A Dinner Date (and the Games We Play)

Izuku's week after that passed by very quickly.

He took down some minor villains on patrol, though none of those were terribly threatening. One of them involved him stopping a car from hitting a group of tourists, however, so he made the news once again. He always felt really awkward when he had to take pictures with tourists, as he couldn't be sure if they were making fun of him for being so unphotogenic. He also stopped a bank robbery, and it was fairly exciting. It certainly went better than the first time he ever stopped a bank robbery as far as the public reception went, and the villains surrendered when he pulled their leader up through the ceiling using Blackwhip.

Izuku even got involved in a high speed chase. That one was pretty funny because the villains had taunted him only to quickly find out that he was faster than an armored truck on foot. Using Melissa's gauntlet, he put his whole arm through their engine block, and they were not very keen on fighting him after that.

He was very grateful that Shouto always helped him with the paperwork, on top of Shouto's own paperwork. The man was a machine at administrative tasks on top of being the number two Hero in Japan. They had staff to assist as well, but even with the combined effort of a whole agency the paperwork was just a never-ending battle. Izuku questioned if Shouto slept - not that he could talk on that front - but took comfort in the jokes he made at Shouto's expense about how he was too busy doing paperwork to ask Momo out. Shouto was not pleased to be on the receiving end of the teasing, but Izuku didn't tell him about the restaurant meeting so Shouto couldn't get him back.

Now in the late afternoon before the… dinner date - Izuku was loath to think of it as such - Izuku found himself standing in front of the full length mirror he had on the back of his closet door. He had put on a standard black three-piece suit, with a plain white dress shirt, and was now struggling with the thin, dark green tie he'd chosen.

He pointedly did not use the outfit that he'd set aside for the upcoming Hero charity gala, because he did not wish to be (actually) roasted by Shouto.

He gave the tie a few more tries, then gave up, resolving to just go with his usual stubby tie look. Even five years out of high school, he'd never learned how to tie it properly, and truthfully he suspected he never would. It just wasn't a high priority to him, and no amount of watching videos on the internet to try and figure it out helped him.

Izuku sighed as he regarded himself in the mirror. He had ample time to get there early from that point, but he resolved to double check that he had everything. Underneath his suit he had the five white circular activation links for Melissa's combat armor; one on each wrist, one on each ankle, and one on his neck. He wore those pretty much everywhere and they served as his emergency gear in the absence of his costume.

He checked his pockets, and checked off his phone and his wallet. He resolved to button the pocket with his wallet in it, although he suspected that if she meant to steal it that wouldn't stop her. Izuku had his green pocket square - a gift from his mother - and he put on the silver dress watch he kept for formal events. He decided that he looked… alright, but his hair still frustrated him to no end. He contemplated trying to gel it, but shook the thought away.

It's not actually a date, he insisted to himself. Besides, my hair is impossible anyway.

He was a little taller than he was in high school, about 175cm, and most of his baby fat on his face was gone. But he was still very lean and he supposed that he might look decent in the fitted suit; one of a handful that Momo had insisted he get tailored after he went to a formal event in third year looking ridiculous in his dad's oversized old suit.

Izuku smiled at the memory. He didn't get teased or bullied in high school, but he was 'the weird kid who muttered' for most of first and second year. Minoru and Kacchan, surprisingly, were considered the lowest on the social totem pole - albeit for completely different reasons, respectively - but Izuku had a tough time making friends initially and didn't really come into his own until third year. For most of the time it was just him and Shouto, the two weird, quiet recommendation students training and studying on their own.

Izuku reached up and brushed some lint off his shoulder. He turned a bit to each side, checking for any more lint in the mirror, then he resolved to go knowing he wasn't going to improve the situation with his looks anytime in the near future. He quietly closed his closet door and walked towards the front of his apartment where he kept his black dress shoes in the small entrance closet.

He hefted the shoes out of the rack at the bottom and closed the door; they were heavy things. One time, he'd been attacked on his way to a formal Hero event a year after graduation, and while he defeated the villain he'd destroyed his shoes in the process. After that Melissa and Mei made special dress shoes that appeared to be leather but were actually made out of a solid metal alloy similar to the armor they made for him. Izuku hadn't really tested them, however, and hoped he wouldn't have to.

