Redemption From a Father

[ REVISE ] They're once was a Happy Family

Izuku loved his father, and that was a fact.

If someone ever asked him to choose between his parents, he'd secretly pick his dad. Not because he didn't love his mom, he adored her but there was something about Hisashi that made his young heart cling a little tighter.

Maybe it was the way his dad always came home like a gust of warm wind, full of energy and surprises, or maybe it was just because Izuku saw him as a hero long before he ever dreamed of being one. Even if Hisashi was barely around, Izuku's eyes would always light up the moment he saw him.

Hisashi worked in America, had been since Izuku was just four old. It wasn't by choice. His company called him one of their "best men," which sounded like a compliment until it became a leash. His job kept him trapped between two worlds, flying back and forth between Japan and America, trying to balance duty and family but failing both in quiet ways.

Still, every time he came home, he tried to make up for it. He spoiled Izuku rotten by keep bringing new action figures, books, sweets, whatever he could fit in his luggage and showered Inko with small, clumsy gifts to say I missed you. He always promised he'd take a longer break next time.

But, that next time never came.

Inko never complained too loudly. She understood that Hisashi's job wasn't easy. But being alone for so long slowly turned her patience into silence. The early days were rough for her. Arguments over missed calls, late nights crying while holding Izuku and many more, but she pushed through.

And, she learned those hole in her hearts by filled her days with little things: caring for Izuku, chatting with neighbors, keeping the house warm. Watching her son grow helped heal the ache of her husband's absence. Every smile from Izuku was like a reminder that she was doing okay, even if she was doing it alone.

For a while, they still looked like a happy family, messy but full of love. Then came the day everything cracked.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Your son is quirkless."

That one sentence was enough to burn through all the air in the room. Inko froze, and Izuku... Izuku just stared at the floor, his small hands clenched tight. He was only four, but smart enough to understand what that meant. In a world built on quirks, being quirkless wasn't just an inconvenience, it was a sentence.

He could see it in his father's eyes. All that disbelief, the hesitation, the flicker of disappointment Hisashi tried and failed to hide. Hisashi wanted to comfort his son, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come out. He loved Izuku. Of course he did. But deep down, something ugly began to whisper in his head, something born from years of living in a world that worshipped power. He hated that voice, but he couldn't quiet it.

He began to see Izuku differently, not less loved, just... harder to look at. Harder to understand.

At first, he still tried to visit. But the visits grew shorter. Then rarer. Once a month turned into once every few months, then once a year. Eventually, they stopped altogether. Nine years passed. He still sent money every month, still told himself he was doing his part. But deep down, he knew he'd failed both of them. He'd traded being present for being responsible, as if the two were the same. They weren't.

By the time everything went quiet between them, Inko had stopped calling. Izuku had stopped asking where his father was. And Hisashi... he stopped making excuses. He drowned himself in meetings, reports, deadlines or anything to avoid the truth chewing at his chest. He told himself they were doing fine without him. He said it so many times it started sounding almost real, like a lullaby he used to fall asleep and forget he was a coward.