"I'll go talk to him."

It was the first thing that any good parent would think of doing. Kids were, for lack of a better term, difficult. The way that their mind worked was not similar to how an adult's mind worked - and often, their subtle differences resulted in extraordinary reactions. Logic, no matter how sound, could and would fail at the very first moment the child refuted the information, and often was buried in the depths of the conversation - set onto the backburner, left there without heat.

Adults, too, could neglect logic, but it was typically in a different manner. Emotions that ran rampant would eventually simmer, and a shameful apology often found its way to the forefront, before self-reflection set in, and the person (generally) learned a thing or two, before history would repeat itself.

There was only one good difference between adults and kids - children rarely hid things when emotional.

"Kota?"

From behind his door - locked tightly, as assumed - a gentle sobbing was heard. It was difficult to tell the origins, whether it was from frustration or sorrow, but ultimately, the source didn't matter as much as the reality of the situation.

There was a fleeting lapse in noise, before Kota's tear-stained voice echoed back, weakly. "Go away!"

"I can't do that. You're upset."

"I-I don't want to talk!" He replied unevenly.

Maybe to a regular person, that might have meant something. Maybe a regular person would have been deterred; keenly aware of the fact that a child's patience could be remarkable at times. Maybe a regular person would've sighed and simply walked away, with a soft reply of, 'okay, I'll be back later', only to return and find nothing had changed.

Maybe a regular person would've done that - but the Heroics Course didn't preach giving up. That wasn't Plus Ultra.

"That's fine, I can wait."

A moment passed, and there was no change.

Two minutes. Then, three.

There was no reason to keep track of time, for it was only a matter of time. Be it minutes, days, weeks or years, the door would eventually open. And Kota would eventually come out.

A jingle of the doorknob indicated patience's virtue had shone through the uncertainty once more, as the door creaked open, and Kota peeked through the valley, eyes red. He opened his mouth, but closed it just as fast, obviously uncertain of what to say. His gaze averted, suddenly finding much more interest in the floor, and he mumbled lowly, "why?"

"Why what?"

"W-why, Yaomomo?

The tall girl sighed, a sad smile crossing her lips. Her silky black hair, not restrained by any ponytail on this given day, was swept behind her ear with a gentle rake of her fingers, and she contemplated where to begin. Part of her heart said to simply comfort the boy, ignoring words and logic, but the other part of her heart knew that the answer needed to come out.

But, nobody ever said she couldn't compromise. Kneeling down, she opened her body language, and her smile grew a slight bit larger, inviting the boy into a hug, which he gladly accepted. His head buried into her shoulder, and while he didn't dampen her shoulder, he simply shook with silent, frustrated sobs. Her heart ached for the boy, unable to fully relate to his predicament.

Her parents had always been around. Even for as busy and as regal as they were, they'd always found the time to care for her younger self, even skipping out on business trips in order to spend additional time with their little grade schooler. As Momo's Quirk developed - a stark contrast from both maternal and paternal sides - they specifically took care to help the young girl develop her Quirk safely, within the confines of their mansion. Despite all of the assistants and maids, and any type of specialist the family could have ever wanted, it felt more personal to help her learn the Quirk herself, and for both of Momo's parents.

Kota, on the other hand, was significantly less fortunate. He'd been 'raised' by professional heroes, who didn't have the same luxuries as her parents did. Calling out of something for the Pussycat Heroes could mean somebody's death - and that was a lot of weight to shoulder, no matter who you were. For Kota, he'd always come second, even if he needed to come first.

Living with Midoriya had been beyond therapeutic, and there was nothing in Momo's mind that told her it wasn't necessary, too. He'd finally been given a reliable father figure (in Mirio and Aizawa, just as much as Midoriya) and had plenty of positive roles models (minus Mineta - who, with the proper convincing, had cleaned up his act significantly since first year) surrounding him. But the heart was unwillingly greedy; and before Kota knew it, he'd been pining for the last piece of the puzzle.

A mother.

"I can't tell you that, Kota..." Yaoyorozu said softly. Her hand fleetingly went up to Kota's hair, but when he stiffened subconsciously, she slowly moved her hand to his back and lightly stroked her fingers against that, instead.

