My Number One Hero-(All Might/ Toshinori Yagi) Book 3

35

The shrill sound of my alarm clock ripped me from a dreamless sleep, blaring like an unforgiving drill. My hand shot out, slamming down on the snooze button, but it only made the noise louder for a few more agonizing seconds. I groaned, my body stiff and refusing to cooperate as I pulled the pink sleeping bag up to my face, burying myself in its soft warmth. The thick fabric muffled the world, and for a few blissful moments, I let myself float in the haze of half-sleep.

But, of course, that peace was short-lived.

"Isn't it a bit early for all of this?" Aizawa's voice cut through the quiet, his tone more of an observation than a question.

I froze, the irritation bubbling up instantly. My eyes flicked open, narrowing at the ceiling above me. "Aizawa," I muttered, my voice muffled by the bag still wrapped around my face. "You're the last person I need to hear from right now."

The bastard had the nerve to laugh softly under his breath. "I'd say you're the last person I want to hear, but it looks like we're both stuck in here."

I grumbled in response, still unable to understand how he could manage to sound so annoyingly comfortable. The guy had a house, a bed, and God knows how many other luxuries, and yet, here he was, zipped up in his yellow sleeping bag like he was preparing for another 12-hour nap.

The sight of him—perfectly content in his own little cocoon—made my frustration spike. "Why do you even have a house and a bed?" I grumbled, throwing my arm over my eyes. "You always sleep in that damn bag like you're living in the wild."

Aizawa didn't answer right away, but I could hear the rustle of the sleeping bag as he shifted. His voice finally emerged, low and indifferent, "Because I can."

The nerve. I pushed my pink bag off my face, my vision full of my annoyance, and turned to face him, still lying in his own yellow cocoon of warmth and comfort. "You really just... prefer the floor, huh?" I muttered, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

He didn't even spare me a glance as he zipped himself further into his bag, the sound of the zipper closing in that deliberate, irritating way he had. My patience—what little I had left—snapped.

"Are you seriously ignoring me right now?!" I barked, sitting up with an exaggerated groan.

Aizawa, of course, was still completely unbothered. His head was buried deep within his bag now, face hidden, not even a hint of acknowledgment.

Without thinking, I launched myself toward him, no longer able to contain the mounting irritation. My body collided with his sleeping bag with a soft thud, pushing him back into the soft floor beneath us. His muffled voice came through the fabric, full of the annoyance that was equal parts me and him.

"Hana," he grumbled, the annoyance in his voice clear, though I knew he wasn't mad enough to do anything about it.

I sat on top of the bag, crossing my arms. "Don't ignore me!" I snapped. "You're the one who decided to be a stubborn jackass and live in a sleeping bag at all times. I'm done with it!"

Aizawa, with his usual stoicism, just let out a long sigh as if I weren't sitting on top of him, and he had all the time in the world to tolerate my antics. "You're really not getting off me, are you?"

I smirked down at him, knowing full well how much this annoyed him. "Not a chance," I shot back, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from his discomfort. "You owe me an explanation, at least."

With a grunt, he finally unzipped his bag halfway, just enough to roll over and face me with an irritated yet somehow amused expression. "You're lucky you're so damn persistent," he muttered, "or I'd be telling you to get off."

"Then I guess you'll just have to deal with it," I shot back, a little too smug for someone sitting on top of a man in a yellow sleeping bag.

Aizawa didn't say anything further, his lips pressing into a thin line. I'd won this round, and he knew it.

As I sat there, smugly perched on top of Aizawa's sleeping bag, I couldn't help but notice a glint of something in his eyes—a mix of amusement and something else. It was like he was sizing me up, like he was seeing through my teasing behavior to something deeper.

Finally, after a long, quiet moment, he let out another sigh, this one heavier than before. "You know," he muttered, his voice laced with that familiar exasperation, "I just realized where Ryuu gets his attitude from."

I raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Excuse me?" I asked, leaning in closer. "Are you saying I'm the one who's responsible for his sass?"

Aizawa didn't respond right away. His tired eyes—more resigned than anything—locked onto mine, and I could feel the weight of his words before he even said them. "You and Ryuu... both of you have that same... *stubborn* streak. That same defiant attitude. The one that refuses to back down, even when it's clear the other person's not going to give in either."

I froze, caught off guard. "You think I'm stubborn?" I shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my voice.

"Stubborn doesn't even cover it," Aizawa said, the corner of his mouth curling into the smallest smirk. "You're relentless. And so is he."

The realization hit me a little harder than I expected. Ryuu, my son, was a lot like me—his fierce determination, his refusal to compromise... it all made sense now. It was like Aizawa had just held up a mirror to me, and I was seeing my own reflection in my child's rebellious spirit.

"Great," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Now I know what I'm in for with him. Just like I didn't already have enough of my own... stubbornness."

Aizawa chuckled softly at that, the sound rare but not unwelcome. "You're not the only one, Hana. He definitely got a good chunk of it from Toshinori too."

I froze. "What?"

Aizawa sat up slightly in his sleeping bag, glancing over at me. "I'm just saying... Toshinori is just as stubborn as you are. And he's got his own brand of 'I'll protect you no matter what' attitude. Ryuu's a mix of both of you—his determination to keep pushing forward, and his need to protect the people he loves, even if it means stubbornly doing things his own way."

I let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Toshinori? Really?" The idea that Ryuu got his defiance and protectiveness from both Toshinori *and* me felt surreal, but somehow it made more sense than I cared to admit.

Aizawa nodded, his tone shifting a little. "Toshinori might wear a bright smile, but underneath, he's just as intense as you when it comes to what he believes in. And from what I've seen, Ryuu's not just getting it from you. He's got his father's fire, too."

I stared down at him, processing his words. Ryuu—my son—was a combination of two forces. Toshinori's unwavering dedication and my stubbornness. The weight of it made my chest tighten. I knew I had to be strong for him, just as Toshinori would. But that didn't make it any easier.

"Well," I said, finally easing off of him, "I guess I'll take that as a compliment... for both of us." I stretched my arms out, trying to shake off the weird mix of emotions flooding me.

Aizawa gave me a half-hearted nod, still lying there with a quiet smile that didn't reach his tired eyes. "If you ever need help dealing with him, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I think I'm going to need all the help I can get... but it'll have to come after coffee. And more sleep."

Aizawa chuckled once more, shaking his head, and I couldn't help but feel a small, unexpected warmth settle in my chest.