Chapter 18: The Morning After
The silence that followed was profound. It wasn’t the absence of sound—the low hum of the refrigerator persisted in the kitchen, a distant dog barked outside—but a vacuum where all the air and expectation had been suddenly sucked out of the meticulously ordered living room.
Hizashi’s hands, delicate and usually so steady, trembled around the small white plastic stick. His long blonde hair seemed to glow in the soft light of the paper lanterns Izuku had strung up for the occasion, but his face had lost all its color. His green eyes, so like Izuku’s in shape but usually shimmering with calm warmth, were wide, dilated, locked on the undeniable plus sign glaring up from the test’s window. His lips parted, but no sound emerged.
Shouta, standing beside his husband, had gone perfectly still. His alpha presence, usually a subdued, authoritative hum in the background of any family gathering, sharpened into a focused, palpable force. His black eyes, fixed on the object in Hizashi’s hands, flickered with a rapid, unreadable cascade of thought. The lines of his face, stern and etched by a lifetime of discipline, seemed to deepen and then soften all at once.
Katsuki, who had been leaning against the tokonoma alcove with Eijirou’s arm slung over his shoulders, straightened up slowly. His crimson eyes narrowed, darting from the test to Izuku’s blushing, terrified face, then to Kenji’s carefully neutral expression. Eijirou’s boisterous grin faltered, replaced by a look of slow-dawning, awe-struck comprehension.
Izuku felt his own heart pounding against his ribs, a frantic bird trapped in the cage of his chest. He clutched the empty gift bag, the crinkly paper loud in the silence. Kenji’s hand found the small of his back, a firm, warm pressure that grounded him. His alpha’s scent, usually so controlled, betrayed a thread of sharp, protective anxiety beneath the cedar-and-rain.
It was Hizashi who broke the stillness. A small, choked gasp escaped him. His eyes filled with instantaneous tears that spilled over without hesitation, tracing shiny paths down his cheeks. He looked up, first at Shouta, his mate, his alpha, and then his gaze swept to Izuku.
“Izuku?” he whispered, the name a brittle, hopeful thing.
That single, broken utterance shattered the tension. Shouta’s breath left him in a harsh, shuddering exhale. He reached out, not for the test, but to curl his large, work-roughened hand over Hizashi’s, which still clutched it. His other hand came up to cover his own eyes, pressing hard at the bridge of his nose. His broad shoulders bowed forward, just a fraction.
“Daddy?” Izuku’s voice was tiny, scared. He’d imagined joy, tears of happiness. Not this world-stopping, seismic silence. He took a half-step forward. “Mama?”
“Holy shit,” Katsuki breathed, the words cracking the last of the formal atmosphere. He pushed off from the wall, his muscular frame moving with a sudden, restless energy. “Is that…? Are you…?” He couldn’t seem to form the question.
Eijirou found the words for both of them. His face split into a grin so wide it looked like it might hurt. “A pup?!” he boomed, his voice too loud, too happy, too everything for the fragile moment. “Izuku! Kenji! For real?!”
The sound of Eijirou’s joy seemed to unlock Shouta. He lowered his hand from his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, wet, and the sight was so utterly foreign, so profoundly devastating, that Izuku felt his own tears surge hot and fast.
“Izuku,” Shouta said. His voice was gravel, thick with an emotion he seldom allowed to surface. It wasn’t a question. It was a recognition, an acknowledgment that shifted the very axis of the room. “You’re… carrying?”
Izuku could only nod, a frantic jerking of his head. The words were stuck in his throat, a tangled lump of fear and hope.
Kenji’s voice, calm and clear, filled the space where Izuku’s failed. “Five weeks along, sir. The doctor confirmed it yesterday. We wanted to tell you today. For your birthday.”
Shouta’s gaze moved from his son to the young alpha who had mated him. His expression was unreadable for a long second, assessing, weighing. Then he gave a single, sharp nod, a gesture of alpha-to-alpha respect that held layers of meaning. Approval. Trust. A transfer of a sacred duty.
That nod broke the dam completely.
Hizashi let out a soft, watery cry and surged forward. He enveloped Izuku in a hug so tight it forced the air from his lungs, the pregnancy test still clutched forgotten in one hand, pressing against Izuku’s back. The scent of his mother—lotus blossom and clean linen—was a comfort so deep it ached. “My baby,” Hizashi sobbed into his hair. “My sweet omega baby is going to be a mother.”
“Mama,” Izuku whimpered, burying his face in Hizashi’s shoulder, his own tears soaking the silk of his mother’s yukata. The fear evaporated, burned away by the ferocity of his mother’s love. “I’m so scared. I’m so happy.”
