Izuku's point of view
The limousine door swung open with a whisper-soft thunk. Hikaru was out first, a shadow detaching itself from the plush interior. His exit was pure, silent efficiency, his body already angled to assess the drop-off zone—the broad stone stairs, the flanking evergreens, the potential vantage points in the mansion's grand facade. Only after his instincts confirmed the immediate area was clear did he turn, his demeanor shifting subtly. He extended a hand back into the vehicle, not as a bodyguard, but as an escort.
Mama's hand slid into his. Then she emerged.
It was a masterclass in composure. The nervous energy that had tightened her shoulders in the car was gone, sublimated into an aura of elegant, unshakeable calm. She stepped onto the gravel drive, her posture perfect, a soft, polite smile already gracing her features. The transformation was seamless. Midoriya Inko, the warm, sometimes anxious mother, was completely submerged. In her place stood the CEO of Stark Industries—poised, capable, and radiating a gentle, formidable authority. The armor was on.
I slipped out after her, the cool night air sharp against my skin. My reinforced suit felt like a promise. Silk adjusted her stance on my shoulder, a small, deadly piece of living art. Jarvis tightened his coils minutely around my neck, his head lifting, tongue flicking out once to sample the complex chemical signature of the estate. Between his digital senses and Hikaru's primal ones, we were covered.
We were not alone for more than three seconds.
Descending the immaculate stone steps with a grace that belied his age was a man who seemed carved from the estate's own history. His butler's attire was flawless, not a costume but a uniform of supreme competency. He stopped before us and executed a bow so precise it could have been measured with calipers.
"Good evening," he said, his voice a rich, plummy baritone that held the ghosts of British manor houses. "I am Alfred. I serve as the head of household for the Yaoyorozu family. It is an honor to receive you."
Alfred.
I kept my face perfectly still, but internally, my mind did a full, delighted record-scratch. Well, I'll be damned. He found a universe with better hours and probably better retirement benefits. Good for him.
"Master Renjiro and Mistress Sayuri are currently attending to their duties as hosts in the main hall," Alfred continued, his sharp eyes missing nothing—not Mama's controlled grace, Hikaru's vigilant stillness, nor the very unconventional "accessories" of their son. "However, they have instructed me to see to your comfort without delay. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will escort you to a private room where they will join you at the earliest opportunity."
Hikaru gave a single, curt nod and took the lead, falling into step behind Alfred. Mama followed, her steps hesitant, her eyes wide as she took in our surroundings. I brought up the rear, my own gaze analytical rather than awestruck.
The mansion was… exactly what you'd expect from generational wealth in an anime universe, but dialed to eleven. The interior was a stunning blend of traditional Japanese elegance and modern opulence. Soaring ceilings were supported by dark, lacquered beams. Walls were painted in rich, warm reds and creamy whites, adorned with exquisite ink paintings and what were probably priceless historical artifacts displayed in recessed, softly lit alcoves. The floor was polished marble so perfect I could see Silk's reflection in it eight times over.
Everything screamed expensive. And Mama was hearing it loud and clear. I watched with amusement as she gave a wide berth to a low table that looked like it was carved from a single piece of jade, nearly tripping over her own feet to avoid a standing porcelain vase that probably cost more than our old apartment building. She was moving like a bomb disposal expert in a room full of kitten-shaped landmines.
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. I loved her for this. The money, the company, the power—it hadn't changed her core. She still saw a fragile, obscenely priced vase as a disaster waiting to happen, not a status symbol. It was a refreshingly normal-person viewpoint in this den of dragons, and I cherished it. Naive? Maybe a little. But she had me and her very own lion-shaped security detail. She could afford a bit of naivety.
We ascended a grand, sweeping staircase, our footsteps muffled by a plush runner. After a walk down a quieter hallway lined with more art, Alfred stopped before a set of carved wooden doors. He opened them with a quiet flourish.
"The blue drawing room," he announced. "Please, make yourselves at ease. I shall inform the Master and Mistress of your arrival directly."
He bowed again and withdrew, closing the doors with a soft click.
