Well, here's chapter three, and thank you so much for the followers and those of you that dropped a review. I'm glad you're enjoying it. It might be a couple of days until chapter 4 gets posted on here since that's the only finished chapter in stock, so savor this one for now!

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Now to get back to working on my final papers...

Jirou made it a habit to sleep in during the weekends because, well, it was the weekends. A moment of peace, quiet and quality me-time to get the fatigue of the last five days out of the system. But today, at around 9:00 a.m., she was out and about at the Municipal Beach Park in Mustafu that had been mysteriously cleaned by somebody from one end to the other. As she was stretching, she heard a heavy thud, a grunt and crunching sand a little ways off.

Izuku was shaking the sand out of his hair and dusting himself off. It didn't take long to realize that he had just jumped from the street off the railings down to the sand when there was a perfectly functional――not to mention infinitely safer――set of stairs right there. "Did you really have to jump off?"

"I'm practicing to break my fall. Parachutists do it when they land and it reduces the impact to about twenty percent of what it should be if they just landed feet first. Even without using my Quirk, I could jump off the third floor and survive with some bruising. Theoretically."

"You know what? I'm not going to get sucked into this. Can we start running?"

"S-sure." With that, they both took off with a slow jog. Being the one with the longer stride due to the height difference, Izuku was running several steps ahead of her. With a frown, Jirou upped her pace, catching up to him. But it was only a matter of minutes before she was left behind again.

"Dammit….Midoriya, how the hell are you going so fast in the sand!?"

"U-Use your toes! Kick really hard!" He answered taking a brief stop as he ran in place.

"Toes….huh….okay….Toes…" Swinging her arms more as she kicked the sand back with her toes as much as her still sore legs allowed, she moved forward. She didn't feel too much of a difference, but at the very least was no longer falling any further behind.

Maintaining this pace for some time now, Jirou's mind wandered yet again back to her nameless ballad now with a first verse:

Why, oh why do you hide them, why?

Those scars and bruises both new and old

Covering your body, shattering your heart

Some healing, some old, but the bleeding don't stop

But I can tell, I just know it, they sting and ache all the same

"It's okay," you say

With that smile and that laugh

It's genuine, I know, but cracked

Chipping here, now there. See, abrasions everywhere

Jagged tears just spread further like a spider web

But you press on and on. "Always forward," you say

Wait a minute. Wait just a goddamn minute. Jirou realized a possibility that she could not help but consider about the lyrical content and who it was pointing towards. Scars, bruises, always smiling, hiding them until it got forced out of him―――It was none other than the very guy that was running ahead of her. "Oh, holy fucking shit." Ignoring the dull pain shooting up her legs sporadically, she increased her speed, raising her legs higher, kicking the sand harder, faster. "Oh, goddammit, no….."

Apparently Izuku heard her footsteps as he shifted gears, now going at a full sprint as he kicked up a cloud of sand and charging across the shoreline. With his small but powerful lungs inhaling oxygen coursing power through his muscles, he maintained a steady pace for several minutes bounding across the sand before slowing down again remembering to pace himself. Now being able to take the time to look over his shoulder, he did, only to see Jirou still far off in the distance who was moving her legs furiously in her attempt to catch up. "Oh, crap….I did it again." Turning around, he jogged back towards her.

"S-sorry….about this…..ugh…."

"No no no! Y-you have no reason to apologize! I'm the one that got carried away, kept charging ahead and left you behind when I'm supposed to be helping you. E-even an amateur knows not to ditch a workout buddy. I promise I'll keep pace with you next time, Jirou. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, you think there's a next time?"

"Well, I mean, if…if you don't want to, I'm not, uh, not going to――"

"I'm kidding, hero-nerd. Yes, I definitely want a next….time….um….learning conditioning and recovery tips and such that are…you know, septic-I mean effective and ef-efficient." Jirou kicked herself mentally. First the lyrics and now stumbling over her words like the green nerd-boy. She was digging herself into her own grave with this.

"W-well, we're warmed up and worked up a sweat now, so let's stretch. Just follow my movements. And there aren't any uh, perfect splits."

The stretches were a mix of regular stretching to limber up as well as some yoga moves that he undoubtedly picked up from a book or another Pro Hero. Jirou sighed comfortably as she felt the tension in her legs cause pain but slowly dissipate through the stretch. They started walking back as a means of cooling down. "Okay, we get back to where we started and we do shadow now?"

"Yeah. But I can readjust if you're still too sore and――"

"No, no. You….you know better than me about fighting up close and personal, so just, don't worry about me. I'll let you know if it gets bad."