“I know, my heart. I know.” Hizashi pulled back, cupping Izuku’s face in his hands, smudging his tears with his thumbs. His smile was radiant, blinding through the weeping. “You are going to be magnificent. Just magnificent.”
Shouta approached them. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if navigating a dream. He stopped before Izuku, looking down at him. Then, to Izuku’s shock, his father’s large hands came up to frame his face, mirroring Hizashi’s gesture but with a different, weightier tenderness. His thumbs, calloused and strong, brushed Izuku’s cheekbones.
“My son,” Shouta murmured. The words were low, meant only for him. A profound pride swam in his dark, wet eyes. “You have made me… very proud.” He leaned forward and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to Izuku’s forehead. It was a blessing. A seal. When he straightened, he looked at Kenji over Izuku’s head. “You will take care of them.”
It was not a question. It was a law.
“With my life, sir,” Kenji said, his voice devoid of its usual dry humor, stripped down to pure, solemn vow.
“Damn right you will,” Katsuki said, but there was no heat in it. He strode over, shoving Eijirou gently aside. He looked at Izuku, his little brother, his eyes tracing over him as if seeing him for the first time. The usual arrogance was gone, replaced by a bewildered, protective softness. “Five weeks? And you didn’t say anything? You little sneak.”
“We wanted it to be sure,” Izuku sniffled, offering his brother a wobbly smile. “And we wanted to tell everyone together.”
Katsuki grunted. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out and ruffled Izuku’s hair, a rough, brotherly gesture he hadn’t done since they were children. “Congratulations, nerd.” His voice was gruff. He then turned his sharp gaze on Kenji, his alpha aura flaring, not in challenge, but in fierce fraternal warning. “You better be waiting on him hand and foot. If he so much as lifts a finger to sweep, I’ll break your legs.”
Kenji raised an eyebrow, a sliver of his familiar sarcasm returning. “Noted. Though I think my omega might have opinions about that level of coddling.”
“He can have opinions after the pup is here,” Katsuki retorted.
Eijirou bounded over, his excitement too big for his body. He carefully, as if Izuku were made of spun glass, pulled him into a gentle but crushing hug. “Uncle Eijirou! I’m gonna be the best uncle! I’m gonna teach ‘em how to be manly! And strong! And we’re gonna watch all the best action movies!” He released Izuku and grabbed Kenji’s hand, pumping it vigorously. “Bro! This is the best news ever! We gotta celebrate! Is there more cake?”
The mundane question, so perfectly Eijirou, landed like a life raft. The atmosphere in the room, which had been hovering at a spiritual crescendo, suddenly slipped back into the realm of the familial, the domestic, the real.
Hizashi laughed, a bright, shaky sound of pure relief and joy. He finally looked down at the test in his hand again, as if remembering it. He held it up to the light, the plus sign a stark, beautiful symbol. “We have to keep this,” he said decisively, his maternal instincts snapping into practical mode. “It goes in the family memory box. Shouta, look.” He showed it to his mate again, as if he hadn’t already seared the image into his soul.
Shouta looked. He reached out and took it from Hizashi, holding it in his palm. He stared at it for a long, silent moment. The tiny plastic object seemed absurdly small in his large hand, yet it held the future. He closed his fingers around it gently, then slipped it into the pocket of his trousers, over his heart. “I’ll keep it safe,” he said, his voice back under its usual stern control, but the softness around his eyes remained.
“The cake!” Hizashi exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “We have to serve the cake! This is a celebration now! A real one!” He hurried toward the kitchen, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, his movements fluttering with renewed purpose.
The group migrated back to the low table, where Shouta’s other gifts—a new fountain pen from Hizashi, a high-end bottle of whiskey from Katsuki and Eijirou—lay forgotten. The centerpiece was now the half-eaten birthday cake, its simple white frosting and blue lettering reading ‘Happy Birthday Dad’ suddenly imbued with new meaning.
Hizashi began cutting generous slices, his hands steadier now. “Izuku, you sit. Kenji, get him some water. Shouta, stop standing there like a statue, sit by your son.”
They obeyed her gentle commands, the familiar hierarchy reasserting itself, but now on a new, elevated plane. Izuku sank onto a cushion, Kenji immediately sitting close beside him, his arm a solid bar around his shoulders. Shouta took his place at the head of the table, watching as Hizashi placed a slice of cake before him. He didn’t touch it.
His eyes were on Izuku. “How are you feeling?” he asked. The question was clinical, an alpha head-of-household assessing the well-being of a pregnant omega under his family’s purview.
“Good, Daddy. Just a little tired sometimes. And my… my chest is sore.” Izuku felt a fresh blush warm his cheeks, discussing such things with his father, but in this new context, it felt natural, necessary.
