Author's Note: Back for a second round! Thank you maxridelover; you are awesome as ever! Kurokitty: although it seems you answered your own question I just wanted to expand a little - it's not an AU and they do have quirks; it's just set in the future when they're older and villains aren't coming at that from every shadow and alley so the quirks won't come into play a whole lot especially in the beginning here. This story will focus more on relationships rather than action and saving the day.

Thank you for the favorites and follows! I'm glad you like it!

~\'/~ This symbol indicates a lapse in time and/or scene change.

Well, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Feel free to express any thoughts or opinions.


Takara pulled on soft pink blouse with fluttering ruffles down the front to heighten the fashion value of her ripped faded jeans from 'too tired to care' to 'casual but pulled together' fashion status. Her strappy high heeled white sandals also elevated the outfit from Saturday comfort to weekday casual work-wear. She would rather be wearing her comfy jeans with a sloppy t-shirt and no shoes but unfortunately there was some adulting to do.

Grabbing her purse and cello case, she headed for the door. Time to get the day started. Using her elbow to push down the handle, she backed out of the door making sure not to bump the bulky case on the door jamb. The hydraulic hinge on the top automatically pulled the door closed once she scooted all the way out. As she was typing in her code to lock the door, Bakugo and Izuku came out of their apartment.

"Good morning, Takara!" Izuku cheerily greeted her.

"Morning," she chirped back happily.

She was not particularly a morning person, but she could fake it long enough to return the friendly greeting of her exceedingly cute and kind neighbor. Tossing the perpetually pissed off blonde a smile, she said nothing. He grunted in acknowledgement.

Bakugo was definitely not a morning person. Or an evening person for that matter. Despite being a chronic grouch, he did have his good points. They appeared on rare and unexpected occasion. Seeing the positive parts of him was like a treasure hunt. She would continue searching for them until she found more. The brief flashes of silver lining she saw in that black cloud were like seeing the brilliance of diamond after its polished.

Izuku Midoriya shined brightly all the time. Always wearing a big smile that shined clear through his large green eyes making them sparkle like the finest emeralds. Soft spoken with always a kind word to say. He was like a ray of sunshine in human form. She adored him.

Takara noted their outfits in turn. They always looked like they were going into the gym before going to work. Heroes have to stay in shape but seriously...a work out every day?

Bakugo was dressed in a black track suit with a thin orange stripe around the edges. He also wore running shoes and carried an orange duffel bag. Izuku was dressed in what appeared to be a tennis outfit, white shorts and short sleeved shirt with a wide stripe down the the sides of both. He wore red tennis shoes and carried a green duffel bag.

"So are you two personal trainers?" she asked, giving them both another inquisitive once over.

She was curious if they tried to keep a secret identity. If they did, they were not very good at keeping a low profile. They had been somewhat famous since their days at UA. Though she traveled a lot, she always kept up with the news from home.

Though American and Japanese, her family called Japan home at her father's behest. Father made all of the decisions for the family, including her playing the cello. Not that she minded being a musician at all. Music brought her quirk to life after all. She would have preferred a smaller, less ungainly instrument but he felt the cello suited her aptitude and personality best for reasons she did not understand.

"No, we're actually - ugh," Izuku grunted when Bakugo gave him a sharp stab in the ribs with an elbow.

Poor Izuku. Honest to a fault. Too pure for his own good. She did not know men like that existed in this world anymore.

"Yeah. Personal trainers," Bakugo said, giving her a hard glare.

There was nothing unusual about the steely expression in his crimson colored eyes as he stared at her. The color of fire and determination. Bakugo possessed the charm of a rattlesnake. A very handsome, very loud rattlesnake.

Before she could question his behavior obviously covering up the truth she already knew, Bakugo turned his back to her and started down the staircase. Izuku waited for her to go down next then followed.

"Hey, I got the kitchen unpacked. You guys wanna come over for dinner? I'm cooking," she added when Bakugo opened his mouth to say something.

"Watcha cookin'? " he asked, moving on to his next question.

"Chicken curry," she replied.

"What time?" Bakugo inquired next.

