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The Domestic Life Of Shinsou And Kaminari.

Pixels and Proclamations

The living room was bathed in the soft, flickering blue light of a laptop screen balanced precariously on a stack of coffee table books. Hitoshi leaned back against the plush velvet of their sofa, a steaming mug of black coffee cradled in his hands. Beside him, Denki was a whirlwind of limbs and excitement, vibrating with enough residual static to make Hitoshi’s arm hair stand on end.

"Everyone’s logging on! Look, look!" Denki pointed at the screen, where the grid of faces was rapidly expanding.

It was a tradition that had started during their third year at UA and persisted into their professional careers—a monthly digital chaotic gathering for Class 1-A. Even with their busy hero schedules, the pull of their shared history was stronger than the exhaustion of a twelve-hour patrol.

"I see them, Denki. I’m sitting three inches away from the screen," Hitoshi said dryly, though he shifted closer, letting Denki’s shoulder press against his.

"Kaminari! Shinsou! You’re late!" Mina’s face filled a significant portion of her camera frame, her skin a vibrant pink against a backdrop of what looked like a very messy locker room. "We were just about to start the betting pool on how many villains Bakugou blew up this week."

"Eat glass, Racoon Eyes!" Bakugou’s voice barked from a different square. He was sitting in a dimly lit kitchen, scowling at a bowl of spicy ramen. "The count was twelve, and they were all low-level punks who couldn't handle a basic blast."

"Thirteen, actually," Kirishima chimed in, appearing on screen with a toothy grin and a damp towel around his neck. "You forgot the guy in the alleyway with the hydro-quirk."

"I didn't forget him, I erased his existence from my memory because he was pathetic!"

Hitoshi watched the chaos unfold with a faint, indulgent smile. Midoriya was frantically scribbling in a notebook, occasionally muttering about quirk synergy; Iida was lecturing someone off-camera about the importance of ergonomic seating during video calls; and Uraraka was floating a bag of chips toward her mouth, looking remarkably relaxed.

"So," Denki shouted over the din, "what’s the tea? Who’s got the gossip? I’ve been stuck with Hitoshi all day and all he talks about is coffee beans and cat genetics."

"Hey," Hitoshi protested mildly. "Cat genetics are fascinating."

"Ignore him," Sero laughed from his frame. "We were actually waiting for everyone to get here because Tsu and Ochaco said they had a 'public service announcement' to make."

The chatter died down instantly. In the world of Class 1-A, a "public service announcement" usually meant one of three things: someone was moving agencies, someone was injured, or someone had finally stopped pining and started dating.

Uraraka and Asui were sharing a screen. They were sitting on a rooftop, the city lights of Musutafu twinkling behind them like a field of fallen stars. Asui was wrapped in a thick, oversized cardigan, while Uraraka was wearing her hero jacket half-zipped. They looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them that Hitoshi recognized all too well—it was the look of two people who shared a secret world.

"Well," Uraraka started, her cheeks flushing a soft rose color. "We didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but since everyone keeps asking why we’re always on the same patrol routes lately..."

Asui reached out, her hand sliding into Uraraka’s. She gave a small, blunt nod to the camera. "We’ve decided to merge our agencies. And our lives. Ribbit."

The silence that followed lasted exactly three seconds before the digital atmosphere exploded.

"I KNEW IT!" Mina screamed, her camera shaking as she jumped up and down. "I KNEW THE ROOFTOP LUNCHES WERE MORE THAN JUST SANDWICHES!"

"Congratulations!" Midoriya beamed, his eyes welling up with happy tears. "The gravity-frog synergy is actually incredible from a tactical standpoint, not to mention the emotional support—"

"Shut up, Deku! Let them talk!" Bakugou snapped, though he wasn't yelling with his usual vitriol. He actually looked almost... satisfied.

Denki was practically vibrating off the sofa. "Wait, wait, wait! Since when? How did I miss this? I’m the gossip king! My crown is slipping!"

Asui blinked calmly at the screen. "It’s been about four months, Kaminari. We just wanted to make sure it was stable before we told the loudest group of people we know."

"Fair point," Hitoshi conceded, raising his coffee mug in a silent toast. "Congratulations. You’ve managed to be the most functional couple in this class by a landslide."

"Hey!" Denki pouted, nudging Hitoshi’s ribs. "We’re functional!"

"Denki, you cried yesterday because you thought the toaster was mad at you," Hitoshi reminded him.

"It was making a very judgmental clicking sound!"

The call descended into a joyous interrogation. Everyone wanted to know the details—who confessed first, where was the first date, and most importantly, when was the housewarming party?

"It was at the botanical gardens," Uraraka explained, leaning her head on Asui’s shoulder. "Tsu brought me a rare succulent instead of flowers because she knew I’d forget to water anything else."

