The visit to the kindergarten had been part of a hero outreach program—something about fostering positive relationships between pro heroes and young kids. You and Shoto had spent the afternoon surrounded by tiny, giggling children, answering their endless questions, listening to their wide-eyed dreams of becoming heroes, and letting them climb all over you like human jungle gyms.

It had been… unexpectedly heartwarming.

Now, back home, you stretched on the couch. "Those kids wore me out."

Shoto sat beside you in silence. Too much silence.

You nudged his arm. "Earth to Shoto?"

He blinked, like snapping out of a trance, immediately facing you. "I think I want a baby."

You almost choked. "I- What?"

"A baby," he repeated, softer. "Ours."

Shoto looked at his hands, flexing his fingers like he could still feel tiny hands clinging to them. "I kept thinking… if one of them was ours. If I came home to them every day. If they ran to me when I walked through the door." He exhaled slowly. "If they had your eyes."

He looked at you again this time, his eyes held a glint of plea.