….
As they kept eating, the conversation drifted into easy, random territory:
Fuyumi finally asked.
"Eri, honey... did something happen to make you sad?"
The room went dead silent. The five older boys collectively held their breath, had a single thought.
'Isn't that too straightforward, and kinda putting her in a spot.'
Even Bakugo seemed to understand this basic principle of human interaction, which was saying something.
But Eri did not shut down or retreat.
Something about the directness of the question, no careful phrasing, just a blunt and honest ask from someone who did not know how to soften it, cracked something open, and her small hands curled into fists on her knees.
"I… I caused trouble." Her voice was quiet as she chose each word carefully, turning it over before letting it out. "For Mama and Papa… and not just a little, but something really big… something really, really big."
She ducked her head, struggling to describe the shape of a catastrophe she had been told to keep secret. It was something far too complex for a four year old to express.
Everyone in the room understood what she was talking about.
They had all been warned too, to keep the details of the U.A. attack under a total blackout.
It was understandable as if that got out to the media, the public, or anyone, the fallout would be enormous, since it was the second time in such a short period of time.
"And... it keeps happening." Eri continued, her voice trembling. "Bad things happen because I am there. It's always because of me."
She took a shaky, hiccuping breath. "Especially... especially my horn. I just... I wish it would go away. I wish I didn't have it."
She was not crying, her eyes red and wet but she held it in. However, the uncertainty she is facing is clear as day.
Fuyumi moved first. She was on the floor beside Eri in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Hey. Hey, look at me." Fuyumi said, her voice steady even as she squeezed the girl tight. "Why are you carrying a grown-up's worry? You're so little, Eri. Right now, your only job in the whole world is to play, eat yummy things, and be a little bit silly. That's it. You aren't meant for anything else yet."
She pulled back and looked at Eri's face directly, eye to eye.
She pulled back, looking Eri straight in the eye. "Did Mama or Papa ever say you were a bother? Did they tell you that you made a mess?"
"No! No, they... they would never!" Eri shook her head so hard her hair flew. "They're too nice!"
"Good. Because if they ever did, I would walk right over there and have a very loud talk with them about how precious you are. You remember that."
Eri rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, her face scrunching up in a way that looked half-angry and half-heartbroken.
"But that's why it's hard!" she burst out, her voice rising with a frustrated edge. "They're too nice! They never get mad at me! Even when I do something scary, they just hug me and say 'It's okay, Eri.' I didn't want to tell them I was sad because I knew they'd just be gentle and say it wasn't my fault... but it is my fault, and I just want..."
She ran out of air, her shoulders slumping as her gaze fell back to the floor. "I don't know... I just want it to be different."
Fuyumi and Natsuo exchanged a helpless glance. How do you argue with a child who is upset by the very unconditional nature of her parents' love?
Midoriya's eyes were glistening, his lip trembling the way it did right before he cried.
Bakugo looked at the ceiling. "Kids these days are so damn soft." he muttered. "Getting all worked up over nothing. Just eat your food and stop overthinking every little–"
Before he could finish, Shoto cut in.
"Eri." His voice was even and unhurried, the same flat tone as always, but something underneath it had shifted. "You have good parents, and I want you to understand that I mean that."
Eri looked up at him, searching his face.
"I am glad they're that kind to you." He held her gaze. "Because you deserve parents who treat you that way."
He meant every word. And so did the Todoroki siblings.
Beneath everything that had happened in the past month, they are always proud of how their brother turned out, despite all the sufferings he himself has faced.
He even became such a capable father, whose only fault was an excess of gentleness.
Shoto looked down at his own left hand, turning it slowly, palm up.
"You said you hate your power."
Eri's eyes fixed on it, wide and unmoving.
"I hated mine too… My fire." he continued, his gaze steady as he watched her take it in. "For a long time I refused to use it. I hated where it came from. I hated what it reminded me of. Every time I felt that heat, I just wanted to throw it away."
The butterfly pulsed softly, its wings beating in a slow, controlled rhythm.
"But I eventually figured something out." he said, lifting his eyes back to hers. "It doesn't matter how you got it, or whose blood gave it to you. It doesn't even matter what people say it's 'meant' for. The only thing that stays real is what you decide to do with it."
He paused, letting that settle. "So, what do you want to do with yours? Do you want to help people? Or do you want to hurt them?"
"I want to help," she whispered instantly. The words were firm, even if her voice was small. "But all I did was–"
"Then you just have to learn to control it." Shoto said, closing his hand and snuffing the flame into nothing. "Intentions are just the start. What defines you are the chives you make moving forward. And Eri?"
"You're still so young, which means you have time, and more importantly, you have people around you who will help you learn how to use it the right way."
The room fell quiet. Probably, no one expected that from Shoto Todoroki, the boy known for flat tones.
But it made sense.
It was his life. He was the boy who had spent years as a half-measure because the other half felt like a surrender to his father, and understood the desire to cut a part of yourself out because it felt poisoned.
Of course he understood a little girl who wished her quirk did not exist.
He had been her: just taller, colder, and far worse at saying it out loud.
Bakugo stared at the wall, his jaw tight, his ruined hands resting on the blanket in front of him.
Intentions did not matter, only actions.
He thought about his hands, about what he had done with them in that facility, the things he had shouted while doing it, the words murder and kill leaving his mouth like punctuation, like empty sounds that meant nothing.
He thought about Stain standing inches from his face, asking if he meant it.
About the orphanage behind the wall, and the moment it actually mattered, when actions counted and intentions meant nothing, and he had stepped forward without hesitation, putting himself between those kids and the thing trying to kill them.
He hated himself for something he could not name.
He was proud of himself for something else he could not name, and the two feelings sat on top of each other, neither willing to move.
"This is annoying." Bakugo muttered under his breath, unheard, and he did not repeat it.
Izuku Midoriya wiped his eyes against his shoulder, the only part of his upper body not in a cast.
For him, Shoto's words landed differently.
Ever since that dream, something had been sitting at the back of his mind.
His quirk, One For All, had been passed down, originally given to its first user by All For One.
That truth had shaken him, but now it was clear how wrong he had been.
The origin of a power did not matter.
What mattered was how the person chose to use it.
"Eri, it's... it's like this." Izuku started, his voice thick as he tried to keep his composure. "Um, think of a kitchen knife. If a chef has it, they use it to make a yummy meal to feed people. But if someone mean has it, they use it to hurt. The knife isn't the one being mean or nice. It's just a tool, and the person holding it makes the choice."
He nodded, giving her a determined smile. "Your Quirk is just like that. It isn't a 'bad power' or a 'good power.' It's just your power. And because you're a good person, I know that when you're ready, you're going to use it to help so many people. More than you can even imagine."
Eri looked at him for a moment, then shifted her gaze to Todoroki, and finally to Bakugo, who was staring very intently at the wall as if none of this concerned him.
She looked back down at her hands, opening and closing them without a word.
Fuyumi and Natsuo watched from the side, Fuyumi's hands clasped near her chest, her smile carrying that quiet, complicated pride of an older sister watching a room full of broken teenagers choose kindness on their own.
Natsuo looked at Eri, then reached out slowly, carefully, making sure she saw it coming, and rested his hand lightly on her head, rubbing her hair once before pulling back.
Eri looked up at him without flinching or pulling away.
Natsuo gave her a small nod, nothing more, and somehow that was enough.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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