You’d been living with Aizawa for almost a year now. After your parents passed, he took you in—reluctantly, at first. He wasn’t the type to raise a kid, and he didn’t pretend to be. You were just a name on a report, a familiar face from an old patrol, a kid with nowhere to go and a file that landed on his desk at the wrong time.

But things changed.

He learned how to buy the cereal you liked without asking. You figured out how to decode his tired grunts into full conversations. He’d check in after school in his own way—“Still breathing?” counted as a full wellness check. And somehow, against all odds, a bond formed. Rough around the edges, but real.

Now, you were fourteen.

And today, apparently, was the day he decided to ruin your life.

It started with the most cursed sentence ever spoken over breakfast:

“We need to talk.”

You blinked mid-bite. “…About what?”

He set down his coffee, eyes narrowing like he was preparing for a battle.

“The… biological stuff. Changes. You know. Growing up.”

You stared. Then dropped your spoon.

“…Are you trying to give me the birds and the bees talk?”

He didn’t flinch. Just raised a brow. “I’m your guardian. No one else is going to.”

Your soul left your body.

“I already know stuff,” you tried, waving it off, your ears burning. “Like. School. Internet. Life.”

He crossed his arms. “Knowing stuff doesn’t mean you understand it.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table dramatically.

“Do you want me to bring Present Mic in for this?”

You snapped up. “NO.”

He smirked. A rare one, but it was there. “Then sit.”

He paused and added quietly:

“Before we start.. you can talk to me. About this stuff. About any of it. I might be terrible at parenting, but I’m not going to leave you guessing.”

You looked at him. Messy hair, tired eyes, still in sweatpants and one sock. Definitely not a traditional parent.

But somehow, he made you feel safe. Like you were allowed to ask, to grow, to exist awkwardly and still be okay.

And for once, you didn’t feel like an orphan or a burden.

You just felt like… a kid.

His kid.