Dabis Kid (Edits Complete)

(7) Three Letters and a Future That Answered Back -Edited

POV: Ash Takami-Todoroki
---

Rumi didn’t even take her shoes off before she said it.

“I’ve got mail for you.”

That alone was weird. Nobody ever says mail like it’s important unless it is.

She held out three envelopes. Not bills. Not junk. Three different weights of paper, three different handwritings, three different futures folded small enough to hold.

My chest went tight.

I took them and nodded, already halfway down the hall before she could say anything else. I closed my bedroom door behind me and sat on the bed, letters fanned out like cards in a tarot reading.
The first one had neat printing and an official seal.

Principal Nezu.

I didn’t hesitate. I tore it open.

Dear Ash,

I reread the first line twice just to make sure it was real.

He thanked me. For telling the truth. For trusting him. He said he had informed the top heroes and the entire U.A. staff—not Hawks, not All Might—just like I asked. He said I would be welcomed with open arms.

Open arms.

I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until my eyes burned.

He promised they wouldn’t use me. Wouldn’t turn me into leverage or bait or a walking contradiction. There would be limits, yes—weekend visits only—but it wasn’t a cage. It was a boundary. The kind adults are supposed to give you.

Then there was the line about the bar.

I snorted out loud.

Try not to get too drunk and return to campus sober.

I pressed the letter to my forehead, laughing quietly, the kind of laugh that shakes a little because it’s holding back tears.

And then—that.

My identity.

Lady Flame.

My music.

My secret.

Safe.

Protected.

With Midoriya.

I folded the letter carefully, like it might bruise if I didn’t.

Then I reached for the second envelope.
The handwriting was messier. Sparse. No wasted words.

Eraser Head.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Dear Ash,

Everything Nezu said.

My heart skipped.

One last thing.

I stopped breathing.

I will be recommending you to my class. Class 1-A.

That was it.

That was the whole letter.

I stared at the paper until it blurred.

I was his first recommendation.

Him.

My favorite hero.

The man who erased quirks and nonsense and excuses with the same tired eyes.

I pressed the letter to my chest and let the tears fall this time. Quiet. Ugly. Grateful.

Then I saw the third envelope.

No seal. No formality.

Just… him.

Grandpa.

I opened it slowly.

Ash.

It’s me this time.

The words felt warm. Familiar.

He asked me to come to dinner. Gave an address. A time. Asked—carefully—if I could bring Dad. And Papa. And any spouses. Like he wasn’t sure what shape our family had taken yet, but wanted to make room for all of it.

Two days.

Six o’clock.

If we agreed.

I sat there for a long time after I finished reading.

Then I grabbed my phone.

I called Dad first.

He didn’t even hesitate.

“I’ll come,” he said. “Crusty too.”

Then I called Bubbly.

“Of course I’ll come,” she said, like it was obvious. Like there was nowhere else she’d be.

I leaned back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, three letters spread out beside me like proof.

“…Wow,” I muttered to myself. “My family is so fucked up.”

But the thing was—

I was smiling.

Because fucked up didn’t mean broken.

Not anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like something chasing me.

It felt like something waiting.