Kaito's Point of View
The crimson lightning arcing over his bracers was a final, brilliant exclamation point on a perfect response. The display of will, the defiant step forward—it was more than I had dared hope for.
I smiled. A real, broad, unrestrained smile that felt foreign on my face. The last of my tension bled away, replaced by a profound, professional satisfaction. The feline glow in my eyes winked out, my mane and tail retracting, my claws sheathing. I became just a man again, sitting in a living room that had tried to kill me moments before.
I laughed. A soft, low chuckle of genuine amusement and respect.
"And that," I said, shaking my head as I settled back onto the couch, "is exactly what I wanted to see. Your determination. Your will. You didn't just endure the pressure. You answered it." I gestured to the space opposite me. "You exceeded every expectation. So, sit. Put down the artillery and call off your little army. They're not needed at the moment now are they?"
I watched as the boy processed this. His heart, which had been thundering a frantic rhythm I could still hear, began to slow, the beats steadying into a controlled, deliberate tempo. He was pulling himself back from the brink, mastering his own adrenaline. The tiny spider drone on his shoulder, 'if Silk if I recall correctly,' rubbed her smooth, metal head against the side of his neck in a gesture of unmistakable comfort.
Izuku snapped his fingers once, a crisp, quiet sound.
The response was immediate and silent. The red targeting dots vanished. The faint hum of capacitors died. The spider drones, with a synchronized skitter, retreated into vents and shadows. The micro-turrets slid back into their hidden housings with soft shushes of magnetized rails. In three seconds, the living room was just a living room again. Only Silk remained, perched on his shoulder, her blue optics now fixed on me with what I could swear was smug curiosity.
Izuku sat, his posture relaxing from combat-ready to something more attentive, but no less vigilant. He reached up and scratched under Silk's chassis, and she emitted a soft, contented whirr.
Before either of us could speak, the kitchen door swung open.
Inko Midoriya popped her head into the room, a warm, inquisitive smile on her face. "Sorry to interrupt! I was just wondering if either of you would like some dessert after we finish talking?"
The transformation in Izuku was so instant and complete it was almost disorienting. The sharp-eyed strategist vanished. In his place was a bright, eager little boy, his eyes wide with hopeful excitement.
"Can we have ice cream, Mama?" he asked, his voice pitched with childish delight.
Inko laughed, the sound like wind chimes. "I think that can be arranged, sweetheart." She turned her smile to me, and it was like being spotlighted by the sun. "Hikaru-san? Is ice cream alright with you? We have a few different kinds."
I found myself nodding, momentarily robbed of higher speech. "Yes. That's... fine. Thank you."
"Just one thing," I managed to add, finding my voice. "I'm mildly allergic to nuts. So, as long as it's not that variety..."
Inko's smile softened into one of understanding. "Oh, don't you worry about that! We're not picky eaters, but nuts are one thing we don't care for either. So you're in safe company!" She gave a little nod. "Well, I'll let you two get back to it. The food's almost ready."
She disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the scent of her perfume and the ghost of her smile hanging in the air.
I stared at the empty doorway for a second too long. My chest felt oddly tight. Gods, she's beautiful. The thought was unbidden and dangerously unprofessional of me.
A deadpan voice cut through my reverie.
"You might want to make it a little less obvious that you're crushing on my mother. The blushing-like-a-school-girl thing is kind of starting to piss me off."
My head snapped toward Izuku. He was looking at me with an expression of utter, flat disbelief, one eyebrow slightly raised. Silk on his shoulder tilted her head, mimicking him.
"I—I am not blushing," I denied, my voice coming out slightly strained. I could feel the heat in my own cheeks betraying me.
Izuku didn't say a word. He just kept staring, his look screaming, 'Yeah, right. I don't believe you for a minute.'
I coughed, a rough, deliberate sound to clear my suddenly tight throat and to buy a second to recompose myself. I straightened my posture, forcibly shoving the image of Inko's smile into a locked mental compartment.
