Chapter Text
It was the end of a long, rainy day when Hisashi and Inko returned to their modest hotel on the outskirts of a small town in southern Japan. They had just come back from America, where they had originally gone for their honeymoon but ended up staying longer due to work opportunities. Now, with Inko pregnant with their first child, they had decided it was time to return to their homeland and settle down.
For the moment, they were staying in a small hotel while they waited for the final stages of the moving process to be completed. They had already purchased a house and were simply waiting for everything to be finalized before they could move in and begin this new chapter of their lives without worry.
As they approached a bridge not far from the hotel, a sound made them pause. It wasn’t the rhythmic drip of rain from the leaves or the distant hum of traffic. It was something else A soft, broken sob echoed through the night, the kind of cry that could only come from a child.
There, in the shadows, they found him, a young boy huddled on the cold, damp concrete.
His light blue hair was matted to his face, soaked from the rain. Patches of skin on his arms were chipped and cracked, as if rubbed raw. They couldn’t see his eyes clearly at first, but a faint red gleam shone through the curtain of hair that covered them. He looked starved, like he hadn’t eaten in days. In his current state, he couldn’t have been older than six.
He clutched his hands tightly to his chest, as if trying to keep himself from falling apart. His whole body trembled from fear
Looking at the child, the couple’s hearts broke. Slowly, they approached him, trying to stay as calm and gentle as possible. Hisashi spoke softly, “Hello. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you know where your parents are?”
“I… I was… It’s my fault. I…” The boy’s voice was barely a whisper, broken and scattered.
He didn’t seem to register their presence clearly, mumbling to himself like he thought their voices were just echoes in his mind.
Inko stepped closer and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, brushing some of the wet hair from his face. “Hey,” she said softly, “I don’t know what happened, but if you tell us, I’m sure we can figure it out together.”
The boy looked up at her, finally noticing the two adults around him. His eyes widened in panic, and he flinched, trembling harder. His gaze flicked to his hands, as if they terrified him. He tried to shrink into himself, both crawling away and curling inward at the same time.
“I… It… I was… They’re gone…”
Inko’s voice stayed calm. “It’s okay. I can’t promise everything will be perfect, but for now you’re safe. No one here will hurt you, and we won’t hurt you either. But we need your help to understand. Can you tell us your name?”
“…Tenko,” he whispered.
Inko smiled gently. “Nice to meet you, Tenko. I’m Inko shi…midoriya
My favorite color is forest green. What’s yours?”
“…Mine is blue.”
“Like your hair?”
“…Like the sky.”
“The light blue sky sure is pretty,” Inko said, glancing up. “But right now, it’s dark, and we can’t see the sky from here, can we?”
Tenko shook his head.
“How about this,” Inko continued. “You come sit with us for a bit. There’s a ramen shop near where we’re staying, just across the bridge. We’ll get something warm to eat, and in exchange, you can tell us what happened. Maybe I’ll even show you some pictures of beautiful blue skies I saw in another place. What do you say?”
She held out her hand for him to take, but when he flinched, she didn’t push. Instead, she gently grasped his shoulder and helped him to his feet. The boy didn’t resist—in fact, he seemed to relax just a little under her touch.
Together, the three of them began walking toward the ramen shop not far from the hotel
The ramen shop was warm and quiet, a welcome contrast to the cold night outside. Steam curled from bowls behind the counter, and the soft clatter of chopsticks filled the space. Inko chose a table in the far corner, away from the few other customers, giving them privacy. Tenko sat between her and Hisashi, small and quiet, wrapped in a borrowed towel. He hadn’t spoken much since they left the bridge. His food sat in front of him, untouched. “Would you be okay telling us what happened?” Hisashi asked gently, voice low and kind. Tenko didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed on the steam rising from the ramen, hands trembling in his lap. “I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to…” “It’s okay,” Inko said softly. “You don’t have to be afraid. Whatever it is, you’re not alone anymore.” Tenko shook his head slowly, eyes filling with tears. “They… they told me I was wrong. That heroes weren’t real. That… that I was supposed to be normal.” He choked on the words. Hisashi didn’t interrupt. Inko just nodded gently, encouraging him to go on at his own pace.
“My dad hated heroes,” he began in a whisper. “Every time I said I wanted to be one, he yelled. He… he hit me. Said I had to be normal. That heroes weren’t real.”