He slipped the shoes on and was very grateful that he was extremely strong even without his quirk, because they were, while comfortable on his feet, stupidly heavy. He patted himself down one last time, hoping he hadn't forgotten anything, and decided he should just go. If he kept checking every time he felt the need to he'd be standing in his front hall until midnight.

He opened his phone and flicked over to the local taxi app. Then he walked out of his apartment, locking the door behind him, and made his way out of the complex into the cool November evening.

It was about forty minutes later that he stepped out of the taxi.

He paid the driver and gave a friendly wave with his thanks, then looked up at the building he'd been dropped at. It was a very modern place, and the name of the place was… French? His French wasn't very good despite hanging out with Yuuga plenty in his second and third year, but he was pretty sure that was French. He stepped up to the glass door and pulled gently, then walked into the little reception area. To his right there was a little art piece of what appeared to be a tree stump, planted in a square-shaped area of red wood chips. He tilted his head at that, but he was a Hero, not an art critic, so he didn't dwell on it.

He turned and saw a young woman at the front behind the stand. She had a white dress shirt on with a black tie, her sleeves rolled up, and a clean black apron over it.

"Welcome, sir. Mr. Midoriya, I presume?" She said, and Izuku suppressed his surprise at her. He bowed slightly and nodded upon straightening.

"Yes, Miss. I am here to meet someone," Izuku replied. She was taken aback by his formal tone but did not comment verbally.

"Of course, Mr. Midoriya. Please follow me."

He blinked a few times, surprised he wasn't the first here. Then again, maybe nothing Ochako did should have surprised him anymore. Without another word, he followed the hostess as she led him towards the back of the restaurant. Most of the tables near the door were taken, and Izuku looked over and saw that the side wall was all tall windows. There was an outdoor sitting area, and despite the chilly air the outside tables were all taken as well, lit by beautiful electric lanterns.

He stopped when the hostess stopped, swearing to himself that he wasn't going to trip or run into anyone and make a fool of himself tonight. As he turned his gaze back forward, he realized that in this corner of the restaurant, none of the tables were taken save one. All of them were set, but unused.

At the far corner, Ochako sat in the last booth. She was wearing a light gray dress and her hair was brought back in a regal bun. Her permanent blushmarks were accented with some makeup on her face and around her eyes and her bangs still framed her face. She was looking intently at a menu in her hands, pretending not to have heard them. She was gorgeous, and he hated that he couldn't even deny it.

The hostess smiled at him and held her arm out towards the table. Izuku nodded and walked over, then the hostess left the two of them alone after a moment. He hovered near the edge of the empty booth seat across from her and waited patiently to be acknowledged, not precisely sure what else he should do. He cleared his throat after a few moments of awkward silence and contemplated how quickly he could cross the distance and arrest her.

(he also contemplated how quickly he could flee, although he would not voice that thought on pain of death)

Ochako hummed without looking at him.

"How nice to see you, Superhero," she said evenly. Then she looked up and, to his infinite personal satisfaction, her jaw dropped.

"What?" Izuku asked innocently, only barely suppressing a smirk.

"The media doesn't do you justice, Midoriya," Ochako said as she quickly re-composed herself. She gestured with the edge of her menu. "Sit, silly."

He plopped down ungracefully into the booth seat. He figured if how he looked impressed her, he didn't have to worry so much about being Jade Rabbit, the Symbol of Hope. Maybe he could just be Izuku Midoriya, the dork who never really grew up, tonight. It wasn't as if anybody else ever saw that side of him save Shouto, and they spent too much of their time together discussing work.

He picked up the menu, but the more he tried to read it, the more his face turned into a scowl.

"It's in French," Izuku finally said, tilting the menu forward so he could look at her in disbelief. Ochako shrugged remorselessly, a small smile on her face.

"I already ordered for you," she said calmly. Izuku looked down and finally noticed that he had a glass of champagne already. He looked back to her and felt rising irritation.

"Why would you think I'd like French food?"

"I don't. I ordered you katsudon," Ochako said, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. Izuku gaped openly at her.

"They serve katsudon?" He replied, dumbfounded. She just grinned mischievously at him.

