Chapter 7: The Shattering
The week between his father’s acceptance and this moment had been the longest of Katsuki’s life. It was a strange purgatory, swinging between a giddy, disbelieving relief and a fresh, clawing anxiety about the next hurdle. His mother’s face—open, cheerful, expectant—had become a specter in his daily thoughts. He’d rehearsed the words in the shower, muttered them under his breath during workouts, only to have them dissolve into ash on his tongue every time he imagined actually speaking them.
Friday’s dinner with Eijirou had been a surreal, quiet success. Eijirou had arrived, vibrating with a different kind of nerves, his usual boisterous energy tempered into a respectful, watchful calm. The meal was not the loud, laughing affair it usually was. It was a careful ballet of observation. Shouta had asked Eijirou about his training regimen, his family’ plans for his future, his thoughts on university—standard alpha-to-alpha inquiries, but delivered with a weight that went beyond casual curiosity. Eijirou, to his credit, answered with a direct honesty that seemed to impress Shouta. Hizashi had been effusive, piling Eijirou’s plate high with food, chatting about school, his smile never wavering. He’d seen nothing but his son’s best friend, a lovely, strong young alpha he’d always been fond of. The secret had throbbed between Katsuki and his father like a second heartbeat, while Izuku, subtle as a shadow, had guided the conversation to safe shores whenever it drifted towards dangerous waters.
Now, Sunday evening, the air in the living room was thick with a different tension. The kandō lamp flickered, making the shadows from the tokonoma alcove dance like restless spirits. The scent of jasmine incense was stronger than usual, Hizashi’s preferred method for calming a space. He was seated perfectly straight on one of the deep red cushions, his long, slender hands folded neatly in the lap of his elegant kimono. He had been arranging a simple ikebana display when Shouta had asked him to sit, saying the family needed to talk.
A tray of ohitashi, the spinach gleaming with sesame oil, sat untouched on the low table, cooling.
Katsuki sat beside his father on the opposite cushion, his posture mirroring that old, coiled rigidity from the previous week. His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing, a frantic drumbeat against the tatami. Shouta’s large hand came down, a warm, heavy anchor on his shoulder. The pressure was firm, silencing the tremble in his leg, if not the one in his gut.
Hizashi looked between them, his beautiful green eyes wide with polite confusion and a dawning, maternal concern. His scent, usually a gentle blend of green tea and honey, had a sharp, questioning edge to it.
“Shouta? Katsu-chan? What is this? You’re both so serious,” Hizashi said, his voice light but strained. He offered a small, nervous smile. “Did someone break a heirloom? I told Izuku to be careful with the good lacquerware when he dusts.”
“It’s not about anything broken, Hizashi,” Shouta said, his voice low and steady. “This is about Katsuki. He has something to tell you.”
All focus shifted to the young alpha. Hizashi’s expression softened into one of pure, attentive love. “Of course, my darling. You can tell Mama anything.”
That nearly undid him. The unconditional openness in his mother’s face was a knife twisted in the wound of his secret. Katsuki dropped his gaze to the geometric patterns of the woven floor. He swallowed, his throat clicking dryly. The rehearsed speeches were gone. All that remained was the brutal, simple truth.
“I’ve uhm—” His voice cracked. He cleared it, a harsh, forced sound. “I’ve been seeing someone.”
The effect was instant and radiant. Hizashi’s entire being lit up, his confusion melting into joyous surprise. He clasped his hands together under his chin, a musical laugh bubbling from his lips. “Oh! Oh, Katsu-chan! How wonderful! How perfectly lovely!” He leaned forward, his green eyes sparkling. “You have to bring them here! A proper courtship must start with a family dinner. Tell me everything! Is she from your class? What’s her scent? Is her family traditional? Oh, I must prepare the guest room for future visits, and we’ll need to think about formal courting gifts—”
“Mama.” The word was a ragged interruption, more desperate than commanding.
Hizashi paused, his smile faltering at the edges. He saw the pallor of his son’s face, the way he wouldn’t meet his eyes, the oppressive weight of Shouta’s hand on him. His joyful energy receded, leaving wary concern in its wake.