Inko stayed silent, just nodding gently.
“But my mom… she smiled. She said it was okay to dream. And my sister—she used to draw with me. She even made me a cape out of an old blanket. She said we’d be heroes together.”
Tenko’s voice cracked, and he finally looked up at them. “One day… we found a photo. Me and my sister. It was in a drawer in Dad’s office. It showed him and… and Grandma. We realized she used to be a hero. My sister said we should be like her. We made a promise.”
He paused to take a shaky breath, trying to keep himself from falling apart.
“Later that day, Dad found out we’d gone into his office. He got really mad. My sister tried to protect herself she told him I was the one who found the picture. So… he threw me out of the house.”
Tenko’s voice became more erratic, faster. “I was outside with our dog. Then… things started to crumble. I don’t know how or why. One moment I was crying, and the next, there was blood. I thought something attacked us. I didn’t know what was happening. I thought someone had hurt us.”
He blinked rapidly, tears spilling down his cheeks.
“My sister came running. She saw what happened and told me she was sorry. She said she didn’t mean to make Dad mad. But then… she saw the blood. The dog—he was just gone. And she started to scream.”
His breathing grew uneven. “I tried to reach out to her. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted her help. But when I touched her—she crumbled too.”
Hisashi reached out, placing a hand on the table between them, silent but steady.
“I touched the ground. And then… everything else fell apart. Mom… Grandpa… Grandma. They all came outside when they heard the noise. And they started to crumble, too.”
Tenko’s eyes went wide and empty, like he was reliving it.
“Dad came out with a bottle in his hand. He said it was my fault. That I did it on purpose. But I didn’t! I swear I didn’t!” He gripped the edge of the table tightly, knuckles white. “I just wanted it to stop. I didn’t even know what was happening.”
His shoulders shook.
“And when I got up… the house was gone. Everything was gone. My family. My home.”
Inko’s hand moved over his slowly, gently easing his grip.
“I walked around town,” Tenko went on, his voice dull now, flat with exhaustion. “I asked people for help. But everyone just… looked at me like I was a monster. They ran. They whispered. No one helped me. No one came to save me.”
His bottom lip trembled. “So I hid. Under the bridge. I stayed quiet. I thought maybe if I just disappeared, no one else would get hurt.”
He finally looked up at them—broken, desperate.
“I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to.”
For a long moment, neither Inko nor Hisashi spoke.
Tenko stared at the table, eyes glassy and distant. The warmth of the ramen had long faded, but he still hadn’t eaten a bite.
Inko leaned closer to Hisashi and whispered, “That had to be the first time his quirk activated. He didn’t even know what was happening…”
Hisashi nodded solemnly, his brows drawn in concern. “He didn’t have anyone to teach him. No one to protect him. It just… happened. And then everything he loved was gone.”
Inko swallowed hard. “And he’s been blaming himself ever since.”
The silence that followed felt heavy, but not hopeless. Inko turned back to Tenko, her voice soft but steady.
“You were scared, Tenko. You didn’t know what was happening. What happened to your family wasn’t your fault. Your quirk—it’s just a part of you, like your hair or your voice. You didn’t ask for it. You didn’t know what it could do.”
Tenko didn’t answer, but his shoulders trembled again.
Hisashi leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “The first time someone manifests a quirk, it’s often sudden. Emotional. Overwhelming. For most kids, it happens at home, around family. Somewhere safe. But you didn’t have that. You were hurt. You were scared. And your quirk… it reacted.”
Inko placed her hand over his again, slowly, carefully. This time, he didn’t flinch.
“You didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she said. “You were trying to protect yourself. And now you’re here. You’re still here. That means something.”
Tenko blinked hard, and then slowly picked up his chopsticks. His hands still trembled, but he managed a small bite. Then another. And another.
Neither of them spoke as he finished half the bowl. When he stopped again, Inko gently wiped his face with a napkin. He didn’t resist. His eyes drooped.
“You’re safe now,” she said gently. “We’re going back to the hotel soon. You’ll have a warm bed. No one’s going to yell at you. No one’s going to hit you. And if you want to talk more tomorrow, we’ll be there. We’ll listen.”
Tenko leaned into her side, small and fragile. He didn’t speak, but the tension in his frame began to melt. He yawned, the last of his strength leaving him.
