The first thing I registered when I blinked awake was the obnoxious buzzing of my phone rattling against the nightstand. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting the ceiling a golden hue that was entirely too cheerful for how sore I felt.
I groaned and rolled over, fumbling for my phone with the grace of a zombie. My screen lit up—forty-seven unread messages.
All from: Nejire đź’™
Oh boy.
I squinted as I scrolled, barely able to focus through the sleep crusting my eyes. Most of the messages weren't even coherent.
Nejire đź’™: GOOD MORNING CHAMPION!!!
Nejire đź’™: Did u sleep well??
Nejire đź’™: Wait ofc u did u were KO'd like a log after all that fighting lol
Nejire đź’™: Also also also Mirio says congrats!!!!
Nejire đź’™: And Tamaki says "good job" but he hid behind a potted plant while saying it
Nejire đź’™: HELLOOOOO???
Nejire đź’™: KENJIROOOOO
I huffed a laugh and typed back, fingers still sluggish.
Kenjiro: Morning. You're gonna drain your battery before noon.
Her reply came three seconds later.
Nejire đź’™: WORTH IT
Shaking my head, I dropped the phone back onto the mattress and stretched until my joints popped. My arms still ached faintly—remnants of yesterday's final battle with Bakugo. Kid hit like a missile powered by rage and nitroglycerin.
But I'd won. Somehow.
Dragging myself into the shower felt like trudging through molasses. By the time I stepped out, dressed in old black sweats and a band tee so faded the logo was just a suggestion, the smell of breakfast had already filled the house.
Miso soup. Grilled fish. A hint of soy.
My stomach growled.
When I made it to the dining room, I was greeted by chaos—Tanaka-style.
Aiko was up on her knees at the table, acting out my entire Sports Festival performance for the younger kids. Her arms windmilled wildly as she narrated with all the subtlety of a cartoon soundboard.
"And then—BOOM!—Kenjiro's arm got HUGE, and he SMASHED Explodey McAngry into the ground like a WRECKING BALL!"
"Pretty sure that's not his name," I deadpanned, sliding into my seat.
Aiko gasped like I'd risen from the dead. "You're alive! I thought you died from glory overload or something!"
Mrs. Tanaka raised an eyebrow as she set a bowl of steaming rice in front of me. "Don't encourage her. She's been like this since dawn."
I took a bite of tamagoyaki, humming. "Sounds like a you problem."
Aiko kicked me under the table. Hard.
Breakfast was a blur of nonstop chatter, jokes, and questions that kept flying at me from every angle like dodgeballs.
"How strong are you now?"
"Can you turn into, like, giant mochi?"
"Do you think Nejire-nee will marry you?"
I choked on my tea.
"What?"
Aiko leaned forward with a devious grin. "You're blushing, Kenjiro~"
"No, I'm not."
"Liar."
"Am not."
Mrs. Tanaka clapped her hands. "Eat your food, gremlins."
The morning rolled on in waves—loud, messy, comforting.
After breakfast, I tried to slip away to my room and recover, but nope. Mrs. Tanaka had that look in her eyes. The "you live under this roof, you pull your weight" look.
Which is how I found myself elbow-deep in soapy dishwater while Aiko perched on the counter beside me like some tiny chaos gremlin, swinging her legs and rambling about school.
"I told everyone in my class you could squish Bakugo like a pancake," she said proudly. "I drew it, too."
"Remind me to sign that masterpiece."
There was something grounding about the whole thing. The rhythm of chores, the buzz of conversation. Folding laundry with the younger kids, even if half of it ended up wrapped around them like superhero capes. I didn't realize how much I missed this kind of quiet—this normal—until I was knee-deep in it again.
At one point, I caught Mrs. Tanaka watching me from the hallway, arms crossed, lips twitching.
"What?" I asked, tossing a balled-up sock at Aiko.
She ducked.
Mrs. Tanaka shook her head. "Nothing. Just… proud of you."
I blinked. Then smirked. "Yeah, well. Someone's gotta keep this place from falling apart."
Aiko threw the sock back at my face. "Liar. You're soft."
"Am not."
"Are too!"
She stuck her tongue out at me. I retaliated with a flick of water from the dish towel. Naturally, a war broke out.
By the time the sun began to dip, the house had settled into a warm, sleepy hush. The little ones were tucked in, snoring like tiny engines. Aiko was "doing homework" in the living room, which probably meant she was doodling a new comic of me fighting evil breakfast food. And Mrs. Tanaka was humming softly in the kitchen, sorting through paperwork.
I stood on the porch, phone in hand, watching the sky go orange and purple.
Tomorrow, it all starts again.
Classes. Draft offers. The hero world waiting with open jaws and flashing cameras. Every major agency would be clawing for my attention. There'd be choices to make, alliances to build, futures to decide.
But tonight?
Tonight, I could breathe.
I glanced at my phone. No new messages. I considered texting Nejire something cheesy, then decided to let the quiet have this moment.
This place—this little found family, this house filled with chaos and mismatched socks—it was where I learned to be someone. Where I'd picked myself up after falling a hundred times.
No matter what agency I joined…
No matter who I had to fight…
No matter what monster waited out there in the dark…
This would always be home.
And I'd protect it with everything I had.