The first snow of the season had fallen over Musutafu, blanketing the U.A. campus in a layer of white. It was a silence that felt earned. After the fires of Kamino, the blood of the Hassaikai raid, and the grueling intensity of the Work Studies, the world seemed to be taking a deep breath.
Inside the Heights Alliance dorms, however, there was no silence. There was only chaos, sugar, and an aggressive amount of tinsel.
"Sato! The chicken! Is the chicken ready?!" Kaminari screamed, sliding across the polished floor in his socks, a Santa hat lopsided on his head.
"It's coming, it's coming! Calm down!" Sato yelled back from the kitchen, looking like a general in the midst of a culinary war. He was pulling tray after tray of golden, crispy fried chicken — the traditional Japanese Christmas staple — out of the ovens. The smell of grease, spices, and baking cake filled the air, a warm, savory fog that made stomachs rumble.
The common room had been transformed. Momo Yaoyorozu had gone a little overboard with her creation quirk, producing decorations that were frankly too high-quality for a high school dorm. Crystal snowflakes hung from the ceiling, catching the light. A massive fir tree, smelling of fresh pine, dominated the center of the room, groaning under the weight of ornaments, lights, and a star that actually glowed.
"It needs more glitter!" Hagakure declared, throwing a handful of silver dust into the air where it seemed to sparkle magically against her invisible form.
"No more glitter!" Jiro groaned, rubbing her temples. "I'm still finding it in my ear jacks from last time."
In the center of the madness stood Eri.
She was wearing a fluffy red dress with white fur trim, looking for all the world like a tiny, confused Santa Claus. She clutched her cat plushie to her chest, her big red eyes wide as she took in the scene. To a girl who had spent her life in a sterile, gray cell, this explosion of color and noise was overwhelming.
But it wasn't scary. Not anymore.
"Is... is the tree supposed to be inside?" she asked quietly, tugging on the hem of Akaza's black sweater.
Akaza looked down at her. He wasn't wearing a costume, refusing the Santa hat Mina had tried to force on him with a glare that sent her squeaking away. He wore dark jeans and a high-collared sweater, looking more like a tired dad than a hero student.
"Yeah," Akaza said, crouching down. "It's for Christmas. We decorate it, eat food, and relax."
"Relax?" Eri tilted her head. "Like... sleeping?"
"Kind of. But with more cake."
"Cake..." Eri's eyes sparkled. The concept of cake was still relatively new and entirely magical to her.
"Hey! Eri-chan!"
Ochaco bounded over, levitating a massive bowl of popcorn. "Look! I made it snow!" She released her quirk, and the popcorn rained down into the bowl (and partly onto the floor).
Eri giggled. It was a small, bell-like sound that seemed to cut through the noise of the party, making half the class stop and smile.
"Alright, extras! Food's up! Get in line or starve!" Bakugo roared from the kitchen counter. He was wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron that Kirishima had bought him as a joke. Everyone was terrified to ask why he was actually wearing it, but he was serving the spicy curry.
"Thanks, Kacchan!" Izuku said, taking a plate.
"Don't thank me, nerd! Just eat it and choke!" Bakugo grunted, slamming a ladle of curry onto the plate with unnecessary force.
The class gathered around the pushed-together tables. It was a chaotic, loud, messy dinner. Mineta (who did not exist in this timeline, thankfully) wasn't there to ruin it, so the vibe was wholesome. Sero used his tape to steal bread rolls from across the table. Ashido and a shy Momo were trying to teach Shoto how to take a selfie, resulting in several photos of Shoto looking bewildered while holding a peace sign.
Iida was vibrating with festive authority. "Everyone! Please ensure you chew your food thirty times for optimal digestion! This is a celebration, but safety comes first!"
"Lighten up, Prez!" Rumi called out. She was sitting on the back of the sofa, balancing a plate on her knee. She wore a cropped red sweater and black jeans, looking festive but ready to fight at a moment's notice. "It's a party. Let people choke if they want to."
"That is not the hero way, Usagiyama-san!"
