Evil....Maybe Not

Home Sweet Home

Deku POV:

The bright and warm morning sun shone on my face through the white curtains in our bedroom. My eyes fluttered open to streams of sunlight peeking through gaps in the window. It was a pleasant way to wake up. I heard soft breathing behind me and felt a firm grip on my waist. Kacchan was sleeping soundly. He must've had a long night, just like me.

The party had been great, and it was fun to see everyone's faces again, but man, did it tire me out. We were still young adults with kids and jobs. Most of us were in our early to late twenties. It almost felt like we had jumped too quickly into adulthood. As high school graduates, we had partied and gone to concerts, but everything changed once Mina got pregnant. Their son was born several months before our daughters, and soon, our friend group was full of families. Sometimes, I wish I had enjoyed my younger years a bit more, but I'm happy with where I am. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Deku, your mumbles are getting louder by the second," Kacchan's muffled voice cut through my thoughts.

I smacked my hand to my mouth. Was I really talking out loud? "Right, sorry."

Kacchan rubbed my bed-head styled hair. "Don't apologize."

We went about our day, engaging in the usual routines that made up our mundane life. Mornings began with the soft sound of Kacchan's alarm blaring, followed by a flurry of activity as we juggled breakfast, getting Izumi ready for school, and our own work commitments. Even on days like today, when we had no major plans, the rhythm of our daily life provided a comforting structure. We cleaned up after breakfast, prepared lunch for Izumi, and then tackled the chores that inevitably piled up: laundry, tidying up the house, and the occasional grocery run.

Kacchan had taken on a part-time job at a local gym, where he coached aspiring heroes, while I worked from home as a freelance consultant for various hero agencies. The work was fulfilling, but it came with its own challenges. I often found myself lost in thought, reflecting on the intense experiences of my past. Over the years, I had sought therapy and support groups to help cope with the PTSD that lingered from my battles and the trauma of those I couldn't save. It wasn't easy—some days felt like an uphill battle, with flashbacks and nightmares disrupting my peace.

Kacchan had been a steadfast support, understanding when I needed space and knowing when to push me to confront my fears. Our relationship had evolved from one of fiery rivalry to deep, unwavering support. He was my anchor, and despite his gruff exterior, he had a way of grounding me when I felt adrift.

Izumi, our little bundle of energy, was a bright spot in our lives. Her laughter and curiosity were a constant reminder of the joys we had in the present. Even on tough days, she had a way of bringing a smile to my face. I watched her grow from a baby into a vibrant child with a strong will and a heart full of wonder. She kept us on our toes, and her questions about the world often led to conversations that helped me process my own feelings and experiences.

Despite our busy routines, there were moments of quiet, reflective solitude that I used to practice mindfulness and work through my internal struggles. I spent time journaling, exercising, and engaging in activities that allowed me to find balance. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it helped.

So when the phone rang with a call from the county jail, it was a sharp interruption to our steady rhythm. I answered it, my heart quickening at the unexpected news.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how have you been?" The raspy voice was unmistakable.

"Shiggy!?" I gasped.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Oh my Lord, how have you been holding up? I thought you weren't allowed to have phone calls?"