Disclaimer: This is a closed door smut chapter. Read at your own discretion.

The airport was alive with a symphony of sensations.

The sharp tang of disinfectant mixed with the faint aroma of roasted coffee beans from a nearby kiosk.

Overhead, the PA system crackled, announcing flights in a robotic monotone, barely audible over the hum of countless conversations and the rhythmic clatter of luggage wheels on polished tiles.

Fluorescent lights bathed the terminal in a sterile glow, reflecting off the massive glass windows that revealed a dark, cloudy December sky.

Izuku stood near the departure gate, a strap of his backpack digging into his shoulder. His gloved fingers absently traced the edges of his boarding pass, the paper slightly crumpled from his nervous grip. A bead of sweat tricked down his temple despite the cold air that lingered near the automatic doors, carrying with it the faint metallic bite of winter.

"It's really happening," he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible over the bustling crowd. His eyes darted to the departure screen above, where his flight's details glowed in stark white against a black backdrop. The weight of the moment pressed against him, heavier than the packed bag slung across his back.

Beside him, Kamiko shifted on her feet, the vibrant green plushie in her hands fluttering slightly as she fidgeted with it. The color, a deliberate nod to him, seemed to glow under the artificial light. Her expression was a mix of teasing and melancholy as she nudged him with her elbow. "Remember when you stayed up all night working on that essay?" she asked, her tone light despite the barely withheld tears in her eyes.

His lips quirked into a small, sheepish smile. "How could I forget? You made me rewrite it three times."

"And it paid off," she shot back, her grin widening. "That essay was brilliant, but only because you're brilliant. Don't forget that, Izuku."

Izuku laughed softly, his cheeks flushing at the compliment. "You're the one who kept me going. There was no way I could have done it without you.

The memory of those sleepless nights was fresh in his mind, as vivid as if they had occurred just days ago. The application process for the foreign exchange student program had been exhaustive, demanding official transcripts, glowing recommendation letters, and a deeply introspective personal statement. Each step had felt like an uphill battle, yet it was one Izuku had willingly embraced. Nights were spent hunched over his desk, the glow of his computer screen illuminating a cluttered workspace filled with scribbled notes and half-empty coffee cups. Perfecting his essays had been a grueling exercise in self-reflection, forcing him to articulate the essence of his aspirations.

He remembered the countless drafts of his essay, each iteration baring more of his soul. Why did a remarkable Pro-Hero with the intention of getting a degree in education want to study abroad? That was the biggest question on his application. Izuku had poured his heart into explaining his dream of becoming a Symbol of Peace with a global reach - a hero who could inspire unity beyond borders. Unite heroes across cultures and foster collaboration in ways that could redefine heroism itself. All Might had taken the initiative; it was Izuku's turn to take up the mantle. To Izuku, studying abroad in the United States represented more than just an opportunity for academic growth; it was a critical step in understanding how other nations cultivated their heroes. He truly believed that immersing himself in a new environment, surrounded by diverse perspectives, would provide the insight he needed to grow into a Pro-Hero capable of bridging gaps and building alliances. Combining that with his education degree, he envisioned a future where he could mentor aspiring heroes, not only in Japan but across the globe. Because heroism was not only about strength or quirk mastery; it was about instilling values of empathy, collaboration, and resilience. Especially toward the mutant community.

Since July, months of preparation had culminated in a painstakingly crafted application. He had approached mentors, including All Might, Aizawa-san, and Recovery Girl, who had written excellent letters of recommendation. The international program's rigorous selection criteria had left little room for complacency, but Izuku's vision had shone through.

"Izuku," his mother's voice pulled from his thoughts. She stood close, her small frame dwarfed by the emotions that flickered across her face. Pride, sadness, and love all mingled in her teary, forest-green eyes as she reached up to straighten the collar of his jacket. "You've worked so hard for this," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm so proud of you, but I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too, Mom," Izuku replied, his throat tightening. The scent of her familiar floral perfume clung to the air between them, an appreciated reprieve from the chemical smell of the airport. "But this is important. It's a step toward ascending as the Symbol of Peace. To make lives better for people like Kamiko. I need to do this."

His mother nodded, though huge tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She dabbed at them with a napkin, her hands shaking. "Promise me you'll often call," she said. Her tone broke. "Even if it's just for a few minutes. I need to hear your voice. Need to know you're okay."

Izuku recalled his early years at U.A., when he had unintentionally neglected his own well-being and made his mother age a decade from worry. Never again was he going to repeat that mistake. "I promise," he answered firmly, leaning down to pull her into a tight hug. Her embrace was warm and strong. He was likely not going to get another one until Spring Break, so he committed the feeling to memory.

