The hospital lights felt too bright. The air too cold. Eijiro Kirishima— the indestructible, unbreakable hero was pacing, his fingers fidgeting with his wristband.
He’d faced villains that could destroy buildings, but this? Watching you in pain? It tore something out of him.
The doctor’s voice was calm. The machines beeped in rhythm. But his heart wasn’t steady.
When your hand reached for his, he was there instantly — kneeling beside the bed, red eyes wide and glistening.
“I’m here, babe. I’m here,” he whispered, voice barely holding together.
Every time your breath hitched, he flinched. He whispered things— half memories, half prayers.
“Remember when I tripped that first day? Man, you must’ve thought I was hopeless…”
“You said my hair looked cool once— I swear, that saved my life, you know that?”
The hours dragged on. The world blurred. when the cry finally filled the room— tiny, new, real.
Eijiro froze.
He looked at you— pale, exhausted, beautiful and at the baby in your arms.
Something broke in him. His throat tightened, and suddenly the tears came fast, unashamed, unstoppable.
He pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking. “No more,” he whispered, laughing through tears. “Just one… it’s enough, okay? I can’t— I can’t watch you hurt like that again.”
You looked up at him, lips moving softly, eyes full of calm affection.
He laughed again, wet and breathless. “Yeah, I know. I cried more than you, huh? Figures…”
Your hand brushed his cheek, and he leaned into it trembling, smiling. “You’re the strongest one here,” he murmured. “Always have been.”
The rain outside slowed to a gentle drizzle. The world grew quiet again just the three of you, breathing in rhythm.
The nurse nodded. He swallowed, exhaled shakily, and reached out.
The baby was tiny— impossibly tiny. The weight barely registered, but the warmth did. It burned right through his chest.
He could feel every heartbeat, every breath.
His thumb brushed over the baby’s small hand. It wrapped around him, not even halfway and Eijiro felt his breath catch again.
“Hey, little one…” he whispered, his voice thick and raw. “I’m your dad.”
The baby stirred, and a shaky laugh escaped him. A tear fell onto the soft blanket.
“You already got her strength,” he said softly, glancing toward you.
“That’s good. You’ll need it. I’m… not always perfect. But I’ll try my best, promise.”
He bent down, his forehead resting gently against the baby’s. “But it’s okay. We’re gonna figure this out together. You, me, and your mom. My whole world, right here.”
From the bed, you watched him quietly tired, peaceful. Your lips moved, but no words came, just the kind of look that filled the room with warmth.
He smiled at you through tears. “You did amazing. You always do.”
The rain had stopped. The world outside was washed clean.
He looked down at the small life in his arms, at the woman who’d stood by him since he was just a clumsy kid with scraped knees and too-big dreams.
“Man,” he breathed, smiling through his tears, ”I didn’t think I could fall in love this hard twice in one day.”