No one's point of view:
Instead, he just watched the screen, his jaw tight, and hoped his cub would survive long enough for him to figure out how to feel about all of this.
The room remained quiet except for the faint hum of the tablet and the distant muffled sounds of chaos echoing through the estate.
On the screen, Izuku spoke ounce more.
"Hey, guys. How pissed do you think he's going to be when he realizes that a nine-year-old kid messed up his entire operation?"
A faint snort escaped Renjiro before he could stop himself.
Kenji Intelli adjusted his glasses. "He does realize he is referring to a dangerous criminal mastermind... correct?"
"I suspect his emotional response will be... significant, sir," Jarvis replied through the tablet.
Momo clasped her hands together anxiously. "Izuku-kun shouldn't tease villains like that..."
Saiko didn't look away from the screen. Her monocled eye followed every movement with intense focus.
"He's provoking them intentionally," she murmured. "It's a well-known principle—an angered opponent makes mistakes, which can win you the battle." She glanced at Momo with an innocent smile. "Like all those times I've beaten you in chess."
Momo's eye twitched. A small tick mark appeared beside her head as she puffed out her cheeks in that adorable way she did when flustered. "I will beat you one day, Saiko-chan! Just you wait!"
Her face was the picture of cute determination, eyes sparkling with competitive fire.
Saiko's cheeks flushed faintly pink. She quickly looked back at the screen, but a small satisfied smile tugged at her lips.
"Still," Hanako said softly, "it's a dangerous game for someone his age."
On screen, Izuku tapped his glasses and the HUD flickered to life.
Saiko leaned forward slightly, her magnified eye catching every detail. "He's accessing the tactical data in real time. The glasses must interface directly with Jarvis's processing core."
Momo nodded along, though her expression suggested she was following maybe half of Saiko's analysis. "He looks so serious when he does that."
Hikaru allowed himself a small smile. Serious was one word for it. Focused was better suited though. My cub was in his element, moving through the darkened estate like he'd done this a hundred times before.
"Well, well," Izuku's voice came through the tablet, quiet and satisfied. "We've got another target near our location. Let's check the cameras."
The feed shifted to show a man pacing in a small circular room, his arms hanging at his sides in that distinctly unnatural way. The profile appeared beside his image—Kenji Watanabe, three-star threat, Tendril Lash quirk.
A predatory smile spread across Izuku's face.
"Well, this one should be fun." He stood, rolling his shoulders. The shield hummed against his back. "Let's go deal with another insect, shall we?"
Momo giggled softly.
Saiko's lips curved into a small smile. "Well, they are insects. They came here to hurt people especially you and your parents. They are nothing more than bugs!!"
Momo nodded firmly. "Villains are just big mean bugs!"
Behind them, Sayuri exchanged an amused glance with Hanako. The children's logic was simple, but not entirely wrong at least in this case since these villains are nothing short of terrorists with their plan to build such a weapon of mass destruction for who knows what.
On screen, Izuku raised his wrist.
THWIP!!
The web shot upward, and in one fluid motion, he was gone—pulled to the ceiling, flipping smoothly until his feet adhered to the surface above. Silk adjusted herself on his shoulder without missing a beat, her legs gripping his suit like she'd done this a thousand times before.
Behind him, Jarvis flowed silently into a vent, his metallic scaled form disappearing into darkness.
The room watched in rapt silence as Izuku crawled across the ceiling. His movements were impossibly quiet, each placement of his hands and feet were deliberate and soundless. He moved like a shadow given form.
"He's not making any sound," Renjiro murmured, genuine surprise in his voice. "He's crawling on the ceiling, and there's absolutely nothing to be heard he is as silent as a spider."
Sayuri nodded slowly. "How is that even possible? Some noise should be present correct? Unless the gloves themselves have noice muffling capabilities?"
Hikaru allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "That part, at least, is my doing."
All eyes turned to him.
He kept his gaze on the screen, but his voice carried quietly through the room. "Movement without making a sound was the first thing I taught him. A predator who cannot move without sound is a predator who dies hungry." He paused, watching Izuku pause at an intersection, perfectly still against the ceiling. "I trained him to distribute his weight, to read every surface before committing to it. Soft moss, dry twigs, loose gravel—he learned to adjust before contact, to breathe with the wind, to step with the rustle of leaves."
Inko's hand found his arm again, squeezing it gently.
"I drilled him until moving silently wasn't a technique anymore. It became his very instinct." A wry chuckle escaped him. "He's so good at it now that I have to remind him to make noise when he walks normally, or he'd scare you half to death every time he entered a room."