The room was beautiful and serene, decorated in shades of navy, silver, and cream. Plush sofas were arranged around a low table. Bookshelves lined one wall. It felt private, insulated from the distant hum of the party.
The moment the door shut, I raised my hand to the frame of my glasses. "Jarvis. Full spectrum scan. Passive only."
"Activating," his sibilant voice murmured. A thin, invisible beam of light shot from the corner of each lens, sweeping the room in a grid pattern.
"Scan complete," Jarvis reported a few seconds later. "No active surveillance devices detected. No anomalous energy signatures. Acoustic profile suggests standard soundproofing. The room is secure."
"All clear," I said aloud, relaxing my posture. I walked over to one of the sofas and sat down, the soft material sighing under me. Silk hopped from my head into my lap, curling into a crimson ball. Jarvis smoothly uncoiled from my neck and slithered down to rest beside her, a coil of iridescent black and silver against the dark blue upholstery.
I leaned back, closing my eyes for a second, just listening.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
My eyes opened. Mama was pacing. A tight, nervous circuit between a bookshelf and a large ceramic pot holding a meticulously shaped bonsai tree.
"...generational old money," she was muttering to herself, her voice a frantic whisper. "I mean, they seem lovely on the calls, just lovely, but that's business! This is their home. We're in their home. What if… what if they meet us and decide we're not what they expected? What if we offend them somehow? I don't know the right way to hold a teacup that costs more than my first car! What do we even do?"
I couldn't help it. A soft chuckle escaped me. She was spiraling.
I looked at Hikaru, who was a standing sentinel by the door, watching her pace with an expression caught between concern and professional assessment. I caught his eye and tilted my head towards Mama.
He understood the unspoken question. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips. "Tranquilizer dart?" he rumbled, his voice so low only I could hear it. "Low yield. She'd nap for twenty minutes, wake up refreshed."
I barked a laugh, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Mama didn't even seem to hear it, lost in her world of social catastrophe.
"Tempting," I said, standing up and gently placing Silk and Jarvis on the cushion beside me. "But let's try a less pharmaceutical approach first. I have one that works wonders on her particular brand of anxiety."
I walked over to stand next to Hikaru, watching Mama's pacing path. She was a creature of pure, nervous habit. I timed it perfectly.
With a develish smile that felt at home on my face, I gave Hikaru a sudden, sharp shove to the shoulder. He was a rock, but he was also off-balance, his attention split between me and Mama. With a grunt of surprise, he stumbled backwards and landed squarely in the middle of the plush sofa I'd just vacated.
Before he could even process the indignity, I was moving. I slid into Mama's pacing path just as she turned. With a precise, gentle push against her shoulder—more a redirect than a shove—I disrupted her momentum.
"Eeeep!" she squeaked, her arms windmilling for a comical second before her legs tangled. She tripped gracefully backwards, landing with a soft whump directly in Hikaru's lap.
The result was immediate and spectacular.
For a full second, there was absolute silence. Then, a simultaneous, nuclear-scale blush detonated across both their faces. Mama's went from pale to a shade of crimson that put Silk's chassis to shame. Hikaru's blush was a darker, more furious red, climbing from his collar so fast I swear I heard his skin sizzle. They were frozen, a statue of supreme embarrassment, her curled awkwardly in his lap, his arms hovering uselessly in the air, unsure where to land.
Click. Click. Click.
The silent shutter sound from my glasses' built-in camera was the most satisfying noise I'd ever heard.
"Perfect," I whispered to myself, a grin splitting my face. "Prime blackmail material. Also, excellent instructional material for my future gremlin siblings. A delightful daydream flashed: me, surrounded by a handful of smaller, green-haired children with glinting golden cat-eyes and fluffy little ears and tails, all looking up at me as I showed them the holopic. "And this, my little lions, is how you properly fluster your parents to achieve optimal results."
"IZUKU!"
Their voices erupted in perfect, harmonious outrage, snapping me out of my future-sibling fantasy. They were both glaring at me, their faces still impressively red, though Mama had scrambled off of Hikaru's lap as if it were made of hot coals.