Katsuki forced his head up. He looked directly at his mother, into those trusting, gentle eyes. He saw his own reflection in them—a scared boy, not a confident alpha. The words came out in a strained, breathless rush, before he could lose his nerve.
“It’s Eijirou.”
For a count of three, there was only silence. The flicker of the lamp. The distant hum of the neighborhood.
Hizashi blinked. Slowly. Once. Twice. The lovely, graceful lines of his face didn’t crumple into anger or shock. They simply went blank, as if the words were in a language he couldn’t parse.
“Eijirou… Kirishima?” he asked, the name tentative, as if testing its fit in this new, bewildering context.
Katsuki gave a single, sharp nod.
“But… Eijirou is an alpha,” Hizashi said, not with judgment, but with the pure, simple logic of a fact learned in childhood. It was the same foundation Shouta had initially stood upon.
“I know,” Katsuki whispered.
Hizashi’s gaze shifted from Katsuki to Shouta, searching her alpha’s face for explanation, for guidance, for a sign that this was some strange joke. What she saw there—a grim acceptance, a protective solidity—only deepened her confusion. Her hands, which had been clasped in delight, now twisted nervously in the silk of her kimono.
“I don’t… I don’t understand, Katsu-chan.” His voice was small, plaintive. “You’re an alpha. A strong, beautiful alpha. Omegas… they look at you all the time. The Tanaka’s daughter asks after you every time I see her at the market.” He was speaking from a deep, ingrained script, the one that had governed his own life, the one he’d always believed would govern his son’s. “An alpha and an alpha… it’s not… it’s not how things are done. It’s not what’s natural for building a family, for creating a home.” His eyes were beginning to shimmer with distressed tears. “Are you… are you confused? Has something happened?”
“Hizashi.” Shouta’s voice was a gentle rumble, but it held a note of quiet authority. “Listen to him.”
Katsuki drew a shuddering breath. The defensive anger, the arrogance he could summon for the outside world, was useless here. This required a vulnerability that was physically painful. “I’m not confused, Mama. Nothing ‘happened.’ It just… is. He’s my best friend. And then he became… more. It’s not about what’s natural for anyone else. It’s what’s natural for us.”
“But what about your future?” Hizashi’s question was a soft wail. “Your bond, your mating… you can’t have a traditional bond with another alpha. Your scents will clash, your instincts… Katsuki, alphas are meant to provide, to protect. Who will do that for you? Who will nurture your home? An alpha can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
The quiet question came not from Katsuki, but from the hallway. Izuku stood there, having silently slipped from his room. He was a small, dark silhouette against the soft light of the corridor, clutching a half-finished knitted sweater to his chest. His large black eyes were fixed on his mother, not with defiance, but with a profound, gentle curiosity.
“Mama,” Izuku continued, stepping into the room on quiet feet. “You provide. You protect this home, every single day. You nurture us. Daddy provides the means, but you… you build the life. Isn’t that strength? Isn’t that protection?” He came to sit beside Katsuki, not touching him, but his presence was a palpable support. “Maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter what someone is. Maybe it matters who they are. Eijirou-nii is strong and kind. He makes Katsu-nii happy. He respects our home. When he’s here, he always offers to help clear the table. He asks about your garden. He listens.” Izuku’s voice was a mere breath. “Isn’t that what an alpha is supposed to be? A good person?”
Hizashi stared at his omega son, his mouth slightly agape. The arguments, rooted in decades of social doctrine, seemed to crumble momentarily under the weight of Izuku’s simple, heartfelt logic. He looked back at Katsuki, seeing not just his alpha son, but his child, sitting there braced for her rejection.
The first tear escaped, tracing a slow path down Hizashi’s cheek. Then another.
“You’ve known?” Hizashi whispered to Izuku.
“For a while,” Izuku nodded. “I figured it out. I’ve… I’ve kept their secret.”
“And you?” Hizashi’s tear-filled gaze locked onto Shouta. “You know?”