Within moments, he was asleep—curled up against Inko, breathing soft and steady for the first time in what must have been days.
Hisashi watched quietly, then met Inko’s eyes.
Tenko didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment, he was wrapped in warmth, curled against something soft, the scent of food still lingering faintly in his nose. The next, he was deep in his mind, everything fuzzy and fractured.
He was back in the hallway again. Small. Frightened. His heart pounded in his ears as he crouched behind a door, watching his father’s feet stomp across the floorboards. Every creak felt like a gunshot.
“You went into my office?” his father roared. “That was private!”
A crash. Glass shattering.
“I told you not to talk about her! Nana Shimura is dead to us!”
Then, without transition, he was outside.
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the yard. Tenko stood with clenched fists, eyes red with tears. His dog barked playfully beside him, tail wagging like nothing was wrong.
“I hate him,” Tenko muttered under his breath. “I hate him. I wish he’d go away.”
And then it happened.
Crumbling.
The dog's collar dropped to the ground with a metallic clink.
But the dog was gone.
Gone.
His sister’s scream cut through the moment like a knife.
Meanwhile, outside the dream, Inko and Hisashi walked quietly down the street. The rain had finally stopped. The air was cool and damp, the city hushed beneath a cloudy sky. Tenko slept in Hisashi’s arms, a towel still draped over him, his small frame finally still.
Inko glanced at him, then at her husband. Her voice was soft but heavy with worry.
“What can we do, Hisashi? We can’t just leave him. You know what’ll happen if we turn him over to an orphanage or the system. He’s not going to get kindness there. Not patience. Not love. I don’t want anything else to happen to him.”
Hisashi held Tenko closer, sighing. “I know, Inko. I just... I don’t know what we can do yet.”
But before he could say more, Tenko mumbled in his sleep, barely audible, but enough to freeze them both.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry, Mom... Big sis... Don’t go.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
Inko immediately reached out and brushed damp hair from his forehead. Her touch was gentle, featherlight.
“You’re safe now, sweetheart,” she whispered.
Tenko stirred at her voice but then went still again, as if the words had chased the nightmare away. His breathing deepened. His body relaxed.
Inko and Hisashi exchanged a look. There were no more doubts.
They would not leave this child behind.
It was 10:45 a.m. when Tenko woke up. The first thing he remembered was his nightmares. Slowly, he looked around the room. He wasn't cold. He was warm. He wasn't hungry. He remembered what had happened the night before, but part of him still believed they would leave him, just like everyone else had, especially after hearing his story.
As he sat up, he heard quiet noises coming from a room nearby. Wrapping the blanket around himself, he got up and walked toward the sound. When he reached the door, he gently pushed it open. It creaked slightly, and both Hisashi and Inko turned around from where they sat at a table covered in papers and looked at him.
"Well, hi honey. Good morning. How are you feeling?" Inko asked gently.
"I'm... fine. Why did you... where am I?" Tenko mumbled, blinking at the unfamiliar room.
"Oh, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to startle you," Inko said quickly, offering a warm smile. "It’s currently fifteen minutes to eleven. We met you yesterday, remember? You ate with us, and then you fell asleep. We didn’t want to wake you, so we brought you back with us. We thought you deserved a good night’s rest in a real bed."
"Please don’t worry about anything," Hisashi added. "We slept together in the same room. The bed is big enough for the both of us."
Tenko looked at the table between them. "What are all those papers for?"
Inko and Hisashi glanced at each other for a moment before Inko answered.
"They’re for you," she said softly. "These are adoption forms, some basic information documents, a missing person report, and the start of a foster care home inspection."
Hisashi continued, "We just... we don’t want you to end up in a bad situation. You’re a good kid, Tenko. And we believe you deserve a good life, and good care. Especially after everything you’ve been through."
Inko reached out slowly, making sure he was comfortable. "Honestly, we don’t trust anyone else to care for you the way you need. And we don’t think you trust anyone else either. So we’re applying for foster care so we can look after you. Until you grow up and can decide for yourself what kind of life you want."
Tenko stared at the papers, then back at the couple in front of him. His hands tightened around the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.
"You really... want to care for me?"
Inko nodded softly. "We know we’re strangers to you right now. And we know it’s hard to trust people. It’s hard to tell who’s good and who’s not. The world isn’t black and white. Even for adults, it’s difficult to understand what’s right, or who is safe."