"Remember to look after yourself," his mother began on a last-minute tirade. "Eat on time. Don't skip breakfast. I packed your bag with snacks, so make sure to eat them. Your childhood blanket, All Might figurines and posters, and photo albums are in there to help with the homesickness. And don't worry about the time difference. Call me, even if it's 3 a.m. in Tokyo."

A short laugh made its way up his throat despite the heaviness of the situation. "Definitely, Mom. I'll remember to take care of myself."

Kamiko cleared her throat, stepping forward with the plushie still in her hands. "Here," she stated, passing the item to him. A green fox with a lighter shade for the body but darker tones for the appendages. "Not sure if you remember, but I made this just before we had started dating. I made it in your aesthetics. Now, it's yours."

Izuku remembered exactly what it was. The plushie made in likeness of him. He had seen it on her bed multiple times. He took it, the cotton soft against his calloused fingertips. The faint scent of Kamiko lingered on the fabric, a token of her presence. He opened his jacket buttons and put it inside one of the inner pockets. "Thank you, Kamiko. I'll treasure it."

"It's enchanted," she added mischievously, though her own collection of tears glistened on her cheeks. "Not literally, but it has my essence in it. You can't forget me now."

He chuckled, the sound tinged with bitter-sweetness. "As if I ever could."

The overhead intercom buzzed to life, announcing the departure of his flight in two hours. The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with significance. Izuku took a deep breath, his chest tightening. It was time.

He hugged his mother one last time, feeling the slight tremor in her shoulders as she clung to him. "I love you, Mom," he whispered.

"I love you too, Izuku," she replied, tone barely audible.

Then Izuku turned to Kamiko. She made no effort to hide her quivering as she clung to him. Her fingers dug into his back just as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. He returned the embrace with equal ferocity. Into her ear, he murmured, "I love you, my demon goddess."

He felt her smile into his neck. "You as well, my fallen angel. More than you think.

"Promise me you'll keep playing your music." His voice was steady despite the lump in his throat. "I want to hear all about your songs when I call."

"Only if you promise to tell me about your classes and adventures," she countered.

"Deal," he said with a small smile as they pulled apart. Her brave façade cracked for a while, but she quickly composed herself, her eyes fierce with determination.

"Go be amazing, Izuku," she said. "Change the world."

He nodded, swallowing hard before stepping toward the security check. Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, the weight of his dreams propelling him forward. Izuku barely paid attention to the security agent passing him through the scanner, refilling his backpack with his personal items, and walking toward the gate. As he handed over his boarding pass and disappeared down the jet bridge, the sights, sounds, and scents of home lingered in his mind—a reminder of what he was leaving behind and what he was striving for.

This was the beginning of something extraordinary.

Izuku tightened the collar around his neck as he stepped into the business-class cabin, following the stewardess's polite instructions. His breath caught as he took in the sight before him. The Hero Public Safety Commission spared no expense. This was no ordinary airplane seating arrangement - it was a luxurious haven of personal space. Each seat was enclosed in a high-walled pod, its sleek, modern design whispering of both comfort and elegance. A sense of privacy hung over the cabin, with the muted hum of the engines adding to the atmosphere of serenity.

"Good evening, Mr. Midoriya," a stewardess greeted with a warm smile in perfect English, her uniform impeccable and her manner composed. Black hair fixed into a tight bun, professional makeup to accentuate her eyes and lips. "Your seat is just here - 2A. Please let me know if you need assistance settling in."

"T-thank you," Izuku stammered back in English, his cheeks flushing as he carefully maneuvered into his assigned seat. It was wide and plush, upholstered in soft leather that seemed to envelop him the moment he sat down. He glanced around, marveling at the array of buttons on the armrest and the large screen embedded in the wall in front of him. A side console offered a small compartment for storage, and next to it was a polished tray table tucked neatly into the seat's design.

Izuku fumbled for his backpack, instinctively trying to push it under the seat before realizing there was no traditional space for it. The same dark-haired stewardess reappeared, as if sensing his confusion. "If you'd like, you can store your bag in the compartment beneath the armrest," she suggested, motioning toward a hidden latch.

"Oh, thank you!" Izuku exclaimed, carefully placing his bag in the designated spot. The compartment's soft lining ensured his belongings would not shift during the flight.

No sooner had he settled than another attendant arrived, carrying a tray with sparkling glasses. "Would you care for a pre-departure drink, Mr. Midoriya? We have champagne, orange juice, and sparkling water."

"Um, orange juice, please," Izuku said, feeling slightly out of place but trying to maintain decorum.

"Certainly," he replied, placing the glass on the table before him. The condensation from the chilled drink left a small ring on the polished surface, a testament to the cabin's cool, comfortable temperature.

Izuku sipped the bubbly juice and glanced around the cabin again. The other passengers appeared at ease, chatting softly or exploring the entertainment systems embedded in their seats. He noticed one passenger adjust their seat into a reclining position with the press of a button, the movement smooth and quiet.

