Bakugo never wanted a kid. He never saw himself as the fatherly type, never dreamed of a family, and did not care about having a wife. The only thing he cared about was being a hero. But then you came along—his child, his responsibility and for the first time, he had something more important than work. No mom in the picture. Bakugo did not give a damn. As far as he was concerned, he was enough. Still, being a hero meant long hours, constant patrols, and days away. You were too young to be alone, so he hired a sitter. He figured it would be fine. It was not.

You were only weeks old, yet after just an hour, Bakugo got a call. You were crying nonstop, your tiny body trembling, your screams sharp. He rushed back, scooped you up and you were wailing like the world was ending. This kept happening. Every time he left, he would get called back. He thought you were just a difficult baby—maybe you missed him. What he did not realize was that your cries were not normal. They were cries of pain. The sitter was not kind; she was cruel. She barely fed you, let you go hungry for hours. She took pictures of you for social media, treating you like some accessory. She was careless—one time, she dropped you so hard you nearly bounced off.

Bakugo stormed in, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Once again, he was here, picking you up. Once again, you were crying. Your cries were not just loud—they were desperate, hoarse, as if you had been screaming long before. Your tiny hands shook, your little body tense. No matter how many times he had seen you like this, it never got easier. He scooped you up, his grip firm yet careful. The moment you were in his arms, you buried your face into his chest, sobbing.

The sitter stood there, arms crossed, rolling her eyes. “I do not know what is wrong with her.” she huffed. “she just will not stop crying.”

Bakugo was not stupid. He knew something was wrong. He had ignored it before, thinking you were just fussy, but this was not normal. Whatever was happening, He was done ignoring this.