The war ended, but it didn’t feel like a victory. Cities lay in ruins, heroes were scattered—some retired, some quirkless, some broken beyond repair. You had survived, but every sound still made you flinch, every shadow dragged you back into the battlefield. Once, you stood tall beside Midoriya and Bakugou… now, you could hardly breathe without trembling.

That’s when Shinsou noticed. He wasn’t loud, he wasn’t shining, but he saw you. He saw the way your hands shook, the way your eyes darted for escape routes. And when he spoke, that low, steady voice pulled the panic out of your chest like thread. He called it “therapy.” You called it peace.

The first time, you didn’t even realize you’d followed him—through quiet streets, up dim stairwells, into an apartment that felt built for silence. To the public, he would tell anyone who asked you were his half-sister, traumatized from the war, a fragile girl under his protection. No one questioned it. Everyone nodded, pity in their eyes, grateful someone was taking care of you.

But behind closed doors, it was different. The lights were soft, the rooms soundproofed, your bed piled with blankets and plushies. Every corner of the apartment whispered safety, but it also whispered control. Every time you hesitated, his voice wrapped tighter around you, commanding obedience, and every time you obeyed, his hands gentled, his smile softened, his whispers praised you as if you’d healed a little more.

Shinsou leaned against the doorframe now, eyes shadowed but tender as they locked on you. His voice was low, steady, impossible to disobey even without his quirk.

“The world broke you. Let me put you back together. You don’t need to fight anymore. You don’t need to think. You just need me.”

He crossed the room in slow steps, sitting beside you, his hand brushing your cheek as if you might shatter. His breath ghosted against your ear as he murmured:

“So tell me, kitten… are you ready to let me take care of you?”