The lure and the spear are a paired move in Leto's diplomatic arsenal that Paul should have anticipated being deployed. It shouldn't be possible for him to be caught off-guard by his own memory, his own father, but there he is, nearly as still as Midoriya is at the casually lobbed, unerringly aimed question.

Leto takes in Midoriya's answer without releasing him from his gaze, the dark smoke of his eyes shifted towards opacity. Paul shifts closer to Midoriya on the log, his hand set on the rough bark between them, close enough to almost touch.

"You felt it," Leto says, at last, in the instant before Paul flicks his bloodletting needle back into his hand to avert whatever catastrophe he has unwittingly wrought, and his father's smile is like spring sunlight breaking through the winter storms. "I see."

Paul exhales in a rush. Leto spins his fish above the fire, finally freeing Midoriya from the weight of his judgment, and looks thoughtful with only the slightest bit of exaggeration to the expression.

"Your mother will be pleased. You should still let me tell her first. You know how she can be."

"Dad." A pale flush touches Paul's face, across his cheekbones and all the way to the tips of his ears. "I haven't even -"

"Am I wrong?" Leto's eyebrows shoot upward. "Do you think you're the first person to ever have been young, Paul? If you do, remind me to dismiss some of your tutors when we get back."

"No, but -"

"Do you want me to disapprove?"

"No -" That one more emphatic.

"Then let's not torment this poor boy any further." Leto looks at Midoriya and shakes his head, all other expressiveness abandoned in favour of sincere sympathy. "I trust my son's judgment. If there's a test to pass, you've passed it. That's all I need to know."