Chapter 12: Touchdown in Brooklyn
The Japan Airlines flight touched down at JFK Airport with a gentle thud, the wheels screeching faintly against the tarmac after a 14-hour haul from Narita. Izuku Midoriya stirred in his window seat, blinking awake as the plane taxied to the gate. He'd dozed off halfway through, manga splayed across his lap, headphones tangled around his neck sleep claiming him somewhere over the Pacific. Beside him, Inko stretched with a yawn, her novel tucked away, eyes bright from binge-watching a rom-com series on the seatback screen. "Oh, that was lovely," she murmured, rubbing her neck. "No turbulence such a smooth ride!" Izuku nodded, peering out at the sprawl of terminals and planes. Fourteen hours down, he thought, stretching his legs. New York, finally. Let's see what Dad's got waiting.
The flight had been uneventful, meals of sushi and chicken katsu served quietly, passengers shuffling to the bathroom, the hum of engines a steady lullaby. Now, as the "fasten seatbelt" sign flicked off, the cabin buzzed to life. Izuku and Inko grabbed their carry-ons his backpack, her blue bag and shuffled into the aisle, joining the slow march to the exit. A flight attendant bowed as they passed, her smile practiced. "Thank you for flying with us," she said, and Inko nodded back, clutching her straw hat.
Customs was a blur passports stamped, Quirk IDs glanced at by a bored agent who muttered, "Telekinesis, huh? Keep it off the luggage carts." Izuku smirked, tempted to float his suitcase just to mess with him, but held back. Not worth the hassle, he thought. They collected their bags his black roller, her soft suitcase and stepped out into the arrivals hall, a chaotic swirl of voices, signs, and jet-lagged travelers. The air smelled of coffee and pretzels, the chatter a mix of English and a dozen other languages.
Izuku scanned the crowd, eyes darting for Hisashi. Where's the guy? he wondered, shifting his bag. Business suit, loud voice that should stick out. Inko tugged his hand suddenly, gasping. "There he is!" she squealed, pointing to a tall figure near a pillar. She bolted forward, dragging Izuku by the wrist, his sneakers skidding on the tile. Hisashi Midoriya grinned wide, sharp in a navy suit and tie loosened, jacket crisp, dark hair slicked back. His bright smile lit up the space, and Inko crashed into him, arms flung around his neck. He laughed in a deep, warm sound and planted a quick kiss on her lips. Inko turned beet red, giggling as she pulled back, hands fluttering.
"Izuku!" Hisashi boomed, turning to his son. Before Izuku could brace, he was swept into a bear hug, lifted off his feet for a second. His dad's arms were strong, suit fabric scratchy against Izuku's cheek, and that grin never faltered. "Look at you, kid taller already! And that haircut it's sharp as a tack!" He set Izuku down, clapping his shoulder.
"Hey, Dad," Izuku said, grinning back despite the squeeze. "Good to see you too." Louder than the phone, he thought, adjusting his cap. And strong I guess the fire breath's not all he's got.
"Oh, Hisashi, I've missed you!" Inko said, still flushed, clutching his arm. "The flight was so long, but we're here finally now!"
"Missed you too, hon," Hisashi said, kissing her forehead. "Fourteen hours is a trek, but you made it! Let's get outta this madhouse the cab's waiting." He grabbed Inko's suitcase, motioning them toward the exit. Izuku wheeled his own, keeping pace as they stepped into the muggy New York air is humid and thick, a far cry from Musutafu's cleaner breeze. A yellow cab idled at the curb, and Hisashi waved the driver over, loading their bags into the trunk with a practiced heft.
"Brooklyn, 7th Avenue," Hisashi told the driver, sliding into the front seat. Izuku and Inko took the back, the cab lurching into traffic horns blaring, skyscrapers looming in the distance. "How's my crew holding up?" Hisashi asked, twisting to face them. "Jet lag kicking in yet?"
"A little," Inko said, fanning herself with her hat. "I watched some shows it kept me awake. Izuku slept like a rock, though!"
"I needed it," Izuku said, shrugging. "It's a Long flight figured I'd crash now, stay sharp later." Gotta be on for New York, he thought. Big city, big sites.
Hisashi chuckled. "Smart kid. Plenty to see here you'll need the energy. Brooklyn's home base two-bedroom place, nothing fancy, but it's cozy. Wait'll you see the view!"
The ride took thirty minutes, weaving through Queens and over the East River, Manhattan's skyline glinting to the left. Brooklyn unfolded in brownstones and bustling streets, and the cab stopped at a six-story apartment building on 7th Avenue red brick, fire escapes zigzagging up the side. Hisashi paid the driver, hauled their bags, and led them to the third floor via a creaky elevator. "Home sweet home," he said, unlocking Apartment 3B.
The place was modest but warm two bedrooms off a short hallway, a living room with a worn leather couch, a coffee table cluttered with magazines, and a big window framing a view of Brooklyn's rooftops. The kitchen was tight white cabinets, a small dining table squeezed in but clean, with a faint smell of coffee lingering. One bedroom had a queen bed with a blue quilt, a dresser, and a framed photo of the three of them from years back. The spare room Izuku's was smaller, a single bed with a green blanket, a desk, and a shelf of old books Hisashi must've collected.
"Yours, kid," Hisashi said, dropping Izuku's suitcase by the desk. "Settle in the bathroom's down the hall if you wanna freshen up."
"Thanks," Izuku said, eyeing the space. Not bad, he thought. Small, but mine. Beats sharing. Inko wheeled her bag into the main bedroom, cooing over the photo. "Oh, look at us little Izuku! You've kept this all this time?"
"Course I did," Hisashi said, winking. "Best crew I've got. You two rest a bit jet lag's a beast. Lunch after?"
"Perfect," Inko said, plopping onto the couch. "I'm starving, but I need a minute those plane seats weren't kind to my back!"
Izuku nodded, kicking off his sneakers. "Yeah, I'll chill for a sec." He stretched, then headed to the bathroom, tiles cool underfoot, a quick splash of water waking him up. Back in his room, he swapped the travel-worn T-shirt for a fresh white one with an All Might logo, keeping the khaki shorts and cap. New city, new start, he thought, stepping to the window. Brooklyn sprawled below cars honking, people weaving along sidewalks, a skyline jagged with buildings. Nothing like Musutafu, he mused. Louder, messier and kinda cool.
An hour later, they gathered in the kitchen. Hisashi had whipped up lunch grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, simple but hearty. The small table barely fit them, chairs scraping as they sat. "Dig in," Hisashi said, sliding plates over. "Figured you'd want something quick jet lag food, y'know?"
"Looks delicious," Inko said, spooning soup. "You're spoiling us already! How's work been still crazy?"
"Always," Hisashi said, biting into his sandwich. "Office keeps me hopping suits and spreadsheets, no hero stuff here. But I've got time off now two weeks with my favorite people. How's my Quirked-up kid doing? Heard you've been shaking things up back home."
Izuku grinned, sipping soup warm, tangy. "Yeah, school's different now. Telekinesis is a hit I lifted some books, freaked everyone out. Training's good too I do running and push-ups. Gotta be ready for U.A." And the spotlight.
"Atta boy!" Hisashi said, clapping his shoulder. "You're a Midoriya. fire and grit. Can't wait to see it live. What's first on the list Times Square? Statue?"
"Both," Inko said, laughing. "We're tourists gotta do it all!"
"Deal," Hisashi said, grinning. "Lunch, then plans, welcome to New York!"