"Okay. Sure." They walked in silence for a while. The rhythmical sound of the waves and their sneakers crunching on the beach were the only things that were constant. While doing his best to keep a straight face, Izuku was going insane with worry in his mind. He was absolutely horrible at small talk unless it involved Quirks, their applications, Pro Heroes and other things that he had a vast amount of knowledge of. Anything else was just barely mediocre at best. "Oh, um, by the way."

"Hmm?"

"How's the uh….the lyricist's block going?"

"It's, well, it's um….." Jirou was at a loss of words for a second before coming up with, "going. It left for a bit and came back again. Sort of." There was no way in hell she could tell her the verse ended up being about him. While she wasn't one that was big on small talk, long and heavy awkward silences were equally detestable.

"Huh. That's weird."

"What makes you say that?"

"I dunno….i-it's, well, how do I say this…..? Just seems like b-blocks like that go away for a while after you get over it a-and it's coming back like a, uh, persistent cold. Not really sure what causes it, but I-I hope you get over it soon."

"You and me both, Midoriya. You and me both. Aaaand here we are, back where we started."

"Do your shadow boxing however you feel like. Whatever floats your boat." And so they did, with Izuku adopting a defensive, kick-oriented style to further complement his Shoot Style, while Jirou focused on aggressive punches and knees.

She struggled every now and then, wavering and losing her footing due to the constantly uneven footing. That and the connection between the lyrics and her perception of Midoriya kept her mind wandering elsewhere. It couldn't possibly mean anything, could it? Besides, they had really actively associated with each other for a mere day and a little bit. They still barely know each other.

Life isn't a romantic comedy, ipso facto those lyrics coming out was a coincidence. But was it really? Those words, each expression, the diction, denotation, connotation, how it rolled off the tongue, everything came together so unnervingly well. And it all spoke so true.

Jirou stole a glance at the shadow boxing Midoriya, nimbly bobbing and weaving as he dished out kicks against an imaginary opponent (probably Bakugo), parrying punches, blocking kicks, and unleashing a devastating switch kick of his own that was bound to shatter a rib or three. But despite the intensity, there was no amount of killer intent like the roid-raging King Explosion Murder had about him as naturally as the clothes he wore. There was a genuine aura of selfless determination, dedicating his every fiber of his existence to becoming a hero that allows him to naturally extend a hand to anybody within his reach.

His hand.

It immediately brought her back to the incident at Training Room Theta where Izuku was pulling her gym shorts up to apply the poultice on her legs. His forcibly steadied breathing and coarse but careful fingers tickled. She was nervous as hell, almost like she was about to――

"Jirou, heads up!"

"Huh?" Before she could realize what to look out for, Izuku's scar-riddled right arm was about half a foot away from her face, his fingers latched around a basketball.

"Sorry!" A child's voice called out from above. "My hand slipped!"

"Bounce it at a park next time and not on the sidewalk, okay?" Izuku did his best to toss the ball up to him and the boy grabbed it by his fingertips, holding it against his chest.

"Okay, sorry! Thank you!"

"Bye! Watch out for cars! Um, you okay Jirou?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm….I'm fine. Thanks." Jirou mumbled, her cheeks flushing, turning her head in an attempt to hide her face away from his field of vision.

"That's one save I managed to not miss so far, I guess."

"Mmhmm."

"Um….Jirou, you okay? A-are you…are you um, not feeling well? Dehydrated or something?"

"No, I'm…I'm alright. J-just…Oh, wait, it's past noon. Let's get back to the dorms, shower, and uh, we'll eat back there. Come on!" She had to lead him on a goose chase for a while, at least until the blushing subsided, or until she found a bathroom to splash some cold water on her face.

"H-hey, wait for me!"

"Yo Midoriya, my man!"

"Huh?" Izuku felt a strong right arm drape over his shoulder when he set foot in the common room. It belonged to the spiky, red-haired EiJirou Kirishima who possessed a Quirk of Hardening, rendering him invulnerable to various physical attacks. "Oh, um…hey. What's uh, what's the matter, Kirishima? You look a lot more cheerful than usual."

"Dude, come on. Don't play dumb. I saw you on your date with Jirou."

Izuku nearly jumped out of his own skin at Kirishima's erroneous observation. "Wha- a d-d-d-da-date? What? No! No, no no nonononono. Tha-that wasn't anything like what you're thinking at all. At all! I swear! It wasn't!"

"Oh really?" Kirishima said with a toothy grin. "Then how're ya gonna explain Jirou bursting in through the front door ten minutes ago, hiding her face that was most likely red to the point that her ears were the same color? Huh? Huh?"

"Well, I-uh, that's….I-I don't…."

"Hey, come on, no need to be shy! I gotta admit I was surprised since I've never seen you two hang before, but tell you what, I'm definitely diggin' it."

"W-w-wai-wait. Wait. You said you saw us."

"Uh-huh. With my own two eyes under the sun."