"I'll have it ready about seven."

"Oh," Izuku sighed in obvious disappointment. "I've got to work late tonight. I won't be home until about ten."

"That's okay. I'll save some for you. I'm sure you'll be starving. Just come on over when you get home. I'll most likely be awake anyway. I was going to get in a bit of extra practice before bed. The concert is tomorrow night after all," she reminded him, releasing a shaky breath.

"Getting the jitters already?" Izuku asked.

"Uh-huh. Have you two found guests to bring with you?"

Bakugo kept his head straight ahead, not offering an answer. Apparently he had checked out of the conversation after discussing dinner plans.

"We're bringing two of our long time friends, Uraraka Ochako and Eijiro Kirishima."

"Oh, there's a party afterward if all of you would like to come. It's the musicians, friends, and family. A small gathering really."

"That sounds fun. How should we dress?"

"I'm glad you asked. A suit and tie will be sufficient," she said, carefully stepping off the bottom stair so as to not lose her footing. The huge, heavy cello made for unwieldy baggage. "No tuxedos necessary."

"A suit? Sufficient, my ass. I'm not wearing a damn suit," Bakugo grumbled. "And a tuxedo is definitely out of the fucking question."

"Come on, Kacchan. It's just for a few hours," Izuku said.

"At least it's not a tuxedo," she said reminding him there was a more formal and stifling alternative required for some concerts. "Those are mostly worn for charity events. Speaking of - "

"Don't even ask," Bakugo cut her off. "I gotta go."

Bakugo jogged off on his way to the bus stop at the end of the block to begin his commute to his hero agency across the city.

"Speaking of charity events," she repeated, finishing the beginning of her sentence,"there's one coming up next month. It's one of my favorite fundraisers...a cause near and dear to my heart. But I'll explain more later. I'm sure you've get to go to work as well."

"Yeah," he replied regretfully. "Well, have a good day."

"You too, Izuku," she returned, turning toward the parking lot.

"Hey, Takara?"

"Yeah?"

"See ya tonight," he said.

"I'll be looking forward to it."

~\'/~


Takara walked as fast as she could toward the auditorium of the conservatory. Maybe high heels had not been the best choice of shoes when running late. She should not have chit chatted so long with her handsome neighbors.

Behind the closed doors on either side of the hall she could hear the beautiful sounds of music. The piano on which someone was playing Debussy's Clair de Lune. Another room where a group of string instruments were being tuned up. The sounds of clarinets tooting and brass horns honking and flutes tweeting in a flurry of noise before coming together and breaking into harmonious song.

When she reached the door of the auditorium, she could hear her fellow musicians running through their scales and going through their warm ups as she approached the door. At least they were not playing yet.

A groan pushed past her lips as she switched hands carrying her instrument to open the door. She should be up there getting ready as well. Hopefully the Maestro himself would be here today and not his self-righteous pupil with the god complex who sometimes liked to fill in and, as he put it, "give the old man a break." Of course that was spoken when the Maestro was no where around to hear.

As she traversed the steep stairs up to the stage, the kindly master conductor turned his white head in her direction to give her a stern look, his gray eyes steely. She smiled at him, and he shook his head like a disappointed but not angry grandfather. That look and head shake would be the extent of his admonishment for her being late.

Sliding into her seat which happened to be in the first row and the first one on the end, located conveniently close to the stairs, Takara took her time to remove her cello from its case. She had learned the hard way not to hurry when preparing her instrument. After paying for many expensive repairs including snapping off the end pin, breaking the neck, knocking off the bridge, and cracking the tailpiece, she decided taking her time was best no matter how late she may be.

"Miss Otani, why don't you start us off today?" the Maestro requested. "Please use your gift to get us in the mood to play...and play brilliantly."

"Yes, sir," she responded a bit breathlessly.

Her fellow musicians closed their eyes. It thrilled her to know they looked forward to being taken on a musical mental journey. They were all nervous about the upcoming concert and needed a break to relax. Some people sat on the floor and got into the Lotus position as if preparing to meditate. Others bowed their heads as if praying.