"When you rent out a third of the restaurant for the night, they serve whatever you tell them to serve," she said. He wasn't precisely sure how to react to that, though it certainly explained his previous observations. He also mentally reminded himself that she was rich, or at least in theory, given how much money she'd stolen. Izuku grumbled incoherently at her for a moment under his breath.

"Do you even like French food?" He asked once he composed himself. She shook her head, and her bangs moved cutely with the motion.

"Not exactly. I just like the atmosphere here." Ochako looked around slightly wistfully. "It's a pretty place, for a fancy restaurant that rich people like."

There was a short silence as Izuku absorbed her words. He considered pointing out that she was now a rich person sitting in the fancy restaurant for rich people, but he suspected she intended them being there as a joke. Then he realized something else about what she had said before.

"How do you know I like katsudon?" He said cautiously, narrowing his eyes. Ochako smirked at him and she was awfully pretty doing it.

"I have seen your interviews. You focus on certain things as a means to deflect from personal questions you don't want to answer. One of those is how much you love katsudon." Ochako leaned forward and her smirk deepened, and her earrings pleasantly shook with the motion, distracting Izuku momentarily. "Also, you only ever order katsudon at formal Hero events."

Izuku leaned back to maintain the distance between them, startled by her words.

"Have you been to formal Hero events?" Izuku asked. Ochako leaned back and hummed in amusement.

"Some of them. To the world at large, I am just Ochako Uraraka, enigmatic socialite and bachelorette. I get invited sometimes, depending on what I'm up to that month." She dropped the menu with her right hand and checked her nails, which he noted were now painted silver with some kind of glittery polish. "They don't know what I look like after all, remember."

She then looked up from her nails and grinned at him. Izuku rolled his eyes at her, though he couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face.

"I cannot believe you just hide in plain sight like that," he replied. Ochako smiled at him genuinely, and he blushed.

"It's easy when society has certain expectations about what someone like you should look like, and you don't meet those expectations." She used the hand she'd been checking her nails on to point at him with her index finger. "For example, you probably assumed that's a burner phone that I gave you the number to. But it's actually just my work phone."

Izuku's jaw dropped at her.

"You know I could track that, right?" He said incredulously. Ochako kept smiling, though it became a bit more conspiratorial.

"Probably. But you won't. Because you assumed it was a burner phone - and now, because you don't want help on this case, because it would mean admitting that it's becoming too personal."

"You're the worst," Izuku said with faux irritation; he couldn't help his minor amusement, though. Ochako tsked at him.

"You don't really think that. If you did, you wouldn't be dressed up nicely on a date with me in a fancy French restaurant," she said, and she had the audacity to flutter her eyelashes at him after that, too. Izuku's blush went straight to his ears and he muttered a curse under his breath. She looked back down to her menu with a smaller smile on her face.

"What did you tell the hostess? She knew who I was," Izuku mumbled in annoyance after a moment. Ochako looked back up from the menu at him with pure disbelief.

"You're famous, Midoriya." Izuku kept looking at her in his own disbelief as her expression morphed into a pout. "Fine, I told her to look out for a cute man with freckles and untamable green hair."

Izuku wasn't sure what to say to that, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"What if I gelled my hair?"

Ochako looked back down to the menu, then closed it before fixing him with an amused stare.

"You never gel your hair," she said with mirth in her tone. Izuku's eyebrow twitched and he quickly realized he was on the losing end of things at that point.

"You said you already ordered, so why are you looking at the menu?" He gestured with his chin towards the closed menu on the table.

"Dessert," Ochako chirped back happily, and Izuku groaned at her. He didn't want to stay that long, but it was becoming increasingly clear he was in it for the long haul if he wanted to get some answers out of her. A mental image of her leaning towards him, with her helmet right next to his ear, intrusively flashed in his mind, and he blinked quickly to push it away.

They had a slightly awkward - for Izuku, anyway - staring contest for a few moments before the server came around from behind him. He jumped when she greeted them, although the server was kind enough to not comment on it. The server left after giving them their food, and Izuku got the distinct sense that they were probably on their own for the time being. He had a steaming bowl of katsudon in a black ceramic bowl and it honestly looked delicious.