"Ahem. As I was saying," I began, my voice returning to its former steadiness, "I did not come here to kill you. The threat, the bloodlust... it was a test. One you passed with honors. Now, let's discuss the real opportunity, and the real reason I'm here."
I leaned forward, my posture now that of a man offering a contract, not a predator testing prey. "The opportunity is this: to become my heir."
Izuku's eyebrows rose slightly. It wasn't surprise; it was analytical interest, like a programmer examining a new line of code.
I continued. "I am, or rather, I was, an assassin for the Hero Public Safety Commission."
I paused, waiting for the reaction—the shock, the disgust, the immediate withdrawal maybe even denial. It was the confession that broke most people's perception of the world.
It didn't come however.
He just stared at me, calm and expectant, as if I'd told him the sky was blue.
This... was unusual. "...Why does that not surprise you?" I asked, curiosity overriding my planned speech.
Izuku sighed, a sound of mild exasperation that was profoundly amusing coming from a six-year-old. "I'm smart enough to build automated turrets and hack banking systems, and police databases without being traced or even detected. Do you seriously think I can't see through the Commission's 'goody-two-shoes' act? They're a political entity with a monopoly on violence. Please, give me some credit. Unlike the sheep that make up most of the populace, I have common sense."
A short, genuine laugh escaped me. "You're right. Of course you are." The kid saw the world without its propaganda filters. It was refreshing. "Well, during my time with them, I attained skills and knowledge that could be... beneficial to you. My own feline-based fighting style, plus other combat disciplines I've mastered over the years. Advanced weapon handling. Stealth and infiltration to a degree you can't learn from a video. Information gathering, forensic accounting for tracking dark money, interrogation, resistance to interrogation... all the useful tools of my previous line of work. My codename in my past life was 'Night Fang.'"
Izuku listened intently, his fingers idly stroking Silk's carapace. He was weighing the value of the arsenal I was offering.
"It's a tempting offer," he said after a moment, his voice measured. "However, you said you were an ex-assassin for the Commission. And if I'm not mistaken, they don't like loose ends. Case in point: Lady Nagant."
My blood ran cold at the name. The memory was a fresh wound I did not want to remember.
He continued, his gaze sharp as ever. "She's someone I'm planning to free when I get the chance. I just need enough leverage on the Commission to get it done. From what I've been able to gather, she was a good person broken by those bastards."
He saw Nagant not as a failed weapon or a cautionary tale, but as a victim to be rescued. The idealism was staggering, yet backed by a cold plan for blackmail. This child was a paradox.
"So," he said, holding up a small finger, "my questions are the following."
He ticked them off, his tone becoming that of a CEO in a boardroom witch sounded wierd on a 6 year old.
"One: Why do you want an heir at all?"
"Two: What do you gain by teaching me?"
"And three, the most important: What would this arrangement bring my mother? Would she be in danger if I accept? And if she is..." His green eyes locked onto mine with unnerving intensity. "...are you going to help me protect her?"
The questions were direct, bypassing all grand speeches about legacy or destiny. They cut to the core of motive, cost, and consequence. He was negotiating, and his primary collateral was his mother's safety.
He'd laid his terms on the table. The next move was mine.
Izuku's Point of View
Silence stretched for a moment after I asked my questions. They were the fulcrum, the point on which this entire arrangement would either balance or tip into disaster. Silk, sensing my focus, went still on my shoulder, her optics fixed on the man across from me.
Hikaru didn't answer immediately. He leaned back, his expression turning inward, as if sifting through memories he'd tried to bury. The casual assassin's ease was gone, replaced by something heavier.
"My reason for wanting an heir," he began, his voice quieter, stripped of its earlier performance, "is... rather selfish."
He looked at me, his gaze frank and unflinching. "I have ledgers. Not of money though I have those as well, but of actions. Some were necessary. Many were not. They were just... convenient for the people who gave the orders. The blood on my hands could fill buckets."
