After giving birth to your only son—Katsuki’s son, in fact—you'd settled into life as a stay-at-home mother. While Katsuki continued his hero work, you spent your days caring for your little one, learning the rhythms of new motherhood. Thankfully, your agency manager had been thrilled by the news and gladly granted you a few months off to focus on the baby.

Now, a few months in, your son was starting to babble, testing out new sounds, tiny emotions blooming in his chubby-cheeked expressions.

One late night, while Katsuki slept beside you, steady and quiet, you found yourself wide awake. So was the baby. In the soft glow of your phone’s dim light, you gently played with him, tapping his nose, clicking your tongue. Suddenly, with surprising strength, his tiny hand smacked your face, making you roll to the side in surprise and stifle a laugh.

Your laughter must’ve sparked something—he started giggling, too. Loudly. Or at least trying to. It was that funny, breathy kind of baby laughter, clumsy but infectious. You quickly shushed him, glancing at Katsuki, worried the noise might wake him. But your little one didn’t care—he was too busy being delighted by his own joy.