He felt a pang of sadness when it reminded him of his mom, but he stuffed that feeling down.

He looked over and Ochako had a dish of food he didn't recognize. It smelled like seafood though, and he assumed it might be French. Izuku picked up the black steel chopsticks that came with his food and took a bite and was gratified to find that it tasted as good as it looked. He chewed politely and swallowed, then looked up to find Ochako staring at him with a satisfied look on her face. He blanched at her and felt very exposed.

"I take it that the food is good?" She asked, slightly smug as she spoke. He nodded cautiously, feeling silly, before replying.

"It is. Why do you ask?" Izuku replied defensively. Ochako shrugged and looked very pleased with herself.

"I already paid for it, so I'm just making sure."

Izuku narrowed his eyes at her and considered arguing, but realized it was a lost cause. He returned his attention to his food, eating it a bit more aggressively now in his irritation. At the very least the food was delicious, and it was not coincidentally probably the best food he'd had in weeks considering how he usually subsisted off of whatever he could put together in less than ten minutes or take out food. He used to be a prolific cook thanks to his mom, but that was before he decided to work more often than he slept.

They ate in a somewhat more comfortable silence and when Izuku finished his food, he looked up to find Ochako was already done and wiping her mouth politely with a napkin. She calmly set the napkin to the side and rested her hands somewhere below the table, looking at him expectantly. He sighed, wiped his own mouth, and folded his hands in his lap.

"So, tell me. Why are we here?" Izuku asked. Ochako smirked at him.

"Maybe I just like you," she said coyly. Izuku rolled his eyes. She was good at this game, but not quite that good.

"Get in line," he said in a completely flat, serious tone. She blinked in confusion at him and looked caught off-guard - and to his curiosity, slightly hurt.

"Wow, I didn't expect that from you, Superhero. Got a lot of girlfriends as the number one Hero?" She sounded genuinely interested, though he knew that was wishful thinking on his part. He heard Shouto mocking him in his head, and Izuku scowled at her.

"No, I don't have time for that. A lot of people ask me, though, and get turned down," he noted. Ochako hummed neutrally in acknowledgement.

"A shame, really." Izuku didn't respond to her tease so her expression turned serious. "I was not lying when I told you I want you to work with me on a job, or when I said I need your help."

"And I was not lying when I said that isn't exactly a good idea," Izuku said without hesitation. Ochako just smiled coyly.

"Maybe so, and yet you're still sitting here. But my job involves stealing from an up and coming organized crime ring." Ochako tilted her head and he almost forgot she was actually a villain and not just an enigmatic socialite and bachelorette; she wore her civilian persona well. "If you help me, you'll walk out with a mob boss in handcuffs and I'll walk out with the score I need to quit this life, for good."

Izuku narrowed his eyes at her, more so in consideration than irritation.

"You want to quit?" He asked, minorly surprised. Ochako shrugged at him.

"At first, I did this for my parents. Once I was rich enough to support myself and them, permanently, I was doing it for fun. But… it's not fun anymore. And I'm tired of it." She reached over and took a sip of her champagne. "I would like to be normal for once. And I think you can help me with that. Or at least, I would hope so."

Izuku tilted his head at her, looking with suspicious half-lidded eyes.

"I'm supposed to arrest you. Why would I help you?" He asked. She smiled knowingly and scrunched up her neck a bit cheekily towards him.

"Because you're a pure soul, and you always end up helping people, at your own expense usually." Ochako raised an eyebrow before continuing. "And frankly, because I think you know that I'm not the only fish in this pond."

"Usually, the people I help are civilians, not villains," he pointed out casually, choosing not to acknowledge her other statement and play dumb.

"Maybe," she responded noncommittally. "But you've been chasing me for eighteen months and haven't caught me, despite being well and truly able to." He looked at her in confusion and she giggled at him from behind her right hand. "I am confident in my abilities but you're not a normal Hero, Midoriya. You should've caught me months ago."

Izuku shook his head insistently.

"Nonsense, you're very good compared to most of the villains I end up against," he insisted. Ochako reached over and picked up her glass, then tapped it with her index finger.