“I found out last week,” Shouta confirmed, his thumb rubbing a small, soothing circle on Katsuki’s shoulder. “It was not easy for me to hear, Hizashi. You know my… adherence to tradition. It went against everything I thought I understood.” He paused, choosing his words with a lawyer’s care, but a father’s heart. “But I looked at our son. I listened to him. And I realized my duty is not to tradition first. It is to him first. To all of you first. He is not choosing a path of rebellion. He is choosing a person. A good, strong, honorable person. My role is not to stand between him and his happiness because the map says the path is wrong. My role is to help him navigate the terrain.”
A soft, broken sound escaped Hizashi. He covered his mouth with a trembling hand. The images he’d cherished for years—Katsuki in a traditional mating kimono, standing beside a lovely, blushing omega, the blending of scents and families—dissolved like mist. In its place was a bewildering, frightening blank canvas.
“Do you love him, Katsu-chan?” Hizashi asked, the question raw and naked.
Katsuki’s composure finally fractured. His eyes, which had been dry and wide with fear, welled up. He nodded, unable to force the word past the tightness in his throat.
“And he… he loves you? An alpha, loving another alpha?” It was still an alien concept, but Hizashi was trying, desperately trying to map this new reality onto the framework of love he understood.
“Yes,” Katsuki choked out. “He does.”
Hizashi unfolded his legs and rose to his feet in one fluid, graceful motion. For a terrible second, Katsuki thought she was going to leave the room, to flee from this incomprehensible situation. Instead, he walked around the low table. He didn’t go to Shouta, his alpha, for comfort or direction. He went directly to Katsuki.
He knelt on the tatami before him, the silk of his kimono pooling around him. He reached up, his elegant, fragile-looking hands coming to frame Katsuki’s face. His thumbs brushed away the tears that had finally spilled over.
“Oh, my brave, beautiful boy,” Hizashi whispered, his own tears falling freely now. “Carrying this all by yourself. In my own house, my son was carrying a heart so heavy, and I didn’t see it. I was too busy looking for the future I imagined, that I didn’t see the one you were living.”
The dam broke. A sob wracked Katsuki’s broad frame. All the alpha dominance, the posturing, the strength, meant nothing in the face of his mother’s compassion. He slumped forward, and Hizashi gathered him into his arms. He pulled Katsuki’s head down to his shoulder, one hand cradling the back of his spiky hair, the other rubbing slow, firm circles on his back, just as she had when he was a child with a scraped knee.
“Shh, my darling, my Katsu-chan. Mama is here. Mama has you.” Hizashi’s voice was a soft, musical murmur against his ear. His scent, that calming blend of tea and honey, enveloped Katsuki utterly, a balm on the raw, exposed nerve of his soul. “You are my son. Before you are an alpha, before anything else, you are the baby I rocked to sleep. You are the little boy who brought me frogs. You are my child.” He pulled back just enough to look into Katsuki’s devastated face, his own expression fierce with a mother’s love. “If Eijirou is the one who holds your heart, then he is precious to me. Because you are precious to me. That is the only tradition that matters.”
The relief that flooded Katsuki was so profound it was dizzying. It was different from his father’s acceptance. Shouta’s was a fortress, a strategic alliance against the world. Hizashi’s was a hearth, a warm, radiant light that simply enfolded him, without condition, without needing to fully understand. He clung to his mother, hiding his face in the soft silk of his kimono, weeping in great, shuddering gasps he couldn’t control.
Over Katsuki’s shoulder, Hizashi looked at Shouta. There were still tears in his eyes, and a deep, bewildered sadness for the lost dream. But there was also a dawning resolution. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to his alpha. We will face this. Together.
Shouta’s stern features softened. He gave a single, approving nod back.
Izuku, watching from the cushion, had silent tears streaming down his own face. He wasn’t sad. He was overwhelmed by the sheer, monumental love in the room. He saw his strong alpha brother reduced to a weeping child in their mother’s arms, and he saw not weakness, but the incredible strength it took to be so vulnerable. He saw his traditional father, allowing this breach of protocol, his hand still resting where Katsuki’s shoulder had been. He saw his omega mother, the cornerstone of their domestic world, rewriting the rules of that world on the spot, for the sake of her son’s happiness.
