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Chapter 5: A Morning of Reckoning

The air in the master bedroom was heavy and warm, fragrant with the lingering scent of sex and the delicate cherry blossoms drifting in from the private garden. Their petals, pale pink ghosts, caught the amber light as they spiraled slowly to the polished floor.

Shouta collapsed onto his back, the breath leaving his lungs in a long, ragged groan.His skin was slick with sweat, muscles trembling with a pleasant, spent exhaustion. Beside him, Hizashi arched, a final, shuddering gasp tearing from his throat as he came, his nails scraping lightly down the granite planes of Shouta’s forearms before he went limp.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, harsh and synchronized, slowing gradually into the quiet. The world narrowed to the feel of the cool sheets, the rhythmic beat of his own heart against his ribs, and the warm, solid weight of his husband sprawled half atop him.Hizashi shifted first. He turned his head, his damp blonde hair sticking to his temple, and brought his hands up to cradle Shouta’s face. He pulled him in for a kiss, deep and unhurried, all slow, languid sweetness where minutes before there had been frantic heat. Shouta kissed him back, a hand coming up to thread through that magnificent hair, his thumb stroking the line of Hizashi’s jaw.

When they parted, Shouta rolled onto his side, tugging Hizashi with him until his husband’s back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, nuzzling into the nape of his neck where the scent of his cologne and salt were strongest.

Hizashi let out a long, contented hum, melting into the embrace. “Still got it, daddy.”

A low, rumbling snicker vibrated through Shouta’s chest and into Hizashi’s back. “Damn right daddy still got it.”

Hizashi chuckled, the sound sleepy and satisfied. He wiggled closer, if that were possible, linking their fingers together over his own stomach.“God, I remember when we were sixteen. When you immediately came the first time I called you that.In the back of your dad’s old sedan. We’d been making out for forty minutes and I just whispered it as a joke.”

Shouta groaned, the memory simultaneously mortifying and intensely fond.He buried his face deeper into Hizashi’s hair. “That was so fucking embarrassing. I couldn’t look you in the eye for a week.”

“You bought me ice cream every day that week to apologize. I thought it was the sweetest thing.” Hizashi sighed, utterly content.“Now look at you. A grandmaster of delayed gratification.A CEO.A father. My daddy.”

“Yours,” Shouta affirmed, his voice a gravelly murmur against Hizashi’s skin. He placed a soft kiss there. “Always.”

They lay in silence for a while, listening to the soft rustle of the cherry trees outside. The comfort was profound, a deep, wordless understanding that flowed between them as easily as breath.It was broken by a soft, tentative scratching at the bedroom door.

A whine followed.High-pitched, plaintive, unmistakably Izuku.

Shouta sighed, his embrace tightening for a second before releasing.“He knows. He always knows.”

Hizashi laughed softly, rolling over to face him.“He smells it on the air, my love. Puppy senses. And he’s probably jealous you’re cuddling someone who isn’t him.”

Another scratch, another whimper.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Hizashi called, his voice still raspy but warm.“Door’s unlocked.”

The door swung open slowly. Izuku stood in the doorway, backlit by the softer hallway light. He was in a pair of pale blue silk pajama shorts, his fluffy white ears drooping slightly, his tail giving a hopeful, hesitant wag.He clutched a worn stuffed rabbit to his chest. His pale blue eyes were wide and a little glassy.

“Bad dream, buddy?” Shouta asked, his voice dropping into that tender register reserved for their youngest.Izuku nodded, sniffling. He padded into the room on bare feet, his gaze fixed on the bed. He didn’t jump up, just stood there, looking small and fragile, the picture of miserable beauty.Shouta didn’t hesitate. He lifted the corner of the quilt.“Alright. Up you come.”

With a relieved little sigh, Izuku scrambled onto the massive bed. He didn’t go to his usual spot at the foot or between them. Instead, he burrowed directly into Shouta’s side, pushing his cold nose against his daddy’s ribs before arranging himself, his head on Shouta’s shoulder, one small hand resting possessively on his chest. The stuffed rabbit was tucked under his chin.He smelled of baby shampoo and warm cotton.

Shouta’s large hand settled on Izuku’s back, beginning a slow, soothing rub.“Just a dream, ‘Zuku. It’s not real.Daddy’s here. Papa’s here.”