I blinked at them, my expression the picture of innocent helpfulness. "What? I had to find a way to calm Mama down. And I'll be honest," I said, my grin returning, "it's just too much fun making you both go nuclear. I mean, I'm trying to get little siblings to spoil rotten, and you two already clearly like each other. So what's the point in waiting?"
A faint, actual wisp of steam curled from Mama's ears. Hikaru looked like he was seriously reconsidering the tranquilizer dart idea, however this time with me as the target.
I sighed happily, leaning against the doorframe. I loved how… lax this universe's reality could be. It made interactions like this not just possible, but visually perfect. No one would believe this back in my old world. Here, it was just a regular Tuesday.
The moment of perfect, blushing chaos lasted a few more seconds before Hikaru's head snapped up, his golden eyes sharpening. His expression smoothed into pure, professional neutrality. "Footsteps," he murmured, his voice low and clear. "Approaching. Measured pace. Likely our hosts."
The announcement hit Mama like a bucket of cold water. The blush vanished, replaced by a fresh wave of panic. Her hands flew to her hair, patting it down. "Oh, no, no, no, we're not ready, I'm a mess, the room is a mess, we look like we were—!"
"Mama," I said, my voice cutting through her rising pitch with calm authority. I pointed at the sofa. "Sit. Breathe. Posture. We're fine. We look exactly like we're supposed to: a successful businesswoman, her capable security consultant, and her brilliant, well-behaved son who definitely did not just orchestrate a pratfall romance scenario." I shot her a quick, reassuring grin. "Just be you. That's all they're expecting, and it's more than enough."
She took a shuddering breath, nodded, and moved to the central sofa with a forced, regal calm. She perched on the edge, her back straight, hands folded in her lap—the picture of poised anticipation.
I took my place beside her, arranging myself with a casual elegance I'd practiced. Silk, sensing the shift, became a still, decorative brooch of crimson and black on my shoulder. Jarvis tightened his coils, his head resting calmly against my collarbone, the very image of an exotic, well-trained pet.
Hikaru took up a position standing just behind and to the right of the sofa, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He wasn't looming; he was present. A silent, formidable pillar.
We had just settled into our tableau of perfect, composed readiness, when the doors opened again.
Alfred entered first, his posture impeccable. "Master Renjiro, Mistress Sayuri, and Young Mistress Momo," he announced, his voice filling the serene room.
The first to enter was Renjiro Yaoyorozu. He was a man who carried his dynasty in his posture. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit that looked custom-built for him, crisp and immaculate down to the last seam, with a dark tie and a sharp white shirt that only emphasized his commanding presence. His face was strong, with sharp, intelligent eyes that missed nothing, framed by dark hair streaked with distinguished silver at the temples. He moved with a quiet, undeniable gravity, the kind that made a room still without a word being spoken. This was not just a wealthy man; this was a lord in his own castle.
Following him was Sayuri Yaoyorozu. Where Renjiro was a mountain of quiet power, Sayuri was a flowing river of graceful authority. Her dress was a stunning, deep red gown, elegant and regal, the fabric catching the light like spilled wine and embers, its refined design emphasizing both status and effortless beauty. But her eyes, a warm, dark brown, held a keen, analytical sharpness that matched her husband's. She was the cultured heart of the dynasty, and one look told you her mind was a razor wrapped in silk.
(Image here)
And then, trailing slightly behind them, came Momo.
She was a vision of carefully cultivated innocence. Her dress was a soft, petal pink, with a ribbon at the waist, and her long, dark hair was done up in two elegant, high ponytails tied with matching ribbons. She held herself with a miniature imitation of her mother's perfect posture, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. She was trying so hard to look composed, to embody the quiet royalty of her lineage.
(Image here)
It was so fucking adorable it nearly short-circuited my brain.
Oh no, I thought, a wave of pure, unadulterated aww crashing over my tactical analysis. If Momo Yaoyorozu at nine, trying to be serious, is this level of lethal cuteness… what in the name of all that is holy is Eri going to be like?