Hisashi leaned in gently, his voice calm. "We understand that you might not trust us now. You might never trust us. And we know you might want to leave someday, to go somewhere else. That’s okay. We accept that. But we’ve seen more of the world than most, and we know how unfair and unforgiving it can be."
Inko’s gaze softened, her hand resting on her belly. "People will treat you like a child, even though you've already lost a part of yourself that no child ever should. And they’ll expect you to move on, to act normal. But what you went through... no one should expect that from you."
Her voice dropped to something tender, steady. "The way Hisashi and I grew up, it was hard. And we don’t want that for you. As someone who’s about to become a mother, I can’t help but imagine if something happened to me or my husband, I would pray someone kind would take care of our child. I don’t think any real mother would want their child to be hurt or left alone. And if I can help someone else's child... I believe I should."
Tenko swallowed, eyes wide. His voice was uncertain, trembling.
"But... why? Why would you do that? You must want something from me, right? I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want. You’re my comfort. You’re kind. But... nothing is free. I know that. Just tell me what to do."
Hisashi opened his mouth to respond, but Inko gently raised a hand to stop him. She looked at Tenko with so much care it almost hurt.
"You’re right. We do want something from you."
Tenko froze.
"We want you to be healthy," she said softly. "We want to see you smile. We want to see your eyes shine again. We want you to go to school. We want you to sleep peacefully at night, without nightmares. We want you to cook with us. Laugh with us. Grow with us."
Hisashi continued, his voice steady. "We want you to call us your family, if that’s what you choose. We want you to believe truly believe that none of what happened was your fault. We want to help you learn how to use your quirk safely. We want you to find strength in it, not fear."
"We want you to want those things too," Inko added. "We want you to choose your future, based on your own heart not fear, not guilt, not what anyone tells you. We want you to be selfish when you need to be, but kind too. Not because you’re told to, but because you choose it."
Her voice grew soft again. "And if one day you choose to stay with us, then we hope we can be your family. But even if we can’t be your mom and dad... even if we can’t be your home forever... we want you to know you’ll always have a place with us. A place to come back to, whenever you need."
"You don’t owe us anything," Hisashi said. "Not your obedience. Not your loyalty. Not your powers. Just... be yourself. That’s all we ask."
Inko looked down, her fingers brushing her stomach once more. "This world can be cruel. No child should have to go through what you’ve been through. But we want you to know that asking for help isn’t weakness it’s courage. And we want to teach you to be a child again. A good person. The kind of person you want to be."
"And maybe... just maybe..." Her voice trembled. "You’ll grow up without regrets."
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "That’s what we want from you. And not just from you. That’s what we want from the world. We may not be able to fix everything ourselves... but maybe, just maybe... our most selfish wish is to start changing this world with you."
Tenko didn’t speak right away. His arms tightened around the blanket, his small fingers gripping the fabric like it was the only thing anchoring him. His eyes shimmered, wide and unsure, darting between Inko and Hisashi.
He swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know how to do any of that,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to be... good. Or happy. Or normal.”
He paused, voice cracking.
“But if I try… will you stay? Will you stay until the itching goes away? Even if I can't do everything you want from me right away… will you still stay?”
Inko’s expression softened. She moved closer, gently brushing a tear from his cheek.
“Yes,” she said. “We’ll stay. Even when it’s hard. Even if you’re scared or angry. Even if you mess up. We’ll be there. You don’t have to prove anything to us not good, not bad. We’ll be with you through all of it.
Tenko looked down at their hands, tears starting to fall silently. “Everyone always left. Even when they said they wouldn’t. Even when they said they loved me. I don’t... I don’t want to be left again.”
Hisashi moved closer and knelt down so their eyes met. His voice was low and steady.
“We’re not perfect, Tenko. We’ll make mistakes. But we’re not going anywhere. Not unless you ask us to.”
There was a long pause, heavy and fragile. Then Tenko leaned forward—slowly, hesitantly, like a wild animal just beginning to trust—and buried his face in Inko’s shoulder.
She wrapped her arms around him gently but firmly, like she was holding something precious and breakable.
“I want to stay,” he whispered into her shirt. “I… want to try.”
