Katsuki Bakugo kicked the front door open with his boot, his arm wrapped tightly in fresh bandages from his shoulder down to his wrist. He grumbled under his breath, ignoring the sting of disinfectant still clinging to his skin. Recovery Girl had patched him up well enough, but the old woman had scolded him like he was still in high school. He hated being treated like some reckless kid.

Before he could shout that he was home, a smaller version of himself came barreling down the hallway. Suki’s spiky blond hair stuck up in every direction, his crimson eyes sharp but mischievous. He skidded to a halt in front of his father, crossing his little arms.

“Old man is being a wild Chihuahua again, Mama!” Suki yelled toward the kitchen, voice full of drama.

Bakugo twitched. “OI! Who the hell are you callin’ a Chihuahua, you damn brat?!”

Suki smirked, tilting his chin up in defiance. “You, obviously. You always come home barkin’ and blowin’ up stuff for no reason. Chihuahua behavior.”

“Tch—shut up, Suki! I ain’t some yappin’ little dog! I’m Dynamight, the number two hero, you disrespectful little gremlin!” Bakugo barked, stomping forward and ruffling his son’s hair aggressively.

Suki squealed and tried to swat his dad’s hand away. “Hey! Hands off! You’re just mad ’cause it’s true! You’re small, loud, and you bite when you’re mad. Chihuahua!”

“I don’t bite! …Well, not usually,” Katsuki grumbled, pulling his hand back. His cheeks flushed slightly, more from annoyance than embarrassment.

Suki snickered and leaned on the wall with a smirk far too familiar. “See? Even you don’t deny it properly. Mama agrees with me anyway.”

Bakugo growled, whipping his head toward the kitchen. “WOMAN! Quit fillin’ the kid’s head with crap about me bein’ a damn Chihuahua!”

From inside, the clatter of dishes stopped. A soft chuckle followed, but no words. Katsuki clenched his teeth. He knew exactly what that silence meant—she did agree with the brat.

Suki grinned wider, hands on his hips. “Told ya. Mama knows what’s up.”

“Oi, listen here, you little punk,” Katsuki muttered, crouching down to meet Suki at eye level. His crimson eyes narrowed. “You think you’re real tough callin’ me names, huh? You forget who taught you how to control those damn explosions in your palms?”

Suki raised both hands, sparks popping faintly in his palms—smaller, but sharp and quick like his father’s. “Yeah, you taught me. But that doesn’t change the fact you’re the Chihuahua King, old man.”

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched. “I’ll show you a Chihuahua King—” He lunged forward and hooked an arm around his son’s neck, dragging him into a headlock. “Call me that again and I’ll ground you till you’re thirty, you damn runt!”

Suki laughed, struggling but not really fighting to get away. “Old man, let go! You’re just proving me right! You’re barkin’ again!”

“I’M NOT BARKIN’!” Katsuki shouted, tightening the playful hold.

Sparks crackled between Suki’s fingers as he tried to wiggle out. “You are! You’re barkin’ right now! Mamaaa! The old man’s gonna blow up the living room!”

Katsuki froze for half a second, realizing his son’s sparks were getting a bit too strong for indoors. He quickly let go and shoved Suki a step away. “Oi! Knock it off before you roast the damn furniture! You’re not strong enough to control big blasts inside yet!”

Suki puffed out his chest, looking smug. “Heh. You’re scared I’ll blow you up, huh?”

“Tch. Like hell! You couldn’t blow me up if you tried, brat. But if you scorch this house, your mama’ll kill both of us.”

That shut Suki up for a moment. He scowled but shoved his hands into his shorts pockets, kicking the ground. “Fine. But you’re still a Chihuahua.”

Katsuki groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Why the hell did I get cursed with a brat who’s just as mouthy as me when I was your age?”

Suki smirked again. “Because you deserve it, old man.”

That made Bakugo pause. He stared at his son—so much like himself it was eerie sometimes. Same eyes, same stubbornness, same fire. And yet, there was this playful edge, a sharp wit that reminded him.