The mental image of the tiny, horned girl with her wide, red eyes and tragic past—but hopefully, in this timeline, a future filled with safety and smiles—blasted into my mind. My chest actually constricted. I'm going to die, I realized with utter certainty. I, a former soldier and current shadow-industry magnate, am going to perish from a cuteness-induced heart attack long before All For One or the MLA can get me. And that's not even accounting for the hypothetical fuzzy-eared, tail-sporting gremlin siblings I'm plotting to acquire! The cuteness overload will be apocalyptic!
I was yanked brutally from my spiraling, adorable doom by the sound of Renjiro Yaoyorozu's voice.
"I am Renjiro Yaoyorozu," he said, his introduction simple and weighty. "This is my wife, Sayuri." Sayuri inclined her head with a graceful smile. "And our daughter, Momo."
Momo took a small, precise step forward. "I am Yaoyorozu Momo," she said, her voice clear and polite, though a faint tremble of nerves underpinned it. "It is a pleasure to meet you." As she finished her little bow, her dark, intelligent eyes finally flickered up from the floor. They landed on me, then darted to the crimson spider on my shoulder, then to the sleek cobra around my neck. Her composed mask shattered instantly. Her eyes widened into saucers, sparkling with raw, unfiltered fascination and a torrent of unasked questions. She was practically vibrating with the effort of holding them in.
I couldn't help it. A soft chuckle escaped me.
The sound made her jolt. Her eyes snapped back to mine, and she realized I'd caught her staring. A bright, flustered blush exploded across her cheeks, and she quickly looked down at her shoes, her ponytails swaying with the movement. Making her even more adorable, damn it.
Mama chose that moment to step forward, her CEO persona fully engaged but softened with genuine warmth. "The honor is entirely ours," she said, bowing respectfully. "Thank you for your gracious invitation to your beautiful home. I am Midoriya Inko. I serve as the public face and acting CEO of Stark Industries." I saw Renjiro's sharp eyes flick from Mama to Hikaru, his brow furrowing slightly. Ah, I realized, holding back a smirk. He's doing the math. Impressive woman, deadly-looking man standing protectively behind her… he's pegged Hikaru as the hidden power. Oh, this is going to be good.
Hikaru, sensing the unspoken question, gave a shallow bow of his own. "Hikaru Ishida. I provide security for the Midoriya family and act as Izuku's personal tutor in… advanced studies." His tone was neutral, offering no further explanation.
The confusion on the Yaoyorozus' faces deepened. Advanced studies? A tutor who looked like a veteran spec-ops soldier? The pieces weren't fitting their expected puzzle.
All eyes turned to me. The child in the room. Right. My turn.
I took a small step forward, placing myself slightly ahead of Mama. I didn't adopt a childish pose. I simply stood straight, meeting Renjiro's gaze, then Sayuri's, then offering a small, genuine smile to the still-blushing Momo.
"I am Midoriya Izuku," I said, my voice calm and clear, devoid of childish hesitation. "It's excellent to finally meet you all in person." I paused, letting the moment hang. "After all, I did promise that when we met face-to-face, I would reveal myself."
I saw Renjiro lean forward infinitesimally, his full attention locking onto me.
"So, to honor that promise," I continued, giving a slight, respectful bow of my head. "I am the real CEO of Stark Industries. And, as of last year, your largest shareholder. The honor of this meeting is truly mine."
Silence.
For a full five seconds, there was absolute, perfect silence in the elegant blue drawing room. You could have heard a gnat breathe.
Renjiro's dignified composure cracked first. His jaw went slack. Sayuri's hand flew to her chest, her serene eyes widening into disbelieving discs. Momo just stared, her mouth forming a perfect, tiny 'o' of shock.
Then, as if on a shared, rupturing wavelength, the entire Yaoyorozu family erupted.
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!"
The synchronized shout was so loud, so utterly flabbergasted, that it seemed to make the precious porcelain in the room vibrate. Renjiro was leaning forward, palms planted on the low table as if the world had tilted. Sayuri had both hands over her mouth. Momo was looking at me as if I'd just spontaneously grown a second head, one that was reciting complex quantum mechanics.
I just stood there, my smile turning a touch wry. Well, I thought, as the echoes of their shock died away, leaving a ringing quiet in their wake. That went about as well as could be expected.