Inko's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't look away from the screen. "That explains a few things, actually."
Hikaru's expression grew more serious. "He's a prodigy. Not just with his tech but in the battle field aswell. It took me years to master what he learned in mere months." He glanced at the others in the room, his golden eyes holding theirs. "His current strength is comparable to an adult's. Just through his pure training and dedication to becoming stronger. He's stronger than any child his age has any right to be even before I met him."
Renjiro's eyebrows rose. "You trained him to that extent?"
"I pushed him," Hikaru admitted. "He pushed himself harder. Every limit I set, he broke through. Every wall I thought would stop him for some time, he climbed them." He looked back at the screen, where Izuku had reached the edge of the circular room and was peering down at his unsuspecting target. "That boy is going to be something extraordinary."
The room fell silent again, the weight of his words settling over them all.
As they looked at the screen ounce more they saw as Izuku lined up his shot—
THWIP.
The dart flew—
Watanabe's head snapped up. His arm exploded into tendrils, batting the dart aside.
"Shit," Izuku muttered.
Inko's lips pressed together. "We are going to have a very long conversation about his language after all of this is over."
But her voice trembled slightly, worry bleeding through the maternal frustration. The villain had dodged. The element of surprise was gone.
On screen, Izuku dropped from the ceiling, flipping through the air as tendrils whipped past where he'd been. He landed in a crouch, shield already in his grip, facing his opponent with calm, steady eyes.
The villain stared at him. Then his expression twisted into one of contempt.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little kid playing dress-up? Where's the real hero, huh? The one who took out all our hired help?"
"He talks too much," Saiko muttered.
Renjiro nodded grimly. "Classic villain monologue. They never learn to shut up."
Sayuri tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "How much do you want to bet this takedown won't take long?"
Everyone looked at her.
She shrugged elegantly. "What? The kid is clearly strong, even without a quirk. And so far, he has a perfect takedown record. Can you judge me?"
Renjiro blinked. Then a slow chuckle escaped him. "She's not wrong."
Kenji adjusted his glasses. "Statistically speaking, his efficiency rate suggests this encounter will conclude in under sixty seconds."
Hanako covered her smile with her hand. "You actually calculated that?"
"Approximately."
Hikaru let out a low rumble of laughter. "That kid is too much." His expression softened with something that might have been pride. "With my training and whatever he's been hiding from me, he might even get close to beating me once in a while during our spars now." He paused, then added quietly, almost to himself, "I'm proud of my cub."
Inko's face went crimson. She made a small, strangled sound but didn't pull away from him.
The Yaoyorozus and Intellis exchanged glances—then, as one, they all broke into quiet, knowing laughter.
On screen, the idiot was still monologuing. "—tell whoever's really pulling the strings that they're gonna have to try harder than—"
Izuku sighed.
Watanabe blinked, derailed mid-sentence. "Did you just—"
"I hate overconfident punks," Izuku said flatly. "You talk too much."
Momo giggled.
Saiko's smile widened. "He's not wrong. The villain was being very tedious."
THWIP.
A web line shot past the villain, anchoring to the ceiling behind him. Before he could react, Izuku was moving—yanked upward, arcing through the air in a perfect trajectory that brought him directly above his target.
Watanabe's eyes went wide. His tendrils snapped upward—
Too slow.
Izuku twisted, his other wrist firing a barrage of web fluid that wrapped around the villain in layers. Torso, arms, thrashing tendrils—all bound in silver until Watanabe looked like a cocoon with a very confused head sticking out the top.
He hit the ground with a muffled thump.
"He fought just like a spider," Kenji observed. "The positioning, the web usage, the complete silence on landing—it's almost arachnid in its precision."
Renjiro nodded slowly. "Executed with terrifying efficiency."
On screen, Izuku landed three feet away, knees bending to absorb impact, then straightening with fluid grace. Not a sound. Not a wasted movement.
"Jarvis," he said calmly. "Knock him out. Low-yield taser."
A soft zap. Watanabe's eyes rolled back. The tension drained from his bound body.
Everyone winced.
"That had to hurt," Hanako murmured.
Kenji cleared his throat. "I must say, I have no desire to ever anger Jarvis. He would put me on the ground without prejudice."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Saiko's chin lifted slightly. "Jarvis is the best, though. He's elegant and efficient and very clever."
Momo puffed out her cheeks. "No, Silk is the best! She's the cutest and she's super strong! Did you see how fast she moved?"
