The moment Inko heard the doorknob, she tapped into forbidden stores of stamina and teleported across the apartment. Even in her heyday, she wasn't much of an athlete. Motherhood, poor eating habits, and terrible stress debilitated her until running became a distant dream. One hand was enough to count each exception.
She ran when Izuku was nine. She ran when Izuku was thirteen. She ran a few months ago, and she ran across the apartment today. Izuku only cracked open the front door before she tore it off its hinges and scooped him into the tightest hug she could muster. Attract pulled him even tighter against her, and though she was never strong before, she was strong for him now.
He melted into her, crushing her lower back with lopsided strength. His arm's absence was an equal cavity in her mind. Pulling away, she held his shoulder at bay and pushed back his bangs.
Pink, irritated, rough skin cornered his forehead. It was hardly coin-sized, but tears spilled over her cheeks anyways. She ghosted her fingers down his jaw, where another scar cornered his face. He didn't protest the inspection, but when she lingered once more on his forehead, he took her hand and lowered it. Without a word, he pressed his face against her shoulder, took a deep breath, and pulled away.
"Hey, ma'am," Setsuna said, nearly scaring Inko out of her skin. Her head peeked around the threshold. "Just called my folks 'n told them I'd be over here. Is that cool, since I kissed your son?"
Inko's eyebrows rode her hairline, but she nodded.
"I'd sooner turn Izuku away than you, dear, but won't they miss you? You were undeniably the best, after all. If you were my daughter, I'd be sick with jealousy."
Setsuna laughed, and though Izuku looked exasperated, it was easy to see the sheer change from this morning. Her baby was like a gargoyle; emotionless, disturbed, and stone cold—but with her, his shell evaporated. She reinvented him. Inko couldn't quite discern if they were dating proper, but if they disappeared into his room tonight, she'd turn a blind eye.
"Don't say it so loud, ma'am, we don't wanna humble Mr. Gold Medal too soon. Either way, my father banished me. Dude said I couldn't come home until I convinced him I made up with Izu."
"Alright then, hun, alright. Stop loitering and come on in. I made tea."
Inko shooed them inside and hurried away. A window between the kitchen and living room let her watch Izuku collapse into the couch. He stared at the ceiling as Setsuna settled beside him.
The TV was still on the Sports Festival's rerun. It cycled through highlights—many of them Izuku and Setsuna's—before ultimately landing on the incriminating clip of their "kiss." Neither blushed, because neither watched the TV. Like a hivemind, Setsuna joined Izuku and studied the ceiling, not speaking, not even glancing at him.
They were acting strange, Inko decided. Stiff and unnatural, but not uncomfortable. Despite Setsuna's bleeding charisma and Izuku's gentle hug, the moment she left the room, their energies sapped away. Both kids seemed like aliens on foreign soil, so overwhelmed that their excitement dimmed to fear.
The kettle steamed, and she poured their tea. She delivered in the way her mother taught her; guest first, host second. Counter-clockwise. Handles pointed right. Simple, archaic techniques of polite society. She doubted any practice was still in use, but the official-ness of the gesture meant more than the practicality. And, just like in those polite societies, the tea-deliverer made a swift escape.
She didn't want to get between them, if that's why they were so stiff. Inko didn't know much about relationships or Sports Festivals, but she knew a decent bit about being a hormonal teenager with a helicopter chaperone. They were probably dying to be left alone. Her presence was an unwelcome intrusion. If it meant their comfort, she'd swallow her questions.
Before she even got half-way back to the kitchen, Izuku's voice made her slam on the brakes.
"Where's your tea, mom?"
"The kitchen, hun. I thought I'd just go and…"
When Izuku looked at her, Setsuna did the same in perfect sync. With her left hand, Setsuna beckoned her back and nodded towards the TV.
"We've had a long day, ma'am. Tomorrow, I wanna meet with everybody who helped us get here, but today, we wanna relax with you. After all, even if Izuku would've reached here eventually, I wouldn't be here, or my family. Since you made him, I figure I owe you everything. Let's celebrate that, yeah? So ask away. Nothing's off the table, courtesy of me, even if Izuku squirms like a baby."
"That seems a little much…" Izuku muttered, but Setsuna patted his shoulder.
"Deal with it, Mr. Gold Medal," she said, before kissing his cheek. Inko hesitated, surprised at the shameless display, before deciding she liked it. Their happiness was hers. "If you think momma Midoriya isn't dying for details, then you're crazy."
