Izukus point of view:
I let the silence hang for a moment, giving the Intelli parents a few precious seconds to simply breathe and stare at me. The shock in the room was a dense, almost tangible thing.
Breaking the quiet, I spoke in a normal tone, glancing towards Jarvis on my shoulder. "You know, Jarvis, should I expect this type of reaction more often?"
Jarvis lifted his sleek head, his voice calm and clear in the hushed room. "I should think so, Master. It does seem a rather significant accomplishment to have created me—a fully sentient artificial intelligence."
His words, so casually delivered, were the final pin pulled from the grenade.
The Intellis' composure, already frayed, evaporated completely.
"A sentient AI! How?!" Kenji Intelli blurted out, leaning forward in his chair, all traces of the polished executive gone, replaced by the fervor of a scientist at the brink of a paradigm shift.
"The base code architecture! What principles govern its learning matrix?" Hanako followed, her gentle voice now sharp with intense curiosity. "Is it a neural network mimicry or a true emergent consciousness? The ethical implications alone—"
"What programming languages did you synthesize? How do you handle paradox ingestion? What about dream-state simulation for problem-solving?" The questions tumbled out of Kenji, rapid-fire, overlapping with his wife's.
"Energy source? Data storage medium? Does it experience subjective time? Can it create art?!"
They asked about everything—core processing, emotional simulation, memory indexing, theoretical limits. The flood was so torrential that even my own enhanced processing felt briefly overwhelmed. They'd completely forgotten about me being the CEO of Stark; this was the seismic event. I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there," I said, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. "One existential crisis at a time, please. How about we all relax and enjoy some tea first? It seems like you need to steady your nerves before I can even begin to answer." I nodded towards the table where Alfred was, with preternatural timing, already setting out a serene tea service.
My suggestion, however, came with a warning. I glanced at Saiko. "And that includes you, Saiko-chan. You look about one minute away from pushing your own parents out of the way to ask me questions yourself."
All eyes turned to Saiko. She was indeed a picture of poised urgency. She had subtly shifted her weight forward onto the balls of her feet, her body coiled with intellectual energy, her magnified eye gleaming with a thousand sparkling questions. She was in a literal stance ready to pounce. Caught in the act, she froze, then a brilliant, embarrassed blush flooded her cheeks. She quickly straightened up, clasping her hands demurely in front of her. "I... I was just... curious," she mumbled.
Momo, standing beside her, burst into a fit of sweet, chiming laughter. "Saiko-chan, you looked like a kitten about to jump on a toy!"
The tension broke. The adults, seeing Saiko's adorable embarrassment, managed shaky smiles. With gentle prompting from the serene Yaoyorozus, everyone moved to sit around the low table. Alfred served the tea with flawless, silent grace. The simple, ritualistic act of sipping the fragrant, steaming liquid worked its magic. The frantic energy bled away, replaced by a calmer, if still electrified, curiosity. The Intelli parents' breathing steadied. Mama and Hikaru's nuclear blushes finally receded to a normal hue, though Hikaru was now fixing me with a look that promised a long and grueling training session later.
I just smiled innocently back at him. His left eye gave a faint, satisfying twitch of irritation. Good, I thought, my smile widening a fraction. This was fair, after all. He was the one who, thanks to his brutal training, had helped forge me into the strange hybrid I was—a creature who could be both a masochist and a sadist when it came to a fight or training, enduring his worst to learn how to deliver my own. A little payback in the form of social embarrassment was only fitting.
Once the tea had worked its calming magic, Kenji Intelli set his cup down with a soft clink. His gaze was no longer shocked, but deeply, profoundly intrigued. "Izuku-kun... this is beyond extraordinary. Forgive our earlier... intensity. We are in the business of understanding complex systems, biological and mechanical. What you've done..." He shook his head. "We must ask... does your quirk facilitate this? Some form of hyper-cognition or technopathy? It would help explain the... the scale."
I took a small sip of my own tea. "No," I said simply. "I don't have a quirk. I'm quirkless."
The silence that followed was different from the others. It wasn't stunned disbelief at a company or an AI. This was a quieter, deeper amazement. Hanako's hand stilled on her teacup. Kenji stared, reassessing everything once more, the equation in his mind being rewritten without its most common variable.
"Quirkless..." Hanako breathed, her voice full of a new kind of respect. "And you've accomplished... all of this."
Saiko's reaction was the most vivid. Her eyes, already wide, became saucers. Her analytical mind, which likely categorized the world through lenses of capability and advantage, was grappling with a fundamental recalibration. She looked from me, to Jarvis, to Silk, then back to me, as if seeing me for the first time.
Momo, meanwhile, puffed out her chest with pride, as if she had built the AIs herself which was adorable. "See? I told you saiko! You would be shocked!" she declared, grinning at Saiko.