I can do this. This is for fun. No pressure, Takara thought to herself, inhaling a deep breath. Raising her bow, she began playing Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major. The piece was calming and inspiring simultaneously; two things they all needed at the moment.

Allowing her own eyelids to come together, she imagined the printed lines and notes lifting from a page of sheet music. The lines flowed off the paper like water, gaining a life of their own as they floated through the air. The lines weaved around the musicians. The notes lifted off of the lines to bounce on the heads of random members of the orchestra eliciting a few giggles. Taking on the guise of expressing emotions, some of the musical notes danced across the floor joyfully and others skittered under the chairs as if afraid. A few snuggled in the laps of musicians like children.

Takara's favorite quote about music came from Pablo Casals, a cellist, composer, and conductor from Spain. Alive in the early twentieth century, he is believed to be one of the greatest cellists of all time. A hero of a different kind to her.

"Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart," Pablo Casals once said. A quote she believed perfectly described her quirk. She did not just speak to the mind, but the soul, the seat of emotions of a person, as well.

This is her quirk: using the already potent power of music to vitalize the imagination and heighten the emotions of others by either impressing her thoughts upon them or allowing their own creative faculties to run rampant. A totally useless talent in her eyes; except for purpose of pure entertainment and fun which was enough for her.

She used her ability to make people happy. Especially when life was difficult and happiness was nowhere to be found. Sometimes even sorrow could be expressed in a positive way through her music to assist people with working through mourning. "Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise," Victor Hugo, a nineteenth century French poet and novelist, once said. She used her music to remind people though darkness presently surrounded them, the sun would always return.

When she completed the piece, Takara opened her eyes to glance around. No one said a word, but all of the members of the orchestra were smiling and appeared loosened up.

"Thank you, Miss Otani," said the Maestro, lifting his thin ivory baton high into the air. "Let's begin."

~\./~


At lunch, Takara visited the plaza in front of the conservatory where the food vendors with carts set up to serve the hungry people in the area. After getting an extraordinarily unhealthy but incredibly tasty chili dog, she sat down on the cement wall surrounding the nearby fountain.

While eating, she looked over the sheet music for the songs to be performed in the upcoming concert. A mixture of classical and contemporary pieces, she studied the current hit songs in particular. Playing the notes in her head, she hummed the melody to get a greater feel for the piece.

"Takara?"

A pair of thick soled black shoes appeared in her line of vision at the edge of the page of music in her hand. Her eyes traveled up the red ankle guards attached to the shoes. Black metal leg braces extended up the legs to the mid-thigh. The thighs were thick and beefy under the smooth material of the skin tight black and green bodysuit.

A red belt with pouches at the hips hung low on the narrow waist. The torso widened out further up into broad shoulders and brawny arms both shrink wrapped in the black and green hero uniform. Black gloves reached all the way up to the middle of the brawny upper arms where red lines outlined them. A silver partial face mask hung around his neck like a necklace of sorts. A hood with what almost appeared to be rabbit ears hung down his back.

At last her eyes reached the face. Big smile, huge green eyes. An undercut with longer green hair, messy and almost curly, on top.

"Deku?"

"Hi," he said, giving her that same shy little wave he gave her the first day they met.

"Uhm...hi," she returned, her eyes skimming back down his body then back up.

Takara knew he was a hero but had not yet seen him in his hero costume. She received a double whammy on the shocking body reveal. Not trying to stare or be a lecher, she could not help but look him up and down a few times. DAMN!

He always wore loose clothing that covered most of his body and camouflaged his muscles. The shorts he always wore at home, including his swim trunks, reached his knees. He always wears a t-shirt with his swim trunks, and never a white one that would go transparent in the water when they swim. She had no idea this body was hiding under those over-sized clothes all this time.

Bakugo proudly showed off his body by wearing skin tight jeans and tight tank tops. There was no way he was wearing a t-shirt when taking a swim. Takara had no illusions about his well muscled physique. Seeing Deku like this made her wonder what Bakugo's hero costume looked like.

"Wow," she giggled, her face warming with a blush as his cheeks reddened from her prolonged stare.

