As Shige and his family returned home, Izaku's family made their way into their own house. The tension from earlier lingered in the air, heavy and unsettling. Izaku couldn't shake the feeling that something more was at play—something that connected to his brother's mysterious disappearance. The thought gnawed at him, making him uneasy.
Entering the guest room, Izaku noticed the birthday cake, still untouched. It struck him that they might have planned to save it for a more intimate celebration after the formal gathering.
"So... Happy Birthday, I guess?" Izuku spoke, trying to cut through the awkwardness that hung between them. He felt the strangeness of the moment acutely, not knowing much about his younger brother before his disappearance. Despite the initial awkwardness, he couldn't help but feel a surge of joy. After all, he had always wanted a younger sibling—a companion, someone to look after and guide.
Feel how it's like to be on the other side.
The joy was bittersweet. In his younger days, he had been the one pestering their parents for a little brother, back when life was simpler—when happiness was abundant, and curiosity ruled his days. Now, as he looked at Izaku, he saw a younger version of himself, that same unquenched curiosity shining in his brother's eyes. Yet, the world seemed so much darker now, filled with dangers he couldn't always protect Izaku from.
"Yeah, thanks... I guess?" Izaku responded, tilting his head slightly, sensing the awkwardness in his brother's demeanor. "Izuku, right?" he asked, earning a nod in return. "Right," he continued, turning to their parents with a slight frown. "You guys run out of ideas?"
Their parents exchanged confused glances, trying to grasp the meaning behind Izaku's words. Then, as if a light bulb had gone off, their eyes widened, scrambling for an answer. But before they could respond, they were interrupted by a chuckle from Izuku.
"Can't blame them, ey?" Izuku said, smirking. "Remember, I was gone before you were born. You've got to use that head of yours to figure it out."
Izaku sighed, realizing the truth in his brother's words. "Yeah, you're right. My bad."
As the family gathered around the table, Izaku pulled out a chair and sat down, staring at the cake in front of him. His parents followed suit, with Izuku taking the last seat. For a moment, they all just looked at the cake, as if unsure how to proceed. The room was filled with a strange silence—one that was heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions.
Izuku broke the silence, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what kind of cake is it? Looks pretty good."
His mother smiled, grateful for the attempt to ease the tension. "It's chocolate with a bit of raseberry filling. We weren't sure what you liked, Izaku, so we just went with something we thought everyone might enjoy."
Izaku nodded slowly. "Chocolate's good." he said, not really sounding enthusiastic but at least appreciative.
Izuku glanced at his brother, trying to gauge his mood. "You know, when I was your age, I was all about chocolate cake. Still am, actually," he added with a small grin.
Izaku gave a half-smile in return, feeling the awkwardness start to dissipate, even if just a little. "Yeah? Well, I've always been more of a vanilla cake guy. Guess I'm in the minority here, huh?"
Izuku chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Vanilla? I guess that makes you the sophisticated one. But hey, chocolate's a classic."
The little brother, sensing the shift in mood, decided to steer the conversation toward something more personal. "Izuku, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself? I've missed so much while you were away."
Izuku nodded, appreciative of the chance to share. "Well, there's not much to tell—just been a lot of training and missions..."
However, as he was about to continue, he felt his mind waver to the times he spent in that village. The friends he made, those lost, the memories he gained, and the scares he was cursed with.
Izuku's words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of the years that had passed. The family sat around the table, the untouched birthday cake between them, its candles unlit. The room, though familiar, felt foreign to Izuku—a place filled with memories he wasn't a part of.
"Training and missions, huh?" Izaku asked, his curiosity masking the awkwardness that had been hanging between them. "What kind of missions? Where did you go?"
Izuku paused, carefully considering his response. He didn't want to burden his younger brother with the full truth—about the dangers he faced, the things he had seen. But he also knew that Izaku deserved more than just vague answers.
"I've been around," Izuku began, his voice measured. "Different places, different tasks. Some missions were straightforward, others... not so much. But it's always been about keeping people safe, doing what needed to be done."
Izaku frowned slightly, sensing that his brother was holding back. "Did you ever... were you ever scared?"
Izuku looked down at his hands, the scars on his knuckles a reminder of the battles he'd fought. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I was scared a lot. But that's part of the job. You learn to deal with it because you don't really have a choice. You push through because there are people counting on you."
Their parents exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of pride and concern. They had always known that Izuku's life had been dangerous, but hearing it directly from him made it feel more real, more immediate.