Inko smiled through the tears that spilled freely now. She combed her fingers gently through his messy blue hair.
“Then that’s enough,” she said softly. “We’ll start there.”
The next morning dawned bright and calm, sunlight pouring in through the hotel window and casting a soft golden hue over the room. For the first time in a long while, Tenko woke not to fear or hunger, but to warmth. The blankets were still tucked gently around him, and he could hear the low murmur of voices in the next room Inko and Hisashi.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. The air smelled faintly of tea and fresh bread. His fingers still gripped the edge of the blanket, but it wasn’t out of fear anymore. He listened for a moment, then slipped off the bed and padded barefoot toward the voices.
When he pushed the door open, Inko looked up from a small pile of papers spread across the table and smiled. Hisashi glanced up too, giving a small wave.
“Good morning, Tenko,” Inko said gently. “Did you sleep okay?”
Tenko nodded, a little shy but steady. “Yeah... I think so.”
“That’s good,” Hisashi said, standing to pour him a cup of warm tea. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”
Tenko hesitated, eyeing the papers. “With… those papers?”
Inko chuckled softly. “You could say that. But first things first you and I are going to the doctor. We just want to make sure you didn’t catch anything while you were out on the streets. They’ll run a few blood tests, check your height and weight, and create a medical file for you so we can keep track of everything from now on.”
She smiled and continued. “While we’re doing that, Hisashi will go to the house and meet the movers. He’ll handle getting everything settled and start unpacking our things. That’ll be the morning.”
“And after that?” Tenko asked, tilting his head.
“In the afternoon, you and I will head to the house,” Inko explained. “You’ll get to see it for the first time. You can help us unpack the things we ordered for your room yesterday. Then the foster care caseworker will come by to check the place and make sure it’s safe.”
Hisashi nodded. “There’ll be a little paperwork to go through, mostly about income and responsibilities, but that’s all our job. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Tenko blinked slowly, absorbing the whirlwind of plans.
Inko grinned and gave his hair a gentle tousle. “Oh, and once we’re all settled and relaxing… we’re going to need your help with something very important.”
Tenko looked up at her, curious. “What is it?”
She winked. “Baby names. We’ve been talking about it, but we haven’t decided yet. We’d love to hear your ideas.”
Tenko blinked, clearly surprised. “You… want my help? You're going to have a baby? You’ll be a mom and dad yourselves. That child is really lucky. Is… is the baby already in your belly?”
Inko smiled softly and placed a hand over her stomach. “Yes, he is. He’s already growing, little by little.”
Tenko stared at her for a moment, then lowered his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then… if I stay, does that mean… I’ll be a big brother?”
Hisashi, standing beside Inko, gave him a warm smile. “Only if you want to be, Tenko.”
A small, uncertain smile began to form on Tenko’s lips. “I think… I’d like that.”
Tenko sat quietly in the backseat of the car, bundled in a soft hoodie Inko had given him that morning. The fabric was a little big on him, the sleeves nearly swallowing his hands, but the warmth was comforting. Inko sat in the front passenger seat while Hisashi drove, humming softly to the radio.
The town passed by outside the window. Trees, shops, people walking under the morning sun. But Tenko barely noticed. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve as they pulled into a small medical clinic.
“It’s not a hospital,” Inko said gently, glancing back at him. “Just a small checkup clinic. No scary machines. No needles unless absolutely necessary. We just want to make sure you're healthy, okay?”
Tenko nodded slowly, still unsure but trusting enough to follow her when she opened the car door.
Inside, the clinic was clean and quiet. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the scent of disinfectant was faint but not overwhelming. A kind
looking nurse greeted them at the front desk and handed Inko a clipboard with forms. Tenko stayed close to her side, eyes darting around.
“Let’s go step by step,” Inko whispered. “They’ll check your height and weight, maybe listen to your heart. Then we’ll do a small blood test. Just a finger prick. Then we’ll be done. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
Tenko gave the tiniest nod.
The nurse led them to a small examination room. A doctor with silver-rimmed glasses entered shortly after, smiling warmly.
“Hello, Tenko. I’m Dr. Aoki. We’re just going to do a quick checkup today, alright?”
Tenko watched him warily but sat down on the examination table when Inko gave him an encouraging look.