"You already knew we were heroes, didn't you?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she admitted, her eyes still traveling up and down his body. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to stare, but...wow." Shaking her head, she did her best to get a grip on herself. "Ah, uhm...so what are you doing here? I thought you were at work."

"I am at work. The agency I work for is located a few blocks away," he explained. "I just happened to be patrolling the area and saw you sitting over here. I thought I would come say hi."

"I'm glad you did. This is a very nice surprise. You should have let me drive you to work this morning since you're so close," she suggested.

"Oh, I don't mind the run."

"Do what now? You run here?"

"Well yeah. It's a great cardio workout."

"Yeah, I'd say so. That's quite an understatement. That's like five or six miles. One way!" she exclaimed. "How do you...how do you even have the energy to function the rest of the day? You walk all day, then run another five miles home?"

"I'm accustomed to strenuous workouts," he said with a humble shrug. "I've always worked out really hard."

"No kidding," she murmured. "Is it okay for you to be talking to me? You won't get into trouble will you?"

"Nah! Community relations are part of our job. We're expected to stop and talk to people while on patrol."

"Oh, that's good." Her eyes moved from his radiant smile back up to his hair. "I like the hair. New do?"

"Yeah," he said, running his fingers through the top. The purposely messy hair fell right back into place. "I wanted to get it cut for the concert tomorrow night. I wanted to look good in my suit."

"I'm sure you will," she blurted before she could stop herself.

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his head. The red coloration made his freckles and green eyes really stand out. Maybe one day he would not blush so much around her. She would miss that.

Clearing her throat and once again doing her best not to stare, she glanced at her watch. Dammit! Her time was up.

"I should be getting back to the rehearsal. You'll have to come to visit me again sometime."

"That sounds great. I'll definitely do that."

~\'/~


Takara arrived home around five giving her plenty of time to make the curry. Once the dish was set to simmer, she went to take her shower. Since it was only six o'clock at this time, she decided to get in a little practice before Bakugo came over.

Setting up on the balcony, she took a minute to survey the view. The dark yellow sun hanging low in the sky turned the surrounding white buildings to gold. Bathed in the deepening light at the end of another hot summer day, her lightly tanned skin transformed into a rich shade of gold. The stagnant, humid heat permeated her body as she sat on the balcony basking in the evening sun. Droplets of sweat formed over her upper lip and across her forehead. Relaxed and invigorated, she was ready.

She played a child's song, something of a lullaby. The song was light and bubbly, yet she always found it a little bit sad for some reason. The words to the song was a person declaring another to be their sunshine; their happiness, their everything. She immediately thought of Izuku and that thousand watt smile, bright as the sun and just as warm.

"The prettiest smiles hide the deepest secrets. The brightest eyes have cried the most tears. The kindest hearts have felt the most pain."

Takara was not sure where she heard that quote or who said it. The thought of Izuku being in pain physically, and worse yet, emotional distress, caused her tangible pain in the form of a belly ache. She knew as a hero he had gotten hurt many times, both physically and emotionally. There were scars on his arms to prove it and a sadness deep in those kind forest green eyes of his.

Inhaling deeply, embracing the cello and pulling her bow across the strings, she continued to play the child's song all over again. Giving it a faster, more up beat tempo, she felt the desire to sing while she played . She could not stop thinking about Izuku Midoriya.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine," she sang, keeping her voice low.

Playing the cello is where her musical abilities started and ended. Not by any stretch of the imagination, especially her own, is she a singer. But she tried. She sang in the shower and at times like this she would sing for herself. One day she would sing for her child. But no one else would ever hear her voice. Or so she thought.

"You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away." Her voice broke like a wine glass dropped on a tile floor at the end. She laughed at herself.

"Guess you can't be awesome at everything," Bakugo muttered.

"Huh?" she gasped, her head jerking his way.

Bakugo stood on his balcony at the corner facing her, holding on to the railing with both hands. Suddenly, he did a deep knee bend then vaulted himself over the side of his balcony. Clearing the handrail on her balcony with inches to spare, he landed on his feet like a graceful cat.

