Chapter Text
The house was quiet in the way only Sunday mornings could be. Izuku had been camping in his mom's since leaving the hospital so she could monitor him at night, but she finally was allowing him to help out a bit. He stood at the kitchen counter in his pajamas, the sleeves bunched near his elbows, hair still mussed from sleep. The air smelled of warm rice and soy, a familiar comfort-and yet, something was different. He paused mid-peel, frowning at the carrot without really seeing it. Something was off. Not bad. Just... off.
When the katsudon was served, he took a careful bite, chewing slowly.
"Still perfect," he said after a moment, then glanced up at his mother with a small, tilted smile. "Even though its baked, not fried"
Inko didn’t look up from where she was rinsing the ladle. “We’re being kind to your heart, Izuku.”
He didn’t reply, just nodded once and took another bite. The taste settled low in his chest-nostalgic and warm, even if it didn’t carry quite the usual weight.
Later, they curled up on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. It was some old animated show, not a hero movie - just something with exaggerated catchphrases and ridiculous plot twists. Izuku watched half-heartedly, his fingers twitching against the fabric of his notebook resting nearby.
“Do you think... I could do a little hero analysis after this? Just watching, not anything physical.”
Inko didn’t pause the movie. She glanced at him over her glasses, one brow raised.
“Let’s wait until Recovery Girl gives the okay, sweetheart.”
He sighed, nodded, and didn’t push it. Instead, he let himself sink deeper into the cushions, eyes wandering. The morning passed in small motions-dishes done, homework reviewed, the pages of his notebook left blank.
He lay sprawled across the couch, one arm dangling over the side, his phone balanced on his chest. The screen lit up with a quiet ping.
FROM: TheDarkPoet
MSG SENT - 1:41 PM
Join me in consuming coffee as dark as our souls,
while our shadows revel in the spice of rolls.
Izuku couldn’t help it. His lips twitched into a smile, the first real one since Friday.
A second message arrived seconds later.
FROM: TheDarkPoet
MSG SENT - 1:45 PM
Zumies come or I'll eat all the cinnamon rolls without you
Attached was a photo: Dark Shadow looming triumphantly over a mug of coffee with a cinnamon roll shoved into it like a marshmallow in cocoa.
Izuku laughed aloud. He sat up, still chuckling as he turned the phone toward his mom.
Inko glanced at the screen. “Alright,” she said, already standing. “But no coffee. Decaf, if you have to have something. And text me when you get there. And when you’re heading back. And no running. And sit if you feel fluttery. And-”
“I will. I promise.”
She handed him his jacket and folded his scarf around his neck herself. Her hands lingered just a moment longer than needed.
“Tell Tokoyami and Dark Shadow thank you,” she said.
“I will.”
She hesitated, then added, softer still, “...And thank them for watching over my boy.”
Dark Shadow thrust the cinnamon roll toward Izuku with dramatic flair.
“A gift, Zumies!” she declared.
He blinked, a little startled, then accepted it with a small, grateful smile-
Only for her to pounce, cackling, and launch into a recitation:
“A spiral of rich, golden-brown dough-
it ever reminds me of you, you know?
Those silly little rants you do,
when you forget to breathe and your lips turn blue?”
Izuku froze, cinnamon roll halfway to his mouth.
Across the small table, Tokoyami sat with the unmistakable posture of someone
deeply regretting every life choice that led to this moment.
His eyes locked onto Izuku’s with a silent message:
“I cannot stop her.”
“And the crust is firm to the touch,
like your muscles-just enough
to hide your soft, squishy center inside,
which you wear on your sleeve like a badge of pride.”
Izuku’s face turned red. He looked down at the pastry like it might save him.
It would not.
Dark Shadow, undeterred, continued with wicked glee:
“And the aroma that I smell-
soft yet sharp and sugary as well-
contrasts nicely with that odor
when you’ve worked hard to dodge the Explodier.”
Izuku made a strangled noise-half laugh, half wheeze.
Tokoyami had adopted the thousand-yard stare of a soldier on the losing end of a spiritual war.
He did not blink.
Dark Shadow raised one clawed hand, the picture of theatrical sincerity:
“And the taste-the best for last-
Let me just take a-phhhpt!”
She broke. Collapsed onto the table in helpless giggles.
“I can’t- I can’t do it anymore!" she howled, flopping across the table like a drama queen.
“Fumi, how do you live your life talking like this? It’s just so silly! ”
Tokoyami inhaled slowly through his beak. “I. Don’t. Rhyme,” he said, each word heavy with suffering.
Izuku, clutching the cinnamon roll like it was the only stable thing in his life, started laughing too.
The tension burst, and it all felt suddenly very warm and safe and ridiculous.
“You do, in your soul! ” Dark Shadow cackled, waving her arms in the air.
Izuku looked between them, helpless.
Tokoyami locked eyes with him and said, very quietly, very seriously:
“Please do not encourage her.”
Izuku didn’t know what else to do.
So he just… took a bite of the cinnamon roll.
Dark Shadow shrieked with triumph.
Tokoyami let his head fall to the table with a soft thunk , lifted one hand like a knight defeated in battle, and whispered:
“Check, please.”
The late afternoon sun slanted warm across the quiet street.
Tokoyami walked beside Izuku, hands tucked into his coat sleeves.
Dark Shadow drifted lazily above Tokoyami, her eyes following a butterfly in silence.
“So,” Izuku said, trying to sound casual. “Why did you want to be a hero?”
Tokoyami didn’t answer at first.
Izuku glanced over.
“Oh-sorry! That was rude, wasn’t it? I didn’t mean to pry! You don’t have to answer, really, I mean, I just thought-because we were already talking-but not that you have to-”
Tokoyami raised a hand, calm and steady. “Midoriya.”
Izuku barreled on.
“Like, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to talk about it! I ask too many questions, I know, I know - it’s something I’m trying to work on. Well- not work on , exactly, because I don’t want to stop caring, it’s just-”
“Zumies.”
“-that sometimes people think I’m interrogating them, which I’m not, I swear! I just really like knowing what makes people tick and-oh no, that sounds worse- and it was such a personal question too! I am-”
“Izuku.”
He blinked.
“Oh.”
Tokoyami sighed gently, and Izuku went very still, clutching his drink with both hands as if to physically keep himself from saying more.
“It’s fine. You were right. It is personal. But this shadow, I don’t mind sharing.”
A pause. Wind in the trees. A butterfly darted ahead.
“…The simple answer is- I didn’t.”
Izuku frowned.
He didn't?
“I never wanted to be a hero.”
Then why...
“That was my sister’s dream.”
What?
Oh.
Was.
Oh.
“I’m sorry she can’t live her dream,” Izuku said softly.
“Me too,” Tokoyami murmured. Dark Shadow gently curled around Tokoyami’s shoulders, resting her face against his cheek.