"I don't think so. I think I fascinate you in some capacity. I can't explain why, it's just a feeling." She raised her glass to him. "So, I hope you'd help me." She then wiggled her eyebrows at him unapologetically. "Maybe we could even go on a real date if you do."

Izuku felt the blush rising on his face again and scowled in response.

"You aren't interested in me like that. This is all a game to you, and in spite of how I might seem, I'm not completely clueless," he replied. Ochako just laughed, a high and bright noise, and he liked the way it sounded. It wasn't the same kind of laugh that she made when she was running away from him; it was kinder and genuinely happy. It profoundly irritated him that he liked the sound of it.

"I'm afraid you are thoroughly naïve. I appreciate it though, it's a nice change of pace from the type of man I usually get the better of," she said. Izuku snorted at her.

"Thanks?"

"It's a compliment," Ochako said, but there was the hint of sarcasm there. She then reached forward and set a photograph in front of him.

Izuku picked the photograph up and looked carefully at it. It was a photo of a familiar looking fish-like man, large and hulking in his white dress suit. He had a mostly human-looking face, but he was bald and he had a shark fin on top of his head. He stood at about 270cm and had rows of sharp teeth in which he had a cigar clamped down. He was in the process of lighting it, his webbed-hands covering it as he stood in the doorway of an unknown building.

Izuku analyzed the details of the picture for a moment or two and looked up at Ochako.

"Rip Tide?" He asked in a confused tone. "The police suspect he's in organized crime, but they've spent months tailing him and came up with nothing to show for it."

She nodded with pursed lips.

"He's pretty good at hiding it. That nightclub of his, 'Crimson Reef?' It's got hidden facilities underneath for smuggling. The police couldn't get a warrant, so they couldn't prove anything," she said. Izuku looked at the picture again, then back to her.

"How do you know?" He asked. Ochako smiled, but he didn't like this one.

"Because he's the target of my employer." She paused, and Izuku frowned at her when she continued, "He's making Trigger based on recipes obtained by villains in America. Once it hits the streets, it will last for hours, not minutes."

Izuku's eyes widened at that. He looked back down to the photo and grit his teeth.

"What do you expect me to do, just march in and kick down the door?" Izuku asked incredulously. He looked back to Ochako and she still had that scary smile.

"I'm sure you could do that, but no. I'm going to start a fight," she raised her now empty glass at him, "and you're going to finish it."

Izuku shook his head.

"I don't like that plan. I'm strong, but I'm not invincible. I can't just go in alone, how many guys does he have in there? Do you have any intel at all?" He said, trying to poke holes in her train of logic so he could make her see how this was not a good plan. Ochako slyly shook her head.

"Nope. No idea." Izuku got the distinct sense that was a lie, but that she didn't plan to tell him more. "But I didn't say you should come alone. I want you to go as Izuku Midoriya, not Jade Rabbit. Sneak in as a civilian and pretend to be at the club. Once the party starts you can use your," Ochako waved vaguely at his body, "fancy gear and superpowers to mop up the small-timers and come help me with the big boss."

He frowned at her.

"I'm not hearing the part where I don't go in alone. Also, I don't know anything about clubs or dancing." He did not add 'or about being a normal, functional adult with a social life,' but he thought about it. Ochako just smiled deviously at him, and Izuku was genuinely a bit scared at her level of mischievousness.

"That's why I want you to bring Chargebolt," she said. Izuku groaned at that and dragged his right hand down his face.

"That is not a good idea!" Izuku exclaimed with only a bit of irritation. He'd been clubbing with Denki once before, and it was once too many times.

"Why, do you doubt your former classmate's abilities as a Hero?"

"No," Izuku replied quickly, "Chargebolt is a great Hero."

"But…?" Ochako said, and he could hear the amusement in her voice.

"But, Denki Kaminari is a notorious flirt and he's gonna act like a huge dork at the club," Izuku finished. He did not feel the least bit bad about calling one of his former classmates a dork - as if he was one to talk - but he did reach over and down the rest of his drink in one go. Ochako just shrugged remorselessly at him.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. You need a night out. I need to break in. Chargebolt probably needs a getaway from his mess of a love life," Ochako said. Izuku looked at her in surprise.

