THE KITCHEN WAS WARM and bright, the sun streaming through the windows in golden rays. The scent of sizzling vegetables and soy sauce filled the air as Aizawa worked at the stove, his movements calm and methodical.

"Chichi, Keigo-senpai wants me to intern at his agency," you announced, practically bouncing on your toes.

Your father didn't even look up from the wok as he added a handful of sliced carrots. "What are you even doing here? You don't live here."

"Gasp! Chichi, are you kicking me out of my own home? After everything I've done for this family?" You turned away dramatically, crossing your arms in an exaggerated pout.

Aizawa sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching as though suppressing a smile. "You don't even pay rent," he muttered, shaking his head.

"You wound me, Father," you shot back, hopping onto the counter to perch like a bird. Your legs swung idly as you watched him cook, the warmth of the kitchen wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Finally, he glanced at you, his tired eyes softening. "So, what exactly are you interning for?"

"Just paperwork," you admitted, your voice quieter now. "I can't do much without, you know... my quirk."

The casual rhythm of his cooking paused, and then you felt the familiar weight of his hand on your head, his fingers ruffling your hair gently.

"Of course you can," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You're my daughter, and you're capable of more than you realize. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

Your chest tightened, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, clinging tightly.

"WAHH, CHICHI, I WILL NEVER PUT YOU IN A RETIREMENT HOME!" you wailed, your voice muffled against his chest.

"What was that?" he asked, his tone dry but his arms wrapping around you anyway.

"Must've been the wind," you muttered, sniffling.

After that heartfelt goodbye, you took off to meet Hawks. Being a hero's daughter definitely had its perks, not least of which was UA's leniency with your absences. Normally, they'd have kicked out a student for missing so much time, but you were an exception. Losing your quirk had given you some leeway, but more than that, you were the daughter of a pro hero and the honorary niece of many others.

Who could resist your charm, anyway? Your cuteness was practically a superpower in itself.

But now, here you were, practically delivering yourself to the villains.

"Hey there, kiddo," Hawks greeted, his voice casual but warm as he waited in front of his agency. His wings flapped unconsciously, betraying the small spark of excitement he always felt when he saw you.

"Keigo-senpai!" you grinned, tucking a strand of your pristine white hair behind your ear. The gesture was effortless, but it still made Hawks' chest tighten.

"Are we ready to kick some villain butt?" you asked with an eager smile, raising your fist for a bump.

Hawks froze for half a second before bursting into laughter. You were such a dork, and it was absolutely adorable. He didn't know how the world hadn't collectively fallen in love with you yet.

"There won't be any butt-kicking today, you dumbo," he teased, his voice light as he tapped your fist with his. "We're off to betray our kind, and then you're coming straight back home." Without warning, he scooped you up effortlessly, his arms firm yet gentle as he prepared for takeoff.

"Aww, man, that's boring!" you pouted, crossing your arms in mock protest as Hawks' wings stretched wide.

Despite your complaints, the moment his wings caught the wind and you were lifted into the air, you instinctively clung to his neck. The view below was breathtaking—buildings shrinking into miniatures as the city unfurled like a map beneath you.

"Congrats on becoming the number one hero, by the way," you said, peering down at the streets below. You tried to keep your voice casual, but there was a genuine warmth in your words.

Hawks' chest tightened at your tone, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "Hmm, thanks," he replied, his voice softer than usual. "It was unexpected, honestly. The Commission only told me few hours prior to the announcement."

As he spoke, his gaze kept drifting to your face—your deep blue eyes reflecting the endless sky around you, your white hair catching the sunlight like a halo. There was something ethereal about you, something that made him feel lighter just by being near you.

You brought a warmth that Hawks couldn't quite explain, a sense of peace that made him believe everything would be okay. He admired you deeply—not just for your beauty, but for your strength. Life had thrown so many obstacles your way, but you still stood strong, still smiled like the world couldn't bring you down.

Hawks' grip on you tightened ever so slightly as he forced himself to look ahead, focusing on the horizon. "Hold on tight, kiddo," he said, his usual playful tone returning. "You've got a front-row seat to my flying skills, so no falling, okay?"

"Pfft, you better not drop me," you teased, resting your cheek against his shoulder. "If I fall, I'm haunting you forever."

Hawks laughed again, a carefree sound carried by the wind. "Deal. But don't worry—I've got you."

And for a moment, as the two of you soared through the skies, you felt safe, as if nothing in the world could touch you.

//

Your vision was wrapped in darkness, the silk blindfold a cool, oppressive weight over your eyes. It brushed softly against your cheek, but the sensation did little to calm the storm brewing within you. Your wrists were bound loosely in your lap—not too tight, as if they knew you couldn't fight back but still wanted to assert control. The bindings felt more like a mockery than a precaution.

From the faint echo of footsteps and the soft murmur of voices, you could tell you were in a spacious room, seated at a long table. A heavy silence hung over the air, interrupted only by the occasional scrape of a chair or the clink of metal against wood.

You couldn't help yourself. "Wow," you began, voice light with sarcasm, "does the villain starter pack come with a kink clause? Because tying me up feels a bit...bold."

