Bakukirikami Oneshots and Headcanons

Drunk

When my father was drunk, he'd say "I used to have a brother, you know", and get a faraway look in his eyes. "He was amazing, green-haired, bright smile. He lit up my life in a way no one else really could. I won't tell you his name, you don't need to know that. I won't talk about how he died, either. He was quirkless, Delilah. You aren't, just didn't get that gene I guess. Makes sense with how powerful your mom and I were. My brother wanted to be a hero despite."

At this point in the story, he would start hiccuping or crying.

"He wanted to be a hero. I knew I could be a better one. I never let him forget it. Deep down I knew he was the better of us. I was always jealous. That's why I did it all. Jealousy. It's an ugly thing to feel Delilah. Don't let yourself fall to it. Jealousy is why-why my brother is dead."

Now he would be sobbing, crying if he wasn't before. It was always the same story, told the same way. This wasn't the story he told every time he was drunk, sometimes he would talk about his glory days before the injury or my mom. Sometimes he would shout, or just sit in silence tugging at his ash blond hair. Once he threw a bottle at me, cursing and yelling until Kirishima stepped in. I hated when he would get drunk, no matter what story he would tell.

In all of my memories, my dad smelled like cheap booze and sweat. Kirishima said that my mom died in the same villain attack his injury happened in. I was just a baby then, and he was never the same. Kirishima said that he didn't want me to grow up like this, but he just couldn't leave his husband. They had been through too much together. I don't blame him. Not really, it wasn't his fault.

The therapist nodded. "So, Delilah, tell me more about your father's brother."