Shouta nodded. “Hizashi will give you advice. You will listen to him. And to the doctor. No exerting yourself. Kenji will handle the heavier chores.” He looked at Kenji. “You will adjust your study schedule if needed.”
“Already done, sir,” Kenji said smoothly. “My professors are aware I may need flexibility this term.”
“Good.”
Katsuki, mouth full of cake, pointed his fork at Izuku. “You gonna find out if it’s an alpha or an omega?”
“Katsuki,” Hizashi chided softly. “That’s for them to decide.”
“We think we’d like to be surprised,” Izuku said, leaning into Kenji. “But… I have a feeling.” He placed a hand unconsciously on his stomach, still perfectly flat beneath his soft wool sweater.
“An alpha,” Kenji said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Has to be. With my devilish charm and your stubbornness? Definitely a little alpha hellion.”
“Or a sweet, gentle omega,” Izuku countered, smiling up at him.
“Either,” Shouta interjected, his voice brooking no argument. “Is a blessing. A strong alpha to lead, or a gentle omega to nurture. Both are needed. Both are honored in this family.” His gaze included Katsuki and Eijirou in that statement, a subtle but powerful acknowledgment of their place.
The conversation flowed then, easing into a warm, buzzing hum of plans and memories. Hizashi recounted tales of his own pregnancies—the constant hunger with Katsuki, the relentless nausea with Izuku. Shouta listened, adding a dry detail here and there (“You demanded pickled plums at three in the morning. I drove to twelve convenience stores.”). Eijirou enthusiastically outlined his uncle-training regimen. Katsuki argued with Kenji about baby names, dismissing all of Kenji’s suggestions as “try-hard” and “pretentious.”
Izuku sat in the middle of it, wrapped in a cocoon of love and chatter. He picked at his cake, the sweetness perfect on his tongue. He watched his father, who had finally begun eating his slice, methodically and without haste. Every so often, Shouta’s hand would drift to his pocket, checking for the solid shape of the test within. The gesture was small, almost secret, but Izuku saw it. Saw the way his father’s jaw would tighten, his throat working as he swallowed down another wave of feeling.
This was the man who had taught him to bow properly, to listen more than he spoke, to find strength in quiet submission. This stern, traditional alpha who had raised two sons to know their places in the world, was now, silently, reverently, carrying the proof of his lineage’s continuation in his pocket.
As the evening began to wane, the lantern light growing softer against the deepening night outside, Hizashi started clearing the plates. Kenji stood to help him.
“No, no,” Hizashi insisted, pushing him gently back. “You stay with Izuku. This is my job. Always has been.” His smile was content. This was his domain, his offering, and he would perform it with even more joy tonight.
Katsuki and Eijirou were debating something in low, intense voices by the door, likely about the merits of different strollers or car seats. Shouta remained seated, sipping the last of his tea, a sentinel at the head of his family.
He looked at Izuku. “Come. Walk with me to the garden.”
It was a command, but a gentle one. Izuku rose, a flicker of nervousness returning. Kenji gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.
Izuku followed his father through the sliding doors onto the small, neat engawa. The night air was cool, crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and the last chrysanthemums. Shouta didn’t speak at first. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking up at the slice of moon visible between the rooflines of neighboring houses.
“Your mother cried for a week when we found out about you,” Shouta said, his voice quiet in the darkness. “Tears of happiness. He was so sure you would be an omega. He prayed for it.” He glanced down at Izuku. “I… did not know what to pray for. I only wanted a healthy child. A child who knew their worth.”
Izuku stayed silent, listening. His father rarely spoke like this.
“You have exceeded every expectation,” Shouta continued. “You embraced your nature without shame. You chose a mate who is strong, who sees your value. You have built a good home.” He paused, and his next words were even quieter, rougher. “And now you give us this. The greatest honor an omega can bestow upon his family.”
Izuku’s eyes filled again. “Daddy…”
“I am not an emotional man, Izuku. You know this. But this…” He finally turned to face him fully. In the dim light, his expression was fierce with a love so deep it was terrifying. “This changes everything. The future becomes real. It has a heartbeat.” He placed a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “You are carrying my grandchild. The Aizawa and Takahashi lines. Do you understand the weight of that?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Izuku whispered, his voice trembling.
“Good.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed, then lifted. Shouta reached into his pocket and drew out the pregnancy test. He held it, looking at it one more time. “The weight is not yours alone to carry. It is ours. Your mother’s. Mine. Your brother’s. Your mate’s. You will lean on us. You will not be proud. You will ask for help.”
“I will.”
Shouta nodded, satisfied. He carefully tucked the test back into his pocket. “Kenji is a good alpha. He will provide. But if he ever… if there is ever a need, you come to me. This house is always your home. That pup will always be safe here.”
The end.