The evening wore on. They exchanged Secret Santa gifts. Izuku got a new notebook from Uraraka and cried. Tokoyami got a dark candle from Shoji and nodded solemnly. Bakugo got a stress ball from Kaminari and immediately exploded it.
It was loud. It was happy. It was normal.
For Akaza, watching from the edge of the room with Eri on his lap, it was surreal. In his last life, he was a ghost. A weapon waiting to be aimed.
Now, he was sitting in a room full of people who, despite everything, were his comrades. The rift from the summer camp had healed into a scar — visible, but closed. They respected him. They feared him a little. But they accepted him.
He looked down at Eri. She was munching on a strawberry from the top of Sato's Christmas cake, cream smeared on her cheek.
"You having fun?" he asked.
She nodded vigorously. "It's loud. But... warm."
"Yeah," he agreed. "It is."
Rumi hopped off the couch and walked over to them. She ruffled Akaza's hair, ignoring his annoyance. "Alright, party animals. We've done the class bonding thing. Time for the main event."
Akaza stood up, lifting Eri effortlessly into his arms. "Right."
"Eh? You guys leaving already?" Kirishima asked, pausing mid-chew.
"Yeah," Akaza said. "We have dinner plans."
"But... we just ate dinner?" Kaminari pointed out, gesturing to the devastated buffet.
"That was a snack," Rumi grinned. "Now we're going for real food. Family time. Don't wait up."
She grabbed her coat, a heavy white parka with fur that matched her hair, and threw Akaza his long black trench coat. He bundled Eri up in her own coat, putting the hood with the cat ears up.
"Bye, everyone!" Eri waved, her voice small but clear.
"Bye Eri-chan! Merry Christmas!" the girls chorused.
"Merry Christmas!"
Akaza nodded to the class, his eyes meeting Izuku's for a brief second.
Izuku gave him a firm, knowing nod. Go. Enjoy it.
They walked out of the dorms and into the cold night air.
"Finally," Rumi exhaled, her breath pluming in the air. She linked her arm with Akaza's, leaning her weight against him. "I love those idiots, but my ears were starting to ring."
"Mic wasn't even there," Akaza noted, adjusting Eri so she was comfortable.
"Kaminari is basically a mini-Mic," she countered.
They walked toward the station. The campus was beautiful in the snow. The trees were frosted white, the path illuminated by soft, golden streetlamps. It felt like walking through a snow globe.
"Where are we going?" Eri asked, her face buried in Akaza's neck to keep warm.
"A place in the city," Akaza said. "Somewhere quiet. With good meat."
"Meat?" Eri asked.
"The best kind," Rumi promised.
They took a taxi to the city center. Musutafu was alive with holiday spirit. The streets were lined with illuminated trees — blue, white, and gold lights twinkling in the falling snow. Storefronts were decorated with wreaths and ribbons. Couples walked arm-in-arm, and families hurried along with bags of gifts.
Eri watched it all from the safety of the taxi window, her breath fogging up the glass. "It's so... bright."
"It's called illumination," Akaza explained. "They do it every winter."
"For Christmas?"
"Yeah. And for the New Year."
The taxi dropped them off in a quieter, more upscale district. They walked down a cobblestone street until they reached a small, warm-looking restaurant with a wooden facade. The Gilded Grill.
It was a teppanyaki place. Private booths, grills built into the tables, low lighting. It was intimate and smelled of searing beef and garlic butter.
"Reservation for Asura," Akaza told the hostess.
The hostess, a young woman with a mutation quirk that gave her flower petals for hair, looked up. Her eyes widened slightly as she recognized him — or at least, recognized the name and the striking eyes. But she was a professional.
"Right this way, sir. We have your private booth ready."
They were led to a cozy booth in the back, separated from the other diners by high wooden screens. It was a little pocket of privacy.
They sat down. Akaza and Rumi sat on one side, Eri between them, though she quickly scrambled onto Akaza's lap, wanting to see the grill.
The chef arrived, a jovial man who cracked jokes as he spun eggs and flipped spatulas. Eri watched him with unblinking fascination, jumping slightly when a flare of fire erupted from the onion volcano.