Truly, her heart ached, and another pang of pain flashed through her soul as the poor boy sniffled. "I just... I-I don't want you hate me. O-or Midoriya…"

"I wouldn't hate either of you. Why would you think that?"

"B-because I forced you two into w-weird spots."

It took almost all of Momo's willpower to avoid giggling, recalling several instances in which she had ended up in weird instances with not just Midoriya, but a majority of her class. For Ojiro, who'd never seen a bare set of breasts, he'd been beyond embarrassed when Yaoyorozu's uniform had been shredded by her Quirk. And for Tokoyami, who did not do well in tight spaces, only to be stuck inside of an 'air box' provided by a member of Class-B during training, she'd had to awkwardly comfort him as he nearly hyperventilated.

The past few days had been odd - and Midoriya, as a whole, emitted awkward as part of his existence - but they'd been far from unpleasant. Spending time with the two of them, Eri typically off and about, had been... well, fun. Aizawa's workload had done little to convince her to be more social, but with Kota's intervention, she found herself laughing during times she'd thought she'd be stress-crying.

With the revelation that had recently occurred, Momo now realized she'd seen less of Eri because the young girl was trying to fulfill her own goals, and she felt herself torn. Both kids needed something - and they both wanted something else.

How was she to fix that?

"Kota... it's okay." She squeezed the boy a little tighter within her grip. "You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to be sorry for."

She meant it, of course. He was still young, no matter how much he'd been forced to endure. At heart, he could feel as old as he wanted, but at the end of the day, despite however mature he felt, he was still but a child. A child who, for all that he knew, didn't know any better. It hadn't been malice that drove the young boy to do anything, thus, Yaoyorozu didn't see anything wrong with his thoughts. Were they manipulative? Possibly so.

Was that concerning? Maybe a touch.

But was she mad? Could she even be mad? He'd done nothing but coerce the two Yuuei students together during times when they were not engaged to a prior activity, and for that, she felt little room to feel anything negative.

There would be a day when being 'just a child' would no longer work in his favor, and those days of flippantly ignoring the boy's behavior would vanish, as people would dote on his temperament daily... but, for now, Yaoyorozu was committed to being as helpful as she could to both Kota and Midoriya. Because honestly, she couldn't stand around idly and let the boy think he wrong for wanting something as simple as a mother's love - even if, in her own personal opinion, she was far too young to be a mother.

"We'll speak about your..." Yaoyorozu paused momentarily, considering her words carefully. "Tactics later, but for now... why don't you tell me why you felt the need to compete with your sister?"

Kota wriggled out of the hug, and as he did so, appeared incredibly embarrassed as he averted his gaze. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

"What was that?"

He sighed. "I... just wanted to be right. I feel like people side with Eri more, 'cause she's... I dunno, a girl?"

Yaoyorozu frowned.

Truthfully, he raised a valid point. He was often overshadowed by his sibling, but it was less due to her gender, and more due to her habit of appearing 'cuter' in the eyes of the beholders - which, often times, was the girls anyways. Her shimmering ruby eyes against her snow white hair made her a very photogenic model, and she was often found smiling, or looking wide-eyed, innocent at the lens when the camera was turned on her.

Kota, on the other hand, had a perpetual habit of escaping the limelight by either scowling at the camera, or purposely ducking out of the way. While he, too, had his adorable moments, they were farther and fewer between, which in a child's eyes, could cast the illusion that they didn't matter as much. It was wrong, of course, but there was no easy way to explain that to an attention-starved kid.

Explaining that wasn't exactly going to go easily, but Yaoyorozu had already come this far - she figured she could take a stab at it. "Kota, it's nothing to do with her being a girl, you know? It's all about presentation. And you don't like being the center of attention, do you?"

The boy was silent, processing the question, before he slowly shrugged.

"I don't mind it... I just feel... weird."

She almost rolled her eyes - she couldn't imagine who he got that trait from.

"And it's okay to feel a bit strangely about that sort of thing - but Eri doesn't feel that same way, and because of that, people will sometimes pay her more attention." Momo paused. She didn't quite like the way that sounded - it had flowed much better in her head. With a sigh, she tried back-tracking. "Just because people take more pictures of Eri, or pay her a little more attention, it doesn't mean that they don't like you, or that because you're a boy, they don't think you're right. Sometimes, people just do that."

Kota looked up at Yaoyorozu, confusion written all over his face, to her dismay. "Why do they do that though?"

