TheFanficGOD
patreon
MHA139- Sugar Gremlin
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 17:15:23 +0000 UTCThe scent of crayons and cheap instant coffee hit me the second I stepped inside the house. It was warm, but not in a way T-Bone would claim something horrendous warm, like, homely warm. It was the kind of warmth that stuck to your ribs and made you forget, just for a second, that the world was full of psychos and power-hungry creeps playing chess with bodies.
“Mum?” I called out.
“In here, sweetie!”
I followed the sound to the living room, and there they were, Mom cross-legged on the floor, a coloring book spread between her and the little chaos gremlin herself.
She was in a giant hoodie... my hoodie, actually, drowning in the fabric as she scribbled something pink and slightly horrifying onto a cartoon unicorn’s face. She looked up and saw me.
And then she moved like lightning.
“Ryuu!”
Before I could brace, she launched herself across the room. I caught her midair, stumbled back a step, and managed not to fall on my ass. Progress.
“We are coloring! You do it too!”
“No ‘hi,’ no ‘how are you,’ just straight to forced arts and crafts?”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
Inko laughed softly. “She’s been waiting since lunch.”
“...It is five.”
“She had faith.”
"Fine." I dropped onto the floor, Eri still in my lap like a goblin with a mission. She shoved a crayon into my hand and pointed at the page like a tiny dictator. “That cloud is yours.”
I blinked. “I get the cloud?”
“It is the most important part.”
“Obviously.”
She nodded, all seriousness. “No pressure.”
We colored for what felt like forever. She switched spots every five minutes... my lap, Mom’s lap, my shoulder like a parrot, the armrest like some kind of dramatic anime prince. And every time she handed me a new color, she whispered like it was classified intel. “Use this. It makes things happy.”
I was halfway through turning a squirrel into a rave explosion when I leaned back. “Eri.”
“Yeah?”
“You wanna go out?”
She looked up, blinking. “Like… outside?”
“Yeah. Ice cream or arcade or just… anywhere but here.”
She grinned so wide it actually hurt to look at. “Can we get mochi?”
“Absolutely not. That shit sticks to everything.”
She clasped her hands together. “Pleaseeeee?”
I sighed. “Fine. But you are brushing your teeth twice after.”
She threw her arms up. “Deal!”
I pulled out my phone, before calling the name I knew would answer like a golden retriever on Red Bull.
“Yo.”
Izuku’s voice crackled on the line, way too cheerful for someone who probably just finished six hours of cardio and emotional spiraling.
“You busy?”
“Kind of... wait, is that Eri in the background?”
She was yelling something about strawberry-flavored justice.
I sighed. “Yeah. We are going out. Coming?”
A pause.
“Absolutely. Where to?”
“Not a hospital. And not one of your All Might museums.”
“…Fair.”
“Bring money.”
He snorted. “You are paying.”
“I brought the kid. You are paying.”
“…Shit.”
I hung up.
Eri tugged on my sleeve. “Izuku is coming?”
“Yeah.”
She beamed, already grabbing her tiny boots. “Best day ever!”
Mom grabbed her purse with the resigned sigh of someone who knew she would be dragged along whether she wanted to or not.
We met Izuku outside, who greeted, “Hey. Where are we going?”
I pointed at Eri, who was perched on my shoulders like some kind of royal barnacle. “Ask Princess.”
She raised one tiny hand and pointed dramatically forward. “Ahead!”
Izuku blinked. “Ahead where?”
She leaned forward, gripping my head like a steering wheel. “Adventure!”
“Cool. Super specific,” I muttered, adjusting her legs before she managed to strangle me with her knees. “Try not to kill your ride.”
Izuku chuckled. “You sure you are okay carrying her the whole time?”
“She weighs less than my trauma. I will survive.”
He blinked. “Ryuu-”
“Let's not unpack that.”
We started walking. The evening crowd was thinning out. Eri kept bouncing with every step, narrating our surroundings like we were in some shounen filler episode.
“There is the ramen place that smells like socks!”
“There is the lamp that flickers like a ghost lives in it!”
“There is a pigeon that pooped on Uncle Eraser once!”
Izuku was smiling like a man watching a rainbow in human form. “She’s so energetic today.”
“Yeah,” I said, “she had a crayon power surge earlier. I think we might’ve unlocked her hidden quirk: sugar-induced chaos casting.”
Eri gasped. “My quirk is COLOR!” She struck a pose on my shoulders like she was summoning a magical girl transformation. If she’d had sparkles, I would have choked on them.
Izuku grinned. “So, ice cream?”
“No!” Mom said immediately.
Eri kicked my chest lightly. “Yes!”
