Day 1 - Past
Enji Todoroki hated press conferences - so he was thrilled to be sitting at home instead of the doubtlessly sweltering room crammed with more people that it's capacity. Rei, her middle heavy and hair twisted into a messy bun, leaned to press her lips to his cheek, an action he returned without much thought. He gave a hollow half smile to her, and she returned the look with a softness born of familiarity rather than love.
Neither truly enjoyed their situation, but both made do, one yearning for sunshine smiles and the scent of cedars while the other craved a sugar cookie scented embrace and emerald eyes that glimmered in the light of a setting sun.
Even still, Touya toddled after his mother, rich scarlet hair fluffed up in a messy nest, Fuyumi waddling her way over to where Enji made himself at home on the wooden floor, scrambling into her father's lap with the clumsy determination of a headstrong toddler. Once settled, she looked to the TV, curious as to what had her father so docile.
She caught a glimpse of golden curls and painted lips and understood.
"Will you do my hair," she chirped, a peace offering to the storm she figured this could dissolve into if left unchecked. Icy blue eyes regarded her for a moment before he nodded.
"Sure, just get your bag, okay?"
It took her less than a minute to scamper off, grab her bag and wriggle back to her perch in the dip of his thighs. A soft chuckle, atypical and precious, preceded him running his fingers through her ivory and vermillion hair.
"When I was a little older than you," he started after a minute, as he was wont to when distracted and nostalgic, "I had this friend with the messiest hair. His parents left him do whatever he wanted to it, so it was constantly a curly mess."
"As bad as Tou-chan's?"
"Even worse," he replied gravely. "Most he could do was tie it up to keep it out of his face. After a while I got annoyed. If he was going to keep his hair like that, at least make it presentable! So since he obviously wasn't going to do it, I learned how to style hair. And I did his hair for him every morning.... Until... He didn't need me to anymore."
Fuyumi, feeling his fingers still and catching the tremor in his voice, chanced a glance back. He was looking at the screen again, something soft and warm in his eye - something similar to what she saw on good days when he looked at them, nothing like the way he looked at mama.
He looked at All Might like the heavens themselves crafted a person just for him, like the other was everything bright and warm and worthwhile to him.
He looked at all Might the same way Mikoto's mommy and daddy look at each other - with love.
Fuyumi let her weight pull her back and down, snuggling into her father's abdomen as his mind wandered, eyes on the Number One Hero on TV. That was fine, she thought.
She could let Daddy have a moment