"I do have one pressing question," Inko asked, trying and failing to hide her relief. Grabbing her cup, she approached their half-cuddle.
"Shoot for the stars," Setsuna replied.
"Can you scoot over?"
Her faith in them paid off.
[x]
He laid there, curled in a ball, leaking noxious fumes like radioactive sewage. Katsuki blinked, and the memory vanished.
His momentum kept going, but his grip on the train handle prevailed. Twin-sided doors hissed, and he stepped onto the subway platform alone. No one rode the two o'clock train today. It was no big surprise. Not to him.
Each footstep was new. Muscle memory didn't lead him down the block, across an alleyway, and over a short bridge. He held his shoulders high and let the sun tan his knuckles. Before long, he found himself rounding the corner to a commercial district, and ultimately, past an occupied lot. With skyscrapers and shopping malls on either side, it felt like a humble enclave.
With no one walking the streets, this bubble of people felt strange, but that was expected. Even during the laziest days, the statue situated in the lot's heart never missed a visitor. Today, all mourners watched a nearby billboard stream the Sports Festival.
He entered their throng, not hiding his uniform, as the billboard streamed highlights for the nth time. Podium holders lined up in a wide shot with Whirlwind.
U.A. didn't even acknowledge the gap he left.
It didn't sting. It was expected. It stung a little.
The folks glued to the stream failed to notice he was the missing Silver Medalist. After watching them crown Izuku, Katsuki turned away, and left the shrine to All Might's sacrifice without a prayer.
He invented a new path home; one of winding turns, lengthy detours, and endless meandering. By the time sunset painted the sky a bloody orange, he was still miles from home. By no means had he intended on passing the park south of Aldera Middle School, but when his feet grew tired and an opportunity presented itself, he sat on a bench overlooking the clearing.
It used to be a forest. Hell, he used to play here.
Now it was gone. A man in a trenchcoat paused next to his bench and observed the former forest. He didn't stay long and his aura was rancid, but Katsuki respected him. Not a single other person even glanced at what was once his treasured stomping grounds. It was like the forest never existed. Like his childhood never happened.
Had All Might not died, Katsuki would've been a different person. Had the forest not blown to smithereens, he would've been an even more different person. The two losses compounded on one another, and for a moment, Katsuki grieved them both.
Katsuki went home after that. His mom didn't bother him, but he saw how her eyes tracked his trek across the living room. He ignored the strong knock on his bedroom door, an hour later, when dinner was ready. The kitchen smelled like chili, and leftovers would wait.
His phone died long before he got home. He didn't charge it. He did pushups to pass the time, sometimes one-handed.
Once he was certain his folks fell asleep, he re-entered the kitchen and reheated the chili. He settled at the head of the dining room table, fork and spoon in hand, and stared at the bubbling brown bowl.
It stopped bubbling, and the thick aroma thinned out.
He put a wrap around the bowl and returned it to the fridge. More pushups.
When it crossed his mind to charge his phone, the moon fell. Sunlight peeked through his bedroom window, but Katsuki didn't feel the death of yesterday or the birth of today until his phone brightened.
There were a trillion notifications, but only one text. He had no clue how anyone from school had his cell besides the staff; he'd never considered volunteering that information, and no one asked. Yet here he was with a short, clipped text that made the world feel real and his stomach empty.
(Unknown number): It's deku. If you're free tomorrow, visit the following address. Auntie and your dad are welcome to come. Call it a party. Save my number.
There was a GPS ping right after, dated to just shy of eleven hours ago. That meant yesterday's tomorrow was today. He blinked, and each eyelid was synchronous. He stretched his hand, and felt connected to his body. He muttered something aloud, and his words resounded as his own.
Izuku took "not leaving him behind" more literally than Katsuki intended, but he permitted this.
[x]
When the boy arrived, he found a sleepy street dotted with project cars and beaters. Old brick painted the horizon an ugly brown, but it wasn't all bad. The neighborhood, if one could call it that, wasn't the worst. No barbed fences, no weed-cracked streets, and no litter told him the area was maintained, if leaning cheap.
He wasn't surprised when the GPS led him to the block's corner. The highlight of the district must've been this warehouse; white-gray, industrial, and taller than its neighbors, this place raised the average property value alone. As they rounded the block's corner, little Sai darted from under his hip.
