Masura sat at the dining table, skimming the paper with his morning coffee. A few impressed nods and a sparkle of admiration filled his eyes at the headlines and articles, especially the heroes. One headline and article caught his attention.

"That hero Twi is making a name for himself," he read the article with interest, "and he's partnering with that organization. Huh."

Mitsuki, finishing up making breakfast, heard her husband's murmur interest. "Anything good?"

"Not really, but that hero Twi is developing a name for himself. Apparently, he's just or might have obtained a sponsor."

"Really? Who's sponsoring him?" Mitsuki opened the cabinets and took down four of every dishware to set the table.

Masura sat his paper down, got up, and went to help. She handed him food, and he continued, "It's some company that specializes in the biological fundamentals of quirks. What's the name again," he moved his paper aside to set the food on the table, "Dynagentis."

"Dynagentics?"

"Yes. It's relatively new, created by Dr. Mary T five years ago. She's rather quietly famed for her research into the beginnings of quirks and their biological makeup and genetics. Essentially a geneticist."

Mitsuki sets the cups down and picks up the paper. She turns to the page with the article her husband praised. Her eyes go straight to the photo in the center of the article with two people standing together. A young man(the hero, no doubt) and glasses-wearing woman, Mistuki's eyes focused on the woman, a sharply dressed brown-skinned woman in a fitted white skirted suit with silver hair in a sharp asymmetrical cut framing a rather familiar heart-shaped face. It then clicked with Mitsuki as she set the paper down.

"I remember that order. So it was her."

Masura looked at his wife with a lifted brow, "Hmmm?"

"A few months ago, a personalized order was placed for a white suit. We didn't know for whom, but" she turned the paper to him, showing the photo and pointing to the woman. He took to have a better look, "I remember that design. I constructed it, and the client approved it. We made about…five suits like this, I remember because of this." She tapped on the color of the woman's suit.

Masura adjusted his glasses and moved the paper closer. He saw it. An emblem or crest—he wasn't sure—was of a fiery falcon seemingly crowned and holding a scepter on a tree stump with what he believed to be roses coming from the stump. The color used in the emblem or crest was slightly darker than the color of the suit, making it noticeable but at the same time hidden. Yep, this was his wife's delicate and finesse work.

But, it was an odd choice to have on an outfit, Masura thought. Mitsuki said it, "It was an odd choice. I'm not sure why she wanted it. But we added it after the image was sent to us. The history behind it was interesting."

"Really, and what was that?"

Mitsuki thought about it, "Something from some old monarch family. I think it's the Tudors or Boleyn's. I'm not 100% sure. It belonged to a wife or something. Implementing the whole thing was stressful; she wanted an exact replica. She must be a history buff or something. Whatever the reason, that order is done."

"Well, you did an excellent job," Masura praised; Mitsuki flashed him a proud smirk, and they laughed as they finished setting the table. Masura changed the topic before Mitsuki called for breakfast, "How did it go with May? Did you tell her?"

Mitsuki's smirk slowly dissolved, and her shoulders dropped. Shame glossed her eyes. "No," she released a heavy sigh.

"Mitsuki," he said, shocked, but she could hear the quiet disapproval in his tone.

"I know. I tried, but," she sighs, "the response would be the same, and I didn't want to ruin her joy while making dinner. I think it's best to wait until we get a response from her father."

Masura wanted to object but quietly weighed the plan and concluded it would be the correct course. He gave Mitsuki an approved nod, and once a sigh of relief swept away her initial shame, she called for breakfast.

You heard Mrs. Mitsuki's cowbell call for breakfast; it partially pulled you from the depths of your thoughts, and you would have instantly made your way to the table if not for one thing.

Bakugo snatched you, by the strap of his black tank top you wore for pajamas, luckily the shirt was long enough, into the bathroom abruptly after you woke and walked pass the room to head downstairs to get your clothes from the laundry room, about to respond, Kirishima's morning text and Pony's. However, you were hoping for a certain text. You almost yelped and would have landed a punch on Bakugo if he hadn't caught it.

You braced yourself for his explosive reaction, whatever it might be; given his hardening scowl and how close he held again, you could feel the heat of his body radiating off his skin, to suddenly find yourself holding a brush and comb with your confused reflection staring back.

You blinked a profound, what?

Bakugo shouted something about you owing or paying up, whichever or whatever, Best Jeanist stupid rule, and you better not screw it up. He flashed a picture before you from his phone, and the next thing he was sitting before you, you stood behind him, holding the comb and brush. Whatever he wanted you for completely pulled you from the depths, troubling your mind and bringing back your awareness.

"If you mess this up!" Bakugo grunted, shooting you a hot glare in the mirror, "You got it!"

You did not get it. You were trying to. Did he want you to do his hair?

Why hadn't you started? Bakugo noticed your cement movements and his patience was again…thinning. His knee rapidly jerked up and down. He didn't want to remain like this forever; you needed to hurry up.

"Hey, breakfast!"

He heard his mom call. Bakugo's knee sped up. You noticed, and when it clicked what he wanted, you set the brush and comb down to adhere to Mitsuki's call. His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. You gasped. He let you go and stood up, snatching the comb and brush.

"What are you doing!? I told you what to do!"

You held up your hands and slowly moved back. "Mrs. Mitsuki is calling for breakfast, and to be candid, you provided minimal clarity on your desired request. Even if I initially understood it, we should head to breakfast." You kept your voice leveled.

His eyes and brows pinched tighter together. You could feel their intense heat and took another step back. You wanted to express that you hadn't changed into your school uniform, unlike him, who was in his uniform. But it'd be best to keep your mouth shut and your words to yourself. You clasp your hands over your mouth to stifle the laugh ballooning in you.

Why did the morning have to be like this?

"Breakfast!" Mitsuki called again. "Hurry up, you two!"

You hurried up, your hand found the bathroom doorknob, turned it, and left the space before Bakugo could shove the hair tools in your hand. A mistake on your part, he tumbled into the hall. And as you flew down to breakfast, you heard Bakugo's raging shout reverberate throughout.

It was the second day of the field experience; Izuku finished breakfast with his mom and no April. Her spot was empty, except for the plate his mom accidentally placed. Inko nearly forgot. Izuku hoped she was doing well. She'd return at the end of the week as he gathered his things to head out for his day. Grabbing his suitcase with his costume, he heads to the front door, slips on his shoes, and heads out, forgetting something important he must do, rushing to catch the train.

He reached the train on time. The doors closed behind him with a hiss, and he pulled off. Izuku grabbed onto one of the poles in the center for balance and to catch his breath. As he did so, a few passengers aboard talked about missing people. It barely reached Izuku's ears. His focus was on day two of tutelage with his new mentor; he missed a phone call.