The checkup went slowly but smoothly. The doctor chatted kindly while he measured Tenko’s height and weight, listened to his breathing, and checked his eyes and reflexes. When it was time for the blood test, Tenko stiffened, but Inko held his hand gently.
“You’re being very brave,” she said quietly. “Just a small pinch.”
Tenko didn’t cry when the nurse pricked his hand though his eyes watered slightly. The nurse placed a small bandage with a cartoon bear on it over the spot.
“There we go. All done,” she said kindly.
As they walked out of the clinic, Inko handed Tenko a small red bean bun from a nearby bakery stall.
“You did great. I’m proud of you.”
Tenko bit into it slowly, nodding as he chewed. It was warm and sweet and tasted like something he'd never had before. Safety.
“Now,” Inko said as they got back into the car, “time to see your new home.”
Tenko looked up from the bun, the smallest flicker of anticipation lighting in his eyes.
Hisashi stepped into the empty house just as the movers began unloading the first truck outside. The air inside was still and quiet, filled with the scent of freshly painted walls and polished wood. Sunlight streamed through the large windows at the front of the living area, casting long rectangles of light across the bare floor.
He set the paperwork binder on the kitchen counter and took a slow breath, then began moving through the house, the floor plan clear in his mind.
First, the living, dining, and kitchen area. He pictured the large dining table placed near the windows, where they could eat breakfast together in the morning light. The couch and entertainment center would go just opposite the kitchen island, creating a warm, open space. He had asked the movers to place the rug under the center of the couch, softening the area where they would relax as a family.
Next, he passed through the traditional Japanese room with tatami mats. They had chosen this space for quiet moments. Maybe tea. Maybe family reading time. Or maybe just a place to retreat when things felt overwhelming.
He paused by the bathroom and laundry areas. The new appliances would arrive with the second truck, but he could already picture where everything would go. The space was compact but modern, more than enough for a growing family.
In the back of the house, he moved through the hallway into the service room. Storage bins, seasonal items, maybe emergency supplies. He made sure the walkways were clear, comparing everything carefully with the blueprint, and double-checked that nothing would block the sliding glass doors leading to the terrace. That space would be perfect on warm evenings.
As he moved upstairs, the sound of shifting boxes echoed faintly from outside. He reached the second floor and stepped into each of the five rooms. Three were already decided. One for him and Inko. One for his office. And one for Tenko.
He entered Tenko’s room, the one at the far right corner. It was bathed in natural light, the balcony door still shut but letting in a soft blue sky. Hisashi crossed to the center of the room and stood still for a moment, imagining Tenko sitting by the window. Reading. Drawing. Just watching the clouds move. The movers would be bringing his small desk, the shelves they picked out, and the bedding they had chosen together the day before. Hisashi smiled quietly to himself and made a note to let Tenko place everything exactly how he liked.
Back downstairs, he met the movers at the door and rolled up his sleeves.
"Let’s start with the dining set. Living room furniture next. Take it slow. I’ll guide you."
The car ride was quiet but peaceful. Tenko sat in the back seat, still wrapped in the soft blanket he’d brought with him from the hotel. Inko glanced at him in the mirror now and then, smiling gently whenever their eyes met. The doctor’s visit had gone well. Tenko was healthy, though underweight, and the nurses had been kind. Still, it was a lot for one morning.
“We’re almost there,” Inko said softly as she turned down a quiet street lined with trees.
Tenko looked out the window. The houses here were tall and clean, with well kept yards and flowers blooming in little patches of sunlight. When they pulled into the driveway, he saw movers outside, carrying boxes and furniture through the front door. Hisashi was standing near the porch, clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up, smiling as they approached.
“Welcome home,” he said, opening the car door for Tenko.
Tenko blinked at the words. Home.
He stepped out slowly, eyes wide as he looked at the house. It was bigger than he’d expected, warm looking with its tiled roof and wide windows. He followed Inko up the walkway and inside.
The smell of wood and newness filled the air, but it wasn’t empty anymore. The dining table was already in place. A rug lay beneath a plush-looking couch in the living room. The sun poured in through the windows, soft and golden, catching on the edges of the boxes still waiting to be unpacked.
Inko took his hand gently. “Want to see your room?”
He nodded.
They went up the stairs, his steps quiet but growing faster the closer they got. At the end of the hall, Inko opened the door to a bright corner room.