It took years of honed reflexes to catch his nephew's shirt in time. A second too late, and he might've face-checked a goddamn Bentley's side mirror. Without another word, he scooped the kid up and passed him to Tatsumi.
"Sai, baby, you have to look where you're going… mommy almost got in big trouble," she said, barely controlling her fragile voice. The toddler just looked confused. Since the kid didn't understand what he almost hit, the boy couldn't blame him, but his heart still pounded. A Bentley, parked outside? A scratch on that was Tatsumi's monthly salary. Sai nearly knocked the whole mirror off.
"Maybe I should've come alone," the boy muttered, looking at the string of cars past the Bentley. It was disgusting; a Bentley compared to the street cars nearby was liquid gold to mud-rotten wood. A diamond in the rough. The cars parked beyond made the Bentley look cheap.
A classic Mustang, Mercedes, and Volvo alone took Sai into an entirely new tax bracket, but the last car, parked just beyond a white van, was a goddamn Aston Martin. The boy wouldn't have even noticed it, if not for the man guarding the driver's side door. When the trio walked past, the gentleman tipped his hat in their direction.
"Hello, the entrance is just there," he said, hooking his thumb further down the street. "The hosts are ready, and the rest have arrived. Ms. Yaoyorozu requested I escort you inside. May I?"
The boy glanced over the man, seeing his stark white sideburns and neat mustache. Movies told him he was seeing a butler. He did not come here expecting a butler, but he didn't say as such.
"...We didn't receive an invite from a Ms. Yaoyorozu, and I had no clue it would be so formal. I—are you certain you were waiting for us?" Tatsumi asked, holding Sai a little closer. The butler nodded, grave and sincere, as he stepped from the luxury car.
"Fear not; by no means is this some extravagant mistake. The humble host and Ms. Yaoyorozu are simply in kahoots, and it is my sworn duty to uphold her dignity. Please follow me."
The boy nodded, too petrified to complain, and followed the older man. He racked his brain for the name, trying his hardest to understand the Deja Vu it stirred. There was a local tycoon of the same name, but that was a man, and this butler said Miss. Since a spouse seemed very unlikely, and a cousin felt too random…
It hit him a few feet from the entrance: Momo Yaoyorozu, from 1Z. Midoriya gave no indication she'd take part, but didn't disclose the guest list either, so he had no complaints. Still, the parked cars suggested an influence that flipped his stomach.
He was just a General Education kid. They could only afford U.A. because he showed transfer promise in the entrance exam; if not for that, then even the handful of months he'd spent there would've bankrupted his family. As the older man knocked on the warehouse door, the boy felt all his doubts crest.
This wasn't his neighborhood; he didn't belong. Midoriya didn't mean to invite him. He was underdressed; he shouldn't have brought Tatsumi and Sai. Anything and everything crossed his mind, but nothing stuck. As the butler held the door open for them, the boy swallowed his doubts, ignored all the red flags, and strode ahead.
He blinked as the warehouse lights blinded him. When he got a good look around, he felt his childish fears abate. There was no ballroom, no fancy dress code.
The warehouse was a cutting edge gymnasium with almost fifty machines. Many appeared pushed together, creating a central commons, where dozens of people chat amicably. To their left was a lengthy table, scattered with drinks and food. Most of it was junk and fruit punch; and when the boy saw the butler grab a cheese puff, he finally felt his shoulders relax.
Stepping over a running track, the boy, Tatsumi, and Sai entered the fray. Before even a single guest noticed them, a mess of swampy green broke through the crowd and smiled at them—or rather, Tatsumi. Without even blinking at the boy, she walked past and pulled Tatsumi into a hug.
"It's you guys! Thank you so much for coming. I'll never forget what you did."
Tatsumi froze at the sudden hug, but carefully shifted Sai away and patted the girl's shoulder.
"Ah, do I… Have we…?" Tatsumi asked, smiling but unable to hide her confusion. Immediately, the girl—Setsuna Tokage, the boy realized, the Bronze Medalist—pulled away.
"Well, we've met, but I was unconscious, so I didn't get the pleasure of your company, or of this little tyke's," Tokage said, cooing at the young child. He blinked at her and giggled. She proffered a finger, and the toddler grabbed it. "Izu told me he invited you guys, and I'm so happy you showed up. Never thanking you always bugged me."
