Curate, connect, and discover
Edgeshot prided himself on precision—both in the field and in life. He had slipped in and out of the hospital with the skill only the #4 Pro Hero could muster, careful not to attract attention. The media didn’t know. The commission didn’t know. Not even his closest colleagues.
And that’s how he liked it.
This was his peace—his sanctuary with you and your newborn son. And he wasn’t ready to share that with the chaos of the hero world.
Unfortunately, fate—and Present Mic’s big mouth—had other plans.
---
It started innocently enough. A casual patrol meeting at the agency. The usual crew—Endeavor, Mirko, Best Jeanist, Hawks, and of course, Present Mic—sat around the table throwing back caffeine like it was oxygen.
Edgeshot stood at the edge, arms folded, face unreadable as always. Calm. Controlled.
Until Hawks strolled in late, twirling a familiar beanie in his hand.
"Yo, Shinya," Hawks said with a smirk, holding up the tiny gray hat with a small embroidered duck. "You, uh, drop this?"
Time stopped.
Edgeshot's eyes flicked to the beanie. His son’s beanie.
"...Where did you get that?" he asked, voice perfectly flat.
"I was flying by the hospital yesterday. Saw a nurse wave it around outside the window. Said someone left it. Had a tag inside that said ‘Shin Jr.’," Hawks said with an exaggerated shrug. "Figured it was a sidekick or... surprise, surprise?"
The room went silent.
Then:
"No way," Mirko laughed, sitting up straight. "Edgeshot has a baby?!"
Best Jeanist narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Hmm... That would explain the recent increase in tactical leave. And the softer demeanor."
"You’ve been smiling lately," Endeavor grumbled, clearly offended by the idea of anyone having joy.
Present Mic practically leapt out of his chair. "OH MY GOD, SHINYA'S A DAD?!" he howled. "WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!"
Edgeshot, surrounded and betrayed by a single forgotten beanie, let out a long sigh through his nose.
"...Yes," he said quietly. "I have a son. His name is Ren. And I’d prefer to keep it private."
The teasing exploded instantly.
"Uncle Jeanist has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?" Jeanist mused.
"I CALL GODMOTHER!" Mirko yelled, punching the air.
"Does he have wings like me?" Hawks teased, tossing the beanie back.
Present Mic was already brainstorming a baby shower playlist.
Edgeshot stared into the middle distance, wondering if he could sew his vocal cords into a noose.
---
Later that night, he returned home, your baby curled peacefully on his chest as he recounted the day’s chaos.
"They know now," he murmured to you, gently stroking your son’s head.
You laughed softly, brushing hair from his face. "You knew they’d find out eventually."
"I was hoping for at least six months," he said with mock despair. "Now Jeanist’s talking about matching denim for toddlers."
You snorted. "Better than Endeavor suggesting fireproof diapers."
He smiled—soft and small—and leaned his head against yours. In the background, your son stirred and sighed, clutching the edge of Edgeshot’s hero cape like it was his whole world.
Let them tease. Let them laugh.
Because now they knew exactly what he was fighting for.