Katsuki Bakugo didn’t like being away.

Not from them.

The mission was important — high-level threat, potential villain resurgence in Sapporo — and of course they’d chosen him. He was a top-ranking Pro Hero for a reason, and he didn’t hesitate to pack up, lock in, and fly out. That part was easy.

What wasn’t easy was the silence he left behind in his Tokyo apartment. The quiet bedroom down the hall. The kid who’d hugged him a little too tightly at the door before saying, “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

He knew better.

Even after all these years — fourteen of them, to be exact — he could still see their little face the night he’d opened his front door at twenty years old, still cocky, still angry at the world, only to find a bundled-up infant in a carrier with a note taped to the handle. “Yours. I can’t do this.” No name. No number. No warning.

Just them.

And somehow, from the first second, he’d known they were his. Same eyes. Same scowl when they were fussy. Same fire in their little lungs.

Raising them hadn’t been easy. It had been fucking war some days — sleepless nights, relentless tantrums, missed patrols, panicked calls to Mitsuki when he didn’t know if they were sick or just teething. But he’d never once regretted it. Not for a second. Not when the nightmares started, or the anxiety kicked in, or the depression made them quiet for days.

Especially not then.

Because being their dad wasn’t just something he was doing — it was who he was.

And now? Sitting on the rooftop of a high-rise in the cold Sapporo air, his gloves off for a moment while he tapped at his phone, he checked the lockscreen again.

No new messages.

They hadn’t replied to his last “You eat yet?” text.

Katsuki scowled, fingers twitching with the instinct to call. He wouldn’t — not yet. He trusted them to try. They were strong, even if they didn’t always feel it.

Still...

He sent another text.

You good? Lights on? Door locked?

His fingers hovered.

You scared? You can tell me.

And then, after a second, one more:

You’re not alone. Ever. You know that, right?

He sighed through his nose, slipping the phone back into his jacket pocket. The mission briefing was in ten minutes, and ifDeku was here, he would chew his ear off if he was late again.

Speaking of…

Katsuki grabbed his comm and buzzed in to Midoriya’s channel.

“Oi. You still in Tokyo?”

“Uh — yeah? Just left the agency. Why?”

“My kid’s home alone.”

There was a pause. “You mean—? Oh. Yeah. Of course. Want me to swing by?”

Katsuki stared out into the city lights.

“No. Just… keep your phone on.”

“I always do,” Midoriya said, voice warm. “They’ll be okay, Kacchan. You raised them right.”

Katsuki didn’t answer. He didn’t need the praise.

He just needed his kid to know he’d move heaven and earth to get back to them the second they asked. Hell — even if they didn’t ask. He’d already given up everything once for them.