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Chapter 7: Office Interruptions

The silence of Shouta’s office was a palpable thing, a tuned instrument vibrating at the frequency of concentrated power. Amber light from a single, sculptural floor lamp pooled on the vast, raw-edge walnut desk, leaving the corners of the room in deep, velvety shadow. The walls, lined with dark-stained oak, held framed photographs—a gallery of subtle rebellion. Here, Katsuki at fourteen, mid-explosion, caught laughing with a mouthful of burger. There, Hitoshi, eyes closed, headphone-clad, a streak of neon green in his then-blue hair. A blurred, beautiful shot of Hizashi, mouth open in song, his hair a golden whip. And in the most prominent spot, a crisp, professional portrait of Izuku, his white hair brushed to a cloud-like perfection, his pale eyes staring with serene ownership directly at the viewer.

Shouta sat in the commanding leather chair, his posture perfect, the picture of controlled authority. He wore a tailored steel-grey suit, his dark hair tied neatly back at the nape of his neck. On the massive monitor before him, the faces of five potential partners were arrayed in a grid—three men, two women, all sharp-eyed and seasoned, the kinds of people who could smell hesitation through fiber-optic cable.

“…which is why the liquidity projection isn’t just optimistic, it’s structurally inevitable given the planned divestiture of the Kohloch subsidiaries,” Shouta was saying, his voice a low, steady drumbeat. He gestured with a stylus over a holographic chart that hovered to his left. “The risk isn’t in the exit, it’s in the timing of the reinvestment into the bioceramics pipeline.”

A man with a silver-flecked beard, nameplate reading ‘Vance - Helios Capital’, nodded slowly. “Your analysis of the polymer lattice integration is compelling, Aizawa. But the regulatory overhang in the EU—”

It was then Shouta heard it.A faint, familiar sound at the edge of perception. A soft, persistent scritch-scritch-scritch against the fortified oak of his office door.He froze internally, but his expression remained a mask of polished granite. He subtly increased the volume of his voice, leaning slightly forward.

“—the EU directive is actually a net benefit, Vance, as it will forcibly consolidate the smaller, non-compliant players, leaving the entire Tantalum-9 supply chain ripe for—”

A high-pitched whine pierced the air. It was plaintive, young, and unmistakably Izuku’s. Two of the faces on the monitor flickered, eyebrows lifting a millimeter.

Shouta’s heart gave a single, hard thud against his ribs. He plowed ahead, his words coming faster, layering certainty over the sound. “—for acquisition at a thirty percent discount to current market valuation, which we’ve already factored into the Q4 adjusted EBITDA.”

The polished brass handle of the door depressed. The door, weighing several hundred pounds on soundless hydraulic hinges, swung open with a whisper of air. Standing in the slice of light from the hallway was Izuku. He was dressed in a pair of tiny, pale blue silk pajamas covered in embroidered cartoon whales, his white hair mussed from a recent nap, one fluffy ear twitching. His eyes, wide and a little bleary, scanned the dim room and landed on Shouta.A slow, dazzling smile broke across his face.

No.Nonono.Shouta didn’t move a muscle, but his mind screamed. He made a series of swift, subtle gestures behind the cover of his desk: a slicing motion across his throat, a sharp point towards the door, a desperate wave of dismissal.

Izuku’s head tilted. The gestures were familiar—Daddy often used them during hide-and-seek or when he was being “sneaky.” A game! His papa had said Daddy was having boring talks, but this was a secret game!A delighted giggle bubbled out of him. He misinterpreted the frantic shooing as an invitation to chase.

“There’s a secondary catalyst,” Shouta barreled on, his voice now a weapon of mass distraction, “in the form of the Singaporean sovereign fund’s recent reallocation, which we believe signals a broader—”

“Daddy!” Izuku chirped, his voice bright as a bell in the solemn space.

All five faces on the monitor snapped to attention.Vance’s mouth opened slightly.Then Izuku yipped. It was a full-throated, excited puppy yip, the kind he let loose when Katsuki pretended to growl and chase him around the sunroom.His small body coiled, and he sprinted.

He was a tiny bolt of white silk and fluffy joy, aimed directly at the big, serious chair where his Daddy sat.The distance was only twenty feet. It felt like twenty miles unfolding in slow motion for Shouta.