The proud pronouncement seemed to give Momo an idea. She turned to her parents, her eyes shining. "Mama, Papa? Since Saiko-chan is here, and Izuku-kun has never seen our home... can I give them a tour of the estate? Please? I want to show Izuku-kun the gardens and the old library! Please, please, please?"
Renjiro chuckled, the warm, rumbling sound easing the last of the intellectual tension. "I suppose the interrogation can pause for a tour," he said, his eyes twinkling. "As long as the Midoriyas and the Intellis agree, of course."
The phrasing—the Midoriyas—had its intended, mischievous effect. Mama's cheeks regained a hint of their former pink. Hikaru coughed lightly into his fist.
Seeing my opening, I flashed Renjiro a quick, double thumbs-up and a grin. Good one.
He saw it, blinked, then realized what he'd said. A slow, deep chuckle escaped him, followed by a richer laugh. He shook his head, amused at his own unintentional—or perhaps very intentional—teasing.
The adults all gave their assent with smiles and nods. The tour was approved.
Momo beamed, her excitement palpable. "Okay! Come on, you two!" she said, grabbing Saiko's hand and then, with surprising boldness, reaching for mine. "I'll show you the best parts!"
And with that, the three of us—the heiress, the genius, and the quirkless CEO—slipped out of the adults' lounge, leaving behind a room full of bewildered, impressed, and thoroughly entertained parents, one stoic bodyguard-tutor (whose eye was still twitching), two sophisticated AIs, and one impeccably professional butler who was, I was sure, quietly enjoying the whole spectacle immensely.
Sayuri Yaoyorozu's Point of View:
I watched as my darling Momo, her face alight with the simple joy of sharing her world, took the hands of her two new friends and practically pulled them from the lounge. Saiko-chan, ever the composed little scholar, followed with a curious tilt of her head. Izuku-kun, the boy who had upended our entire understanding of the world in the last hour, offered no resistance. He just... went along with it, a small, almost bewildered smile on his face as he was towed away by my daughter's exuberance.
The sight was so disarmingly normal, so childish, amidst the dizzying context of sentient AIs and boardroom coups, that I couldn't help but let out a soft, relieved chuckle. The sound was echoed by Inko-san beside me, a gentle, maternal warmth in her eyes as she watched her son be led away on an adventure.
My amusement sharpened into something more pointed as my gaze flicked to my husband. Renjiro, dear, protective Renjiro, had taken half a step forward, his paternal instincts kicking in to 'supervise.' He froze mid-stride under the weight of my look. Not a glare, not a command. Just a look. A slight arch of my brow, a subtle shift in my expression that spoke volumes in the silent language we had built over decades of marriage.
Let them be.
He read it perfectly. His shoulders relaxed, and he offered me a small, sheepish smile before settling back into his seat. A warm, powerful feeling bloomed in my chest. I loved this. I loved the unspoken understanding, the effortless way I could guide my lion of a husband with nothing but a glance. It made me feel... in harmony. It was a feeling I remembered watching my own mother cultivate with my father, a dance of quiet strength and deep respect.
"Just like Mother," I murmured to myself, the thought bringing a private, satisfied hum to my lips.
The sound, however soft, sent a visible shiver down Renjiro's spine. He knew that tone. It was the tone that usually preceded him being delightfully, thoroughly managed. He cleared his throat, suddenly finding the arrangement of the tea cakes fascinating.
Seeking an escape—and perhaps some masculine solidarity in the face of such potent feminine energy—he turned to the other men in the room. "Well," he began, his voice regaining some of its baritone authority. "While our children are off on their little tour, why don't we leave the ladies to their conversation? Kenji-san, Hikaru-san, join me in my study. I have a bottle of single malt that I've been saving for a worthy occasion. Discussing the... implications of today seems to qualify."
He was trying so hard to sound like he was orchestrating a strategic retreat of equals. It was utterly transparent, and entirely endearing.
Kenji Intelli, ever the keen observer, let out a quiet, knowing chuckle. Hikaru's response was a low, rumbling sound of amusement that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. The twin reactions made the tips of Renjiro's ears turn pink. Adorable.
But then, Hikaru did something that truly captured my attention. He didn't immediately follow my husband's lead. Instead, his golden eyes sought out Inko-san. It was a swift, almost imperceptible glance, but its meaning was crystal clear. A silent request for permission. May I go?
Inko-san met his gaze and gave the faintest, most gentle nod, a small, flustered smile touching her lips.
Oh.
That simple exchange spoke of a dynamic far deeper than employer and bodyguard, or even tutor and student's mother. It spoke of a bond, a consideration, a... partnership. Hikaru's already faint blush deepened at her nod, and he moved to follow my husband with a haste that was almost comical, as if fleeing the intensity of that silent moment.
I waited until the study door had clicked shut behind the three of them before I let my chuckle become a full, graceful laugh. I turned to Inko-san, my eyes sparkling.
