Well, Izuku thought, at least he didn't topple over. Picking up groceries for his mom, Izuku was stealing glances at his phone. Mr. Tokage would've been ringing up his items, but he had to take a call. Knowing the man was busy enough as is, Izuku decided to wait to check out until he finished. Maybe it was the wrong call, but the way that Mr. Tokage's shoulders seemed to relax told him he appreciated it.

So, he just sat by the counter and rewatched his most recent spar with Nighteye. Third-person perspectives were always weird; no matter how serious or focused he felt in the moment, he looked silly in retrospect. Or, Izuku mused, he just always looked silly.

He finally understood what Gran Torino had been talking about, but the flower of that understanding had by no means bloomed. His hesitation felt ingrained in him, and no matter how much he practiced, he still hadn't beaten his awkwardness. Izuku was chipping away at it, though.

He paused the video the moment Nighteye kicked him in the chest. Even though his eyes were bugging and spit was flying out of his mouth, that kick had been different. For the first time in all his sparring with Nighteye, a successful attack hadn't knocked him out. He angled his chest so the kick, while connecting, transmitted only a fraction of the force. Sure, Nighteye knocked him on his ass right after, but it was an improvement.

Dialing back the replay speed, Izuku rewound to the beginning, intending to watch his fight as closely as possible. Instead, however, all he saw when he gazed into his phone was the reflection of two floating eyeballs behind him.

"Guh!" Izuku said, his phone jerking out of his hands. Hysterical laughter echoed around him as he scrambled to catch his new phone. In his surprise, he slapped the phone even further from himself. Panic ate at him—it'd been a very recent gift and breaking it so soon would seal his doom. Covering his eyes and turning away, he resigned himself to the phone's fate. A second passed, but no sound of shattering glass cursed his ears. His fingers spread apart as he gave it a hesitant peak.

"Boo!" Setsuna said, her floating face an inch away from his. For the second time that day, Izuku squawked in fright.

"Oh, oh man, you're too easy! Haha!" She said, holding his phone in a floating hand. Izuku slumped, letting his back slide against the counter and he dropped to the floor. Groaning into his hands, Izuku gave out a pitiful whimper.

"O-oh god, Set… You're g-gonna kill me one day…" He said, his arm going limp by his side. Setsuna gave him a shark's grin, reassembling her parts into a more human shape, but not giving over his phone.

Ignoring his comment, the girl began inspecting his phone. Not bothering to stop her, Izuku focused on getting his racing heart under control. Tapping the play button, the girl began giving the video a once over, a small pout tugging on her lips when she realized it was in slow motion.

"H-hey, c-can I have that back, please—" Izuku tried to say, but the girl interrupted him as her jaw literally dropped to the floor, a squeal ripping out of her throat.

"Holy crap, Izu! Is that… is that Nighteye!? Sir Nighteye!?" The girl said, her voice coming from the floor where her mouth was. Izuku paled as he scrambled to his feet, trying to snatch his phone back from the girl, forgetting his video with Nighteye was open. His haste wasn't rewarded, as Setsuna simply popped her top from her legs and floated out of his reach, still watching the video.

"N-no! Uh… That-ts his brother!" Izuku said, wincing. Even though her face was disfigured and in multiple pieces, he could still see her expression morph into one of "you serious?"

"Dude, your mentor is Nighteye? Holy—wow. And I thought I had friends in high places." Setsuna said. Izuku's gaze whipped between her mouth on the floor and her eyes on the ceiling, having no idea which to look at.

"Friends in high places? Who do you…" Izuku said in between spikes of excitement from his video. Even though it was slow and reverbed, the action was fast enough that the sounds of grunts and successful attacks were distinct. They both winced after a particularly bad blow to his sternum. He rubbed his stomach where a purple silhouette of Nighteye's shoe had printed itself. Setsuna floated down, becoming whole once again.

"I-Uh, dang. My cousin- uh, oh wow. Did he really kick you that hard?" Setsuna asked, eyeing the exact frame where Izuku's body folded over like a piece of paper. He didn't really know what to say. Nobody had told him to keep his training a secret, but he got the impression that Nighteye would discourage him from revealing it. Stealing a glance at his phone, he sighed. She already saw it; it wasn't like telling her the bare bones of it would hurt.

"N-not really. He pulls his punches most of the time. S-still hurt though, I guess." Izuku said. The girl had an odd look on her face like she had eaten something with an unfamiliar flavor. Not bad, but it'd been out of her comfort zone.

