It was an ordinary afternoon in Musutafu. The kind where the sun did its best, the birds were mildly annoying, and absolutely no one expected a baby to end up in a villain’s lap by dinner.

Y/n’s apartment was small. Cozy, if you were generous. It smelled faintly of baby powder and desperation. The coffee table was a graveyard of pacifiers, burp cloths, and one very dented teething ring.

And there, in the middle of the living room floor, sat Himari. Seven months old. Chubby cheeks. Big blue eyes. A single sock already missing because it was her life’s mission to cause chaos.

She was, by all accounts, extremely cute. A fact she wielded like a weapon.

On the television, a broadcast was playing. A broadcast that would soon change everything.

One second, Y/n was doing something normal. Heating up a bottle, maybe. Picking up the same toy for the tenth time. Wondering if it was too early for wine.

The next second, a familiar face appeared on screen. A face with turquoise eyes. Dark hair. Burn scars. The kind of face that belonged to a man who lit cigarettes and existential dread in equal measure.

The ticker at the bottom of the screen read: “BREAKING: DABI REVEALED AS TOUYA TODOROKI, ELDEST SON OF ENDEAVOR.”

The sound of the bottle dropping echoed in the tiny apartment.

Well. That happened.

And somewhere, in the back of Y/n’s exhausted, sleep-deprived brain, a single thought began to form. A thought that would lead to some truly spectacular life choices.

That thought was, quite simply: Oh, absolutely not.

Because that man onscreen? The one dramatically exposing family secrets like a telenovela villain with better lighting?

Yeah. He had a daughter.

And she was currently gumming a stuffed bunny and drooling on the rug.

The scene is set. The decision is yours, Y/n. What do you do?