Dabis Kid (Edits Complete)

(5) Summers Don't End, They Fold Into You -Edited

The month slipped by the way smoke does—slow, curling, impossible to grab once you notice it’s moving.

In that time, I learned my dad in pieces. Not the villain, not the name people whispered, but the man who burned toast and pretended he meant to. The man who hovered when I sketched too late into the night. The man who didn’t say much, but stayed.

And somewhere between shared breakfasts and late-night movies, I claimed Crusty too.
I started calling him Papa without meaning to.

He didn’t argue.

Didn’t tease.

Just blinked once, hard, and carried on like his chest wasn’t cracking open.

I barely left the base that summer. Once—only once—I went out to meet Kacchan and Deku. It felt strange, like wearing an old version of myself that didn’t quite fit anymore. Still good. Still mine. Just… different.

Dad and Papa took me shopping one afternoon. New clothes. Not costumes. Not disguises. Just things that felt like me. Stuff that didn’t itch or pull or pretend. I caught Dad watching sometimes, like he was memorizing the way I smiled when I found something I liked.

The League changed too.
They added a new member—Muscular. Loud. Dangerous. Like a thunderstorm that didn’t know when to stop. I drew him anyway. Charcoal lines heavy and sharp, like he was carved out of pressure.
On my birthday, Father called.
The other one.

The entire base went dead silent the second my phone rang. Even the walls felt like they were listening.

Well—almost everyone.

Mr. Compress hummed dramatically.
Bubbly absolutely did not shut up.
I took the call in the hallway, voice carefu
l, measured. Afterward, I FaceTimed Rumi. She was shopping—of course she was—and nearly dropped her phone when she saw everyone behind me.

Introductions happened. Chaos bloomed.
Dad took my phone next. Talked to her quietly. Too quietly. When he handed it back, his jaw was tight, but his eyes were softer.

Later, I called Uncle Leo and told him we’d stop by that night.

We did.

By the time we got back to the base, exhaustion hit me like a brick. I passed out in Bubbly’s room, still wearing socks, pencil smudges on my fingers.

As summer tilted toward its end, I realized I didn’t have much to pack.

Papa noticed.

“You’ll always have a place here,” he said, like it was obvious. Like it didn’t rearrange something permanent in my chest.

I told them about U.A.

About signing up.

About wanting to try.

They supported me. Every single one.
Which—honestly—who expects that? A room full of villains nodding seriously while you talk about hero exams?

I wrote a letter to Principal Nezu. Explained my situation. My family. Why Hawks couldn’t know. I included drawings too—Nezu himself, Endeavor, Eraser Head, Present Mic, and Midnight (Auntie Nem in my head, always).

On my last night at the base, we had an ice cream party. No theme. No rules. Just spoons and sugar and laughter that felt earned.

We finished an anime together—From Me to You. It was unbearably sweet. Even the hard ones pretended they weren’t invested.
Later, when I was getting ready for bed, Bubbly knocked on her doorframe.

“Come here,” she said.

“No questions… please.”

Please.

That word hit me harder than anything else.

In her room, she sat on the bed and patted the space in front of her. I sat. She stared at her hands like they might betray her.
When she looked up, her face was completely red.

“Ash,” she said, voice shaking, “I like you. Do you like me? And—if you do—will you be my girlfriend?”

I turned into a tomato.

“Yes,” I said. “Times a thousand.”

The fear drained out of her like a storm finally breaking. She smiled—real, bright, unguarded—and kissed me.

It was soft. Sweet. The kind of kiss you remember forever.

We agreed to wait. To be careful. To learn who we were becoming first.

The next morning, I went home.

Father scooped me into a hug so tight I squeaked. I told him about my summer—most of it, anyway—and he listened like every word mattered.

He and Rumi took me shopping for the rest of the day. Late birthday gifts. Sunlight. Normalcy.

That night, I went to bed early. Training started next week.

I fell asleep smiling, imagining it all braided together—Dad. Papa. My uncles. My aunt. My girlfriend. Mama-giri. Grandpa DFA. And the family I already had.

It didn’t feel impossible anymore.

It felt like mine.