Eventually, Katsuki’s sobs subsided into wet, hiccuping breaths. He pulled back, embarrassed, swiping at his face with the heels of his hands. Hizashi kept a hand on his cheek, smiling through his own tears.
“You look a mess, my love,” Hizashi said, his voice thick but affectionate. He used the sleeve of his kimono to gently pat Katsuki’s face dry. “My strong alpha, crying like a pup.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki mumbled, but there was no heat in it, only exhausted gratitude.
Hizashi laughed, a watery, beautiful sound. He turned his head to include Izuku. “And you! My little secret-keeper. Come here.”
Izuku shuffled over on his knees, and Hizashi pulled him into the embrace as well, creating a tangle of arms and kimono fabric and quiet, healing emotions. He kissed the top of Izuku’s head. “You have a wise heart, my Izuku. Thank you for protecting your brother.”
He then looked up at Shouta, who remained seated, a solemn guardian of the scene. “And you. Thank you for being his anchor until I could find my way.”
Shouta’s lips quirked in the faintest of smiles. “He is our son.”
The simplicity of the statement settled over the room. Hizashi took a deep, composing breath and finally released his children. He sat back on his heels, arranging his kimono with a familiar, graceful fussiness that signaled a return to some semblance of normalcy.
“Alright,” Hizashi said, clapping his hands together softly. The action seemed to focus him. “There is much to discuss. And much to learn.” He looked at Katsuki, his expression turning practical, though his eyes were still soft. “This… this will not be an easy path, Katsu-chan. People will talk. They will say cruel things. Some will shun you. Your father is right; you will need a fortress.” He reached out and took both of Katsuki’s hands in his. “But this family will be that fortress. Do you understand? You do not face it alone. Not ever again.”
Katsuki could only squeeze his mother’s hands in acknowledgment, his voice still gone.
“And Eijirou,” Hizashi continued, his brow furrowing slightly as he ventured into this new territory. “His family… do they know?”
Katsuki shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
“I see.” Hizashi nodded, thinking. “That will be… their challenge. But he is welcome here. Truly welcome. Not just as your friend.” He said the next words slowly, feeling their shape. “As your… as your intended. We will… we will learn what that means for us, as a family.” He glanced at Shouta, seeking confirmation.
“We will,” Shouta affirmed.
“And you,” Hizashi said, turning to Izuku with a suddenly stern, maternal glint in his eye. “No more sneaking and listening at doorways for serious talks! If you are part of this family council, you sit with us properly. Understood?”
Izuku blushed a deep crimson and nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mama.”
The normalcy of the scolding, so utterly mundane after the emotional cataclysm, broke the remaining tension. A weak, wet chuckle escaped Katsuki. Hizashi smiled, a real, bright smile that reached his eyes.
“Good. Now,” he said, rising to his feet with a sigh. “The ohitashi is cold, and we are all emotionally exhausted. I am going to make tea. Very sweet tea. And then…” He looked at the three of them—his alpha husband, his alpha son, his omega son—all sitting together on the tatami, a united front against a world that wouldn’t understand. “Then we will just sit. And be a family. The rest can wait for tomorrow.”
As Hizashi bustled towards the kitchen, the soft swish of silk his only sound, Katsuki felt the final knot of fear in his chest unravel. The room was still the same: the flickering lamp, the sacred alcove, the scent of jasmine. But it was different now. It wasn't just a space governed by tradition. It was a space that had just expanded, stretched by love to make room for him, for all of him. He looked at his father, who gave him a slow, affirming blink. He looked at Izuku, who offered a small, teary smile.
From the kitchen, the comforting clink of ceramic cups and the hiss of the kettle promised warmth. The future was still a vast, uncertain terrain, filled with potential hardship. But in that quiet, amber-lit room, surrounded by the unshakeable solidarity of his family, Katsuki Aizawa, for the first time since he’d realized he loved Eijirou Kirishima, felt not just accepted, but truly, completely, at home.