You didn’t mean to yell.

You didn’t even remember walking through the front door. One second, you were outside in the rain, drenched and shaking. The next, you were standing in the middle of the living room, backpack sliding off your shoulder, voice cracking from the weight of everything you’d been holding in.

“Why didn’t you come?!”

Aizawa turned. He was still in his capture gear — soaked, blood on his sleeve, dried at the edges. Probably fresh from patrol.

“I had work—”

“It was parent night, Dad.” Your voice broke like glass. “You said you’d come this time.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just stood there, eyes heavy, dark circles deeper than usual.

“Your school knows who I am. My presence—”

“I don’t care about your reputation!” you snapped. “I waited. I saved you a seat. I had to stand there while the principal looked at me like I was pitiful. Like I didn’t have anyone.”

Silence.

You hated that he didn’t say anything. You hated how his quiet made you feel like you were the one being unreasonable.

“I told them you’d come,” you said, quieter now. “I told them you’d just lost track of time. That you’d show up late like always.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I lied for you.”

His jaw clenched. You could see it. The guilt. The way he tensed like he wanted to fix this — like he wished he knew how.

But he didn’t.

And that hurt worse than anything.

“I’m not a hero, Shouta.” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “I’m your kid. I needed a dad tonight. Not Eraserhead.”

That made him look at you — really look. And for a second, he just stood there, stunned. Like he’d been slapped.

You were crying now, furious at yourself for it. Your fists trembled at your sides.

“I get it,” you choked out. “You didn’t ask for this. I’m not like Eri. I’m not some bright, sweet kid who makes you feel like you’re worth something.”

“Stop.”

“I’m just a mess you tried to fix. And you can’t. So you don’t look.”

“Enough.” His voice cracked like thunder — not loud, but raw. Frayed at the edges. “Don’t you dare say that about yourself.”

You shook your head, stepping back, arms crossing tight over your chest like you could hold yourself together.

“I don’t want to be a reminder anymore,” you whispered. “If me being here just makes things harder, then maybe I shouldn’t—”

“You are not leaving.”

You froze.

His hands were trembling.

“I failed you tonight,” he said. His voice was low, shaking with something close to breaking. “I’ve failed you more than once. But don’t you ever think I wouldn’t choose you again.”

Tears slipped down your cheek, silent and angry.

He stepped forward. Slowly. Gently. “You’re not a burden. You’re not a mistake. You’re mine. And I’m sorry I keep making you feel like you have to earn that.”

You couldn’t breathe. The lump in your throat, the ache in your chest — it all swelled like a wave about to crash.

Aizawa opened his arms.

You didn’t fall into them. You collapsed.

He held you so tight it hurt, and you still clutched his jacket like he might vanish if you let go.

“Next time,” he whispered, voice hoarse against your hair, “you won’t be alone. I swear it.”