I turned to Mom. “Blame Izuku.”
She raised an eyebrow. “He just got here.”
“And yet, somehow, everything is already his fault.”
Izuku held up his hands like he was under arrest. “Okay, wow, what did I do?”
“You smiled. She took it as confirmation that dessert is destiny.”
Eri nodded sagely from my shoulders. “Smiles mean yes. And I am cute, which means extra yes.”
Inko sighed, her mom-voice halfway between fond and exhausted. “One scoop. And nothing that glows in the dark, explodes, or stains her teeth neon.”
“So, no fun then,” I deadpanned.
She leveled me with a stare. “Ryuu.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Fine. No radioactive sugar bombs. We will keep it safe, legal, and dental-appointment-friendly.”
Eri’s change in such a short amount of time was impressive. From the girl who dared not look people in the eye to the gremlin who called herself cute and demanded shoulder rides and extras like she was tax-exempt royalty? That was a massive improvement.
One of the reasons was Mom. She was a great mom, of course... gentle, warm, the kind of person who could make soup and trauma feel like they belonged in the same room.
Second reason? Me. Obviously.
I was a phenomenal influence. I provided sarcasm, existential commentary, and the occasional forehead flick when she got too cocky. Oh, and let’s not forget the insanely expensive system potions I kept shoving down.
I was basically the MVP of her recovery arc. Clearly. I am a saint.
I looked up at Eri, currently trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue, even though there were exactly zero flakes in the sky. "Hey, stop eating air. You will not have space for mochi."
She closed her mouth so fast it made a pop.
Mom glared at me with the force of a thousand disappointed PTA meetings, while I chuckled under my breath.
Izuku looked genuinely horrified. "You are a devil."
I gave him the dead-eyed stare of someone who had accepted his sins. "I am raising her to survive the real world. Step one, never trust the air. Step two, mochi is earned, not inhaled."
We passed a woman walking with her son. She smiled at us... one of those soft, suburban smiles, the kind that smelled like baby wipes and Pinterest parenting. I turned away immediately.
Yeah, no play dates.
Mom grumbled beside me, “Aren’t you a bit overprotective?”
I glared. “No.”
She raised a brow, but said nothing. Izuku looked like he wanted to say something wholesome. I cut him off with a stare.
Eri, oblivious to the adult death stares, pointed at the woman’s kid and declared, “He looks sticky.”
I blinked. “…What?”
She nodded sagely. “Sticky kids always have fruit snacks. And viruses.”
I stared at her in awe. “I have never been more proud.”
“Ryuu,” Mom said, deadpan.
“What? She is not wrong.”
We reached the place and everyone got some ice cream. The shop was this tiny, overly pastel sugar trap with plastic flamingos out front and a menu that looked like a fever dream had exploded on it.
Eri damn near vibrated through the door, eyes wide like she had just stepped into heaven’s frozen dairy aisle.
Her nose wrinkled at the smell of sugar and cold air, eyes going cartoon-wide as she spun in a circle like she’d just discovered Narnia in a freezer.
She ran straight up to the counter and pointed. “That one! The blue one!”
Izuku leaned in, smiling. “You want bubblegum?”
She gasped like he had just solved world hunger. “Yes! That one!”
“Alright then—” He reached for his wallet with that same energy people get when they realize they left the oven on at home. It flopped open like a sad, broke butterfly.
I stared. He fumbled. Panicked.
Then mom, with the most dramatic sigh ever exhaled by a human being, reaching into her purse like she was about to fund a school reconstruction. I could practically hear her spine creak under the weight of maternal responsibility.
I shot forward like a man who had been shot.
“Nope. I got it. I got it.”
She paused mid-dig. That damn smile on her lips. She knew. She had played me like a damn fiddle, and I still hit every note.
“Are you sure, sweetie?” she asked, hand hovering just over her wallet like a villain ready to trigger a trap.
“Yeah. Totally. No problem. Love burning my money on lactose and lies.”
Izuku chuckled, clearly relieved he didn’t have to donate a kidney to pay for three scoops and a cone.
The cashier looked at me like I was the dad in this situation. I was not okay with that. But Eri was bouncing so much her hoodie sleeves slapped her in the face, so I let it slide.
We sat down at a booth. Eri was already covered in blue sticky joy, halfway to becoming a cautionary tale about food dye. She made happy noises with every bite, like her soul had achieved enlightenment.
Mom was watching her with this soft, faraway look... half joy, half worry, all love. Izuku sat across from us, sipping something matcha-flavored like the sad little caffeine addict he was.
Mom started to ask how the school was, when I was dating again, when she would have some grandkids.
