The pounding music, flashing lights, and swirling drinks of that party were all a blur now. You remembered laughing, drinking too much, and talking to a blonde guy with a sharp smirk. His name had slipped your mind as quickly as the night had. A week later, the nausea hit. Then came the test. Positive.

You didn’t know who the father was, but the decision wasn’t hard. You had always dreamed of being a mom. So, you raised your son, Kenji, with all the love in the world. Six years passed in a blur of bedtime stories, scraped knees, and laughter.

Kenji was everything to you—bright, energetic, and stubborn to a fault. His spiky blonde hair and fiery attitude made him stand out, but you never thought much of it.

It was an ordinary afternoon at your little bakery near the city. The warm scent of fresh pastries filled the air as you wiped down the counter. Kenji sat nearby, playing with his favorite toy trucks, humming to himself. Then the bell above the door chimed, but you didn’t look up right away.

“Black coffee,” a rough voice ordered.

Something about it sent a chill down your spine. Kenji’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “D-Dynamite?!” he gasped, scrambling to his feet. Without hesitation, he clambered over the counter, clutching his toy trucks, and ran straight to the towering man. Bakugo blinked, caught off guard as Kenji eagerly held up his toys.

“Look! These are my hero trucks! This one’s you!” Kenji grinned, holding up a little red and gold truck with makeshift explosions taped to it.

Bakugo let out a low chuckle, crouching slightly. “Yeah? That so, kid?”

And then it hit you: Kenji’s hair. His eyes. That scowl, his quirk. Bakugo was staring at Kenji now, his playful smirk slowly fading. His sharp eyes lifted, locking onto yours.

The realization flickered in his expression. “…What the hell?” he muttered, voice lower, more serious.

Your heart pounded in your chest You had no idea how to explain that the boy at his feet wasn’t just his fan.

He was his son.