There was a beat of silence before laughter burst from one corner of the room. Toga's laugh was sharp and bright, ringing out like silver bells. "Oh my gosh, [Name], you're adorable!" she exclaimed, her footsteps drawing nearer.

You tilted your head, smirking beneath the blindfold. "Not as cute as you, though."

The air shifted, her presence looming closer. "You... you think I'm cute?" Her voice was softer now, tinged with a vulnerability that almost caught you off guard.

"Very," you said simply, your grin widening. You imagined her cheeks flushing, her golden eyes wide in surprise.

For a moment, the room felt lighter, her giddiness almost infectious. But before she could bask too long in the compliment, a cold, gravelly voice sliced through the air.

"Well, well, princess," Dabi drawled, his voice low and dangerous. The faint crackle of blue flames sparked somewhere near you, their heat licking at your senses. "I told you to keep my secret, and yet here we are—dear old dad spilling the tea to the world."

You cocked your head in mock thought. "What? Me? Revealing secrets? Never." Your voice was light, teasing, but there was an undertone of seriousness in your words.

The soft metallic snick of a pocket knife opening and closing punctuated his steps as he moved closer. "You're lucky you're funny," he muttered, though there was no humor in his tone.

"To be fair," you continued, your voice softening, "he only did it because he wanted you to hear him. He put his career, his dreams—everything—on the line. That's not easy for someone like him."

The air grew heavy again, the weight of unspoken emotions settling over the room. Dabi said nothing, but the tension in his silence spoke volumes.

"Do you think that old man actually means anything?" Dabi's voice was cold, sharp enough to cut. The faint scent of burnt ash lingered as he leaned closer, the tip of a pocket knife grazing the soft skin beneath your chin. You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you remained blindfolded, unable to see anything but the darkness pressed against your eyes.

"For years," he spat, his words dripping with venom, "I watched him torment my family—watched him torment me—for the sake of his precious dream. He was elated, [Name], like a goddamn kid with a new toy when Shoto was born."

The blade pressed slightly harder, a warning more than a wound, and your breath hitched. Dabi's voice cracked, raw and filled with hatred. "He cast the rest of us aside the moment he thought his perfect creation was complete. My mother? He drove her to madness. Fuyumi, Natsuo, and me? We were nothing to him—just discarded pieces in his grand puzzle."

You inhaled shakily, steadying yourself before speaking. "I'm not defending him. Not even a little. What he did to you, to your family, was unforgivable." You tried to keep your voice steady, even though the weight of his anguish pressed against you. "But, Touya, just this once—just this once—think about your mother. Think about Fuyumi and Natsuo. They miss you. They care about you. Don't you think they deserve at least that much?"

There was a pause, heavy and suffocating, before Dabi let out a laugh. It wasn't a joyful sound but a harsh, jagged thing that rattled in his chest. It sent chills down your spine.

"We'll see," he muttered darkly, pulling the knife away.

"Dabi, don't even think about hurting her," Shigaraki's voice called from somewhere distant. It echoed faintly, bouncing off the walls of what you guessed was a large, empty room.

Dabi snorted, stuffing the knife back into his pocket. "Relax, boss. I won't lay a finger on your precious wife." His words dripped with mockery, but there was something else there—a sliver of reluctance, maybe even understanding.

You exhaled quietly, tension still coiled in your chest. Dabi's fury burned like wildfire, but it wasn't directionless. Beneath the rage and the scars, there was still something human, something fractured but intact.

Dabi stepped away, his boots scuffing against the floor. "You know," he began, his voice quieter now, "I hate to admit it, but the bastard's actions were... impressive. Sacrificing his dreams like that, confessing his sins to the entire world? I didn't think he had it in him."

You tilted your head slightly, listening as he continued.

"His whole life, he wanted one thing: to be the number one hero. And he gave it up—for what? To say he's sorry? To fix something that's already broken?" Dabi's words were bitter, but there was a tinge of something softer, something uncertain.

The faint hum of tension in the air didn't fade as he fell silent.

After the press conference, Endeavor's ranking had remained at number two, while Hawks had unexpectedly risen to number one. The shift sent ripples through the hero world, and even Dabi—who had planned to shatter his father's facade—seemed shaken by the turn of events.

And you? You sat there, bound and blindfolded, feeling the weight of everything unsaid.

To Dabi, you were an anomaly. Someone who always seemed to know the truth before it revealed itself. Someone who saw the cracks in his plan before they had a chance to form.

You knew. Somehow, you always knew.

And that unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

"[Name], your quirk is still gone, yes?" Shigaraki's gravelly voice broke the tension.

You perked up at the sound of his question, tilting your head toward where his voice resonated. "Yes, Tenko," you replied, lifting your palms to emphasize the absence of your powers. "See? Nothing here but good old amazingness."

Shigaraki didn't respond immediately, but you could feel his calculating gaze studying you from across the room.

"Is this blindfold really necessary?" you continued, your tone laced with playful irritation. "I mean, come on, I don't even care about your base. It's probably not even that impressive. Like, do you guys even have a decent couch, or are we just rocking crates and broken chairs here?"