As usual, he wore black jeans and a body skimming tank top showing off all the muscles in his arms and chest. Today he brightened up his ensemble by choosing a tank top in a pumpkin orange color. His hair was shorter. The back and sides had been closely cropped almost shaved but the top was left longer and spiked out in all directions like always.

So he got a hair cut too. She could not stop the smile from forming on her face.

"Yeah, I know my singing sucks," she said before he could open his mouth to repeat the insult. "I like your hair. Short and sharp. Like your insults."

"I do like how quick you are on the comeback," he rejoined.

Takara stood up to take her cello inside to put it back in the case laying open on the couch.

"Want a beer?" she asked despite walking away from him and down the short hall to her room.

"Not tonight. I am getting a water though," he announced, opening her refrigerator. "Want one?"

"Yes, please," she responded politely not bothered in the least by his behavior.

"Is dinner ready? It's almost seven."

Takara took the bottle of water he held out to her as she passed by on her way to the couch.

"As a matter of fact it is. Help yourself. You always do," she mumbled under her breath as she plopped down on the couch.

Bakugo had a habit of going through her cabinets and refrigerator in search of food and drinks whenever he came over. Not that she minded really. She was glad he felt so comfortable here.

"What?" he grunted irritably.

"Nothing. Dishes are on the cabinet to the right of the stove," she informed him as he began opening and closing cabinet doors.

"Want some?"

Was he seriously going to prepare her a plate of food and bring it to her? Too bad she had no appetite.

"No, thanks. I'm not really hungry."

"Nervous about the concert?" Bakugo asked, sitting down beside her with his plate.

"I am. The jitters never get any better," she sighed, watching him open his mouth wide to accommodate the impressively huge spoonful of rice and curry.

His cheeks puffed out he had put so much food in his mouth. He looked positively adorable with chipmunk cheeks.

"How is it?" Takara asked after he finally swallowed.

"You don't suck at cooking," he said before shoveling in more food.

It wasn't exactly a shining endorsement but coming from him it was quite a compliment. When he got up to get seconds, she felt downright flattered.

"Will it bother you if I practice?" she inquired, feeling a bit antsy.

"You really should take a break. Too much practicing can be bad, you know. Overworking yourself will cause fatigue," he said.

"Says the man who works out every single day," she snarkily returned.

"How about a swim?" he asked, ignoring her comment. "Physical exercise is a good way to relieve stress."

"Good idea," she agreed, getting up to change.

Hopefully swimming would not only reduce her stress but also stir up her appetite. Then she could eat with Izuku when came over. Putting on her swimsuit then grabbing a towel, she returned to the living room.

Bakugo was gone but it was fair to assume to he went back to his apartment to change as well. Rather than waiting for him, she went up to the roof to get into the pool to begin swimming laps. On her tenth lap, she stopped to see if he had come up yet. She stood up to see him relaxing in the hot tub and watching her.

"Are you done? Care to join me?" he asked, splashing his hand in the water. "The water's fine."

"I bet," she murmured, sliding over the divider between the pool and hot tub without getting out of the water.

The hot water felt amazing on her muscles that had just started to feel a tingle before the full on burn could begin. Takara pressed her back against the opposite side of the hot tub from him.

"I thought you were going to swim with me," she said, closing her eyes and sinking into the hot bubbling water until it reached her chin.

"I never said that. I suggested a swim to you. I never said I was going to swim," he reminded her. "Besides, I'm tired. I worked out this morning then pounded the pavement all day."

"Catch any bad guys?"

"Ah, I knew you saw through my bullshit this morning."

Takara popped open one eye. "Did you seriously think I was that dumb? How could I not know you two are heroes?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't," he grumbled, his jaw tensing.

"What kind of women have you been hanging around?" she scoffed.

"Mostly heroes like myself. I didn't have to worry about keeping my identity a secret."

"Trust me. It's not a secret. It hasn't been for a very long time. You and your classmates were all over the news when you were in high school and have made many appearances in media since then. It must have been a heavy burden to carry the hopes and dreams of the heroes of that time. All of you were the next great hope, the generation to come after them to bring peace once again...tasked with protecting that peace and the people," she said, noting the anger hardening his eyes into shiny red marbles.

