Kyouka Jirou had a secret—a guilty pleasure, you could say. It wasn't something she was proud of, and she'd never admit it to anyone either, but recently, when most of Class 1A had turned in and the dorms were quiet, she found herself drawn to the common room like a moth to a flame.
It had all started a few weeks ago. The stress of exams, late-night training, and the general pressure of being a U.A. student had left her room, which was normally the introverted girl's sanctuary, feeling as if the walls around her were closing in. So she'd wandered out of her room looking for somewhere to study that didn't feel so claustrophobic. That's when she heard it: a soft, rhythmic murmur weaving through the stillness of the common room. She followed the sound, her curiosity piqued, and found Izuku Midoriya, hunched over a notebook with his hands half covering his mouth, muttering to himself as he scribbled furiously.
It wasn't unusual to see him like this. Midoriya's mumbling was a well-known quirk of his, something that most of the class teased him about. He did it during training, in class, even during lunch if he got too absorbed in his thoughts. But here, in the quiet of the night, his voice was different—softer, more earnest. It was just a pure stream of consciousness. She could barely make out the words, and something about that low, comforting murmur soothed her in a way she couldn't explain.
So she started coming to the common room more often, under the pretense of studying. She'd bring her textbooks, her notes, and pretend to be engrossed in her work, all the while listening to the steady cadence of his voice. It calmed her racing thoughts, helped her focus. And as strange as it was, she found herself looking forward to these late-night study sessions, even if she never really got much studying done.
She wasn't sure when it had started, this pull toward him. Maybe it had been building up for a while, quietly growing beneath the surface. Midoriya wasn't like anyone else. He wasn't loud or brash, but he was persistent, determined in a way that made Kyouka admire him without meaning to. There was something different about him—an unwavering dedication to his ideals, to others, and to becoming a better version of himself that set him apart from the usual crowd. And maybe, in his mutterings, in that unfiltered glimpse into his mind, she saw someone raw and real.
Tonight was no different. She was curled up on the couch, a textbook open on her lap, though she hadn't turned a page in at least ten minutes. Midoriya was at the far end of the room, his notebook spread out in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration. She watched him through her bangs, her heart doing a little flip when he paused to chew on the end of his pen, his eyes wide and thoughtful.
She knew she shouldn't be watching him like this. It was weird, and a little creepy, and definitely something she'd be mortified to admit. But she couldn't help it. There was something about him—something genuine and earnest and kind—that drew her in. He was nothing like the guys or girls she usually went for, but maybe that was the point.
Midoriya wasn't flashy or loud, but that's what she found herself appreciating about him more and more. He was grounded, solid, someone who quietly worked at bettering himself. There was a kind of beauty in that, a kind of reliability. And as much as Kyouka tried to brush it off as a fleeting infatuation, she couldn't deny that she was drawn to him in a way she hadn't been with anyone else.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. It didn't matter why she was drawn to him. It was just a harmless little crush, a guilty pleasure she indulged in when no one else was around. It wasn't like he'd ever notice her, anyway. Not in that way.
But as she shifted uncomfortably to shake off the feeling, his muttering paused as he seemed to notice, and she felt her heart skip a beat with the paranoid thought entering her head that he somehow knew what she was thinking. As soon as the thought occurred, it was gone as he started muttering again, this time just loud enough to pick up snippets of his normally inaudible muttering. "…hope I didn't offend her… She probably thinks I'm a weirdo… But she's so pretty, I don't want her to think that…"
Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, straining to catch the words. Was he talking about someone in the class? Her mind raced through the possibilities. Uraraka, maybe? She was sweet and bubbly, and definitely his type. Or Asui? She was strong and dependable, someone he clearly respected. But then he said something that made her breath catch.
She froze with realization, her heart thudding in her chest. He couldn't mean… no, there was no way he meant her. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought. But it nagged at her, the possibility echoing in her mind long after she'd closed her textbook and retreated to her room.
The next few days were a blur of classes, training, and stolen glances across the room. Kyouka tried to push the thoughts away, tried to convince herself that it was just her overactive imagination. But every time she saw Midoriya, she felt that little flutter in her chest, and she couldn't help but wonder.
Why her? It didn't make sense. Midoriya, of all people, thinking she was pretty? She wasn't exactly the type to draw attention. She wasn't bubbly like Uraraka, or elegant like Yaoyorozu. She was just…her. Blunt, reserved, awkward. Why would someone like him, who admired strength and beauty in all forms, think of her in that way? And yet, it nagged at her—the way his words had seemed so genuine, so full of quiet admiration.
She realized, slowly, that it wasn't just that she was attracted to him. It was that he had seen something in her that she hadn't even acknowledged in herself.