"It's magic!" she whispered.
"It's cooking, kiddo," Rumi laughed, reaching over to steal a piece of grilled shrimp from Akaza's plate before he could even pick up his chopsticks.
"Hey," Akaza protested weakly.
"Tax," she grinned, popping it into her mouth. "Delicious."
They ate. It wasn't the frantic, quantity-over-quality feeding frenzy of the dorms. It was slow. It was savory. They fed Eri bites of high-quality wagyu beef, watching her eyes widen at the rich flavor. They shared sides. They talked about nothing important — Rumi's new move, a book Akaza was reading, and which cat video Eri liked best.
It was domestic. It was cozy. And it was the best night of Akaza's life.
As they were finishing up, sipping tea and eating yuzu sorbet, the waitress came by to clear the plates. She smiled at them, a warm, genuine expression.
"Here is the bill, sir," she said, placing the folder on the table. She looked at Eri, who was currently trying to wipe a spot of sorbet off Akaza's nose with a napkin. She looked at Rumi, who was laughing softly, her hand resting on Akaza's shoulder.
"You have a beautiful family," the waitress said kindly. "Your daughter is adorable."
The table went still for a split second.
Rumi's face flushed a bright, sudden red. She opened her mouth to correct her, to say, 'No, we're students, we're 16, this isn't — '
But Akaza spoke first.
"Thank you," he said. His voice was calm, steady, and filled with a quiet pride. He looked at Eri, then at the waitress. "She really is."
The waitress bowed and left.
Rumi stared at Akaza, her mouth hanging open slightly. "Did you just...?"
Akaza looked at her, his black eyes soft. "What? Is she wrong?"
Rumi looked at Eri. The little girl was beaming, glowing under the praise of being called their daughter. She looked at Akaza.
Rumi's blush deepened, but her expression softened into something tender and achingly sweet. She leaned her head on his shoulder, intertwining her fingers with his.
"No," she whispered. "I guess she isn't."
They paid and left, stepping back out into the snowy night. The air was colder now, but none of them felt it.
The walk back to the station was slow. Eri's energy had finally run out. She was fast asleep in Akaza's arms, her head tucked into his neck, her breathing slow and even.
Rumi walked close to him, her arm wrapped around his waist, her hand tucked into his coat pocket for warmth.
They reached a small park near the station. It was empty, the snow untouched, shimmering under the moonlight.
"Let's sit for a second," Rumi suggested.
They brushed the snow off a bench and sat down. The city was quiet around them.
Akaza looked down at Eri. He adjusted her hood, making sure her ears were covered. He looked at Rumi, who was watching him with a look of pure love.
"You know," Akaza said quietly, his breath misting in the air. " I never thought I would live like this."
He looked out at the snowy park.
"I never thought I'd get to do this. Just... sit. Eat good food. Be with people I love."
Rumi squeezed his waist. "You deserve it, Aki. You fought for it."
"I did," he agreed. "I fought everyone. The world. Heroes. Villains."
He looked up at the sky. The snow had stopped, and the clouds were parting, revealing a tapestry of stars that looked cold and distant, yet somehow watching over them.
"I used to think family was a weakness," he mused. "Something that could be used against you. Something that made you vulnerable. That's why I pushed everyone away. Why I tried to be alone."
He looked at Rumi.
"But I was wrong. It's not a weakness. It's the reason. It's the fuel."
He leaned his head back against hers.
'Guess I am a teenage dad, sis,' he thought, looking at the stars, to the ghost of Yuna, who he hoped was watching. 'I hope you can see this.'
Rumi leaned up and kissed his cheek, a soft, lingering touch.
"We will always be together, Aki, " Rumi whispered.
They sat there for a long time, a boy, a girl, and a child, huddled together against the cold. A family forged in blood and trauma, bound by choice and love.
"Let's go home," Akaza said finally, standing up.
"Yeah," Rumi smiled, standing with him. "Let's go home."
They walked toward the station, their footprints the only mark on the pristine snow, leaving the darkness behind them as they headed toward the warm lights of the Heights Alliance.