"It’s a very hardy species," Asui added. "Just like Ochaco."

"That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard," Momo said, her voice soft and full of genuine warmth. She was sitting in a library that looked larger than Hitoshi’s entire apartment. "I’m so happy for both of you. You balance each other perfectly."

As the excitement began to level out into a comfortable hum of conversation, the topic shifted to the general struggles of being a pro-hero. They talked about the paperwork, the grueling night shifts, and the strange feeling of seeing their own faces on merchandise in convenience stores.

"I saw a 'Mind Jack' brand of lavender tea the other day," Jirou noted, her earphone jacks wiggling slightly. "It said it was 'guaranteed to put you to sleep.' I almost bought it just to see if it worked."

"It’s just chamomile with a higher price tag," Hitoshi sighed. "My agent thought it would 'soften my image.' Apparently, the public still finds the idea of a brainwashing hero a bit intimidating."

"Only because they haven't seen you in your cat-print pajamas," Denki cackled, ducking as Hitoshi tried to swat him.

"You promised never to mention those," Hitoshi hissed, though there was no real heat in it.

"The people deserve to know the truth, 'Toshi! You’re a softie! A big, purple-haired marshmallow!"

"I am a terrifying shadow of the night," Hitoshi corrected, though he ruined the effect by pulling Denki into a one-armed hug and resting his chin on the blonde’s head.

The screen was filled with fond smiles. Despite the distance and the danger of their daily lives, this felt like home. They were no longer just students in a classroom; they were a network of support, a safety net spread across the country.

"You know," Midoriya said, looking at all the tiny squares of his friends. "I was thinking about how much has changed. But seeing everyone like this... it feels like we never left the dorms."

"Except now we have better wine and less curfew," Todoroki remarked, holding up a glass of what looked like very expensive red juice.

"And more trauma!" Denki added cheerfully, though he winced when Iida started a three-minute lecture on the importance of mental health resources for heroes.

As the call stretched into its second hour, the energy began to wane. One by one, heroes started to drop off, citing early morning training sessions or dawn patrols.

"We should go too," Asui said, her eyes drooping slightly. "The rooftop is getting cold, and Ochaco is starting to float in her sleep."

"Goodnight, everyone!" Uraraka waved, her hand glowing with a faint pink light as she stabilized herself. "Love you guys!"

The call ended with a flurry of waves and "Plus Ultra" salutes. Hitoshi closed the laptop, the sudden silence of the apartment feeling heavy and sweet after the digital noise.

The room was still dark, saved for the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Denki didn't move; he stayed tucked against Hitoshi’s side, his breathing already slowing down as the post-call adrenaline faded.

"They seemed happy," Denki whispered, his voice small in the quiet room.

"They are happy," Hitoshi replied. He shifted, pulling Denki closer until they were lying back against the sofa cushions, tangled together in a mess of limbs and soft fabric. "It’s good to see. Especially after everything."

Denki hummed, his fingers tracing the hem of Hitoshi’s shirt. "Do you think people were that surprised when we told them? About us?"

Hitoshi thought back to the day they had finally confirmed their relationship to the class. There had been no shocks, no gasps of disbelief. Instead, there had been a collective sigh of relief, followed by Bakugou demanding to know why it had taken them three years to figure out what everyone else already knew.

"I think the only people surprised by us were us," Hitoshi said. "Everyone else was just waiting for the static to clear."

Denki laughed softly, a bright, sparking sound that made Hitoshi’s chest ache with a familiar, grounding warmth. "I like that. The static clearing. It sounds like a weather report."

"The forecast is clear skies and localized thunderstorms," Hitoshi murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to Denki’s forehead.

"And cats," Denki added. "Don't forget the cats."

They stayed like that for a long time, watching the shadows of the city dance across the ceiling. The news of Uraraka and Asui had sparked a sense of peace in the apartment, a reminder that happiness wasn't just a fleeting moment between battles—it was something they built, brick by brick, secret by secret.

"Hey, Hitoshi?"

"Yeah?"

"I’m glad we’re not a secret. I like that everyone knows I’m yours."

Hitoshi tightened his grip, his heart beating a steady, rhythmic pulse against Denki’s shoulder. "Me too, Denki. Me too."

The apartment settled into a deep, restful stillness. The laptop sat forgotten on the table, its screen dark, its role as a bridge to the outside world finished for the night. Here, in the quiet, there were no pro-heroes, no public service announcements, and no expectations. There was only the hum of a human battery finally finding its ground, and the steady breath of a man who no longer had to prove he was worth saving.

As sleep finally claimed them, the world outside continued its frantic pace, but inside their four walls, the only thing that mattered was the steady, unwavering light of the person in their arms. The static had long since cleared, leaving behind a clarity that was brighter and more enduring than any neon sign or camera flash. They were home, and for now, that was more than enough.