“Izuku, no—!” The command tore from him, raw and unbidden, shredding his professional veneer to tatters.It was too late.

Izuku launched himself.It was a perfect, trusting leap, born of a thousand successful catches. His small arms stretched out, aiming for Shouta’s neck.

Shouta had a split-second choice: let the child hit the floor, or catch him and sacrifice his dignity. The paternal instinct was an archaic, overwhelming force. He dropped the stylus and shifted his weight, arms coming up to catch the flying hybrid just as Izuku’s body collided with his chest.

The physics were unforgiving. The chair, a masterpiece of ergonomic engineering designed to swivel and recline, was not, however, designed to absorb a four-year-old projectile launched at a running start. The force of the impact, combined with Shouta’s off-center catch, sent the chair rolling backwards.

For a terrible, silent moment, it balanced on two legs.Shouta’s world tilted. He saw the ceiling—the discreet, recessed speakers, the smoke detector. He saw the horrified-then-amused faces on his monitor, now looking down at him from an unnatural angle.Then gravity won.

With a catastrophic thwoom-crash, the chair tipped over completely, landing on its back on the polished stone floor. Shouta, six-foot-four and two-hundred-thirty pounds of muscle and suit fabric, lay flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Izuku, perfectly cushioned against his father’s torso, let out a gleeful squeal, completely unharmed, nuzzling into Shouta’s neck.

“Gotchu!” Izuku trilled, giggling.

Absolute silence filled the office, broken only by the faint hum of the computer and Izuku’s happy pants. On the monitor, five screens showed various degrees of frozen astonishment. One of the women, Chantal from Veridian Partners, had her hand clamped over her mouth, her shoulders shaking.Shouta stared at the ceiling, blinking. The cold stone seeped through his jacket.His pride lay in shards around him. A low groan escaped his lips, not of pain, but of profound, cosmic resignation.

“Aizawa?” Vance’s voice crackled through the speakers, laced with barely contained mirth. “Do you… require assistance?”

Before Shouta could muster a reply, another figure appeared in the doorway.Hizashi. He leaned against the frame, having clearly witnessed the final act. His blonde hair was loose, cascading over a simple emerald green silk shirt. His eyes, brilliant and knowing, swept from his husband spread-eagled on the floor to the monitor displaying the flabbergasted partners.

A rich, rolling laugh burst from him, unfiltered and full of delight.

“Oh, my glorious, beleaguered love,” Hizashi managed between laughs, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I told you to lock the door if you were going to be doing big, important businessman things.”

Shouta closed his eyes.“He was scratching. I thought if I spoke louder…”

“And you thought volume would deter a creature whose sole mission in life is cuddle-based invasion?” Hizashi pushed off the doorframe and glided into the room, his bare feet silent on the stone.He peered down at the two of them. Izuku, sensing his papa’s presence, lifted his head and beamed.“Papa!Daddy fall down go boom! I catch-ed him!”

“You sure did, sweet pea. You’re the best little tackler in the whole wide world.” Hizashi crouched, his smile tender as he stroked Izuku’s hair. Then he looked at Shouta, his expression shifting to one of faux-sympathy.“Need a hand, Mr. CEO?”

“I think I’ll just lie here until the earth swallows me,” Shouta muttered, his arm tightening protectively around Izuku.On the screen, Chantal finally let out her own choked laugh.“Mr. Aizawa, I think we’ve all been there. My Labrador did the same thing during a shareholder call last year. Only I was standing, and he… well, let’s just say the dry cleaning bill was strategic.”

Another partner, a younger man named Rai, grinned. “My cat walks across the keyboard whenever she deems my work unworthy. Once sent a string of gibberish to the entire board. They thought it was an encrypted panic code.”

The tension in the virtual room shattered, replaced by a wave of shared, human amusement.The power dynamic had irrevocably shifted. Shouta was no longer the untouchable titan of industry; he was a dad, laid flat by a toddler in whale pajamas.And, oddly, it felt like a victory.

With a grunt, Shouta sat up, carefully cradling Izuku in his arms. He righted the chair with one powerful heave and settled back into it, Izuku now curled contentedly in his lap, a living, breathing paperweight.The suit was wrinkled. His hair had come partially loose from its tie.He looked, for the first time in the call, utterly real.