“Was… was monster,” Izuku whispered, his voice muffled against Shouta’s skin.

“No monsters in this house,” Hizashi said firmly, leaning over to brush Izuku’s long white hair from his forehead.“Papa banished them all.They’re terrified of me. Now, close your eyes. Daddy’s got you.”

Within minutes, the steady rise and fall of Shouta’s chest and the rhythmic motion of his hand lulled Izuku back into a deep sleep, his breath evening out, his ears twitching slightly with whatever dog-like dreams replaced the monsters.

“He’s getting too big for this,” Shouta murmured, though he made no move to stop the gentle circles he was tracing on Izuku’s back.

“He’s four,” Hizashi corrected softly.“And he’ll always be our puppy. Let him have it.” He watched them, a soft, almost sad smile on his face. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this. The great Shouta Aizawa, conqueror of boardrooms, reduced to a pillow for a four-year-old hybrid with nightmares.” Hizashi’s eyes gleamed with affection. “It’s my favorite version of you.”

Shouta didn’t argue. He just kissed Hizashi’s forehead, then settled back against the pillows, a perfect, warm weight nestled against each side of him. He was drifting himself when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.He let it go. It buzzed again.Then again.A text chain.

“Katsuki,” Hizashi guessed, his eyes still closed.

“Has to be.” With a grunt, Shouta stretched his free arm, snagging the phone.The screen illuminated his tired face. He squinted at the messages.They were from an unknown number.Unknown: yo B, you still coming thru? shit’s lit already

Unknown: Eijirou says you flaked on gym today u good?

Unknown: don’t tell me daddy found ur weed lol

Shouta’s brow furrowed. He tapped the screen, bringing up Katsuki’s contact, and typed a quick, firm reply.Shouta: This is Katsuki’s father. He’s home for the night.Do not contact this number again.

He placed the phone back on the nightstand, facedown.The silence that followed was different now, edged with a faint tension.

“Party?” Hizashi asked quietly.“Sounds like it. And someone implying he’s got weed of his own.” Shouta stared at the ceiling. “He hasn’t said anything.”

“He wouldn’t. Not after the ‘communal experience’ lecture you gave on the roof.” Hizashi’s tone was pragmatic, not accusatory. “It’s a normal seventeen-year-old boy thing, Shouta.We raised him to be independent. To make his own choices.”

“I know.” Shouta’s jaw worked. “I just… I don’t want him thinking he has to hide it. If he’s doing it, I want him to be safe. To know his source, for god’s sake.”

Hizashi propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at him.“So we talk to him. Not as a CEO laying down the law, but as the dad who secretly carried two joints in his wallet for two months. You have leverage now.Use it.”

Shouta considered this. The phone buzzed once more, a single, apologetic ‘sorry mr aizawa’ from the unknown number. He sighed.“Tomorrow. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

He turned his head, his gaze landing on the sleeping Izuku.The hybrid’s face was smooth, untroubled. The monster had been banished, replaced by the secure warmth of his fathers’ bed. Katsuki’s monsters were more complicated—social pressure, the need for rebellion, the shadow of a hugely successful father. They couldn’t be scared away with a nightlight and a cuddle.

He held his family closer, the two contrasting weights in his arms a perfect summation of his life: one need simple and immediate, the other complex and looming.He’d handle them both.He had to.

Morning arrived not with a jolt, but with the gradual shift of light through the glass walls, painting the room in strips of gold and grey. Izuku was still a warm, limp weight against him, but Hizashi’s side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool.

Shouta could hear him moving around in the adjoining bathroom, the soft click of cosmetics, the quiet rush of water. He listened for a moment, then carefully, slowly, began extracting himself from Izuku’s octopus grasp.The hybrid whimpered in protest, hands clutching.“Shhh, puppy. Daddy’s just getting up. Stay here, sleep,” Shouta whispered, replacing his body with a pillow.Izuku, deep in sleep, accepted the substitute, nuzzling into it with a sigh.

Shouta pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and padded out into the main living area of their suite.The scent of freshly brewed espresso hit him, rich and bitter. Hizashi stood at the counter, already dressed in tailored cream trousers and a soft lavender sweater, his hair cascading in a perfect, sleek waterfall down his back. He handed Shouta a small cup without a word.

“Thanks,” Shouta said, taking a sip, the liquid fortifying him.“Where are the terrors?”