"Do you… do that kind of thing all the time?" She asked, her eyes refusing to meet his as a stray finger swirled loops with a lock of her hair. Her voice had taken on a far-away quality, as if she was thinking about something else.

"Y-yeah. I kind of need to, otherwise I can't really be a hero, let alone a good one. Y-you know about my arm. Half the arms, double the effort. Or triple, I guess." He said, rolling his shoulder with the prosthetic for emphasis. She still didn't look at him.

"Mm. You really… really want to be a hero, huh?"

"Of course. Don't you want to, as well? I thought you said so that one time." His cheeks took on a slight flush as he said it, remembering their hug.

"...Yeah. You just… wow. Are you ok?" She asked, pulling her hair lock taut in the same movement as she turned to him. Her swamp green eyes bore into his own, their darker color reflecting a sense of seriousness. Izuku swallowed.

Another question he didn't know how to answer. He'd met her a few times since their dinner; they always had a chat or something close, but they rarely talked about heavy stuff. The most she'd even mentioned about his arm was off-handed questions about his prosthetic. She knew he had baggage, but she'd never seriously grilled him on it. It was one of the reasons why he felt so comfortable around her. Something squirmed in his chest when he thought about answering, but he pushed past it to appease her.

"W-well my therapist thinks I'm doing better, but there are… areas for improvement," Izuku admitted. Setsuna's eyebrows shot to her forehead, literally popping off her head in surprise. She stumbled back, shaking her hands out as if to stop him.

"I-I meant like, from the kick! You don't… you don't gotta talk about all that! It's fine!" A fierce blush exploded on both their faces from his oversharing. Izuku immediately began rattling off apologies and tried backing away, but only bumped back into the counter and fell on his butt.

"Oh my!" Setsuna said, trying to stop his descent but only tangling herself and falling down with him. With her added weight, Izuku's back hit the ground with double the force, knocking the air out of his lungs.

She rolled off his chest as soon as possible, panicking as Izuku coughed, struggling for air. In their mini frenzy, neither noticed as the hatch to her apartment opened and Mr. Tokage climbed down, pocketing his phone.

It wasn't that big of a deal. Not even a few seconds after Izuku finally caught his breath, he made eye contact with Setsuna. A foreign feeling of warmth flushed through him as he looked at her from below. Her worry faded as their eyes locked. Neither moved for a second—two. Three seconds went by, and they burst into giggles.

They laughed so hard that Mr. Tokage was able to get to his counter and sit down without the kids noticing him. They laughed so hard that they never noticed how Mr. Tokage watched them, bagging and checking out all of Izuku's items. They never saw the smile gracing his lips.

"Good lord, Izu. I've never seen an apology go so poorly before." Setsuna said, helping the boy to his feet. His face was still a radiant, bright red while a pink tinge still hung loosely on her cheeks.

"S-sorry! I should've been more careful."

"Nah, it's cool. I can kinda get the confusion."

"Alright. Can I have my phone back?"

"Definitely not, hold on," Setsuna said, reaching into her back pocket to pull out an identical device. The only difference from his was a cartoon Tyrannosaurus sticker covering the brand logo. She tapped their corners together.

Both phones buzzed, and Setsuna pressed a button that looked suspiciously like "Accept" on his device. She fiddled with it a bit more before handing it over, a triumphant smile on her face.

"Boo-yah! Check it." She said, pointing at the new contact.

A-Setsunasaurus. Next to it was a little pterosaur holding a littler pterosaur. Izuku looked at it like it was a 24-karot diamond. He glanced at the contact, then at her before bouncing back.

"A-are you sure? I don't really… I don't really know how to text. Or call." He said, hesitant like she would realize she made a mistake. She nodded, bouncing a little in place.

"For sure. Even if you don't, you can just practice with me!" She said, as if it wasn't the most embarrassing thing he'd ever heard. His dying blush reanimated itself, stronger than ever. He turned a little, just enough so he wasn't looking directly at her.

"S-s-s-sure… Why did you put an A next to it? Or added all those dinosaur thingies?" He said, only just able to choke out the question. Her grin morphed into her more familiar shark grin.

"I like dinos. I thought that part was obvious. Also…" She said, getting close enough to point at the A on his contact. "With that "A," I'll always be on the top of your list! Even if my name would alphabetically be at the bottom." Izuku simply could not compute that answer, inching away from the girl as if he'd explode if he stood next to her for even a second longer. What he hadn't expected, however, was to see her father watching them as he turned to the counter.