I mentally filed for parental harassment and disassociated into the ceiling. If anyone asked, I was temporarily dead inside.
Somewhere between “You are not getting any younger” and “You know, Eri could use a little sister,” my soul exited the building, and I began counting the ceiling tiles. There were only eight.
She talked with that soft-laced guilt tone, like she was just wondering, not secretly drafting a schedule for me to procreate before twenty.
Izuku tried to change the subject. God bless him. “So, Ryuu, how are training going?”
I blinked at him, slowly turning my head. “You want me to talk about training during dessert? Are you a cop?”
He looked immediately betrayed. “I was just-”
“Nope. Do not ‘just’ me. You sided with mom. You are now compromised.”
Mom gasped. “I am not the enemy here!”
“That is exactly what the enemy would say.”
Eri, still sticky and halfway through her sugar high, added with the clarity of a tiny oracle, “Ryuu doesn’t show love.”
I choked on my drink.
Izuku started laughing so hard he nearly dropped his cone. “Out of the mouths of babes.”
Eri blinked at me with those wide, innocent eyes. “You are like Eraserhead. You hide your feelings in your scarf.”
“I do not own a scarf.”
“Because it wouldn’t fit all your feelings.”
Even Mom was trying not to laugh, sipping her drink with that smug little ‘I-raised-you-wrong-on-purpose’ smirk.
I leaned back, arms crossed. “You know, I came here for ice cream, not a roast.”
“Too bad,” Izuku said, wiping his eyes, “you got both.”
I looked at Eri, who was now drawing faces in the condensation on the window with her blue-stained finger.
“You are all traitors. This entire booth is a crime scene. I want witnesses, lawyers, and a dessert refund.”
Mom patted my hand. “We love you.”
“That makes it worse.”
We left the place, so I threw Eri onto Izuku’s shoulders like she was a living backpack full of sugar and unresolved mischief. He yelped, trying to keep her balanced while she immediately latched on like a hyperactive koala.
“Quality bonding time,” I said, cracking my neck.
“Help,” he mouthed while Eri giggled and wiped her sticky hands on his hair like it was a napkin made of vegetables.
He froze. “Eri. Please. Not the broccoli.”
“Too late,” I muttered, stretching my arms over my head.
Mom walked a few steps ahead, pretending not to hear anything, but I could see her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Betrayal came in many forms.
Izuku grimaced, lifting Eri off and holding her at arm’s length. “She is leaking blue. Why is she leaking blue?”
“Because,” I said, deadpan, “you gave her the ice cream that looked like regret and tasted like cavity.”
Eri flailed her limbs and squeaked. “Mochi! I still want mochi!”
I turned to her, giving her the flat stare of a man with rent to pay and sanity to hoard. “You are already 40% food dye and 60% chaos. You eat mochi now, you will explode like a confetti grenade.”
“I wanna explode!”
“Yeah,” Izuku muttered, “that checks out.”
Mom entered my arm, which would have been fine... if we were in private. But we were not. We were very much in public. People were around. Teenagers existed. And I had a rep to maintain.
So, I did what any emotionally stunted, sarcasm-fueled bastard would do, I stuck my hand in my pocket like the cold, emotionally distant anti-hero I clearly was. You know, just to make it obvious to the passing normies that I was not willingly walking arm-in-arm with my mom like some loser who enjoyed feelings and support. No. I was tragically cool. Brooding even. I had pain. Trauma. The kind of shit you couldn’t color with crayons.
Mom, of course, ignored the entire performance. She just tightened her grip, her thumb gently brushing my wrist like she used to when I was five and thought monsters lived under the bed.
Of course, she noticed.
“You can hold my arm, Ryuu. It won’t kill you.”
“It might. Internal hemorrhaging from being seen as emotionally available. Real condition. Look it up.”
She smiled, soft and smug, like she had already won the argument. And maybe she had. I mean, I did not actually shake her off. Just adjusted. Deflected. Strategic redirection... just like she used to do when I was ten and pretending I did not want bedtime stories anymore. I miss them.
She patted my wrist lightly. “You are such a pain.”
“And yet, you raised me.”
“A mistake I get reminded of daily.”
I smirked. “That is love.”
She snorted. “That is Stockholm syndrome.”
Izuku caught up beside us, still brushing blue handprints out of his hoodie, while Eri followed behind, dragging her feet and singing something that sounded suspiciously like a remix of the national anthem and a candy commercial.
Well, this wasn't so bad.
Comments
TheFanficGOD
Thank you! Now I delivered real candies!
hector lyng
I already got diabetes thanks to this episode, it was too much, it was too much good candy
Lupus Umbras
"She weighs less than my trauma" is too true