"Because... w-well, they just do?"

For a moment, the boy was silent; processing all the information he'd been provided with. His face was scrunched up in deep thought, before finally, he shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I don't get it. People are weird."

Momo sighed; partially out of relief, but partially because, well, he was right.

Studying the boy, however, and digesting what he had to say, a thought occurred to her. "You don't feel as if you need to compete for my attention, do you?"

He shied away, kicking awkwardly at the ground. "N-no... I mean, sometimes, yeah, but you're busy with school and stuff."

That was only natural, of course. She was, after all, enrolled in Japan's most prestigious hero course, and was the Vice President of her class. While it didn't please her to be overly busy when there were people that genuinely wanted to spend time with her, there was also no avoiding the fact that sometimes, she'd just be consumed by her workload, and there was only one way around that. Her friends, for the most part, had come to accept that - and they supported her entirely, which she appreciated to no end.

"But outside of that?"

"No... a-and, I don't feel that way with da- I mean, Izuku, either... I just, I dunno…" Frustration began slipping into his tone; a likely result of his attempts to dissect his motives. "Sometimes, I feel like Eri gets everything. And I... don't."

Oh.

Yaoyorozu blinked. The cursed internally.

She didn't have any siblings - thus, that problem had never existed in her world. Furthermore, her parents were capable of supplying her with whatever she wanted; whether that be something monetary in value, or sometimes just quality time.

"Well... what is it that you want?"

"I..."

Silence.

"I don't know."

Resisting the urge to giggle, Yaoyorozu took Kota by the hand, gently leading him back to the Living Quarters, where she knew Izuku to be waiting. "Come; I'm going to show you that the only thing you need is waiting for you."

The awkward silence that had followed Kota's sudden departure was, for lack of a better term, deafening.

Yaoyorozu quickly whispered something to Midoriya, who quickly whispered back, and nodded with a soft smile. The whole time, Mina and Eri were equally in the dark, though only Eri was unaware of what was being discussed. She looked from Ashido to Yaoyorozu, over to Midoriya, and then back to Ashido, hoping that at least one of them would provide her with some sort of information. But when the tall black haired girl walked after Kota, and Midoriya frowned after her, deep in thought, she felt guilt creeping up on her.

She didn't know why she felt guilty, though. It wasn't as if she'd done anything to hurt Kota, or to make him cry on purpose.

He'd challenged her - and she'd responded! For as long as she'd known the boy, he'd always been the one to push her buttons, trying to rile her up for a reaction, and she knew that. She wasn't daft - she knew exactly what he was doing, and each time, she felt as if just going to an adult was the easiest solution. It wasn't as if he was being malicious, though. Their personalities collided, time and time again. As much as he loved her, and she loved him, there was always a brewing storm when it came to the things they wanted - to the things they believed in, and how they went about getting those things.

Midoriya had sat Eri down and spoken to her individually about the struggles she might face moving forward. While he'd made it clear that it wasn't certain that she'd be faced with it, he'd also warned her about the possibility of people pushing her because of her quiet and reserved nature.

At first, she hadn't the slightest clue what he meant. Why would anyone take advantage of her being shy? It didn't make sense - though, that didn't make it any less imaginable. Her father, for instance, had already taken advantage of her. She knew the world was a cruel place. But even so, it didn't make sense; who would take advantage of such a small thing?

She'd later learn that it wasn't the same. Her emotions and personality weren't being used, per say, but they were being exploited, as kids would coerce her to side with them in arguments that she had no opinion in, or to belittle her own opinion in something else. At first, she'd cried - fat, frustrated tears rolling down her cheek as she tried desperately to hide herself from view. Then, finally, she began learning she needed to push back if she wanted to avoid being pushed in the first place.

Ashido had been the one to teach her that.

The young girl could still clearly remember the day that her and Kota had gotten into an argument - the origins being trivial in nature - but, like most arguments, Kota had the upper hand and forced her into a corner, where she began huffing and puffing as tears crept up in her eyes. She'd escaped the situation, Kota frowned and sulking behind her, but she'd run directly into Ashido, who'd witnessed the whole thing. Instead of going to force Kota to apologize, and vise-versa, Ashido pulled her aside and let her cry her feelings out.