All of it went straight over the boy's head. Tatsumi didn't seem any less confused until Sai ripped Setsuna's finger straight off her hand. Sai froze, staring at the finger with dawning horror. Before his frown turned to something worse, Setsuna removed her remaining fingers and danced them around Sai. Mesmerized, he forgot his horror and giggled. Tatsumi, however, could only tolerate so much.
"Please excuse me," she said, smiling through each word, "but I'm afraid I don't…"
Setsuna, still dancing her fingers around the toddler's head, smiled at her, and then to the boy.
"Oh, it's nothing too important. Izu invited you as thanks for motivating him. I don't think he really registers his impact on the lives he saves until they meet him eye to eye. Not to say he forgot you… but I guess he never considered the lives you got to lead thanks to him. Heck, everytime I mention my own gratitude, his face turns purple."
Tatsumi blinked, and the boy saw gears begin turning. Her eyes flicked to Setsuna's feet, and a wary smile began to spread.
"It couldn't be… right? The girl—"
Setsuna reattached her fingers, and then kicked her foot off her ankle. She made a show of bouncing on one leg. All at once, Tatsumi gasped.
"No!"
"Uh-huh! I lost my leg, but I'm very blessed to have eventually regrown it," Setsuna said. "Without you finding and pulling me to safety, heaven knows if I would've made it."
"I have no idea what's going on," the boy said.
Tatsumi turned to him, then, with such a foreign giddiness that he was taken aback.
"Her! She was there! Do you remember how I helped some poor girl after getting saved?"
"...No way."
"Wow, this is so cool!" Tatsumi said, red flushing her face. Sai bounced on her hip, drinking in her excitement for himself. His little hands clapped. "It slipped my mind. You're so, so, so welcome honey! I just did what Midoriya asked; I never thought of myself as a hero."
"...Did he now?" Setsuna asked, pink tinting her cheeks. She shook her head. "Well, it doesn't matter. You could've just saved yourself and ran—but you didn't. Even if you haven't, I've always considered you a hero."
The two girls hugged again, lathering one another in compliments. Sentences jumped between them in quarters, cutting excess fat as if telepathic. They had so much to say to one another, and it was sweet; but the boy began feeling like a fourth wheel quickly. Taking his nephew off Tatsumi, he left the girls for the food table.
He stopped snacking years ago, but he'd be damned if some cheese puffs killed him. Splitting one with Sai and popping a second, he noticed a gargantuan hand reach into the same community bowl.
His eyes snaked up the thick wrist and even thicker elbow. By the time he crossed the shoulder, he should've ran out of person; yet the more he looked, the more person he kept finding. When he finally reached cropped red hair, he swore a cloud drifted past.
"Sorry, I'll just…" He looked around for any excuse to leave, but found none. "...Go."
"Don't move on my behalf," Endeavor said, his voice a crackling bonfire. "My children would savage me if I became so petty. I'll leave the hoarding to the infant."
The boy gasped as he noticed an armful of snacks in Sai's grasp. He bounced the toddler, aghast.
"Hey, when'd you nab those? Little punk," he whispered, before Endeavor turned away. A weight he hadn't noticed fell off his shoulders. The Number One Hero was a heavy presence indeed, and while the boy still reeled from the encounter, he realized he probably wouldn't get this chance again for a long time, if ever. "Hey, before you go, sir?"
Endeavor looked back, and all the words the boy could say lodged in his throat. Sweat rolled down his neck. The older hero simply stared, exercising great patience as the boy fumbled in place. Did someone crank the thermos?
Then, Sai smacked him with a cheese puff, and his brain jump started.
"Oh–sorry! I meant to say th-thanks. You definitely don't remember me, but—"
"I remember the child. Sai," Endeavor said, fully turning back. "Bridge incident. Child of a young woman watching over Tokage. He's bigger than last we met. I played little role in saving his life, although my presence ensured it. Do not misplace your gratitude—your true hero is just across the hall."
The boy's mouth hung open, and Endeavor walked away without another word.
On instinct, he followed where the man pointed, but didn't quite see his target. The people, while few, crowded together. He pushed through anyways, not knowing what else to do. Endeavor's words settled in his heart in a way few could—and who was he to ignore the pinnacle of heroism?
He only began questioning the man's presence after they parted ways. He only got his answer when he bulldozed a white-haired girl.
"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" The boy said, barely stopping her fall at the cost of losing his grip on Sai. He was already lunging for his nephew when a chill crawled across his back. A gale of icy mist blew through the gym and gathered just below his knee. With a crack, an ice ramp formed.