The space was filled with light. The walls were soft blue and white, and the floor gleamed with polished wood. A desk stood near the window, already holding a few books and empty drawers waiting to be filled. A shelf nearby had a small collection of items they’d picked out together: a lamp shaped like a star, a simple clock, a framed photo of a calm landscape. The bed was tucked into the far wall with soft bedding in deep navy and gray, neatly folded.
On the other side of the room, a wardrobe had already been placed, and there were storage boxes stacked beside it waiting to be sorted through. The door to the balcony stood closed, but the glass let in the blue of the sky and the quiet sound of wind brushing against the house.
Tenko stepped inside slowly, eyes moving across every corner like he was afraid to believe it was real.
Inko stayed at the door, watching him quietly. “We didn’t want to do too much without you. It’s your room. You get to decide where everything goes.”
Tenko turned back to her, then looked at Hisashi standing just behind.
“You… really made this for me?”
Hisashi nodded. “We wanted you to have a space that’s just yours. Safe. Quiet. A place to rest, and dream, and just be you.”
Tenko moved to the bed and sat down, his hands resting in his lap. He looked around again, slower this time. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then he let out a quiet breath.
“I want to help unpack.”
Inko’s face lit up. “Of course.”
They spent the next hour opening boxes, arranging books and folded clothes, stacking drawers, and placing a few soft toys and decorations here and there. Tenko didn’t speak much, but he didn’t stop smiling either. And when he placed his small blanket the one from the hotel at the foot of his new bed, he looked up at them both.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Inko walked over and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. We’re so glad you’re here.”
Dinner was quiet, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that felt heavy. It was the kind that made the clink of dishes and the soft sound of tea pouring feel warm and alive. The table was set with care: rice, grilled vegetables, a light miso soup, and a tray of soft bread Inko had warmed in the oven. Nothing fancy, but everything smelled good and familiar.
Tenko sat between them, watching how Hisashi passed dishes with ease and how Inko hummed while spooning soup into his bowl. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t like when people pretended to be kind. It just… was.
“I hope it’s not too much all at once,” Inko said gently, watching Tenko pick up a piece of roasted sweet potato. “New house, new room, new dinner table.”
Tenko shook his head. “It’s… good. The food’s good. Everything is.” He paused, then looked down at his bowl. “It’s just strange.”
“Strange is okay,” Hisashi said. “Strange means it’s different from what you’re used to. Not wrong.”
That seemed to settle something in Tenko’s chest. He nodded, slowly finishing what was on his plate.
After dinner, they washed the dishes together, Inko guiding his hands gently when he wasn’t sure how much soap to use, and Hisashi drying behind them. It was quiet again, but filled with the soft rhythms of a house beginning to breathe.
When the sun had dipped beyond the trees and a pale blue dusk settled over the sky, there was a soft knock at the door.
Inko wiped her hands with a towel and gave Tenko a small smile. “That’ll be the caseworker.”
Tenko froze for a moment. His shoulders stiffened, fingers still damp.
Inko knelt in front of him. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. Just sit with us. We’ll do the talking.”
Tenko nodded slowly, gripping the edges of his sleeves as they went to the door.
A woman with soft eyes and a folder under her arm stepped inside, offering a polite bow. “Good evening. I’m mira, from child welfare services. Thank you for having me.”
“Thank you for coming,” Hisashi said, guiding her into the living room. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
They all sat at the table again, though the food had been cleared away. The scent of dinner still lingered faintly in the air.
The caseworker opened her folder and smiled kindly at Tenko. “You must be Tenko.”
He didn’t answer at first, but nodded once.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t feel like it,” she assured him, then turned to Inko and Hisashi. “I’ll just go through the basics for now. Background check, income verification, safety inspection. You’ve submitted everything, so tonight is more of a home walkthrough and a chance to check in.”
Inko and Hisashi answered the questions clearly, calmly. They guided the caseworker through the house showing her the safety locks, the balcony railings, the medical cabinet, the bedroom setup. They explained Tenko’s doctor visit and the items they’d bought for him. The woman nodded and made notes with practiced ease.
“And this is Tenko’s room?” she asked as they entered the soft blue space.
Tenko stood near the window, his hands tucked in his sleeves again. He glanced at her, then at Inko.
She smiled. “He picked where the desk goes himself.”