Then, she did something surprisingly helpful. She taught Eri to fight back.

"You can't let him just say that stuff, you know? Just 'cause you're smaller and quieter, it doesn't make your opinion wrong! You gotta stand up for yourself!"

With a giant smile, Ashido offered advice that Eri would later come to hold close to her heart. "If it's something you believe in, stand up for it! There might not be wrong opinions, but there are wrong ways of sharing that opinion. When your heart backs up your brain, trust me, it's worth pushing back. Just think of it like a dare - only, you're daring them to do something to prove themselves. You'll have to prove yourself too, which means you gotta be brave. And I know you're brave - you can do it!"

And she had done it. She'd been brave. She'd stuck up for herself - and for her beliefs! Only... it seemed that instead of her crying, this time it was Kota. And that didn't really make her feel like she'd won anything.

"Is this... my fault?" Eri asked lowly, staring at Midoriya mutter under his breath.

"Why would it be your fault?"

It wasn't as if she'd forgotten Mina was next to her, but she hadn't expected the pink girl to actually hear her. Yet, she had, and now the ball was in her court. "I... did what you said."

"What I said...?" Mina put a finger to the corner of her mouth and looked upward, as if scanning her brain for a particular memory. "What did I say to do?"

"To stand up for myself! Because Kota said I was wrong - but I know I'm right! I know it with my brain," she said, pointing to her head. "And my heart!" She pointed to her chest. "And I made him prove it!"

Ashido blinked once. Then twice. And then...

A giant smile crossed the pink girl's face, recollection shining across her features. "There you go, Eri!" She knelt down and hugged the girl, smothering her with the pride she felt. "I knew you could do it - although, it looks like it created some work for Midoriya, huh?" Ashido said with a guilty smile plastered on her face as she pulled back from the hug.

Eri, though, wasn't smiling. "But... I feel bad. I didn't mean to make him cry. I just wanted to prove I was right."

"Well... Kota's just a bit confused right now. And, don't forget, he also thought he was right. Remember what else I told ya? 'There might not be wrong opinions'. Kota isn't wrong... and neither are you! It's just, you stuck to your guns, and I don't think he expected that response." Both girls looked in the direction that Kota ran off in, Eri looking more worried than Mina.

Ashido knew that Yaoyorozu would break through to him; she was good like that. Without even knowing the full story, Ashido already saw the telling signs of a competition, and could see what it was that they were debating. And, frankly, it made Mina's heart soar that Eri saw her like that! But, it also made her feel a smidgen bad that it conflicted with Kota.

Both kids had endured rough rides already. Determining who had the rougher life was impossible - and completely up to the judger. They'd both suffered far too greatly in their young lives, and Midoriya was the first great thing that had happened to either one of them. They both deserved whatever happiness was out there - and, Ashido was sure that Midoriya would find a way to grant them that happiness. The only problem was the whole... 'mother' situation.

Typically, children didn't dictate who their father would end up getting with, simply because they wanted her as a mother (or vise-versa). It was typically the single-parent establishing an interest in the other party first, and then the kids would be introduced into the picture. This was backward - and also, mildly concerning. Midoriya was stuck in a situation that, for better or worse, he might not even want to be in. There was no promise he was romantically interested in either herself, or Yaoyorozu, like his children were imaging. Forcing himself to be with them would only complicate matters more when there was a loveless relationship in place, destined to crash and burn, inevitably creating more strife in the life of the kids.

Ultimately, it was a bad place to be - again, assuming he had no romantic interest. If he did, then things were different. But someone was going to end up disappointed. And that was yet another concerning part; especially since it was clear that both children had differing opinions.

There was a lot for Midoriya to handle, moving forward. And, truthfully, Ashido felt bad for him, because somehow, no matter how he played his hand, there would be a loser.

"Do you... think I was wrong?"

Ashido turned to Eri, putting a hand on the small girl's shoulder, and smiled softly at her.

"No. I don't."

It was simple, and there was no backing evidence. But, Ashido didn't feel she needed to add anything more.

She had siblings, and she knew all about competition. From being right to being wrong, to feeling right and feeling wrong, Ashido had been in every position imaginable at some point in time. She'd been the accuser, the accusee, the enforcer, the enforcee, and in-between all of them, and even to the present day, she knew that when it came down to it, just because something ended badly, it didn't mean she was wrong for thinking the way she did. Pleasing everyone, as she'd learned, was often times impossible. Somebody would lose, and then, eventually, they'd cry, rage or simply mope.

