The rain fell in a relentless rhythm, tapping against the windowpane of the small apartment. Izuku Midoriya sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the adoption papers spread out before him. The ink was still wet, the words etched onto the page like a promise. Izuku Midoriya, it read, now legally the son of Shota Aizawa.

His heart swirled with emotions—gratitude, relief, and a hint of sadness. Sadness because this moment, though beautiful, was also a reminder of the past. Aizawa had taken him in when no one else would. The man with the disheveled hair and the perpetually tired eyes had become more than a mentor; he'd become a father figure.

Izuku's biological parents had abandoned him, leaving him on the doorstep of an orphanage. He'd grown up there, surrounded by other children, all yearning for a family. But Aizawa had seen something in him—a spark of determination, a glimmer of potential. And he'd taken Izuku under his wing, trained him to be a hero, and now, legally made him his son.

The door creaked open, and Aizawa stepped inside, his usual stoic expression softened by the flicker of candlelight. He held a steaming cup of tea, and his gaze met Izuku's. "Cold night," he said, his voice gruff but gentle.

Izuku nodded. "Yeah. Perfect weather for paperwork." He tried to smile, but it wavered.

Aizawa sat down beside him, their shoulders brushing. "You okay?"

"I am." Izuku traced the edge of the adoption papers. "It's just... strange. Calling you 'Dad.' I've never had a real father before."

Aizawa took a sip of his tea. "Labels don't define relationships," he said. "But if it helps, you can call me whatever you're comfortable with."

Izuku hesitated. "Can I call you Dad?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Aizawa's eyes softened further, and he set the cup aside. "You can call me whatever you want," he said. "But know this—I've always considered you my son, even before the paperwork."

Tears welled up in Izuku's eyes. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."

Aizawa pulled him into a one-armed hug, and Izuku buried his face in the worn fabric of the hero's jacket. Rain continued to tap against the window, a soothing backdrop to their quiet moment.

"You're not alone anymore," Aizawa murmured. "We're family now."

And in that small apartment, with the rain as witness, Izuku finally felt the warmth of belonging—the kind that no quirk could grant, but only a father's love.

THE END