Sai shrieked as it caught and slid him to Shoto Todoroki's feet, safe and sound.
"Ah!" The white-haired girl yelped, swiping residual frost off her ankles. "I'm wearing sandals!"
"Yikes, Todoroki," another woman said, mimicking the white-haired girl. "Great save, but I can't feel my toes."
While others murmured their agreement, Todoroki stepped into the open. He ran a frost-covered hand through his hair.
"Sorry, ma'am. Maybe some socks could've helped, Fuyumi," Todoroki said. He helped Sai stand and passed him along. The toddler wobbled around in a circle, fidgeting with excitement bigger than he was. Sai wasn't scared—rather, he seemed to want more. While the boy checked Sai over, Shoto kneeled by the women's feet and held out a hand.
There was no flame, but the air quivered in a heat mirage. Lingering ice flakes shrank and melted, and then obtuse water beads evaporated. He stood and looked around.
"I don't come here often, but I'm positive there's some towels nearby. Let me find you two some," Shoto said, and plunged back into the crowd.
"...Does he really think I could wear socks with these shoes?" Fuyumi asked, once he was gone. The boy glanced at her feet. Dainty, tanned leather with silver buckles glanced back. No, socks probably wouldn't match, but who was he to say?
The boy only recognized the second woman when she put a hand on her hip and tutted.
"Chivalrous, but at the cost of a fashion sense," Midnight said. She glanced at Sai. "Hey, is the kid okay? No lumps or bumps?"
The boy lifted and bounced Sai. The smaller boy giggled.
"You're indestructible, aren'cha?" The boy asked, before clutching him tight and bowing at Fuyumi. "Again, I'm so sorry. Endeavor just pointed me over, and I really couldn't say no to him. Didn't see you until it was too late."
The bow lasted a fragment too long, and by the time he looked back up, more than just Midnight and Fuyumi stood nearby. Two dark haired women, one tall and one short, had big eyes for Sai.
"Aw, he's adorable!" The taller woman said, drawing close to inspect the toddler. "And so handsome! Who's this?"
"This is Sai," the boy said, feeling a funny twinge when he met the older woman's eyes. Swampy green. She waved to Sai and fluttered her fingers in a familiar way. "He's my nephew—"
Setsuna's mother, he was certain, stepped away as the shorter woman gasped.
"Oh gosh—you're Tatsumi's brother, aren't you?" She asked, nearly staring through the boy's soul. "I was wondering why I didn't recognize you out of everyone. It's good to finally meet you—I-I'm Izuku's mom.
Before she even got all her words out, tears began rolling down her cheeks. The boy felt supreme discomfort as the older woman casually sobbed around everyone, yet the only person who blinked at the scene was Midnight. Fuyumi and the other woman continued on like nothing was amiss.
"I'm Setsuna's mom," the woman confirmed.
"I'm Shoto's sister. Endeavor's my father, too, though I didn't get Shoto's blessings," Fuyumi said.
"I met Setsuna earlier; she's probably still talking to Tatsumi," the boy said, still eyeing Izuku's mother. She wiped away another tear. In a quieter voice, he turned to Fuyumi. "Your father is… a lot."
Fuyumi Todoroki nodded without a hint of humor.
"Certainly. I'm very grateful the spotlight softened his edges."
Whatever that meant. The man's stare was as intense as a red-eyed killer robot.
"I meant more in size, heh," the boy said, "he could probably power clean a smart car."
At this, Fuyumi cracked a grin.
"Oh, yes, a shame I didn't get those genes either. It all went to Natsu, I think. I could've been the buffest preschool teacher in Tokyo."
"Aw, a preschool teacher? Shame about the location, you could've taken care of my buddy here," the boy said, hoisting Sai up. At this, they laughed together.
"Well," she said, after catching her breath, "you never know. He seems a tad further out, and I'm only going to live in Tokyo for that much longer. I plan on finding work south. Maybe the stars will align."
The boy's eyebrows raised. Tatsumi and his folks lived just south of Tokyo.
"In that case," he said, turning to Sai, "you have to introduce yourself. Would be awkward if you met again without doing so."
The toddler raced through a thousand constipated expressions, but Fuyumi was a saint as he worked through his words.
"...'m Thai!" He said, and threw his hand in a floppy wave.
"Hello, Sai," she cooed, "I'm Ms. Todoroki, but you call me Fuyu for now."
