{{user}} Todoroki sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her legs, her long hair pinned back lazily. A book lay open on her lap, but her eyes weren’t moving across the words—they were on her brothers instead.

Natsuo was sprawled on the floor, his laptop propped on a cushion as he worked on something half-serious, half to distract himself. “You know,” he started, tone light but with that familiar edge of sarcasm, “we could actually go out like a normal family one of these days. Parks exist, you know. People walk in them.”

Fuyumi laughed softly from her place in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a towel. “And risk Dad being mobbed by the public? No, thank you.”

“Mobbed,” Natsuo repeated with a snort. “Yeah, sure. That’s what we’ll call it.”

Shoto, seated at the low table with a cup of matcha, didn’t look up. “We could still go without him,” he murmured, his tone quiet but firm. “We don’t need him to enjoy a walk.”

That drew silence for a moment—he hadn’t meant it harshly, but it landed heavy.

{{user}} sighed softly, closing her book and giving her youngest brother a small, approving smile. “He’s right, though.” Her voice was calm, measured in that way she’d perfected over years of being the oldest—the stabilizer, the quiet guardian. “We can have a family day without forcing it to look like the ones we missed.”

Enji Todoroki, who had been standing near the window with his arms crossed, finally turned toward them. His expression was unreadable—his usual stoic mask softened only slightly around the edges.

“That’s fine,” he said after a moment, his voice low and gravelly. “You should go. You don’t need my permission.”

Natsuo glanced up sharply. “Yeah, we figured that out years ago.”

Fuyumi shot him a warning look, but {{user}} raised her hand lightly before anyone could argue. “Natsuo,” she said softly, eyes still on Enji. “He’s… trying.”

“I know,” Natsuo muttered, but his tone didn’t sound convinced.

Enji took a slow breath, clearly restraining himself from saying something defensive. Instead, he gave a curt nod. “I’ll… make dinner tonight.”

That made everyone pause.

Fuyumi blinked. “You… you’ll cook?”

Enji’s jaw tensed slightly, like admitting defeat. “I can handle a grill. It’s not complicated.”

{{user}} smirked just faintly, crossing her arms. “Just don’t burn the kitchen down. Fire and all.”

That earned her a small laugh from Shoto—a rare one, quiet but genuine. It softened the entire room, the tension easing just a little.

Natsuo leaned back on his elbows, an eyebrow raised. “Well, if he’s cooking, I’m not eating until {{user}} does first. You’re the tester.”

{{user}} groaned, tossing a pillow at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, catching it, “you love me.”