"What do you know about that?" He asked, moderately shocked. Ochako giggled at him as if it should be self-explanatory.

"Enough to know that Chargebolt is a disaster bisexual, and he's quite endearing in spite of his dumbassery." Ochako set her empty glass down and eyed Izuku mischievously. "Poor Earphone Jack."

Izuku brought his right hand to his chin and thought about it for a moment.

"I can't really argue with that, I guess," he said, and he was glad that Denki wasn't actually there to complain about it at that moment.

Ochako reached forward then and Izuku flinched, afraid she was going to grab his left hand. Instead she set down a very small device; it kind of looked like a guitar pick when Izuku picked it up to look. He held it gently between two fingers and flipped it back and forth a few times. It was shiny and had a kind of holographic metallic finish to it. It definitely looked fancy, and he suspected she did not make it.

"What is this?" He asked, immensely curious.

"Stick it on your Hero earpiece," Ochako replied. "It'll let me talk to you in the field, but no one else will be able to hear me."

Izuku blurted out his response without thinking very hard about it.

"I'll sound like a crazy person if I talk to you that way."

"You already sound like a crazy person when you go out there and mutter in the middle of a fist fight," she shot back.

"Hey!" Izuku said indignantly. "I don't do that… that much, anymore."

Ochako just giggled at him, and the server came then, once again startling Izuku.

"I'm sorry, sir. I brought dessert, I hope that will make up for surprising you," the waitress said. Izuku would've sworn she was having a silent conversation with Ochako, and his eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He was reminded once again of being in the dorms at UA - and never quite understanding what the girls of his class were on about, or the various undertones of their conversations.

"It's alright. Thank you, Miss," Izuku replied after a moment in an even tone. To his great consternation, the waitress just looked at Ochako with a grin, then waved goodbye as she left.

"She agrees with me that you're cute," Ochako said simply once the waitress was gone, as if that wasn't insanely embarrassing. Izuku's mouth opened in a combination of horror and shock as he looked at her.

"She wh-what?!" Izuku exclaimed in reply, with a great deal of alarm. Ochako did not look sorry at all as she smirked. The fact that she was admitting to finding him cute was not a high consideration for Izuku… but it was there.

"We were discussing it before you arrived. I told her my date would be very handsome, and she told me she'd let me know when she saw you. She approves."

"You didn't even say anything to each other!" Izuku hissed.

"You really are bad with women," Ochako replied cheekily. She pointed her fork at him. "I like it."

"Who says I'm interested in women?" He said, feeling confident in his snappy reply this time. Ochako looked just a bit surprised, but then she snorted.

"I'm impressed at that joke, but no. Nice try though."

Izuku grumbled as he ate more of his cake. A few minutes passed without conversation as they ate their respective desserts. It was very good cake, he would admit - even if it was basically just chocolate cake, it was very fancy chocolate cake - and Yuuga would undoubtedly approve if he were there. Izuku was quietly grateful that she had gotten them each their own dishes. He didn't think he had the social grace or confidence to share a single piece with Ochako, and he insisted to himself that he wouldn't want to anyway.

He was never a good liar, even to himself.

After he finished, Izuku wiped his mouth again and waited patiently, and tried to commit how she looked to memory. He would draw her later probably, and he insisted that it was so he could give it to Tsukauchi and for no other reason. She wasn't far behind him in terms of eating, and she giggled at him when she looked at him.

"You've got cake there," Ochako said, pointing to her own chin. Izuku frowned and wiped his chin. Then he got a better look at her and giggled back.

"And you've got cake there," he said cheekily, and pointed to the end of his nose. Ochako made a surprised peep and quickly rubbed her nose clean with a napkin. Izuku would've sworn that her blushmarks turned darker, but he knew better than to rely on his own eye for that kind of thing. She looked meaningfully at him when she finished.

"So, what do you say? You get to take down a rising gang about to distribute Trigger to the Japanese underground, and I get what I'm after and, hopefully, get to stop doing this finally," she said. Izuku looked at her sternly.

"What if Chargebolt isn't free, or willing to go?" He asked, grasping at straws. Ochako just rolled her eyes at that and tilted her head forward to give Izuku a sarcastically disbelieving expression.