"Fufu!"
"O-oh gosh," Izuku's mother said, "let me excuse myself…"
The short woman hobbled away, dabbing at her face with her blouse. Perhaps the boy stared for too long, because Setsuna's mother swooped in and patted his shoulder.
"Please don't mind her," she said, whispering only for him. "She's very proud of her son, and seeing you two… well, seeing Sai, even having never properly met him, she's a little overwhelmed. Izuku wears that day on his face, y'know? He lost part of his jaw on that bridge, and to have irrefutable proof that his disfigurement meant something? …Heck, I think I'm gonna head over and thank Tatsumi, too…"
Setsuna's mother scampered off quickly, and it reminded him of his purpose: find the host. Turning to Fuyumi, he bowed again, this time lighter and shorter.
"Your dad actually pointed across the gym; running into you was just chance. I hope we'll meet again some other time—but I gotta go greet Midoriya."
Fuyumi Todoroki nodded. She offered a small farewell bow, but the boy saw it for what it was: an assessment. Behind her polite demeanor was a sharp intelligence—both academic and emotional. When she offered him advice, each word commanded him as readily as her father's had.
"Friendly heads-up; Izu is an emotional dunderhead, but he's sentimental. Tokage and him organized this as a celebration, but he doesn't really want praise, or gratitude. Just act natural. I can tell the high profiles are wrecking your nerves, but know that he only invited them, and you, because you're trustworthy. There's no ulterior motive."
Without two hundred extra pounds of muscle and a fiery reputation, he supposed that made her even more impressive.
The boy chewed his lip, and glanced across the hall. Shouta Aizawa stood in a large machine's shadow, buried in his phone. Present Mic stood beside him. Midnight was an arm's length away. He twisted around all the way. Momo Yaoyorozu. Sir Nighteye. Endeavor.
He leveled Fuyumi with a deadpan stare.
"You understand that if I make a bad impression here, my entire future could collapse?"
Her lip twitched.
"You already dropped a baby and tackled a preschool teacher. Perhaps you want to try flirting with Ms. Kayama?"
He started walking away before she finished, ears burning. If only he was a little quicker, he might've missed Midnight's offhand comment. A minor tragedy.
"I doubt that'd surprise anyone. Now, imagine the fireworks if he shot for Tokage."
Despite their tag-teaming teasing, he tried following her advice. As tough a pill as their statuses were, he tried greeting everyone like they were normal; as if no one had made headlines. He worked his way up from Bakugo to Yaoyorozu, and then from Mr. Tokage to Shouta Aizawa, when he risked his solitude for fruit punch.
He did rounds, circling the cliques and conversations with eyes peeled for green—but no luck. It forced him to greet more people, to hold more conversations, and by the time he realized Midoriya simply wasn't there, he was almost… comfortable.
Not comfortable enough to casually chat-up Sir Nighteye, legendary sidekick turned accomplished hero. But comfortable enough to not flinch when Present Mic's boisterous greeting came his way.
He lost track of time. The warehouse had no windows to indicate the changing sun, and with a toddler glued to his hip, checking his phone was no good. Owning a watch was out of the question.
He only felt the time once Sai's weight disappeared. With a start, he lurched forward and tried snatching Sai back up, afraid of a second offense—only to find Tatsumi raising an eyebrow at him. Sai relaxed in her arms.
"Can I have my baby, please?"
The boy wobbled, surprised at her return. Rocking on unsteady feet, he stretched his aching arm and rolled his wrist.
"Geez, I thought you were still talking to Tokage and her mom? What time is it?"
With practiced ease, Tatsumi fished her phone from her pocket, and he envied her powers.
"Sun's gone down. Tokage's mom came by, but that was a bit ago. I haven't seen the girlie since."
"Well, I haven't seen Midoriya yet. I met Endeavor, though. And Present Mic."
"I squeaked a word in, too," Tatsumi said, nodding. She scanned the general mob. "…Yeah, it looks like they're gone."
The boy dug his heel into the waxed floor.
"I still don't really get it. As thorough as I was, I didn't find a 1A kid here. Aren't those his friends? Why'd he invite me—invite us—and not them? And hell, even if it somehow makes sense, why did he invite us to just… disappear?"
Sai played patty-cake with Tatsumi's neck. She weathered it with a smile.
"You still haven't figured it out yet?"