"Jarvis can analyze tactical situations in milliseconds."
"Silk can deliver venom AND electricity!"
"Jarvis can navigate through ventilation systems undetected."
"Silk can—can—" Momo's face scrunched up adorably. "She can sit on Izuku's shoulder and look pretty while doing it!"
Saiko opened her mouth to retort, then paused. "...That's actually a valid point."
The adults chuckled quietly, the tension of the moment briefly eased by the girls' playful argument.
On screen, Izuku tilted his head, studying the unconscious villain. "Not bad instincts, honestly. Dodging a tranq dart at close range? That takes reflexes. Too bad his mouth wrote checks his body couldn't cash."
Silk chirped agreement.
He turned away, scanning his HUD—
And froze.
Something was wrong. Even through the tablet, everyone could see the shift in his posture, the sudden tension in his shoulders.
"What's happening?" Momo whispered.
On screen, Izuku's head jerked to the side.
A spike—bone-white, razor-sharp—whistled past his ear and embedded itself in the wall behind him.
"IZUKU!" Inko screamed.
Momo shrieked. Saiko gasped, both girls clutching each other instinctively.
On screen, Izuku moved—a diving roll, hands hitting the floor, pushing off, spinning to face the threat. Silk skittered down his arm into a defensive crouch, venom injectors primed.
He was okay.
But then the shadows moved.
A woman emerged from the darkness, tall and lean and dangerous. Her outfit was theatrical—almost pirate-like—but her eyes were cold and calculating as they swept over the scene.
Reina Shirogane AKA Thorn.
The room went very still.
"That's her," Renjiro breathed. "That's one of the commanders."
Sayuri's hand pressed to her heart. "She is going to be the toughest opponent that he has faced yet."
On screen, Thorn's gaze swept over Watanabe's bound form, then lifted to Izuku. Surprise flickered across her features—then delight. She laughed.
Momo frowned deeply. "Why is she laughing? There's nothing funny going on!"
Saiko's eyes narrowed behind her monocle. "She's amused by the situation. By her own team's failure." A pause. "She must be incredibly self-centered."
Everyone nodded slowly. It fit.
On screen, Thorn studied Izuku with open fascination. "The fact that a kid took them out—and easily, it seems." She shook her head, still chuckling. "I knew Ironhide was an imbecile, but this is too much. His grand plan, meticulously planned for months—decoy attacks, coordinated strikes, the whole production—put on hold because of a child." Another laugh, almost fond. "I'm going to remind him of this every single day for the rest of his life."
"She's making fun of her own team," Saiko said flatly. "That's... actually kind of terrible."
"Villains don't have loyalty," Hikaru murmured. "Only convenience."
On screen, Thorn tilted her head. "Hey, kid. How many have you taken out already?"
Izuku met her gaze evenly. "Counting Discount Want to be Monkey D. Luffy back there?" He jerked his chin toward Watanabe. "Twenty of you guys."
Her eyebrows rose.
"Though," he continued casually, "that number's going to be twenty-three in about a minute. If I count you and the grunts behind you."
Momo clasped her hands together. "He's so confident!"
Renjiro allowed himself a small smile. "Well, he should be. Look what he's done so far."
Sayuri nodded. "Confidence earned is confidence well deserved in my opinion."
Thorn laughed again, full and unrestrained. "I like this kid!" she announced. "He's got guts!"
Momo's face scrunched up. "I don't like her."
Saiko's voice was colder. "I don't like her either."
Something in her tone made Hanako glance at her daughter, but Saiko's expression was carefully neutral. Too neutral if you asked her.
On screen, Thorn waved dismissively at her subordinates. "Don't kill him. Just knock him out. We don't kill kids, no matter how mouthy they are."
"How generous of you," Izuku said dryly.
Then his tone shifted.
Dropped.
Became something cold and precise.
"Silk. Jarvis. Take down her subordinates."
The change was immediate. Even through the tablet's feed, everyone felt it.
Hikaru's eyes narrowed. "He didn't like that comment. Being underestimated is one of the things he hates with a passion."
Inko nodded slowly. "He's always hated being dismissed."
On screen, Silk was already moving—a crimson blur launching toward the ceiling, skittering across it. Jarvis flowed from the vent like falling shadow.
The woman with short hair—Rina Kobayashi—spun toward the movement, her body beginning to flicker at the edges. Intangibility.
Too slow.
Silk dropped onto her back, legs gripping tight, venom injectors sinking into her neck. Kobayashi's eyes went wide—then she crumpled, unconscious before she hit the ground.