He looked down at his own palms, as if he could still see it. "I walked away from my past. I cut the leash that tied me to them. But the ledgers remain. I can't erase them. I can't atone in any way that matters to the ghosts. So, I thought... perhaps I could do the one thing my handlers would have hated most."
A grim, almost ironic smile touched his lips. "I could take everything they taught me—every skill forged in deceit and murder—and give it to someone who would use it for something they would call treason. To protect, instead of to control. To build hope, instead of enforcing a stagnant, corrupt 'peace.'"
He met my eyes again. "I want an heir because I want my legacy—the real one, not the Commission's weapon—to be you. To see the tools of darkness wielded to bring light. It's the only form of redemption I can conceive of that isn't a lie."
He wants to balance the scales, I thought. Not with more violence, but by changing the vector of the violence he knows. It was selfish. It was also brutally honest. He wasn't offering this out of altruism; he was offering it as his own desperate attempt to find meaning in a life steeped in meaninglessness. I could respect that. In my past life, I'd seen soldiers cling to similar reasons to get through the day.
"And what do you gain?" I prompted, keeping my voice neutral.
"A purpose," he said simply. "A reason to sharpen skills that have been rusting. The intellectual challenge of teaching someone who actually thinks, not just obeys. And..." He hesitated, a flicker of something almost vulnerable crossing his face before it was sealed away. "The chance to be part of building something, instead of only ever tearing things down. Even if only from the shadows."
It was a teacher's answer. A mentor's answer. He wasn't asking for subservience. He was asking for a project—a living, breathing project that could validate the sum of his life's experience. The gain was existential.
I nodded slowly, absorbing it. The motives checked out. They were human, flawed, and real. They weren't the scheming of a manipulator; they were the confession of a man trying to navigate his own damnation.
"Now," I said, my tone hardening just a fraction. "My mother."
"Your mother," he repeated, and his posture changed again. It became professional, tactical. "If you accept, there is always an inherent risk. The moment you step onto this path, anyone close to you becomes a potential lever. However."
He held up a hand. "The danger is not from me, and it would not be because of me. My presence, if managed correctly, becomes her first line of defense. I am a ghost. The Commission believes Night Fang is dead or vanished. My connections to you and her must remain buried, which I am expert at. But my skills—surveillance, counter-surveillance, threat assessment—those would be actively employed to fortify her safety. To make your home a fortress even smarter than the one you've built."
He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "To answer your last question directly: Yes. If you accept, protecting Inko Midoriya becomes part of my mission parameters. Not as a favor to you, but as a tactical necessity for the success of the larger objective—keeping my heir and his foundation secure. Her safety is integral to your stability, and your stability is necessary for my... redemption project."
He didn't say it with flowery promises. He said it like stating a fact of operational security. It was the most reassuring thing he could have done.
I looked at him, this ex-assassin sitting in my living room, offering me his bloody ledger and his lifetime of shadowed skill. He wanted to use me to wash the blood from his hands. I wanted to use his skills to build a future that could protect the one good thing in my new life.
It was, I realized, a perfectly symbiotic arrangement.
Silk chirped softly, nudging my cheek as if asking for my decision.
I took a deep breath. The child in me wanted to run to Mama and hide her away from everything especially the man before me. However the soldier in me saw the value of the arsenal being offered. The protector in me saw a new, formidable ally in guarding what mattered most.
"Alright, Night Fang," I said, the codename feeling strange but fitting on my tongue. "We have an agreement. On my conditions: honesty with my mother where possible, non-interference with my company, and protect my mother at all costs."
Hikaru nodded, the professional agreement settling between us. Then he paused, his head tilting slightly. "Your... company?" he asked, genuine confusion in his tone.
I gave him my most innocent, wide-eyed smile, the one that usually made adults want to pinch my cheeks. "Oh, didn't I mention that? I'm the secret CEO of Stark Industries. My mother is the public face until I turn thirteen and can legally claim the position properly."
For a second, he just stared. Then his eyes widened. His jaw went slack. A comedic vein seemed to pulse on his temple.
