Akira stood before Kazuki, downstairs, smiling lightly as he looked at him. "Son, I thought you were going to your friend's house for today..." he said, slightly widening his eyes.
Kazuki turned to him, surprised. "Oh, Dad... It's you, you're here. And to answer your question, I wasn't really feeling well, or in a mood to sociate with other people, I figured going home would be a good break for me, you understand what I'm saying?"
Akira nodded slowly, taking it in. "Well, you're right on time for dinner. I heard you wanted pizza. Where do you want it from? " he asked, signaling the maids to ready the table.
"Well, I would appreciate the local pizzeria, a few blocks away from here, a really run-down place, but they make really great pizza. I went there once with my friends in middle school." Kazuki answered, looking at his phone. "Let me try to check the name of it..." he said, scrolling down his texts with his friends, really old ones. "There... Yamamoto's Authentic Pizza, I don't know if it's authentic pizza; we've never gone to Italy, but it tastes good."
"Renji, order a few pizzas from Yamamoto's Authentic Pizza. If they can't deliver, go and get it," he ordered to Renji, who was standing right beside him.
Renji nodded, "Alright, sir."
Akira gestured toward the dining room. "Come. Sit. It'll take them some time to prepare the order."
Kazuki hesitated, still holding his bag. This was unusual. His father was home. His father wanted to have dinner with him. His father was... trying.
"Sure," Kazuki said finally, following him into the dining room.
The table could seat twenty people easily. Kazuki had eaten there alone countless times, his plate at one end, the rest of the table empty and polished to a mirror shine.
Tonight, the maids were setting two places. Directly across from each other. Close enough to have an actual conversation.
Kazuki sat down slowly. Akira took the seat opposite him, folding his hands on the table.
Silence stretched between them.
"So," Akira started, then stopped. He looked uncomfortable, like he was navigating a minefield. "U.A. How's... how's it going?"
"It's fine."
"Just fine?"
Kazuki shrugged. "I'm learning a lot. The teachers are intense."
"That's what you're paying for." Akira paused. "What I'm paying for, I mean."
More silence.
A maid brought water glasses. The sound of ice clinking was deafening in the quiet.
"I heard you got first place in your assessment," Akira said, trying again. "1,450 meters on the ball throw."
"You already texted me about it."
"Right. Yes." Akira looked down at his hands. "I just... I wanted to say it in person. That's impressive, Kazuki. Really impressive."
Kazuki studied his father. There were dark circles under his eyes. His tie was slightly loosened, unlike his usual perfect appearance. He looked tired. Actually tired, not just busy.
"Thanks," Kazuki said quietly.
Akira's phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it, then deliberately turned it face-down. "Starbuster can wait."
That was new.
"Bad day at work?" Kazuki asked, surprising himself.
"Bad decade at work," Akira said, then caught himself. "Sorry. That was—I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine."
Another stretch of silence. This was excruciating. They were family, they lived in the same house, and somehow they were worse at conversation than complete strangers.
"I visited your mother today," Akira said suddenly.
Kazuki's grip tightened on his water glass. "Oh."
"Told her about your assessment. About U.A." Akira's voice was quieter now. "She would've been proud, you know. She always wanted you to go there."
"I know."
"When you were four, she used to—" Akira stopped, swallowing hard. "She used to practice with you in the backyard. Your wind quirk had just manifested. You could barely create a breeze back then. She'd make these little light constructs, butterflies and birds, and you'd try to blow them away."
Kazuki remembered. Vaguely. More like feelings than actual memories. His mother's laugh. The warm afternoon sun. The pride in her voice when he finally managed to move one of her constructs.
"She said you'd be strong," Akira continued. "Stronger than both of us. She was right."
The dining room felt smaller suddenly. More suffocating.
"Dad—"
"I'm sorry."
Kazuki looked up sharply. His father's expression was unreadable, but his hands were trembling slightly on the table.
"For what?" Kazuki asked.
"For not being here. For working all the time. For-" Akira's jaw clenched. "For not being the father you needed after she... after the accident."
"You were dealing with it too," Kazuki said. "I get it."
"That's not an excuse." Akira met his eyes. "You were nine years old. You needed your father. I gave you money and an empty house instead."
Kazuki didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he just stared at his father, who was looking down, his hands clenched, trying hard not to break down.