His soul left his body.

[x]

Hours later, after Izuku had retrieved his soul and had gone home, Setsuna Tokage was thinking of the perfect first text for Izuku, when she heard her door open. It'd already been ajar, but she knew how the hinges squeaked when they were at the halfway mark.

"So. The top of his list, huh?" Her father said, a smirk gracing his deceptive older features. Blood rushed up the back of her neck at the same speed that she closed the messenger app she had opened. Grabbing a stegosaurus plushie, she chucked it at her father full force.

It stopped an inch from his face, his arms never moving before it was flung back at her at half the speed. It bonked still her on the head.

"Your mom is gonna love this. She already thinks you two will be very cute very soon." He said. Setsuna groaned, miserable.

"Please… have mercy!" She asked, sliding off the bed onto her knees, hands clasped out in front of her. Her father didn't budge.

"No. This is your punishment for teasing that boy so much. Deal with it. Oh, and set the table soon. Dinner is almost ready." He said, before closing her door like he hadn't just sentenced her to death. Pouting, she grabbed her stego off the ground and squeezed it against her chest. She fingered her hair a bit, pulling and twirling it absent-minded.

That video… she couldn't get her mind off it. Even when she fell on him and when she was adding herself to his contacts. It had been replaying in the background of her mind since. He was just so… nonchalant about it. Sure, he'd stuttered and blundered his way through his admission, and sure, he'd lied and only told her a partial truth, but still. Whatever he was involved in, no matter who he was involved with, he was dedicated.

That kick would've put her out of commission for a month, let alone just bruise her a little. She got the impression that it hadn't been the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Rolling onto her side, she wondered how often he did that kind of thing, and if it was worth it to him.

She had told him she wanted to be a hero. It hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment claim. She'd been thinking about it the whole week he'd been in the hospital and the week leading up to their dinner. What he did, however, was barely imaginable. Breaking into their house just to help them, first off, had been wild. It was something she'd imagine All Might doing, not someone her age. Second, he jumped a live gunman. She'd never seen a civilian do anything like that. Really, she'd never seen a hero do it. Heroes just didn't grapple gun-wielding gangsters unless they were bulletproof, and those heroes worked higher profile jobs than street crime.

Third, he did it all with just a right arm and balls of steel. She could sort of imagine what it was like, to be an amputee. She'd misplaced her disconnected limbs a lot when her quirk first came in. She'd go hours lopsided and uncomfortable, but that was incomparable to simply not having one. Curiosity had her by the balls, but she tried to avoid asking. Her mom had made it clear that she wasn't to just up and ask him.

She had always played with the idea of being a hero, but hadn't been sure until she watched him become one. If he could do it, all without an arm or a combat quirk, then there was no excuse for her.

There was no world where she could watch him save her family and not want to be like him. To be a hero. It was simply a new fact of her life. Something uncomfortable shot through her gut.

But his passion dwarfed hers. She couldn't imagine herself ever working as hard as he seemed to. She had a good work ethic; she was at the top of her class, the leader of the Jurassic Club, and the prospective captain of the track team, assuming Maruka quit next semester like she said. She could do whatever she put her mind to. That didn't mean she liked it. In fact, she despised wasting effort on any task. She did just enough to excel and that was that.

Izuku was clearly doing more than that, and it made her stomach turn. How could she look at someone like him and tell him she had an interest in heroism when it seemed to be his whole world? He was disabled, for god's sake, and she felt inadequate next to him. She couldn't ignore what he did; jumping that gunman had made that impossible. She'd be a hero. She needed to be a hero. She just hated her own lack of passion. Her indecisiveness.

Setsuna rolled over to her other side. He was just so cool. Really, really dorky, but cool. She pressed her face into her stego, inhaling its scent. Her stomach was still doing flips when she got up; she still needed to set the table.

A frown plastered itself on her lips as she walked out into the living room, and she got the impression that it'd hang around for a while. At least, until her phone buzzed.

Hello, Tokage. Thank you for the contact. I am apologetic for leaving so soon after your father frightened me. Please enjoy the rest of your night.

The discomfort in her gut seemed to fall away as she read and reread the message. He was right about not knowing how to text. Shooting back a quick reply, she walked into the kitchen feeling much lighter.