“Hitoshi is still asleep, I presume. His door was shut. Katsuki…” Hizashi gestured with his chin towards the rooftop garden access door, which stood slightly ajar.“He’s out there. Has been for an hour.Just… thinking.”

Shouta nodded. He finished his espresso, set the cup down, and walked to the glass door.He slid it open and stepped out into the crisp morning air.

Katsuki was sitting on the low wall bordering the garden, looking out over the waking city. He wore a pair of grey training shorts and a black tank top, his broad shoulders hunched slightly. He didn’t turn as Shouta approached.

Shouta leaned against the wall beside him, not speaking, following his son’s gaze to where the sun was burning off the last of the river mist.He could see the tension in the line of Katsuki’s jaw.

“You know,” Katsuki said finally, his voice rough with morning, “you don’t have to do the whole ‘strong, silent bonding’ thing.I got your text. Well, his text, which was followed by about fifty screaming texts from my friends asking if I was fucking dead.”

“Are you?” Shouta asked mildly.“What?”

“Flaking on the gym. Planning to go to a party where things are ‘lit already’. In possession of your own weed, apparently.” Shouta kept his tone even, conversational. “Are you in trouble?”

Katsuki scowled, kicking at a loose piece of gravel.“No. Eijirou’s just a dumbass.I was tired.And the party… it’s just a thing. I wasn’t even sure I was gonna go.”

“But you have weed.”

A pause. Katsuki’s shoulders tightened further.“Yeah.I do.So what? You do too.”

“I did,” Shouta corrected. “And mine was an incidental souvenir from a business transaction with a known professional in a country where it’s legal. Where did you get yours, Katsuki?”

“A guy.”

“What guy?”

“Just… a guy!” Katsuki snapped, finally turning to look at him.His green eyes were stormy. “You’re not gonna give me the ‘drugs are bad’ speech, are you? Because after last night, that’d be pretty fucking rich.”

“I’m not,” Shouta said, holding his gaze. “I’m giving you the ‘your brain is still developing and you are the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire’ speech.If you’re going to do something, do it smart. Do it safe.Know what you’re putting in your body. I don’t care about the party.I care that some ‘guy’ is your source.Is he reliable? Is he clean? Or is he just some skeevy fucker looking to make a quick yen off rich kids?”

Katsuki’s defiant expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. He looked away.“He’s… he’s a friend of a friend. From that school in Roppongi.”

“The international school?So he could be getting it from anywhere. Laced with anything.” Shouta softened his voice.“Look. I’m not telling you not to.I’m telling you that if you are, you do it the right way. Our way.”

Katsuki blinked.“Our… way?”

“Yes.You want weed?Fine. I’ll get it for you.”

Katsuki stared at him, his mouth actually dropping open slightly.“You’re… you’re fucking with me.”

“I am not. I have connections.Ethical, quality-controlled, discreet connections.You want to smoke? You do it here.In the rooftop garden.Where you’re safe. Where we know what you’re smoking.” Shouta crossed his arms.“Those are the terms. You hide it, you buy from your ‘guy’, you lie about where you are… that’s when we have a problem. That’s when I become ‘Dad’ and not your… co-conspirator.”

The conflict on Katsuki’s face was almost comical. The rebellion warred with the obvious, logical appeal of having unlimited, high-quality access without risk. The part of him that craved his father’s respect warred with the part that wanted to defy him.

“You’d… you’d really do that?” he asked, suspicion narrowing his eyes.“I would. Under two conditions.” Shouta held up a finger. “One, your grades don’t slip.Not a single percentage point.” A second finger. “Two, you don’t drive, or get in a car with anyone who’s been smoking or drinking.Ever.You call me. Any time.No questions, no lectures. I’ll come get you, or I’ll send a car.”

Katsuki was silent for a long minute, digesting the unprecedented offer. It was a testament to Shouta’s understanding of him: Katsuki didn’t want to be forbidden, he wanted to be trusted with responsibility. He wanted his autonomy acknowledged, even if it was within a framework.“That’s… that’s it?” Katsuki finally mumbled.

“That’s it. Do we have a deal?”

Katsuki looked at his father’s extended hand.He swallowed, then reached out and shook it, his grip firm. “Deal.”

“Good.” Shouta released his hand. “Now, the stuff you have from your ‘guy’.I want it.Today. You’re going to flush it down the toilet in front of me.”