Izaku, still grappling with everything, asked the question that had been on his mind since Izuku had come home. "Do you ever wish you hadn't left? That you stayed here with us?"
The question caught Izuku off guard. He had thought about this a lot over the years, especially during the quiet moments when he was alone, far from home. He looked at Izaku, at the brother he barely knew, and felt a pang of guilt.
"Yeah," Izuku said after a moment, his voice tinged with regret. "I missed a lot. I missed your birthdays, holidays, just... being here. There were times when I wanted to be anywhere but where I was. But at the same time, I knew I was doing something that mattered. It wasn't easy, and I wish things could have been different. But I can't say I regret it. I just... I regret what it cost."
The room was quiet, the only sound the ticking of a clock somewhere in the background. The words hung heavy in the air, each of them lost in their thoughts.
After a long pause, Izuku reached out, placing a hand on Izaku's shoulder. "But I'm here now," he said, his voice steady. "And I want to make up for lost time. We've got a lot to catch up on, and I want to be here for you. Whatever you need."
Izuku's words hung in the air, but the silence that followed wasn't the kind of comforting pause that usually came after a heartfelt moment. It was thick, awkward, and filled with the weight of unspoken thoughts.
Izaku shifted in his seat, glancing around the room. The walls felt closer, the cake in front of them a stark reminder of how much had changed—and how much hadn't. He wasn't sure how to respond to his brother, wasn't even sure what he was supposed to feel. Gratitude? Relief? Sadness? It was all jumbled together, a confusing mess that left him feeling more alone than before.
"So... what now?" Izaku asked, his voice sounding a bit too loud in the quiet room. He looked at his parents, then back at Izuku, searching for some kind of direction, some clue about how they were supposed to move forward from here.
His mother gave him a soft smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We'll take it one day at a time," she said, her voice gentle but uncertain. "We're just... happy to have you both here. Together."
Izuku nodded, but even he seemed unsure. He'd been through so much, seen so much, and now that he was back, it was clear that the family he'd left behind had moved on in ways he hadn't anticipated. He was an outsider in his own home, a stranger to the brother he barely knew.
"I know it's going to be... different," Izuku said, his voice low. "And I know I can't just pick up where I left off. But I want to try. I want us to be a family again."
His mother offered a reassuring smile, though it was tinged with uncertainty. "We'll take it one day at a time," she said softly, as if testing the words to see if they held any comfort. "We're just... happy to have you both here. Together."
"Yeah, I get that," Izaku said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "It's just... gonna take some getting used to."
Izuku leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "For all of us," he agreed. He wanted to say more, to bridge the gap that seemed to be growing between them despite his best efforts, but the right words escaped him.
"So... what now?" Izaku asked, breaking the silence. His voice was hesitant, revealing his confusion about the next steps in this awkward reunion.
Izuku looked around, clearly aware of the same discomfort. "I guess we just..." he said, failing to sound reassuring. "We've got a lot to catch up on, but we don't have to rush it."
Izaku nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the slice of cake on his plate. "Yeah, I guess so." He poked at his cake with his fork, not really eating. "I just don't know how to... act around you yet. It's like meeting a stranger who's supposed to be family."
Izuku's expression softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly feeling the weight of the situation. "I get that. It's weird for me too. I've missed a lot of your life, and now I'm trying to fit back in."
Their mother, noticing the tension, cleared her throat. "How about we just talk? Share some stories. Maybe that'll help us get to know each other better."
Izuku nodded in agreement. "Sure, that sounds good. I've got a few stories from my travels that might be interesting."
Izaku's curiosity was piqued, but he still felt a bit awkward. "Alright, let's hear one. Just... start with something simple."
Izuku thought for a moment, then began with a light-hearted story about a mission gone slightly wrong but ending in an unexpected way. It was an attempt to bring a bit of humor into the room, to break the ice.
As Izuku spoke, Izaku listened, finding himself intrigued despite the lingering awkwardness. It was clear that Izuku had been through a lot, and hearing about it, even in a more casual way, helped humanize the brother he barely knew.
Their father watched this exchange with a mix of relief and caution. He could see that they were starting to bridge the gap, however slowly. "I think we're making progress," he said, his voice reflecting a cautious optimism.
Izaku managed a small smile. "Yeah, I guess we are."
The conversation continued, gradually becoming more natural as they shared more stories and experiences. It wasn't perfect, and the awkwardness didn't completely disappear, but there was a sense of moving forward. For now, that was enough.