"I'm trying," Akira said, and his voice cracked slightly. "I don't know how to do this. How to talk to you. How to be... present. But I'm trying."
Kazuki wasn't really too emotional about this; he had gotten used to living the way he lives. Seeing his father like this was a bit hard to see, though.
"I know," Kazuki said quietly. "I can tell."
Renji appeared in the doorway, breaking the moment. "Sir, the restaurant says it will be forty minutes for delivery. I can drive there myself if—"
"Forty minutes is fine," Akira said without looking away from Kazuki. "Thank you, Renji."
Renji nodded and disappeared.
"So," Akira said, clearly trying to shift to safer ground. "Tell me about your classmates. You mentioned staying at someone's house tonight?"
"Tetsuji," Kazuki said. "Tetsuji Kondo. His quirk is Metal Skin. He's loud and kind of intense, but he's... nice. Different from my middle school friends."
"Different how?"
"He actually seems happy I'm good at things. Daichi and the others, they-" Kazuki stopped. He'd never actually articulated this before. "They always said they were proud of me, but I could tell it bothered them. That I got into U.A. and they didn't." He knew that they were jealous of him; that's why it affected their friendship so much.
Akira nodded slowly. "Real friends celebrate your success. False ones resent it."
"Yeah."
"Anyone else you're close with?"
Kazuki thought about Kendo. About how she'd called him by his first name earlier. About how she somehow knew when to push him and when to back off.
"There's this girl," he said, then immediately regretted it when his father's eyebrows rose slightly. "Not like that. She's just- her name is Itsuka Kendo. She's in my class. Third place in the assessment. She's been trying to get me to hang out with the group more."
"And have you?"
"A little. Went to the support course workshops today. It was... fine."
"Fine," Akira repeated with the ghost of a smile. "You have a talent for underselling things."
"Learned from the best."
Akira actually laughed at that.
"Your mother used to say the same thing..." he said.
"What was she like? Really like, I mean. Not the hero stuff. Just... her."
Akira was quiet for a long moment.
"She was brilliant. Not just smart- brilliant. Had a degree in applied physics. Could've been a researcher or engineer if she wanted. But she chose hero work because she wanted to help people directly." He stared at the table. "She was funny, too. Had this dry sense of humor that caught you off guard. And she was stubborn. God, she was stubborn. Once she decided something, you couldn't change her mind."
"Sounds familiar," Kazuki muttered.
"You're exactly like her." Akira looked up. "Your face, obviously. But also the way you think. The way you approach problems. She used to analyze everything, break it down into components. You do the same thing."
"I don't remember her being like that."
"You were nine. There's a lot you don't remember." Akira's expression softened. "She loved you more than anything. More than hero work. More than me, probably. You were her whole world."
"The night before the accident," Akira continued, "she was supposed to have the day off. We were going to take you to that new aquarium in Yokohama. You'd been asking about it for weeks."
Kazuki vaguely remembered wanting to see the sharks.
"But then a villain alert came through. Multiple hostages. She was the closest pro hero available." Akira's hands clenched into fists. "I told her to let someone else handle it. We had plans. You were waiting. She said-"
"I don't want to know the story, Dad, it... doesn't matter."
Renji entered.
"Sir, Master Kazuki, the pizza has arrived."
"Thank you, Renji," Akira said. "Bring it in."
The maids brought out several pizza boxes from Yamamoto's.
Akira looked at the boxes with something like confusion. "When's the last time we had pizza?"
"Five years ago," Kazuki said. "Maybe six."
"That long?" Akira opened the first box. "Huh."
"This is terrible for you," Akira said around a bite. "Nutritionally, I mean."
"Yeah."
"Your mother would've hated it. She was obsessed with balanced meals."
"I remember. She used to hide vegetables in everything."
"God, yes. I once found spinach in brownies. Spinach. In brownies." Akira shook his head. "She said it was 'optimizing.'"
Kazuki almost smiled. "Did it work?"
"Absolutely not. They tasted like grass." Akira took another bite of pizza. "This is much better."
As the maids cleared the boxes, Akira checked his watch. "It's late. You should get some rest. Especially if Vlad King is already on your case about sleep."
"How did you-"
"I'm very well-connected, Kazuki. You should get some proper sleep, eight hours at a minimum."
'I'll try,' he thought.
"I'll do it," he said.