Aizawa sat at his desk, surrounded by towering stacks of paperwork. His graying hair hung loosely over tired eyes as he scrawled his signature on yet another document. With a sigh, he muttered to himself,
"I should've made Midoriya stay."
A firm knock at the door interrupted his grumbling.
"Dad, dinner's ready," came a familiar voice from the hallway.
Aizawa exhaled, setting his pen down. "Yeah, I'm coming."
"Uncle Mic is here too," the voice added, amusement laced in its tone.
Aizawa closed his eyes for a beat before pushing himself up from his chair. His movements were stiff—age and the weight of his prosthetic leg making each step feel just a little heavier. As soon as he stepped out, a loud, unmistakable voice boomed in his face.
"YOOOO! SHOTA!"
There stood his longtime friend, older now, slightly hunched, but still as loud and animated as ever.
Aizawa sighed. "You can keep it down, Mic. I still have my ears."
Hizashi let out a dramatic sigh. "Still as grumpy as ever, Eraser-chan."
"He doesn't like it when you call him that, Uncle Mic," a soft but firm voice chimed in.
Aizawa turned to see a silver-haired young woman standing in the doorway, a wooden spoon in hand.
Mic grinned. "Oooh! Eri-chan, I know! That's why I do it."
Before Eri could respond, another voice called out from the kitchen—cheerful, teasing, and unmistakably playful.
"Only his beloved wife can call him that!"
Warm arms wrapped around Aizawa from behind, and he felt a chin rest lightly on his shoulder. "Isn't that right, Shota dear?"
Aizawa sighed again, though the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. "Emi."
Her laughter was light and teasing as she held him a little tighter. Behind them, Eri shook her head fondly, while Mic just grinned.
"Now, let's get seated! Dinner's getting cold," Emi—better known as Miss Joke—called out as she took the wooden spoon from Eri's hand.
"Eri, go bring Airi down for dinner," she added with a knowing smirk, already expecting a struggle.
"Yes, Mom," Eri sighed, turning to head upstairs.
She made her way to the front of Airi's door and knocked.
"Airi-chan! Dinner is ready!"
Silence.
Eri sighed, rubbing her temples. Here we go again.
"I'm coming in!" she warned before pushing the door open.
She stopped mid-step.
The room was chaotic—clothes thrown over the chair, books haphazardly stacked, and a few papers scattered across the desk. But in the center of the mess, wrapped tightly in a cocoon of blankets like a perfectly rolled burrito, was Airi, dozing off, her messy dark green hair barely peeking out from the bundle.
Eri exhaled, hands on her hips. "Airi-chan," she muttered under her breath before stepping forward and giving her sister a gentle shake.
"Wake up! Dinner is ready!"
Airi groaned from inside the burrito. "Mmm… five more minutes."
"Nope! Not happening." Eri grabbed a part of the blanket and tugged, but Airi clung on for dear life.
"Let gooooo," Airi whined dramatically, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
"Not a chance." Eri tugged harder, only for Airi to roll to the other side of the bed, blanket still intact.
Eri narrowed her eyes. Oh, it's war now.
And so, the battle began.
For the next five minutes, they went back and forth in a ridiculous cartoonish struggle—Eri pulling, Airi rolling, Eri trying to grab the loose end, Airi tightening the cocoon. At one point, Eri nearly had her, but Airi dramatically flopped back onto the bed, taking the blanket and Eri with her.
"Ugh, stop fighting it and just come eat!" Eri huffed, out of breath.
"Blanket burritos don't need food," Airi mumbled sleepily.
Finally, with one final heave, Eri managed to yank her sister out of the blanket trap, sending both of them tumbling onto the floor. Airi groaned in defeat as Eri sat up, catching her breath.
With a smug grin, she looked at her younger sister and announced, "Reverie = 330 + 1, Jester = 14."
Airi scowled. "I demand a rematch."
"After dinner," Eri smirked, dragging Airi to her feet.
Together, they headed downstairs, one looking victorious and the other looking like a very grumpy former blanket burrito.
Airi and Eri walked downstairs and took their seats at the dinner table. Airi was still drowsy, blinking slowly as she started eating. Aizawa glanced at her and sighed. She was too much like him—grumpy, tired, and somehow always getting more sleep than he ever could.
The family ate together.
"So, Airi-chan, are you ready for your U.A. entrance exam?" Mic asked between bites.
"Yeah, I think so," Airi mumbled, her mouth half-full.
Eri shot her a look. "Finish your food first."
Airi sighed but swallowed before speaking again. "Yeah, I'm ready, Uncle Mic."
Aizawa nodded. "How's that tech project going?"
"It's going good, Dad. I'll show you the demo tomorrow."
Emi huffed, crossing her arms. "Just 'Dad,' huh?"
Airi sighed again. "You too, Mom."
Emi smiled, satisfied.
Mic chuckled.
Aizawa shook his head, but there was a small, tired smile on his face.
This kind of moment—simple, warm, and familiar—was something he never thought he'd have.
Airi, now more awake, glanced at Mic. "So, Uncle Mic, how long before you embarrass Dad?"
Hizashi grinned. "Oh, Airi-chan, I already did the moment I walked in."
Airi and Hizashi nodded in Unison like some sort of signal.
'oh god no!' Aizawa thought to himself, he takes back what he thought of the moment he hated what was about to come next.