"When and where, exactly?"

"Municipal Beach Park. My folks live around Mustafu and I went to school there before UA, FYI. I was picking some stuff up from home. You fended off a stray basketball from clocking Jirou upside the head. Now that was manly."

"O-oh, come on, it was a basketball, not a potted plant or a heavy box."

"It could've been some douchebag flinging down a wet sponge for all I care. That's beside the point. It's your thought that counts."

"Alright, fine! I'll take the compliment, but just….it wasn't a date! Okay? It's not-it isn't what you think. I was just giving her some pointers on fighting hand to hand and mixing it up with Quirk attacks. Just….friendly advice from one classmate to another. That's it, okay?"

"Alright, fine. Whatever you say, man."

"And please don't tell anyone that you saw us there. I can already imagine the mayhem that'll unfold…."

"Hey, look, one man to another, I'll keep my mouth shut. On my honor, you have my word. I've never grassed anyone up before."

"Thank you so much Kirishima. I'm heading to the shower now."

"Alright, take care man!" As he saw Izuku disappear behind the elevator door, Kirishima's toothy smile of sharp teeth widened. "I'll keep my mouth shut, but ya never said anything about her….."

"Sooooo….I heard from a little red robin that you and lil green bean was out at the beach park in Mustafu." Ashido sprang the topic on her as she was about to enter her room after a relaxing hot shower.

"Wha….what?" Jirou felt her blood freeze. How did Ashido know? Midoriya was not the type to tell anyone about something like this, he had no motive. Which left only one logical, horrifying explanation. "You….you saw me there?"

"Yep," she grinned slyly, "and he protected you from that horrible basketball of doom! How chivalrous of the knight in shining armor! Oh, hark the gallantry!" She clasped her hands together, raising her voice an octave with a ridiculous flair and a bad English accent like she was in a Shakespearean play.

"Hilarious. And it was a basketball, not a stray bullet."

"Girl, that coulda been a live grenade for all I care! It's his general concern for your wellbeing that counts! Appreciate that. You two don't really have anything in common, you don't interact in class or out, and now you're suddenly hanging together out of the blue. Can you really blame me for making that logical leap? Especially after seeing what I saw?"

"Gah…..I guess not…..but seriously, no joke; not a date, no matter how much you wanna force that into reality. One classmate being a Good Samaritan to another, that's it. Alright? So keep your mouth shut. I'm actually enjoying hand to hand and I think I'm getting the hang of it. Don't make me use it on you in class on Monday."

"Whoa, hey! Easy, Jack! Girl to girl, your secret's safe with me."

"One can only hope. Oh, and if somehow someone other than Midoriya or you knows about the beach park, I'm holding you accountable. And you will pay dearly."

"Well, um…." Ashido could tell her friend wasn't kidding. And she didn't even want to begin imagining what she would do. "Someone actually already knows…..But I never told anyone, Kirishima saw it too!" She squealed quickly as a pair of earphone jacks came flying into her face, stopping mere inches away.

"I'll talk to him later. But seriously. Not. A damn. Word. Got it?" With that, Jirou shut the door to her room before getting an answer. She flumped down on the bed where her notepad lay, open to the page with the first verse to her unnamed rock ballad. Her hand inched towards a pen, but her other hand held it back.

No. If she wrote any more, then…..it may very well confirm something she didn't want to know. She doesn't need this. Not here, not now.

But her instincts as a musician were screaming at her, write the next verse, bitch, write it! Growling in frustration, she tore at her still damp hair with both hands, rolling around on the mattress. Her hand grabbed a blue pen.

"Son of a bitch….Son. Of. A bitch!" Half an hour later, Jirou looked down in anger and embarrassment at a newly composed verse of her song:

When oh, when will you stop, when?

Trapping all your fear, doubt and pain in your head

They're eating you up from the inside out

And you're bursting at the seams

The times you're safe and sound is only in my dreams

"It's okay," you say

With that smile and that laugh

But oh no, you don't know it's a shattered one at that

All I see is a hero, hanging by a thread

But a hero also needs his time to take his rest

Yet you press on and on. "Always forward," you say

"No. No no no no no no. NO! FUCK! What the fuck is this even!?" These sound like mushy Valentine poems that would come up at least once in those trashy romance novels that Hagakure would like. She didn't know whether to be impressed at her own audacity or to laugh at her own stupidity for producing these lyrics.

But yet again, her gut was telling her to leave it alone. In the context of music it was right seventy percent of the time. And although it took every last bit of willpower to not ask Todoroki or Ashido to utterly demolish this page, she left it alone, storming off to the rooftop with some extra credit assignments that Present Mic and Ectoplasm handed out.

Although she had no recollection as to what she did to deserve this kind of ordeal, maybe it was time to start believing in karma.