The man—Yuki Aoki—was already moving, a burst of speed leaving a faint crack in the air.
Jarvis met him mid-flight.
The cobra wrapped around his legs, all of his momentum being destroyed just like that. Aoki tumbled to the floor and Jarvis's fangs found his ankle.
Neither subordinate made a sound after that being out nocked out cold.
"Well," Kenji said quietly, "that took less time than it should have. They're remarkably effective."
Hanako nodded. "Izuku built them well."
On screen, Thorn just watched it happen. No movement to help, no flinch of surprise. When it was over, she let out a low whistle.
"Impressive," she murmured. "Very impressive." Her gaze settled on Izuku with renewed interest. "You got pets, huh? Trained them well."
"They are not my pets," Izuku corrected, voice flat. "They are my partners."
Momo nodded firmly. "That's right! They're our friends, aren't they, Saiko?"
Saiko's expression softened slightly as she looked at Momo. "Yes. They're his partners. Like he said."
On screen, something flickered in Thorn's eyes at that. Respect, maybe.
Then Izuku smiled.
"I got Thorn, guys," he said softly. "It's been a while since I had a proper dance."
His claws extended from his fingertips with a whisper-sharp shink. The Widow's Bracers hummed, electricity crackling along their surfaces in pale blue arcs. Behind him, his shield slid into his grip with a magnetic click.
Momo's eyes went wide and sparkly. "So cool! He looks like a real hero!"
Hikaru muttered something under his breath.
Inko turned to him. "What was that?"
Hikaru's ears went slightly pink. "I said... this might be my fault."
"What might be your fault?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I may have... accidentally... turned your son into a battle maniac." He gestured at the screen, where Izuku was settling into a combat stance with clear anticipation written across his face. "The excitement about villains wanting him dead, the 'it's been a while since I had a proper dance'."
Inko's smile was sweet. Dangerously sweet.
"We will be having words later, Hikaru. And you will tell me exactly what you've been hiding from me about Izuku's training."
Hikaru froze.
"Yes, dear," he said automatically.
Then he realized what he'd said.
His face went crimson.
The other men in the room—Renjiro, Kenji, even Alfred—all looked at him with expressions of profound sympathy. The look said, clear as day: We understand your pain, brother.
Inko's blush matched Hikaru's, but she didn't correct him.
On screen, Izuku's voice cut through the moment.
"Will you care to join me in this dance of ours, Miss Double Finger?"
Thorn stared at him for a long moment. Then she chuckled—low and genuine.
"My, my," she purred, rolling her shoulders as bone-white spikes began to emerge from her forearms. "What a gentleman. If you were just a bit older, you might actually be my type." She flexed her fingers, and the spikes on her arms lengthened, sharpening to needle points. "And you even get the One Piece reference I was going for. That's rare these days."
In the storage room, the temperature seemed to drop instantly.
Saiko went absolutely rigid.
Her entire body locked up as Thorn's words echoed in her mind. "If you were just a bit older, you might actually be my type." Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, her nails pressing crescents into her palms. A flush of something hot and possessive flooded her chest.
How dare she.
The thought was sharp, immediate, cutting through her usual analytical calm like a blade. How dare she say that. How dare she even look at him like that. He's mine. Izuku is mine.
Her jaw tightened behind her carefully neutral expression. That bitch needs to learn her place.
She shook her head slightly, forcing herself to breathe. The intensity of her own reaction startled her—enough that she had to consciously pull back, to examine it like she would any other unexpected variable.
Why do I feel this way?
Her gaze drifted to Momo beside her. Her darling Momo was leaning forward, eyes fixed on the screen, her expression a perfect mixture of wonder and fear and admiration. Her cheeks were flushed pink—the same pink that appeared whenever she got excited about something, or embarrassed, or when Izuku had patted her head earlier.
Just like when she realized she cared about Momo more than just a friend witch she verified with her own research.
The thought settled into place with the quiet click of a puzzle piece finding its home.
I've known him for only a few hours. But in that time, he's shown me more of who he truly is than most people show in years. His brilliance. His kindness. The way he protected us, comforted us, made us laugh even when everything was falling apart. The way he looked at Momo like she was something precious. The way he looked at me.
Her heart was beating faster. She could feel it—a steady, insistent rhythm that had nothing to do with fear.
And now he's out there. He is fighting for us, but more importantly he is fighting for Momo.
On the screen, Izuku's feet exploded against the floor, launching him directly at Thorn.
Saiko's breath caught.