"You," I said, my voice low and conspiratorial, "had better claim that man as your husband officially, and soon." I leaned in slightly. "I mean, look at him. You already have him perfectly whipped. A single look and he seeks your blessing. That is a proper husband." I gave a wistful sigh, the image of Izuku-kun's earlier, blatant matchmaking coming to mind. "Now I understand why your son is so... invested. It's painfully obvious you both adore each other."
The effect was instantaneous and glorious. Inko-san's face, which had just begun to settle into a normal complexion, exploded into a shade of crimson so vibrant it rivaled the finest lacquerware in our collection. She made a small, choked sound, her hands flying to her cheeks. "S-Sayuri-san! We—it's not—we're just—!"
She was utterly flustered, waving her hands in front of her face as if to fan away the embarrassment. It was charming. Delightful, even. But a good hostess—and a potential friend—knows when to ease the pressure.
My best friend Hanako, ever the graceful peacemaker, saw Inko's distress and smoothly interceded. "Now, now, Sayuri," Hanako chided gently, her melodic voice a calming balm. "Give the poor woman a moment to breathe. She's had quite the evening already." She smiled warmly at Inko. "Besides, I'm dying to talk about something else. Or rather, someone else."
Hanako turned her full, fascinated attention on Inko, her kind eyes alight with a professional and personal awe I deeply shared. "Inko-san, your son. What he has done... it is beyond incredible. It rewrites textbooks. He created a self-aware Artificial Intelligence!" She said the words with the reverence one might reserve for a natural wonder. "Do you have any idea how revolutionary that is? The medical applications alone, for neural mapping, for drug simulation... it's staggering. And he's nine."
Inko-san let out a long, soft sigh, her gaze drifting to the door through which the children had vanished. The pride and profound, gentle exhaustion of a mother who has been living alongside a small, benevolent hurricane were etched into her features. "I know," she said, her voice warm with a love so deep it seemed to anchor her to the earth. "He is exceptional. A child unlike any other." A small, private smile touched her lips, her eyes softening with memory. "It started the day after the doctor told us he was quirkless. He just... changed. He became so quiet, so serious. I thought it was just sadness, but he was already planning. I didn't know it at the time, of course."
She took a delicate sip of her tea, gathering her thoughts. "Months later, I found out he had created an entire company on his own. He'd even fabricated a fake adult CEO identity, as he put it." She shook her head, a breathy laugh escaping her. "I was shocked. And angry. And so, so proud, all at once. He'd done all of it, he said, because he hated seeing me work so hard. He wanted to take care of me."
Inko's smile turned wry, a mother's exasperation layered over her awe. "And then he pushed me into the role I have now, as the public CEO. He said I would hold it for him until he came of age. Though, I've been looking into the laws myself, and he can't truly claim independent ownership until he's sixteen." Her expression shifted to one of fond bewilderment. "He insists he'll handle it at thirteen. I don't know how he plans to do that in front of the whole world, but I trust him. Knowing my Izuku, he'll probably invent something new to make it possible, or use it to pull some elaborate prank on me first. That seems to be his way now—shock me to my core, then change the world."
I listened to every word coming from her, my own heart softening as I watched the play of emotions on Inko's face. This wasn't just a story about a prodigy. It was the story of a profound, unshakable bond. I could see it with crystalline clarity: Izuku's entire impossible journey, from corporate fraud(which is pretty impressive considering he did that at the age of four), to saving our dynasty, it had all begun not with a grand ambition for power, but with a child's simple, fierce desire to ease his mother's burden. And Inko, in turn, had accepted the terrifying, wonderful whirlwind he represented, not out of a desire for wealth or status, but out of a love that trusted him to navigate a world he was already reshaping.
"He didn't just want to build a company," I murmured, the understanding settling into place. "He wanted to build you a sanctuary. He loves you so much he decided to change what was possible, just to make you happy."
Hanako nodded, her eyes glistening. "He really is special."
"He is," Inko agreed, her voice thick with emotion. She blinked away the sheen of tears, then seemed to gather herself, her maternal strength reasserting itself. She lifted her teacup, her gesture graceful and deliberate. "A toast," she said, her smile returning, bright and sincere. "To our children. To Momo, to Saiko, and to my Izuku. May their paths be as brilliant as their minds, and their hearts always remain this kind."
"To our children," Hanako echoed, raising her cup.
"To our children," I said, joining the toast, the fine porcelain chiming softly as we touched our cups together.
As we drank, a quiet certainty solidified within me. The Midoriyas were not just valuable allies; they were a phenomenon. A force of nature bound by love and guided by a terrifyingly brilliant, utterly devoted will. Izuku had proven with cold efficiency when becoming our partners and saving us that he could identify a threat to those he cared about and dismantle it without hesitation or mercy.
Me and my husband would ensure we never gave him a reason to see us as an enemy to him or his family. We would stand with them. Protect them, as they had protected us. Because a future shaped by a boy who moved heaven and earth for his mother's smile, and who held the power to make his visions real, was a future worth securing. The Midoriyas were special, indeed. And we would be wise to stay firmly on their side.