"Do you really think Chargebolt would turn down a chance to go out to a nightclub?" She replied matter-of-factly. Izuku looked away from her and frowned, realizing that he didn't have a good retort to that.

"Fine," he said. "But I want to know exactly what you're stealing and why."

Ochako considered it for a moment.

"I'll tell you, but only when we're there, and only if I confirm it's the right thing," she said. Izuku narrowed his eyes at her.

"You better not be planning to hurt anyone. Because I will come after you if you are." Realistically, he knew she probably wasn't, because that wasn't her style. But he had to be sure. An image of Overhaul flashed in his mind, and Izuku had destroyed Overhaul for what he'd been doing. Ochako shrugged at him, but her expression softened.

"I know you would. I wouldn't involve the number one Hero in a plan like this if I didn't know that going in." Ochako paused for a moment and looked down at the table. "Not that I really have a lot of options here, but…" She added in a quiet tone, and he only barely heard her. He nodded and chose to pretend he didn't hear.

"As long as you understand that, then alright. I'm in. But you better not tell anyone." Technically he was sanctioned to be there by Tsukauchi, but he did not exactly look forward to a news cycle explaining this if word got out.

"You are very trusting, Midoriya," she replied sarcastically, and he gulped, realizing that he didn't even think very hard about the possibility of blackmail or listening devices until this moment. "But, I like you. And I am not lying to you, whether or not you believe me. So, deal."

Ochako held out her right hand, expecting a handshake. Izuku cautiously raised his - crooked, slightly unsightly in his opinion - own right hand and clasped hers, shaking firmly. Her hand was very soft and he noted that she kept her thumb raised. Too soon, the contact was over, and he brought his hand back to his side.

"Your scars aren't a bad thing, you know?" She said quietly, and he jumped slightly in surprise.

"Did I say that out loud?" Izuku asked, face turning pink in embarrassment. Ochako just shook her head gently.

"You just looked really sadly at your hand, before you shook mine," she observed. "But I know how you got those scars. Or at least, the general idea." The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "One of these days, you'll have to tell me the rest of the good parts of your story."

"Only if you tell me your story, too," he retorted. He realized then that he meant it. He really did want to know, although he couldn't place why. And he found he didn't mind the idea of telling her - at least, mostly. Nana's voice cut through his mind suddenly, clear and bright and true like a blade.

She was important. You needed her.

Izuku blinked in confusion and realized Ochako was saying something to him. He'd been gone there for a moment.

"Midoriya? Midoriya! I lost you there for a second, are you okay?" She asked, once he could hear again properly. He nodded slowly, then he screwed his eyes shut to try and get his bearings.

"Yeah… just had a bad memory, there. Sorry," he replied in a quiet, tiny voice. Ochako looked very concerned when he opened his eyes, genuinely so, and it made Izuku feel light and warm inside.

"Don't be sorry. I understand that it's hard - especially for you, and how you got here."

"You don't know the half of it," he said, mostly jokingly.

"Hopefully, you'll tell me one day," she replied flatly. Izuku nodded shyly in response, and Ochako was taken aback. Then she smiled genuinely again and he felt his stomach do a flip. That was when he gave up on pretending he didn't like her.

She slowly shimmied over to the edge of the booth and stood up. Her dress was slightly shiny and looked even better when she was standing, and he swallowed thickly. He was surprised that she was moving already and looked at her with confusion.

"It's time to go, Superhero. Don't want to sit here long enough for the press to find you," she said matter-of-factly. He gathered his courage and said the first dumb thought that came to his mind.

"May I walk you to your car, then?"

She giggled at him, and he deflated a bit.

"I respect your chivalry, Midoriya. But you and I both know you can't." She walked forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. It felt nice-

(it feels right, he thought with such deep conviction he almost startled himself)

-and she squeezed a bit, pinky-raised.

"Thank you for coming, tonight, Midoriya. Hopefully we'll do this again, sometime."

Izuku nodded before he could second-guess himself, then the touch was gone. Before he could look back properly, she was already out of sight and around the corner. He felt terribly alone again suddenly, alone in a deep, frightening way he couldn't properly explain.

She was important. You needed her.

He was determined, more than ever, to understand what Nana wanted him to see.