"Yeah, well, sometimes I think we did our jobs too damn good. I guess it's a good thing not much happens anymore, but it does get boring as hell," he muttered.

Suddenly Bakugo reached out, seizing her by the ankle. He easily pulled her over to him through the water. His big, strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her up to stand on the cement seat built into the hot tub.

"Aaaahhhh!" she screamed when his hands moved down to her thigh. "What are you doing?"

"There's something I want to see," he said, pushing aside the big bow covering the uppermost part of her thigh on her left side.

"Bakugo! Don't do that! Stop!" she squealed, slapping at his hands as his fingers drifted across her skin.

Bakugo would not be swayed in his determination to see the tattoo no matter how much she smacked his hands. His touch grew softer, gentler when he saw the three inch tall G clef note in its entirety.

"Nice tattoo," he said, his forefinger tracing the curl below the bottom curve of the note.

"You do have this awful habit of helping yourself to whatever you want, don't you?"

His eyes flickered up to hers. That lopsided half smile gracing his face and giving him an impish look without appearing licentious. Then his crimson eyes lowered back to her thigh to study the tattoo he had been so damn intent on seeing in the first place.

A neck and scroll had been added to the top of the musical note as well as a tailpiece and endpin to give the definite impression of a cello. Takara had gotten the tattoo in celebration of the release of her first album; the moment she felt like she had finally 'made it' as a musician.

"You have absolutely no sense of personal space do you?" she admonished him, smacking the back of his hand when his finger traced the neck of the cello all the way up her hip and under the bow of her swimsuit. "Stop that!"

"You stop!" he snapped, slapping her hand in return..

"Ow! Hey!" she yelled at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you?" he shot back, more annoyed than usual. "I just wanted to see your tattoo. You're barely covered up anyway so what's the big deal?"

"But you're touching me so...so intimately," she said, blushing.

"I never thought you'd be so bashful," he teased her, dragging his fingers over her ribs to tickle her. "We're friends aren't we?"

"Not that kind of friends. Hey! Bakugo! Don't...d-don't...do...that!" she squealed, her words broken up by her giggles as he tickled her again.

Bakugo caught her hand when she tried to swat his hand away. "Okay, okay. I'll stop."

He took her both of her hands in his to assist her with lowering her body back down into the water. Instead of retreating to the other side of the hot tub, she sat down beside him. Personal space had already been violated and boundaries crossed so why distance herself now?

"We are friends. So I guess you're right, Bakugo. It isn't a big deal," she sighed, sinking into the water up to her chin.

"Katsuki," he said.

"What?" Giving him a sidelong glance, she edged away from him a bit.

"My first name is Katsuki. You call Deku by his first name. You should call me by my first name."

"Oh, okay. Katsuki," she repeated, trying his name out for herself.

She liked the way it sounded. The light blush on his cheeks told her that he liked the way it sounded when she said it too.

~\./~


At fifteen minutes after ten there was a timid knock on her door. Takara smiled. Izuku had arrived.

"Welcome home," she greeted him warmly after opening the door.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized, entering the door and kicking off his red shoes at the step. "I had to stop and help someone on my way home from work."

"You're not that late. Besides, isn't being a hero a twenty four hour a day job? You can't just stop being who you are. It is an inherent part of you after all," she said, leading him to the kitchen.

Takara opened the warmer below the oven. Using an oven mitt, she removed the plates of food and set them on the round woven placemats on the counter.

"You haven't eaten yet? You shouldn't have waited on me," Izuku said, sitting down on one of the barstools.

"It's fine. I wasn't hungry earlier. What would like to drink? Tea? Water?"

"Water's fine."

Grabbing two bottles from the fridge, Takara sat down beside him placing one bottle in front of his plate. She scooped a heaping spoonful of food into her mouth, quickly going back for another. She ate with the passion and speed of a starving woman.

