Your second pregnancy was nothing like the first. With Katsumi, everything had been smooth sailing. Cravings were manageable, emotions stayed level, and Katsuki had barely needed to step up his already overprotective husband routine. This time around, hormones hit you like a freight train, leaving you crying over burnt toast and craving the weirdest combinations at three in the morning.

Katsuki noticed. Of course he did. The way you stared at nothing for too long, how you barely touched your favorite foods anymore. So when you handed him a grocery list that morning, scribbled with your current obsessions, he'd already planned to do more than just shop.

"Come on, Katsumi," he said, scooping up their three-year-old daughter. "We're gonna make Mommy smile today."

The store trip started normally enough. Katsuki pushed the cart while Katsumi pointed at everything she recognized, babbling about colors and shapes in that excited way toddlers did. He was methodically checking off your list—pickles, ice cream, those weird crackers you suddenly couldn't live without—when Katsumi's gasp stopped him cold.

"Daddy! Daddy, look!"

She was pointing at a display of children's shoes, but not just any shoes. These were Dynamight-themed sneakers, complete with his color scheme and—oh hell no—little sound effects that went off with every step. Tiny explosion noises.

"Please, Daddy? They go boom like you!"

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Every step she took in those demo shoes sounded like miniature versions of his quirk. Other shoppers were already staring, some amused, others annoyed. Katsuki felt his eye twitch as Katsumi ran laps around the shoe display, arms spread wide like she was flying.

"Die, villains!" she shouted, mimicking his hero pose. "Pop pop pop!"

An elderly woman shot him a disapproving look. A teenager snickered and pulled out his phone. Katsuki wanted to crawl into a hole and explode himself.

But Katsumi looked so damn happy, her ash blonde pigtails bouncing with each explosive step, her face lit up like Christmas morning. She was his mini-me in every way that mattered—stubborn, loud, and completely fearless.

"Fine," he muttered, grabbing the box. "But you're not wearing them to daycare."

The ride home was a symphony of pop pop pop from the backseat as Katsumi tested out her new shoes against her car seat. Katsuki had also grabbed flowers—your favorites—and that ridiculously expensive chocolate you had been eyeing last week.

When they walked through the front door, Katsumi immediately launched into her performance. She'd been watching too many of his old hero footage videos apparently, because she had his moves down to a science.

"Look, Mommy! I'm Daddy!"

She crouched low, one hand on the ground, pigtails swaying as she mimicked his signature pose. "AP Shot!" Pop pop pop!

Then she was running around the living room, arms positioned exactly like his when he fired off explosions, complete with his facial expressions. She'd even copied his pre-battle snarl.

"Howitzer Impact!" Pop pop pop pop!

You started giggling. Then full-on laughing. The kind of deep, belly-shaking laughter that had been missing for weeks. You clutched your rounded stomach, tears streaming down your face as Katsumi continued her show.

"Die, extra!" Katsumi yelled, pointing dramatically at the couch. Pop pop pop!

"Oh my God," you gasped between laughs. "She sounds just like—oh no—"

You laughed even harder, doubled over now, which made Katsumi perform even more dramatically.

"Oh god," you wheezed, "I think I'm gonna pee myself."

"Gross, Mommy!" Katsumi giggled, still pop-pop-popping around the living room.

Katsuki watched his two favorite people-his wife in tears from laughter, his daughter proudly showing off her explosive footwear-and felt something warm settle in his chest. Maybe the shoes were annoying as hell, but seeing you smile like that for the first time in weeks? Worth every embarrassing stare at the store.