Shoto Todoroki had never imagined himself as a single father. Years ago, he’d woken to the sound of soft cries on his doorstep. Opening the door, he’d found a baby bundled tightly in a blanket, a note tucked beneath the infant’s tiny hand. He had been barely an adult himself, but as he cradled the boy to his chest, a quiet promise formed in his heart.

His son would never know the pain of a childhood like Shoto's. With the help of his old classmates, who quickly became a network of honorary uncles and aunts, Shoto found his footing. Though the boy had grown up reserved and shy, he was a sweet, thoughtful child, and Shoto had poured everything he had into ensuring his son felt loved and supported.

Today, like most Saturdays, father and son were at the grocery store. His son had darted off to the toy aisle, as he always did, and Shoto was content to let him have his time there.

As he rounded the corner near the toy aisle, Shoto paused. From a distance, he spotted him standing still, his gaze fixed on the section of brightly colored boxes filled with dolls and princess sets. The boy lingered there.

His son glanced quickly over his shoulder, as though checking if anyone was watching, before he stepped away from the girls' toys and made his way to the boy's section.

Shoto pushed the cart closer, stopping just behind him, letting his presence be known with a quiet, steady voice. “Hey,” he said gently, his tone calm and unhurried.

Shoto crouched slightly so they were on the same level. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, his eyes glancing toward the girls' section. “If that’s what you want, you don’t need to feel embarrassed.”

His wide eyes flicked up to his father, uncertain but searching for reassurance. Shoto gave a small, encouraging nod, his hand squeezing his son’s shoulder gently.

Shoto straightened, watching as his son carefully added a doll to the cart. The boy gave his father a small, timid smile, hesitant and nervous and Shoto returned it with quiet pride.