Dabi snorted at your jab, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "You didn't keep my secret," he reminded, his voice low and taunting.

"Well," you shot back, sticking your tongue out like a child, "maybe you should've sealed the deal with a pinkie swear. Rookie mistake, mister burnt nugget."

Toga giggled at your antics, her laughter light and airy, as though you'd brought a fleeting sense of normalcy to the room. "Hey, [Name], could I... um... could I have some of your blood?" she asked shyly, her voice tinged with both excitement and hesitation.

You tilted your head toward her, raising a curious brow beneath the blindfold. "Of course, Toga," you said, your voice gentle, "as long as you promise not to kill me."

Your giggle echoed softly through the room, light and carefree. But for Toga, it was the sound of something unreachable.

Toga's breath hitched, and for once, the usually bubbly girl went silent. You didn't know what you'd just done, but you'd touched something deep within her—a longing she couldn't quite put into words.

Toga had always been drawn to love in its rawest forms, whether through admiration, obsession, or violence. She adored Izuku, Stain, and Uraraka. But now... there was you.

You weren't just pretty. You were otherworldly, like you'd stepped straight out of a dream. The kind of girl who belonged on the cover of a magazine, radiant and untouchable. Yet here you were, offering kindness so casually it felt like it couldn't be real.

"Toga, stop staring. Everyone out," Shigaraki commanded, his voice cutting through the tension.

The room shifted. The League wasn't a democracy; his orders were absolute.

Dabi, ever the provocateur, smirked as he pushed off the wall. "Use protection, boss," he quipped, flicking his wrist in a mock farewell. His laughter echoed as he strolled out, hands casually stuffed in his pockets.

Toga, however, lingered. Her fingers fumbled with her syringe, eyes darting between you and Shigaraki. For once, her usual confidence was nowhere to be found.

"Toga," Shigaraki growled, a hint of warning in his tone.

Reluctantly, she turned toward the door, her steps slow and hesitant. Twice had to nudge her forward, muttering something under his breath about not making things weird.

When the door finally shut behind them, silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket. Shigaraki's footsteps echoed as he approached you, the blindfold keeping you blissfully unaware of the way his gaze softened ever so slightly.

And for the first time since you arrived, the air felt charged, as if something unspoken lingered between the two of you.

When the door finally shut behind them, silence settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. Shigaraki's measured footsteps echoed, each step reverberating in your chest. You remained still, your blindfolded eyes unable to see the shift in his demeanor. But you could feel it—the crackle of something raw and unspoken in the air.

"[Name]," his voice broke the silence as he kneeled in front of you, the sound unexpectedly gentle. His cold, cracked fingers brushed the back of your neck as he untied the silk blindfold.

"Tenko," you breathed, your voice soft and full of something you couldn't quite name. As your vision returned, the sudden light made you squint. "Man, flashbang," you muttered, your humor a weak defense against the intensity of the moment.

When your eyes finally adjusted, they widened as you took him in. His hair—once a pale blue—was now a stark white, the color of freshly fallen snow. And his eyes, crimson and gleaming with unspoken emotions, stared into yours with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs.

Your matching white hair fell around your face like a cascade of light, framing the scene like something out of a dream. It felt surreal.

"[Name]," he whispered, his dry hands cradling your face, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones as though you were something fragile and precious. "Your eyes—they look like a hero's. Mine... are a villain's." His voice trembled with a bitter smile, his gaze unwavering as he let you see him fully, without the cover of disembodied hands.

It struck you then—the weight of what this moment meant. His exposed face was raw and vulnerable, no longer hidden by the mask of his past or the burden of expectations.

This was bad. His hair was white now, which meant the Meta Liberation Army arc had already passed. Your stomach churned. That fast? It felt like time had slipped through your fingers. This was much earlier than you'd anticipated. His quirk must have fully awakened—there was no other explanation.

"Tenko," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned closer, your head bowing until your hair brushed against his face like a rain of petals. The fragrance of your presence surrounded him, intoxicating and grounding all at once. "Have you... awakened your quirk?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his lips parting as if savoring your closeness. "Yes," he murmured, his tone teetering between triumph and sorrow. "I'm so close, [Name]. So close to my goals. Please..." His hands tightened ever so slightly, desperate but careful. "Be with me when I achieve them."

There it was—that vulnerability. It bled through his voice like a child seeking shelter in a storm.

Your hearts seemed to echo each other's pain, two souls born of vastly different circumstances yet connected in ways neither of you could fully understand. Two paths, etched in opposition yet tied by an inexplicable bond.

"Tenko," you said, your voice trembling as your lips quivered. "I can't. You know I can't." The weight of your words crushed your chest, but you pushed through. "My first and last home is with the heroes. You... you belong there, too. You should be with me—where you truly belong."

His crimson eyes darkened, a storm of emotions swirling within them. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his gaze—a flash of your face overlaid with another. All For One.

The resemblance was striking. So much so that it sent a chill through him. Half of your face was yours, soft and warm, filled with the light of compassion. The other half was his mentor's, cold and calculating, promising nothing but