Taking that swim had done wonders for her appetite. However, after her unusual interaction with Bakugo, or Katsuki as he wanted her to call him now, she debated if she would have any appetite at all. That man bewildered her to no end and drew her to within a inch of losing her sanity. Yet, there was something so appealing about him, possibly that whole 'bad boy with a heart of gold' thing he had going on.

Glancing at the man beside her, she knew she looked at a man with a true heart of gold and the golden smile to match. Thank goodness all of them were just friends. How would she ever be able to choose between them in a romantic situation?

Takara studied the numerous scars on his hands and arms revealed by his red, short sleeved t-shirt. Extending her hand, her forefinger traced the scar on his hand resting on the counter top. The scar almost completely bisected the back of his hand save a few millimeters. Smaller scars streaked across his fingers. They marred his wrists, his forearms. The ones ones on his biceps disappeared under the sleeves of his shirt.

"How did you get so many scars?" she questioned. Until now, she had not been comfortable asking him about them.

"Most of them I gave to myself before I learned how to control my power. I've broken almost every bone in my body. Several of them more than once," he explained, rubbing his hand over his forearm due to being hyper aware of the scars. "The others...well, I'd rather not talk about how I got them."

"I didn't mean to bring up something that bothers you so much. I'm sorry," she apologized, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it.

"It's all right," he assured her. "So Kacchan told me you have this amazing tattoo, and I should see it. Do you mind showing it to me?"

I'm going to kill that man, she thought to herself, plastering a smile on her face as Izuku gazed at her with his big, innocent eyes full of curiosity.

Takara stood up, taking hold of the hem of the loose sweat shorts she was wearing. As she lifted the hem higher, his already impossibly huge eyes got bigger.

"Oh, my god! Where exactly is this tattoo located?" he asked, his voice rising in pitch as she bared her entire thigh. He closed his eyes tightly.

"Right here. See," she said, revealing the tattoo on her upper thigh, lower hip area.

Izuku slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. "Oh, that is quite pretty."

"I got it when my first album was released. I didn't care if it sold one copy or one hundred or one million. I was just happy to be a real musician," she explained.

"As if you weren't before?" he asked, smiling at her.

"So when did you start feeling like a real hero?" Dropping the leg of the shorts, she sat back down beside him.

"I don't know. Being a hero never came easy...or naturally. I had a lot of people who believed in me. One person in particular made all the difference in the world. He believed in me before I could believe in myself," he said, the tears coating his eyes giving them a glossy sheen.

"Sometimes that's all it takes for us to become what we were always meant to be," she murmured wistfully.

The Maestro was that person for her. The first time he heard her play, he knew what she was, what she could do beyond her musical talent. Her worked with her and nurtured both her musical skills and her quirk.

Her father wanted her to hide her gift, to bury it, and never use it. He thought by hiding her among an orchestra she would be lost among the mass of musicians and sound, her skill would be tamped down and negated by those around her. The listener could mistake the visions running around in their head as simply their own thoughts running wild, their own imagination taking over after being inspired by the music.

The Maestro had other plans for her. He gave her solo parts in performances. Then, to her father's dismay, introduced her to people in the music industry who would record her alone and send her on solo tours for a career of her own set apart from the orchestra.

"Takara?" Izuku called to her to bring her back from her trip down memory lane. "I should be going."

"So soon?" she asked, a little befuddled at his sudden desire to leave.

"Well, it's late. You need to get up early right? To go rehearse?"

"I suppose you're right."

Takara slid off the stool to walk him to the door. At the door, he turned to face her so he could slide his feet into his shoes.

"Thank you for dinner. It was delicious."

"Thank you. Good night, Izuku," she said.

"Good night, Takara," he replied in kind.

Taking her by surprise, he gave her a brief but powerful embrace. Her entire body tingled from head to toe. She would swear her hair tingled.

"A hug for good luck. You'll be great tomorrow night. Sleep well."

"Th-thanks," she stammered.

Izuku pushed down the handle and backed out of the door, his eyes staying on hers. Long after he was gone, she continued to stare at the closed door. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Her body felt electrified, every nerve quivering. How could she possibly get to sleep now?