The caseworker nodded, pleased. “Very good. It’s important that he feels this is his space.”
Tenko looked up at her. “I do.”
She paused, surprised by the quiet words. Then she smiled warmly. “Thank you for telling me, Tenko. That means a lot.”
Back downstairs, they finished with a few more forms. Inko signed, then Hisashi. The caseworker tapped the papers into a neat stack and placed them back into her folder.
“You’ve built a lovely home,” she said, standing. “I’ll submit my report tonight. If all goes smoothly, you’ll have your foster certification in place within a few days. But for now, as far as I’m concerned, this is a safe and stable placement.”
Tenko didn’t quite understand every word, but he understood enough.
She turned to him one last time. “And if you ever feel scared or unsure, Tenko, I want you to know it’s okay to speak up. That’s what grownups are here for.”
He nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
When she was gone and the door was shut, Tenko stood in the hallway with Inko and Hisashi. For a moment, the quiet returned.
And then he said, almost too softly to hear, “Did I do okay?”
Inko knelt again, smiling up at him. “You did greet"
Later that night, with the house quiet and the foster visit behind them, the three of them sat together in the living room. The soft glow of the lamps gave everything a warm amber hue, and a light breeze rustled the curtains.
Tenko sat curled on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders, a cup of warm tea nestled in his hands. Hisashi was seated nearby, flipping through a worn old baby name book. Inko leaned back with a pillow behind her, her hand resting gently on her stomach.
“Hey, Tenko?” she asked softly, her voice warm and calm.
He looked up from the steam rising from his cup.
“We were thinking… now that things are starting to settle a little, maybe you could help us with something important.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “What is it?”
Hisashi turned the book toward him. “Baby names. We’ve got pages of them. We’ve been trying to find the right one, but we thought maybe… you’d like to help us pick.”
Tenko blinked. “Me?”
Inko nodded. “You’re part of this, too. This baby’s going to be your little brother, if you stay with us. We’d love for them to have something from you in their name, even if it's just your choice.”
Tenko was quiet for a long moment. He looked at the book, then at Inko’s gentle expression. Slowly, he scooted closer, setting his tea down on the table.
“Can I look?” he asked, a little hesitant.
“Of course,” Hisashi said, handing the book over carefully.
Boy Names:
Izuku (出久)
Haruki (陽輝)
Souta (壮太)
Ren (蓮)
Daiki (大輝)
They spent the next hour flipping through pages, reading names out loud, sometimes laughing at the stranger ones, sometimes pausing when something sounded soft or strong or kind. Inko wrote down the ones Tenko liked on a little notepad beside her.
“Ren,” Tenko said eventually. “That one feels… calm.”
“I like that,” Inko said with a soft smile. “Ren means lotus, you know. Something that grows out of the mud and reaches toward the light.”
Tenko nodded slowly, thoughtful. “That sounds nice. Like… something new.”
Hisashi leaned over a bit to glance at the name again. “It’s a good meaning. Peaceful. But strong too.”
Tenko flipped another page, then paused. His eyes landed on a name near the bottom. “Izuku,” he read softly.
Inko’s eyes lit up. “That one was one of our top choices, actually.”
“What does it mean?” he asked.
“Well,” Hisashi explained, “the kanji we’d use for Izuku means something like ‘coming forth’ or ‘coming into one’s own.’ It’s about starting something… about growth.”
Tenko sat with the sound of it for a while, mouthing the name again silently. “Izuku…”
He looked up, something small and almost fragile flickering in his eyes. “I like that one.”
“Yeah?” Inko asked gently.
He nodded. “It sounds like someone who… doesn’t give up.”
Inko felt her throat tighten, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She reached across the couch and gently squeezed Tenko’s hand. “Then maybe that’s the one.”
Hisashi smiled, his voice warm. “Izuku Midoriya. It has a good sound to it.”
Tenko nodded again, almost shyly. “I think… he’ll be strong. I hope he gets to be happy.”
“He will,” Inko said softly, still holding his hand. “Because he’ll have a big brother looking out for him.”
Tenko’s eyes widened slightly. Then, slowly, almost cautiously, he leaned his head against Inko’s arm. She didn’t move, just rested her cheek against the top of his head and closed her eyes.
The room was quiet again, filled with the soft hum of nighttime and the warmth of something finally starting to feel whole.