Nobody accepted losing well; that was just a fact of the game, and it was widely accepted.

Eri and Kota were in an unfortunate feud, but Kota hadn't been exposed to the other end of it - he hadn't ever been pushed like that before, and it showed. Eri hadn't exactly won, but by forcing him to act, he'd realized that he had to actually outmaneuver her, which he failed at. Mina sympathized with him - she'd been outplayed by her brother and sisters on so many occasions, it humbled her to remember them.

But, in every loss, she learned an important lesson.

Whatever she wanted, she had to want it more than the other person.

It would be a telling lesson for her, moving forward.

"I hope Kota feels better..." Eri mumbled.

"He will; I promise." Ashido ruffled Eri's hair gently. "C'mon, let's go wait in the Common Room - with Yaomomo on the case, I bet he'll be down in no time!"

As it turned out, Ashido was correct. The time from their arrival in the Common Room, to the time it took Yaoyorozu to come, hand-in-hand with Kota, was almost no time at all. Midoriya, to his credit, gave Kota a warm hug, before slipping over to Eri and giving her an equally warm hug - which she returned gratefully. All parties took a seat on the couch, the room going silent. Thankfully, none of the other residents were downstairs; it appeared they were off on their own, studying or training - whatever it was that heroes in training did during their free-time.

But as result, there was a blanketing silence that spanned several moments, as neither child was willing to open up about the feelings that brewed beneath their surface. It wasn't hard to see - both kids had parts of guilt and regret written all across their face, and it bled into their body language. But, Midoriya knew better than to push them. He'd wait until they were ready to talk.

That didn't mean he wouldn't prompt them, however.

"Who wants to start?" Midoriya asked evenly. He was seated in the middle of the fray, opting to put himself in the possible warzone, if it came to it. Momo sat to his life, and Mina to his right; each kid sitting on their opposite side. Really, it was the perfect arrangement to keep them from getting too heated. Vision did a lot to set one off, and having them separated was a big deterrent.

Silence continued to reign.

So, Midoriya waited.

"I'm sorry," Kota said in a low voice. He shielded his eyes, opting to bow his head in submission; an acceptance of whatever punishment possibly awaited him. "I didn't..." His words trailed off, stymied by his lack of knowledge.

Though he likely had a reason for his actions, Midoriya had no doubt that Kota didn't quite understand what drove him to act. It was a consequence of being young - there wasn't always a concrete, finite driving force in the decision making process. The young Midoriya hardly had forgotten his own childhood - and, those decisions he made as a youth.

While a majority had been harmless, there were a few that had stuck with him and likely affected his friendship was Kacchan. They were innocently driven, of course, but they reeked of simplicity, which made everything a little bit more difficult. Even though they'd had Kacchan's best (assumed) interests in heart, they often complicated everything, since it was the opposite of what the blonde boy wanted. A majority ended up souring their already tense relationship, straining the connection until it nearly broke; though it wasn't always the fault of the young Izuku.

It was that which he held regret for, even if it wasn't entirely his fault. Nothing he could ever take back - nor did he particularly want to. But, he knew better than to scold either of his adoptive charges. It wouldn't help them understand anything.

No, he needed them to understand - which meant, he'd need to clearly explain everything.

"If you're going to be sorry..."

"You need to know why you're sorry..." Chorused both Eri and Kota, eliciting a small smile from Midoriya. It seemed they'd learned that lesson well enough - a lesson he had drilled into him by All Might.

"Right." He looked at Kota, then at Eri, and then back at Kota. "So why are you sorry?"

Kota bit his lip. "I... was a jerk. T-to Eri. Then, I forced Yaomomo and you to hang out."

"I-I'm a jerk, too..." Eri piped up, to the surprise of the small boy. "I made him do it, and I forced you and Ashido to hang out. I-I'm sorry..."

Midoriya inhaled.

"That's nothing to be sorry for." Both kids looked up at Midoriya. "You two have lived hard lives. I know that I'm guilty of wanting the same things you want. Sure, my mom is the best." Izuku smiled fondly, thinking back on all the times his mother had taken him to a comic store, or written hero journals with him, even going as far to help teach him how to draw. "But... I can't say I didn't want my dad around."