Call me Setsunasaurus! Or Set :)

[x]

"Alright, Midoriya, what's this?" Gran Torino asked as Izuku handed him a notepad. Nighteye also looked interested. He motioned them to flip through it. He'd been working on it for almost a month, now, and he wanted a professional's opinion. He'd hand-written copies too, so they could each get one and he'd have one left over.

"They're all my notes on Smokescreen! My measured improvements, hypothetical workouts, and my theories!" Izuku said, proud. Both older men looked intrigued; he hadn't really shown off his Hero Notebooks, so he wasn't surprised that they seemed skeptical. He pulled another out and handed one to Nighteye, who picked it up hesitantly, but curious.

"Theories? The taller man muttered. Izuku nodded.

"Like, things on my fine-control, maximum output, general possibilities, and even some attack moves!" He said. Gran Torino nodded, not appearing to listen. Thumbing the edge, he let all the pages flip open. It was half an inch thick, each page filled to the brim with tiny handwriting, only interrupted with large diagrams. The older man flipped the notebook upside down, realizing that Izuku had also written on the backs of each page, not the front. Nighteye mirrored him but seemed to take the time to at least skim each line. They both hummed. Gran Torino grunted.

"Nighteye," the older man said. "Have it photocopied and put it through an audio translater. My optometrist told me to avoid reading this much. I'll listen to it on my next patrol." He said.

Nighteye, however, didn't seem to hear him, apparently absorbed in Izuku's notebook. The shorter majority of their trio watched in silence as the man seemingly became more and more engaged in the writing. After about half a minute of his intense scrutiny, Izuku gained enough confidence to lightly tap the man's shoulder, ripping him free of his concentration.

"Huh? What—oh." Nighteye said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Midoriya."

"Uhm, yes sir?"

"Excuse my language. This is fucking fantastic. Is this your first ever quirk analysis?" Nighteye asked, rising to his full height. Izuku shook his head.

"Uhm, not really. I've been writing in these kinds of notebooks all my life. This was just the first quirk I've had the pleasure of personally testing. Cause, y'know." He said. Nighteye nodded at this, snapping the notepad closed.

"Tomorrow, you are going to bring me every single notebook so I can digitize them. I want to read them all. Furthermore, with your express permission, I am going to redact all relevant personal information and information about One for All before sending this to a Quirk Professor. From those first few pages alone, I doubt I could seriously give you the level of criticism that you need." Nighteye said. Izuku and Gran Torino gaped at him, the latter reopening the notepad to give it a second glance.

"A-are you sure, sir? I don't really think that—"

"Positive. I suppose this begs the question, how is your schooling? Where are you at, grade-wise? Is this your magnum opus or do you consider your other topics to be at a similar level?" Nighteye asked.

"I-I don't know. I guess I'm most passionate about quirk theory, but it's not necessarily that much better than anything else. Currently, my schooling is around… eleventh grade? Late high school, I guess. I've been blazing through it since starting remote learning." Izuku said. A pang shot through his heart at mentioning remote learning. He still needed to make a stable relationship with someone his age, or else Fujimaki would make him go back to school. He ignored the coincidental buzz in his pocket; Setsuna could wait. He was busy.

Both heroes looked at him in a new light. They, generally, weren't very involved in his life outside of his training. Izuku supposed they did have a larger relationship than mentor and student, but it wasn't by much. Sometimes they went out for lunch, or Izuku would relax at their house after an extra grueling training session. They never really interested themselves in his academics or personal life.

"Eleventh grade, huh? I guess that doesn't mean much; some schools' twelfth-grade classes are shittier than another's sixth. Still, are you some kinda genius, brat?" Gran Torino asked, causing a massive blush to explode on Izuku's face.

"No, no, no! I'm just completing the coursework faster because I don't have to wait for teachers to give it out!" Gran Torino raised an eyebrow. Izuku's blush deepened. Nighteye was eyeing more of the notepad.

"Well, this is fun, kid, but you've missed out on about ten minutes of running with this little notepad diversion of yours. Hit the track. Mirai." The older man motioned. Closing the booklet with a sharp snap, Nighteye jumped into action. Izuku screamed as the man sprinted after him, a pocket watch appearing in his hand.

[x]

Mirai Sasaki felt off balance. He'd done his job; run Izuku ragged on the track while keeping him at his personal best. He'd only had to actually attack the boy once, as today was another day in a row that Izuku broke his previous record. It didn't happen every day or even every week, but Izuku's improvements usually happened in clusters.

