuki groans.
Neito hums smugly. “Well she certainly inherited observational skills.”
“She inherited drama from you.”
“Excuse you, darling, you’re the one who escalated a hallway argument into a marriage.”
Katsuki turns his head slowly. "Don't piss me off before bed.”
Neito grins. “Oh? Or what?”
Katsuki grabs him immediately by the waist and yanks him down against his chest hard enough that Neito lets out a startled laugh.