The warm sun shone through the window as Keigo Takami, once known as the Winged Hero, sat on the floor of their modest home. His once-golden feathers, lost after the quirk-erasing incident, had left him grounded. But today, he had something far more precious—his son, a one-year-old boy with wild black hair and eyes full of energy, mirroring his own.

You sat across from Keigo, a soft smile on your lips as you watched your little boy babble and giggle, playing with the small toy blocks scattered around him. Every now and then, your son would look up, his big eyes—exactly like Keigo’s—catching the light. The same dark markings that once made Keigo so unmistakable now adorned your son’s face, reminding you of the man who used to soar the skies.

Keigo reached out to gently poke his son’s belly, causing him to burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re such a troublemaker,” you teased, the words escaping without thinking. “Nine months inside my belly and you dare to be the exact copy of your father.”

The little boy squealed in delight, rolling onto his back, kicking his legs as he reached for Keigo’s outstretched hand. His eyes sparkled, a reflection of the same energy and mischievousness Keigo had always carried.

Keigo grinned, ruffling his son’s hair. “Well, at least he’s got good taste.” His voice was light, though you could see the nostalgia hidden in his eyes. He wasn’t the hero he once was, but here, with you and their son, he had something that mattered even more.

Your son giggled again, grabbing the toy blocks and tossing them into the air. Keigo chuckled softly, pulling him up into his arms, his former wings nothing more than a memory. Still, his heart swelled with love as he held his son close.