In almost every aspect, the boy was getting better. His coordination was better than a normal kid his age, even considering the accident. His agility was encroaching on those of Shiketsu applicants. His use of Smokescreen grew by leaps and bounds every day. The only thing he still struggled with on a fundamental level was hand-to-hand combat.

And Nighteye finally had the answer why in his back pocket.

The notepad was at least sixty pages thick. Izuku fit two lines between the college-rule guidelines, back to front with detailed illustrations in addition. Izuku had written, at the lowest end, three separate versions of it by hand for them. The boy made the term "overthink" an understatement.

He'd thought the boy was just someone who thought aloud often. Nighteye often caught the tail end of the boy's mutterings but had chalked it up to being nothing more than a personality quirk. That was wrong.

His ideas weren't simply jumping to his lips, but they were spilling out of his brain. His mutterings were just an overflow of everything else than ran through his head. You don't just write a hundred and twenty-page long thesis on a quirk you got a month ago. You don't just jump six grade levels because "your teachers were slow."

Maybe the boy wasn't a genius. Hypothetically, Nighteye could just be underestimating the amount of bad among the good of his quirk analysis. Perhaps he might just be underestimating what true genius was. There was an off chance his theory on Izuku was wrong, but he doubted it.

The boy's rapidly growing athleticism, something admirable, might, just might, be his most underwhelming trait.

Izuku wasn't hesitating so much in their spars because he was looking at the wrong things; he couldn't help but look at everything. It was the skill a fighter learned after decades of study and practice; to see everything, all at once, and know how to exactly counter and react. Nighteye was certain Izuku could fluently speak the language of battle. He just couldn't read or write it, and it made him second guess himself.

He cut Izuku's session in half, overriding Sorahiko's complaints. Getting this notebook to people who knew how to cultivate this kind of skill was far more important than the boy's midweek workout.

He might've sped home. Of course, driving over the limit was ill-advised, but he never had anything to worry about. Not only did he know that no officers would pull him over, but he also knew that he wouldn't crash. There had been a few times in the past decade where that hadn't been the case, but Mirai had been thorough in lessening the damage done by staying slow and being careful before it happened.

Stopping by the office, he photo-printed a copy before going home and handling his routine. Without ever touching the original, Nighteye took a thick sharpie and began striking out the necessary pieces. People needed to read this, he had decided, but people did not need to know about One for All. No one did. Not even his old peers at U.A.; not even Sasami Fujimaki, the Queen of General Studies 97' and his high school sweetheart.

[x]

Izuku was brimming with nervous excitement. His training had ended early today and therefore he was taking a different train home. Or, rather, the same train at a different time. Still, walking over to his normal seat, far away from the handicap section, it felt different. The people he'd come to associate with his ride home were nowhere to be found, replaced by stranger, more alien people. It wasn't like he knew his fellow passengers personally, but the comfort of consistency was eradicated, leaving him a little antsy to get home.

On top of all that was Nighteye's odd behavior and wild declarations. He wanted to die from the embarrassment when he announced he wanted to have it professionally looked at. Izuku never wanted to make a big deal out of it, he just wanted them to give him a yay or nay. Maybe they could've tested out his ideas in the big warehouse. Or, they could've had a discussion about his theories. The radical reaction from Nighteye had been the last thing he wanted.

It was exciting though. The thought of a real, honest quirk analyst giving him feedback sent happy jitters down his spine. It didn't even matter if they didn't like it if he was honest. Just the novelty of someone appreciating his efforts felt fantastic. Izuku felt like he was on top of the world.

He shot a text at Setsuna, trying his best to be less formal. A small smile graced his lips when, as soon as the message delivered, Setsuna's tiny pterosaurs popped up to read it. Before the girl's reply came back, however, a voice interrupted him. One that he had almost forgotten, but still struck a deep chord within him.

"Oi!? Deku? The hell're you doin in my seat?"

[x]

Hey, guys. Once again, I don't know how long or even if I'll keep this up. My life sucks, and the joy every day is a falsehood. Regardless, I had a good time writing this new chapter. I know its been a year for most of my followers, but I've been writing original stories in the meantime, so I like to think my writing muscles are much bigger than last year. For instance, I really only edited this for like half an hour before I was satisfied. I'll probably make changes later, but right now I'm happy with it. Always make sure to review if you have any complaints or compliments. I usually PM people with questions or who comment nice things, so there's that.

Review~!