[x]
"We should go back down, y'know?" Setsuna said, pulling her head off his shoulder. He kept looking forward. "My folks went all-out on the catering, and Nighteye was generous enough to lend the gym. Skipping your own party doesn't make you cool."
Sitting to his right felt odd. After so many years, his left side was almost like a second home; she was comfortable there and knew where she belonged. In any other situation, she'd never abandon her post.
His fingers squeezed hers. She rubbed circles into his thumb. Holding hands was new, and something made complicated by his lack of a left hand. Her feet happily kicked off the roof's edge, brushing his. New wasn't bad—but it wasn't familiar.
"It's not just my party. Silver is here. Bronze is here. Yaoyorozu performed adequately, and let's not forget Shoto. They can be celebrated, too."
"Bronze is on the roof, actually," Setsuna said, before resting her head against his again. Half the moon peaked over a distant factory. They'd have to say goodbye soon.
When they went back down, she'd reclaim her duty as his left hand, but for now, holding his right wasn't so bad. Not at all. And it wasn't totally unfamiliar.
"Bronze is wherever she thinks she should be. Gold's just happy it's with him," Izuku said. He kissed the top of her head and spoke into her hair. "Very, very happy."
Gosh, she just wanted to squeeze him till he popped. That was familiar. She hummed.
"Do you lean more towards "very happy," or "very, very, very happy?" Setsuna asked, still watching the moon. Without a word, Izuku kissed the back of her hand. Her knees rubbed together. "...I see. What does that entail?"
"Everything," Izuku said, without delay. "Total transparency. Absolute gratitude. Unwavering trust. Whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?" Setsuna asked, pulling away. The moon washed his eyes blue as he turned to her.
His scars looked different in the dark. They blended with the shadows while dusk's meager light pooled around his gentler features. Setsuna drank him in like the thirst would kill her. After years of stolen glances, finally having permission to ogle him was a weight off her conscience. She committed everything to memory.
Her cheeks heated as he unabashedly did the same to her.
Their noses brushed. She didn't know who moved. It wasn't their first kiss anymore, but her heart still beat out of her chest while her guts flipped and danced. She wondered if this euphoria would ever fade. She doubted it.
Their lips brushed, but before they completed the kiss, Izuku stopped.
"You're my best friend," he whispered, eyes half-lidded and low. His lips brushed hers as he spoke. "My motivation and rival. My partner."
Setsuna closed her eyes and tried not to let him drive her crazy.
"Is that all?" She asked, butterflies tickling her ribs.
"You're the first girl I ever liked. Always on my mind. My north star."
She snaked her free hand around his neck.
"Is that all?"
"I'm sorry for being a stubborn coward. I never want to be difficult for you again… but I still want to be selfish. You're amazing, and you fill my life, but I want more. Need more. Set, will you… stay with me? Will you be my girlfriend?"
She crushed him against her, completing the tantalizing kiss with all the answers he needed. His hand squeezed hers, and she rubbed into his thumb. They only broke apart when she grew sick for air. While she panted, struggling to breathe, he planted another kiss on her cheek.
"Please don't snap my neck," he said, breaking into a chuckle. "'Would be a terrible way to end this dream. Pinch me instead."
She pinched him and held it.
"Take me on a date," she said, twisting the pinch till his laughter twisted into cries. "I deserve one. It can't be until after we meet up with 1A… but don't make me wait too long. Not fancy, either, but no fast food. Somewhere I can wear a dress."
"Y-yes m-ma'am," Izuku forced out. For extra emphasis, she dialed the pinch another tick.
"And what will you bring me?"
"F-flowers!"
She let him go, and peppered his cheek with kisses.
It was weird. After imagining kissing his left cheek so much, ultimately going for his right felt wrong.
The moon lifted over the buildings, and they knew they couldn't hide anymore. Naturally, as they stood, she slotted against his left flank—but he didn't let go of her hand. It was an awkward affair, with his arm bent to accommodate her, but neither could've been happier. Before they rejoined the party, she was sure to give his other cheek just as much appreciation.
This was new, unfamiliar territory, but it wasn't so strange after all.
[x]
AN: And now we get to wind some things down. I like to imagine that after some good food and some serious relaxation, Setsuna's normal bluster somewhat resurfaces and presents itself as a very physical confidence. Izuku is so down for it.
Next chapter, which I'm still working on, will be about 1A. After that, depending on how i feel... Eraserhead.
review!~