Then, during class one morning, Aizawa-sensei's voice cut through the usual pre-bell chatter. "For your upcoming project, I'm pairing you up in groups of two. The paper is due at the end of the month, and you'll be expected to present your findings to the class. First up, Midoriya and Jirou."
Kyouka's stomach dropped. She glanced over at Midoriya, who looked just as stunned as she felt. She forced herself to nod, trying to ignore the anxious flutter in her chest. This was fine. They were just working on a project together. It wasn't like she'd have to deal with his weirdly soothing muttering up close or anything.
Except that's exactly what ended up happening.
They met in the common room that evening, books and laptops spread out between them. Midoriya was uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes darting to her and then back to his notes like he was afraid she'd bite him. She couldn't blame him. They hadn't really talked much outside of training, and she knew she could come off as intimidating, even though she didn't mean to.
After a while, though, he started muttering again, his voice dropping to that soft, almost inaudible level she'd come to find so comforting. She could barely make out the words, something about the correlation between Quirks and physical aptitude, and she felt herself relax. This was familiar territory, something she could handle.
His muttering grew more animated as he went on, clearly in his element. "It's like, take your Quirk for example… It's not just about strength but balance, reflexes—it's practically a work of art when you think about it. The way it all comes together, it's...well, it's..."
He paused, flustered, before stumbling ahead. "I-I mean, not that I've been paying that close attention, but, you know, from an analytical standpoint..."
It got quiet for a bit, Izuku forcing himself to shut up, worried he was upsetting her, while Kyouka was simply too focused on taking notes to notice his minor slip.
But then his muttering shifted again. "…probably shouldn't have said that. She's definitely going to think I'm a creep. God, why did I just gush about how pretty she is? She's the most beautiful girl in class and I'm here just babbling like an idiot…"
Her pencil froze mid-sentence. Her face felt hot, and she ducked her head, pretending to read over their notes. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Was he really talking about her? It didn't make sense. Why would he think that about her? The prettiest girl in class? She wasn't even close.
But then she looked up and caught the way he was peeking at her as well, his expression flustered, and something clicked. It was her. He really felt that way about her.
"Izuku," she blurted out before she could stop herself. He flinched, and she instantly regretted using his first name. "Uh, I mean, Midoriya."
"Y-yes, Jirou?" He looked like a deer caught in headlights.
She took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest.
He blinked, confusion evident on his face. "M-mean what?"
"You… You called me…" Her voice wavered, and she cursed herself for getting so worked up. "You called me the most beautiful girl in class. Is that really what you think?"
His face turned a brilliant shade of red, and she felt a small, irrational surge of satisfaction at the sight, even as she started blushing herself. He was cute when he was flustered. But she pushed that thought away, focusing on the way his eyes were widening in panic.
"W-well, I-I—" He stammered, his hands flailing in front of him as if trying to grasp the right words. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable! I just—I mean, I think you're really—" He sucked in a breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." The words slipped out before she even realized it. His head shot up, eyes wide with surprise. She fiddled with the edge of her notebook, trying to find the right words. "I just… I don't get it. Why would you think that? About me?"
He stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Because you are?" He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and her heart skipped another beat. "I mean, you're talented, and you're strong, and… and your earlobes are really cool."
She laughed, a small, surprised sound that made his eyes soften. "That's what you think is pretty about me? My earlobes?"
"No, I mean—" He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just think you're beautiful. All of you. Like I said earlier, with it all coming together like art…"
Kyouka didn't know what to say to that. She wasn't used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone like him. Someone kind, and genuine, and—
"Look," he said, his voice hesitant. "I know this is probably really weird for you, and I'm sorry if I've made things awkward. We can just focus on the project and I'll do my best not to mutter anymore, okay?"
But she shook her head, surprising them both. "No, it's… it's fine. I just…" She took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. "I kind of like hearing you mutter. It's… soothing."
His eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yeah." She looked away, feeling her face heat up again. "So, um… maybe after the project… we could, I don't know, hang out or something? Like a date?"
The silence stretched between them, and she almost wished she could take the words back. But then he smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made her heart flutter.
"I'd like that," he said quietly. "I'd like that a lot."
She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face, a quiet relief settling over her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel the need to run away from her feelings or hide them behind sarcasm. It was as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders, one she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying.
"Great," she said, her voice a little breathless. "Then, um… after we finish the project?"
"Yeah," he nodded, his own smile widening as he glanced down at their scattered notes. "After we finish the project."
For the rest of the evening, they worked together with a new ease between them, the quiet comfort of Midoriya's muttering now something Kyouka welcomed, rather than secretly indulged in. And for once, her heart didn't race from anxiety or doubt, but from something else entirely. Something warm, and hopeful, and maybe—just maybe—a little bit wonderful.