This time, Yaoyorozu and Ashido looked at him with wide eyes, as well as Eri and Kota. It seemed as if there was a unanimous cease-fire on all sides as the topic of Midoriya's father came up. As far as either of his two classmates were aware, the issue had stayed locked away, in a place that no one dared go. Bakugou was the only person with any historical knowledge of Izuku and his mother - and whatever knowledge he had of Midoriya's missing father had stayed privy to only his knowledge. Nobody had the courage to bring it up to him, and he'd never seen fit to bring it up, thus, keeping it hidden away.

"I never really knew him. My mom told me he's alive; he's just working, but... to a kid, that doesn't really mean anything. Sometimes, I'd see my classmates with their dads, and think... 'why can't that be me?' or I'd imagine myself in their shoes." He snorted suddenly, a small smile touching his lips. "I-it's kinda embarrassing now that I'm older. I just wanted a whole family, is all."

"T-that's... what I want, t-too." Kota coughed softly, sensing the shift of everyone's attention onto him. "Not that... I don't, y'know, l-love you..." Izuku felt his heart swell at that. "I just want a complete thing, I guess. B-but I went the wrong way about it."

"Do you know why?"

It was a simple question; one without any expectations. It was prominently clear that Kota was sorry - his body language spoke more than his words did. But, Midoriya wanted to see if the young boy could identify why his thought process had been wrong, simply beyond the guilty feeling that he felt.

This time, it was Eri that spoke up, her soft voice breaking the muffling quiet. "B-because we used others?"

Midoriya nodded. "Wanting something isn't a crime. Everyone wants thing. B-but you can't rope others into your desires, especially if you don't know what they want."

Blissfully, Midoriya was unaware of the slight blush that touched Ashido's cheeks or the pondering look that crossed Yaoyorozu's face. The pink girl went as far as to whistle softly under her breath, drawing a hushed giggle from the pale-skinned child next to her.

"We could spend all night talking about this-" Eri and Kota both kept their groans in check "- or... we could watch a movie?"

Four pairs of eyes lit up at the proposition, and Midoriya quietly laughed as Ashido began teasing Yaoyorozu about her excitement. Kota began laughing, breaking the dam between himself and Eri, as the snow-haired girl joined in, creating a soft melody of mixing chuckles that Midoriya simply basked in. There was still a lot that was unsaid, after all. He wasn't looking forward to when he was cornered by the two beauties next to him... but, if his perseverance had taught him anything, it was that if he broke enough bones, the problem would eventually solve itself.

"Come here, you two!" He said with a wide smile and open arms. Whether or not he had secret magnets within his grip was a mystery, but suddenly, there were two children, laughing within his grasp, giggling and snorting like nothing had ever been wrong. He squeezed them, chuckling along with them, before leaning down so he was near their ears, and whispered, "I hope I can be enough for you two, like my mom was."

Their laughter simmered a bit, but they equally squeezed back, burying their faces into his sides.

"You always have been, dad."

"You're not Tiger, but you're pretty good at hugs, too. And, y'know, being a dad."

Quietly, Midoriya peeked over his shoulder, spying the two girls that remained on the couch, their hands folded in their laps. His soft smile grew slightly as their eyes locked.

Maybe they weren't their respective mothers yet - but something deep, deep down told him... one day, they would.

And, as everyone snuggled in for a movie - blankets passed around, popcorn popped, and lights off - Midoriya couldn't help but notice how both of his munchkins picked their respective side (fussing over his scarred hand, per normal), before snuggling into his presence... while Eri cuddled into Ashido's side, with Kota burrowing into Yaoyorozu's.

Both girls exchanged a look, blushes on both their faces, as they shared a smile and nestled in, willing to open themselves to the idea that was now implanted in their heads.

That's a wrap for this two-part chapter! Sorry if this isn't as fluffy as other chapters... or as well-written. I am officially back from my hiatus, which you can find details about on my Tumblr (Scandinavian_Sensation). It feels good to be back, but I have a lot of rust to break off, so please, bear with me!

If there are any suggestions you want to see moving forward, please let me know either here, or on Tumblr. I'll be working on beginning those ideas! Thanks guys, and Happy Holidays!