“What?Why?”

“Because I need to know you’re serious. And because I don’t trust it.” Shouta’s tone left no room for argument. “After that, we’ll discuss your first official, paternal-sanctioned shipment. Maybe something from Oregon. Or that cultivator in Leiden.”

A slow, disbelieving grin spread across Katsuki’s face.It was the same grin from the night before, full of shocked respect. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m pragmatic.” Shouta clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder.“Now go get dressed. We have a flushing ceremony to attend.”

As Katsuki headed inside, a new lightness in his step, Shouta remained on the roof, the morning sun now fully on his face.He heard the balcony door slide open behind him. He didn’t need to look to know it was Hizashi.

“You,” Hizashi said, leaning against the wall beside him, “are a goddamn genius.”

“I’m a parent,” Shouta corrected, sliding an arm around Hizashi’s waist and pulling him close. “It’s a finer line than people think.”

Hizashi rested his head on Shouta’s shoulder.“You gave him structure instead of a wall. He’ll respect that. He’ll live by those rules precisely because you made them reasonable.” He laughed softly.“My sex therapist brain is applauding. That was masterful operant conditioning.”

“Don’t analyze it. Just let me have my win.”

“Oh, it’s a win, daddy. A huge one.” Hizashi tilted his face up for a kiss, which Shouta gladly provided.

Later, after the solemn, slightly ridiculous toilet-side ceremony (witnessed only by a confused but attentive Izuku, who thought it was a new game), the household found its weekend rhythm. Hitoshi emerged around noon, his lavender crown braid miraculously still intact, and disappeared into the kitchen to forage. Katsuki, chastened but visibly more at ease, set up his textbooks at the dining table with a focus that was new.

Izuku followed Shouta like a pale shadow, finally content now that he had his daddy’s undivided attention. He sat on the floor of Shouta’s study while Shouta handled a few unavoidable work emails, quietly stacking colored blocks.“Daddy?” Izuku said, not looking up from his tower.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Katsuki happy now?”

Shouta paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He looked down at the top of Izuku’s white head, the delicate ears twitching. Even at four, with a limited world, Izuku sensed moods, shifts in the family weather.

“Yeah, puppy,” Shouta said, his voice soft. “I think Katsuki is happy now.”

Izuku nodded, satisfied, and placed another block with immense concentration. The monster was gone from his brother, too.Or at least, a different monster had been faced and handled. Not with a nightlight, but with a handshake and a ruthless, paternal logic.

As evening drew in, Hizashi orchestrated a family meal—not in the formal dining room, but around the large kitchen island.They ate spicy ramen, the steam warming their faces, the conversation easy and loud. Katsuki argued sports with Shouta. Hitoshi described the new tattoo he wanted, a skeletal dragon winding around his ribs, and Hizashi discussed the symbolism and placement with the earnestness of an art critic. Izuku, perched on a high stool between Shouta and Hizashi, happily slurped up noodles, getting broth on his chin, receiving affectionate wipes from both his fathers.It was crude, loving, chaotic, and perfectly theirs. The events of the previous night and this morning had woven a new thread of honesty into the family fabric, one that was strong and surprisingly flexible.

Later, as Shouta carried a sleepy Izuku to his own bed (the hybrid protesting only weakly), he felt a deep, settled peace.He tucked Izuku in, kissing his forehead.

“No monsters, Daddy?”

“No monsters, ‘Zuku. I scared them all away.”

He believed it.For tonight, at least, he had.

Returning to his own bedroom, he found Hizashi already under the covers, reading a journal. Shouta slid in beside him, the sheets cool and smooth.

“Today was a good day,” Hizashi stated, closing the journal and setting it aside.“It was.”

“You handled the Katsuki thing perfectly. I’m proud of you.”

Shouta turned off his lamp, plunging his side of the room into darkness save for the soft glow from Hizashi’s side. “I had a good partner.”

He reached out, his hand finding Hizashi’s in the dim light. Their fingers laced together, a familiar, unwavering knot.

Outside, the cherry blossoms continued their silent, beautiful fall, a pale pink snow against the black glass. Inside, the mansion was quiet, alive, and safe.The threads held. The tapestry, for all its complexity and occasional crude splendor, was strong. And Shouta, protector of this strange and wonderful kingdom, finally allowed himself to sleep.