lida

The microwave hummed, a monotonous drone that mirrored the humdrum of my life these days. Tenya Iida, hero-turned-single-dad, wasn't exactly living the dream. Blue-haired Teja, all limbs and awkward angles, was glued to the TV, probably watching some obscure hero analysis show. And little Tyla, with her serious, contemplative gaze, was fiddling with a Rubik's Cube, probably planning her next temporal escapade.

My ex, well, she preferred a life unburdened by responsibility, and so here I was, navigating the treacherous waters of parenthood. Momo Yayorozu, bless her heart, was my anchor in this chaotic sea. She'd started dropping by after work, helping with dinner, tutoring the kids, and generally just being… present.

Teja, always the observant one, was the first to notice. "Dad," he'd said one evening, his red eyes gleaming with mischief, "Momo-san makes you smile more."

I sputtered, nearly choking on my tea. "She's just a friend, Teja. Don't go putting ideas in her head, especially with that fast-forward quirk of yours."

My own quirk, Engine, seemed pretty useless against the fast-moving train of my kids' matchmaking schemes.

Tyla, ever the strategist, took a more subtle approach. One afternoon, I found a carefully crafted note on my desk. It read, in crayon-scrawled letters: "Momo-san likes lilies. They smell nice in the living room."

Lilies. Of course. Momo's favorite flower. I feigned ignorance, but secretly, I found myself buying a bouquet the next day.

It wasn't just the flowers. It was the way Momo laughed at my terrible jokes, the way she patiently explained complex equations to Teja, the way she took the time to braid Tyla's unruly black hair. She was a constant, a kind and steady presence in our lives. And yeah, Teja was right. She did make me smile more. Probably too much.

One evening, Momo was helping Teja with his homework while Tyla and I were attempting to build a ridiculously complicated Lego spaceship. Suddenly, Tyla froze, her blue eyes wide.

"Something's wrong," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Wrong? What do you mean?" I asked, concerned. Tyla's time travel quirk was erratic, more of a feeling than a conscious power. But when she got this look, it usually meant trouble.

"There's a… a shadow. Over Momo-san. And it feels… cold."

A chill went down my spine. I glanced at Momo, who was calmly explaining the nuances of quadratic equations to Teja. She seemed perfectly fine.

"Tyla, are you sure? Maybe you're just tired," I suggested, trying to dismiss her premonition.

"No, Dad! I'm sure! Something bad is going to happen to Momo-san. Soon."

I looked from Tyla's earnest face to Momo, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. I knew my daughter's intuition was usually right, or at least close to it.

The next few days were a blur of nervous anticipation. I tried to keep Momo close, volunteering to walk her home after dinner, offering to run errands with her. I even tried to subtly dissuade her from taking on dangerous hero work.

"Tenya, are you okay?" she asked one afternoon, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "You've been acting… strange."

"Just worried about you," I mumbled, lamely. "Tyla had a… bad dream."

Momo chuckled. "Tyla has a very active imagination. Don't let her scare you."

But I was scared. And Tyla's warnings kept echoing in my head.

Then, one evening, it happened. Momo called me. "Tenya, I need your help. I think I've stumbled onto something… dangerous."

Her voice was strained, laced with a fear I'd never heard before. She explained that she'd been investigating a series of seemingly random villain attacks, and she'd discovered a pattern, a connection that pointed to something much bigger, and much more sinister.

"I can't tell you everything over the phone," she said. "But I need you to meet me. Tonight. At the old warehouse district downtown."

The warehouse district. Abandoned, derelict, and a haven for criminals. It was a terrible place to meet, but Momo insisted. "It's the only place I can be sure we won't be overheard."

I knew I shouldn't go alone. I should call the police, inform the hero agency. But Momo's desperation, and Tyla's warning, held me back. I couldn't risk her being exposed. I had to trust Momo.

"I'll be there," I said, my voice tight. "Stay safe."

The warehouse district was everything I remembered: dark, grimy, and reeking of decay. I crept through the shadows, my Engine quirk revving nervously. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the distant wail of a siren.

I found Momo near the back of the largest warehouse, huddled in the shadows. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear.

"Tenya, thank goodness you're here," she whispered, pulling me closer. "I think we're being watched."

Before I could respond, a voice boomed out of the darkness. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here. The hero, and his little helper."

Figures emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by masks. They were villains, no doubt about it. And they were definitely expecting us.

"You know too much, Yayorozu," the leader sneered. "And now, you're going to pay the price."

They lunged at us, their quirks blazing. Momo created a shield of hardened steel, deflecting the initial attack. I activated my Engine quirk, my legs turning into powerful propellers, propelling me forward.

The fight was chaotic, brutal. The villains were strong, their quirks powerful. I used my speed to evade their attacks, but they were relentless. Momo fought bravely, creating weapons and shields, but she was outnumbered.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving faster than anything I'd ever seen. It was Teja, his blue hair a blur of motion, his red eyes blazing with determination.

"Dad! Momo-san! I'm here to help!" he shouted, his voice distorted by the sheer speed of his movement. He used his quirk to accelerate the villains' attacks, sending them careening into each other, creating confusion and chaos.

But it wasn't enough. The villains recovered, focusing their attacks on Teja. He was fast, but he was still just a kid.

Then, a small figure stepped forward, her black hair pulled back into a neat braid. It was Tyla, her blue eyes filled with a fierce determination.

"I can help too!" she declared.

Before I could stop her, she activated her quirk. The air shimmered, the world around us seemed to distort, and then… everything went silent.

The villains were frozen, suspended in time. Momo and I could still move, but the villains were trapped, helpless.

"I slowed down time around them," Tyla explained, her voice trembling. "But… it won't last forever."

We had to act fast. I apprehended the frozen villains, securing them with restraints I'd grabbed from Momo's created tool belt.

The police arrived moments later, sirens blaring. They took custody of the villains, their faces a mixture of confusion and relief.

As we stood there, surrounded by flashing lights and the murmur of police officers, I looked at my children. Teja, breathless but triumphant, and Tyla, pale but resolute. They had saved us.

"You were both incredible," I said, hugging them tightly. "But you scared me half to death! Don't ever do that again."

"We had to, Dad," Teja said, his voice serious. "We couldn't let anything happen to Momo-san."

Momo stepped forward, her eyes filled with gratitude. She knelt down and hugged both of them. "You're both amazing kids," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you."

Later, after we were back home, safe and sound, with the kids asleep, Momo and I sat on the couch, the tension slowly ebbing away.

"Thank you, Tenya," she said softly. "For believing me, for coming to my rescue."

"I would do anything for you, Momo," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. "Tenya… Tyla was right, wasn't she? She sensed something bad was going to happen to me."

I nodded. "She did. She saw a shadow."

Momo sighed. "I don't understand how her quirk works, but I'm grateful she has it. It saved our lives."

We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the gentle ticking of the clock. Then, Momo leaned closer, her hand gently touching mine.

"Tenya," she said, her voice warm. "I think… I think your kids might be onto something."

I looked at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, a soft, genuine smile that reached her eyes. "I think I might like lilies in the living room."

And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of our home, I knew that maybe, just maybe, my kids were right. Maybe Momo and I were meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, my chaotic, unpredictable life was finally heading in the right direction.

The faint scent of lilies drifted in from the living room, a fragrant reminder of the mystery we'd solved, the danger we'd faced, and the future that lay ahead. A future filled with love, laughter, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of time-bending chaos. But for now, it was perfect.