"YOU'RE THE CEO OF STARK INDUSTRIES?!" he yelled, the volume making Silk skitter in surprise on my shoulder. I swore I saw his head inflate slightly with the force of his shock, a visual gag straight out of a cartoon. Yep, I thought, watching the laws of physics take a coffee break, definitely a relaxed-reality world. Still weird as hell. Oh well.
He deflated almost as quickly as he'd expanded, slumping back against the couch with a hand over his face. He let out a long, shuddering breath that was half laugh, half groan. "You... are just a box full of surprises, kid. A sealed, locked, and booby-trapped box." He lowered his hand, looking at me with renewed, almost weary respect. "Stark Industries. The rising star of the last two years. The company that cornered the practical safety gear market and has heroes lining up for prototypes." He froze again, his brain catching up. "A four-year-old... started that."
I just smiled, letting the truth sink in. The scale of what he was agreeing to mentor had just expanded exponentially in his mind.
"This should be quite the new adventure, Sensei," I said, my tone light but my eyes serious. "And make sure to make my training a living hell, please. I can't grow and learn if I don't feel the strain. Pain creates growth, after all."
Before he could formulate a response to that, the kitchen door swung open.
"Food's ready!" Mama sang out, emerging with three steaming plates balanced expertly in her hands. The rich, savory smell of katsudon filled the room, instantly making my stomach rumble. She set a plate in front of Hikaru, then me, before taking her own and settling on the couch right next to me, her hip nudging mine affectionately.
"So," she said, beaming at Hikaru as she picked up her chopsticks. "Did you two finalize everything?"
I swallowed my first delicious bite and nodded. "We did, Mama! Hikaru-sensei has agreed to be my personal teacher. He's going to tutor me in... well, in a lot of advanced topics. To help me reach my full potential." It was the truth, carefully framed just for her.
Inko's face lit up with pure, unadulterated joy. "Oh, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "My baby is going to get the best education possible!" She reached over and ruffled my hair.
A few months ago, I might have been embarrassed. Now, I just leaned into the touch. I'd grown immune to that particular brand of affectionate humiliation. It was just Mama being Mama.
My eyes flicked to Hikaru. He was watching the exchange, and I saw that faint, traitorous blush creeping up his neck again as Mama smiled at him. A spike of irritation shot through me. As much as I hated the idea, and as much as his blushing was starting to genuinely annoy me, I couldn't ignore the obvious. Mama was being... bright. Engaged. A little flirty. And her happiness about this arrangement wasn't just about my education.
She'd been lonely. My good-for-nothing father had abandoned her the moment he learned she was pregnant with me. She'd carried that loneliness for years, burying it under work and worry for me. Now, for the first time, she had another adult in her sphere—a competent, sharp, and (annoyingly) attractive one—who was here because of me, and who seemed to genuinely see her.
I hated it. But I loved her too much to dismiss what might make her happy.
Pushing my own complex feelings aside, I raised my glass of apple juice with a childlike flourish. "A toast!" I declared, putting on a serious face. "To the days to come!"
Mama laughed, that warm, bright sound, and raised her own glass of tea. "To the days to come!"
Night Fang, my new sensei, the ex-assassin currently blushing at my mother—shook his head, a small, incredulous chuckle escaping him as he raised his water glass. "To the days to come," he echoed, his golden eyes meeting mine over the rim.
We drank. I pretended my juice was fine wine, swishing it in my glass before taking a dignified sip, which sent Mama into another peal of laughter. Hikaru just watched, the ghost of a real smile on his face.
The meal continued, filled with Mama's easy chatter and the clink of chopsticks. It was peaceful, warm, and utterly, deceptively normal.
Beneath the table, hidden by the cloth, my fingers brushed against the cool metal of my Widow Stinger bracer, still active and humming softly against my wrist. The red glow was hidden by my sleeve.
Normal was just another mask. The training, the company, the secrets, the future vengeance, the protection of my family—it all started now. And I was ready for what's to come.