She watched him move, she saw him charge a veteran assassin without a moment's hesitation. She saw how he dodged spikes with impossible grace, fired webs from his wrists, flipping through the air like gravity was merely a suggestion. His movements were fluid, precise, beautiful in a way that made you become entranced. Every twist and turn was calculated perfection, every strike was filled with purpose.
Thorn fired another volley. Izuku's shield came up—thunkthunkthunk—and he kept moving, kept pressing, kept fighting.
Fighting for us.
Saiko's hands unclenched, reaching almost unconsciously for Momo. Her fingers found Momo's hair, threading gently through the dark strands in the same soothing motion Izuku had used on both of them earlier. Momo leaned into the touch instinctively, her eyes never leaving the screen, but a small contented sound escaping her.
Saiko didn't put Momo's head on her chest—she wanted her beloved to see this, to witness what Izuku was doing for them. But the touch seemed to help anyway. Momo's shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension in her frame easing as Saiko's fingers worked through her hair and scalp.
She's so beautiful when she's amazed even when she's watching him with that wonder in her eyes.
Momo's cheeks were definitely pink. Saiko understood her completely her own heart was pounding just as fast, and her own cheeks just felt just as warm.
On the screen, Izuku landed on the wall and sprinted along it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Thorn tracked him with her eyes, fired her spines, and he then leaped, flipping through the air to land on the ceiling.
Saiko's breath became heavier.
He swung from a web line, arcing gracefully around the room, spikes whistling past him as he moved. His form was flawless—every muscle working in perfect harmony, every motion economical and precise. He released the line mid-swing, dropped, and landed in a crouch facing Thorn.
Perfect.
He smiled that confident smile his that said I know exactly what I'm doing and I'm enjoying every second of this—and Saiko felt her heart skip a beat.
He was Perfect!!
The fight continued as Izuku closed distance. Thorn swung at him with her spike-blades. He ducked, blocked, countered with ease. Then his knee connected with her hip. His claws extended and he managed to draw first blood, as a thin red line appearing on her forearm.
Saiko's breathing grew heavier. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, her pupils became dilated, watching every movement with an intensity that bordered on hunger. He was glorious. The way he moved, the way he fought, the way he smiled—that sharp, confident smile that appeared whenever he landed a hit, dodged a strike or simply enjoyed the dance of combat that seemed to bring him so much joy.
He caught a spike mid-flight and smiled at Thorn like he'd just done something ordinary.
In her mind's eye, hearts were blooming and swirling around the image of Izuku on the screen. He was magnificent.
Mine. He is mine I must have him not matter what!!!!
The thought solidified with absolute certainty. Izuku is mine. Momo is mine. They're both mine, and I will never let anyone take them from me.
On the screen, Izuku moved to finish the fight. He threw the spike, then he fired a web line, launching himself at Thorn like a missile. They crashed to the ground together. Electricity arced—blue-white and blinding—and Thorn went limp.
He sat back, breathing hard, and looked down at his defeated opponent.
Then he smiled. That same confident, satisfied smile.
Saiko made a small sound—something between a sigh and a hum—and her grip on Momo's hair tightened just slightly.
Momo glanced up at her, concern flickering in her dark eyes. "Saiko-chan? Are you okay? You're breathing kind of funny."
Saiko blinked, the spell that came over her breaking slightly. She looked down at Momo—at her precious, wonderful Momo—and smiled. It was a different smile than the one she'd worn while watching Izuku. Softer. Warmer. But no less intense.
"I'm fine, Momo," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos in her chest. "I just realized something."
"What?"
Saiko's smile widened. "That I was missing something I didn't know I needed. Until now."
Momo tilted her head, confused but accepting. "Okay... if you're sure." She turned back to the screen, her expression immediately shifting back to wonder and awe. "Izuku is so cool!! Did you see him catch that spike?! With his hand! He's amazing!"
Saiko's eyes followed her gaze back to the screen, where Izuku was checking his HUD, already planning his next move. Her heart gave another emphatic thump.
"He is," she agreed softly. "He's the best."
Momo nodded vigorously, completely missing the deeper meaning in her best friend's words. Saiko didn't mind. She had time. She had patience in spades.
And she had them both now.
He is Mine, she thought again, watching Izuku's image on the screen with eyes that held far more than simple admiration. Mine and Momo's. Forever.
On the screen, Izuku's voice came through crisp and clear: "Well, well. It seems my prey has decided to come to me instead. How... cute."
Saiko's lips curved into a smile that mirrored his—sharp, confident, and utterly delighted.