“Gentlemen, Ms. Chantal,” Shouta said, his voice regaining its calm, though now edged with a new, warmer timbre.“My apologies for the interruption. This,” he looked down at Izuku, who was chewing sleepily on the end of his own silk sleeve, “is Izuku.He’s four. He costs more than your average sports car and has approximately the same destructive potential and maintenance schedule.”

Vance chuckled. “And the same ability to bring everything to a screeching halt with sheer charisma.”

“Precisely.”

For the next ten minutes, the meeting continued, but the subject had subtly changed.The conversation flowed more easily. Deals were underpinned not just by numbers, but by the faint, shared understanding of life outside the spreadsheet. They discussed timelines with the understanding that a sick child or a hybrid’s shoe-chewing phase might cause delays. It was strangely liberating.

When the call finally ended with firm handshakes (virtual) and a consensus to proceed, Shouta let out a breath he felt he’d been holding for an hour. He slumped back, the adrenaline draining away, leaving only a deep, aching fondness.

Izuku was asleep, a warm, trusting weight against his chest.

Hizashi, who had stayed to perch on the edge of the desk, sipping from Shouta’s forgotten whiskey, smiled softly.“You know, that might have been the best business move you’ve ever made. Nothing builds trust like being publicly vanquished by a kilo of fluff and love.”

“He’s at least fifteen kilos,” Shouta corrected softly, his hand moving in slow circles on Izuku’s back. “And it was a tactical humiliation.”

“A wholesome, domestic tactical humiliation.” Hizashi set the glass down and leaned over, kissing Shouta’s forehead, then Izuku’s. “My two boys.”

Just then, Katsuki’s voice boomed from down the hall, followed by Hitoshi’s quieter retort. “—the fuck you mean you paid? I said it was my turn!”

“You were in the bathroom doing your hair for twenty minutes.I got bored. Consider it rent for occupying the best mirror.”

Their footsteps approached, bickering amiably. They appeared in the doorway, Katsuki’s hair still slightly damp from post-gym showers, Hitoshi sporting a new, small silver ring through his septum.

“Hey, old man, we’re ordering that stupidly expensive sushi from—what the hell happened in here?” Katsuki’s eyes scanned the room, landing on his dad’s disheveled state and the sleeping Izuku.

Hitoshi’s black eyes flicked from the slightly off-kilter chair to his papa’s amused expression. “Did the chair finally rebel against the endless corporate tyranny?”

“Izuku launched a surprise cuddle attack during Dad’s meeting with the Helios and Veridian people,” Hizashi explained, his voice sparkling.

Katsuki’s face went through a rapid series of adjustments: confusion, dawning comprehension, and finally, unfettered glee.He barked out a laugh, sharp and loud. Izuku stirred with a sleepy murmur.

“Shut up, you’ll wake him,” Shouta grumbled, but there was no heat in it.

“No way,” Katsuki whispered, a huge grin splitting his face.“He full-on torpedoed you?On camera? With all those stiffs watching?”

“They were very understanding,” Shouta said dryly. “Apparently, pets interrupting high-stakes finance is a universal experience.”

Hitoshi smirked. “I’d pay actual money to see the recording.The moment of impact.The graceful descent. The look on your face.”

“The look was ‘why me, Lord’,” Hizashi supplied helpfully. “Followed by ‘but also, I must protect the small creature’.”

Katsuki strode over and ruffled Izuku’s hair gently.“Good job, squirt. Keeping the old man humble.” He looked at Shouta.“So, sushi? Or are you too bruised for fish?”

“Sushi is fine.” Shouta carefully shifted, standing up with Izuku nestled against his shoulder. The hybrid sighed in his sleep, nuzzling closer.“But we’re ordering the Omakase. All of it.And ice cream after.”

Hitoshi blinked. “The ‘Black Diamond’ Omakase? The one that’s like, a thousand a person?”

“Yes.”

Katsuki whistled.“Damn. Getting tackled by a baby really puts you in a spending mood, huh?”

Shouta looked at the sleeping child in his arms, then at Hizashi, whose eyes held the warmth of the setting sun filtering into the room, then at his two taller, flawed, perfect sons in the doorway.

“It clarifies priorities,” Shouta said simply, and carried Izuku out of the office, leaving the darkened screen and the empty whiskey glass behind, walking towards the light and the noise of his family, where he belonged.