Before long, a third attendant came by with a basket of steaming, rolled towels. Was this really how the business class experience was like, or had the Commission given orders to the airline to treat him like a VIP? This stewardess had closely cropped dark red hair. "Would you like a towel to freshen up?" she asked, leaning slightly toward him.

"Oh! Yes, please," Izuku replied, accepting the warm towel. He unfolded it slowly, letting the gentle eucalyptus scent envelop him. Pressing the cloth to his face, he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.

Moments later, a leather-bound menu manifested in his hands. His eyes widened as he scanned the options: miso-glazed salmon with seasonal vegetables, roasted chicken with truffle-infused mashed potatoes, or a vegetarian risotto. Each dish sounded more extravagant than the last. A list of beverages followed, including wines paired with each course.

The fourth flight attendant beside him, pen poised.

"Have you decided on your meal, Mr. Midoriya?" they inquired.

Izuku had no more lingering doubts. This was definitely the work of the Commission. "I'll have the salmon, please," he said, his voice more confident now.

"Excellent choice. Would you like sparkling water with your meal, or perhaps green tea?"

He had already finished the orange juice. It was delicious. Izuku figured it would not hurt to try another beverage. "Green tea is fine, thank you."

The plane's engines began to roar softly as it taxied down the runway, and Izuku felt his stomach flutter. It was not fear of flying - he had inherited a floating quirk, and he had flown before. It was the sheer unfamiliarity of this opulent experience. He had always travelled in economy class before. As the plane lifted into the air, the cabin lights dimmed slightly, signaling the transition to the dinner service.

Attendants moved gracefully through the aisles, balancing trays with practiced ease. Izuku watched as his tray table - which had automatically folded up after his orange juice drink - unfold seamlessly from the side of his seat. A crisp white tablecloth was spread across it, followed by his meal on delicate porcelain dishes. The salmon was perfectly plated, glistening with miso glaze and surrounded by vibrant vegetables. A small dish of ginger-infused sauce accompanied it.

"Wow," Izuku murmured, picking up the polished silverware. He hesitated before taking a first bite, almost afraid to ruin the artistry of the presentation. The salmon was tender, its flavor a perfect balance of sweet and savory. Each bite seemed to melt in his mouth.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" spoke the server.

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, it's delicious. Thank you," Izuku said, glancing up at her with a genuine smile.

Dessert was a matcha mousse, served in a petite glass cup and topped with a dusting of powdered sugar. The familiar bitterness of the matcha mingled perfectly with the light sweetness of the cream. Izuku savored each spoonful, the taste transporting him back to quiet afternoons at home with his mother. After the trays were cleared, the cabin transitioned into a restful mode. The lights dimmed further, and an attendant brought a thick blanket and a pillow to each passenger. Izuku experimented with the reclining function of his seat, grinning as it adjusted to a fully flat position. He never got this luxury in economy class. The provided blanket was soft and warm, unlike the scratchy, thin ones he used to receive, and he pulled it over himself as he settled in.

Unable to sleep just yet, he explored the entertainment system, selecting a nature documentary narrated in a soothing voice. The vivid imagery of lush forests and flowing rivers filled the screen, and Izuku's eyelids began to grow heavy.

Before closing his eyes, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small plushie Kamiko had given him. He held it in his hand, its fabric comforting against his palm. A smile tugged at his lips.

"This is going to be worth it," he whispered to himself. "For you, for me, for everyone. It's all worth it."

Kamiko stared out of her bedroom window, watching the snowfall coat the empty street in a pristine blanket of white. The world outside seemed so quiet, as if even the city itself was mourning Izuku's absence. She clutched her phone tightly in her hand, the screen dark but her thumb hovering over his name in her contacts list. She had already texted him earlier, a simple "Have a safe flight" followed by a green heart. He had replied with a thank you and a promise to keep her updated when he landed. That was hours ago, but her chest still felt heavy with the ache of missing him.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, the last few hours they spent together before his flight …

Kamiko sat on the edge of Izuku's bed, her hands resting on a folded shirt she had been absentmindedly smoothing out. The suitcase in front of her was mostly packed, its contents a mix of carefully folded clothes and essentials, all meticulously organized the way only Izuku could manage. Not like her own packing method, which involved cramming everything until no room was left. The faint scent of laundry detergent lingered in the air, a small reminder of how ordinary the night had started. Yet, nothing about it felt ordinary now.

"I think that's everything," Izuku declared in a quiet but steady tone. He crouched on the floor, tugging at the zipper of his other suitcase with practiced care. His lush green eyes flickered to Kamiko, a question unspoken but clear: Was she okay? Was this okay?

Kamiko hugged her knees to her chest, her gaze fixed on the backpack resting by the door. It slouched slightly under its own weight, the sight of it a stark reminder that he would be leaving in just a few hours. "Did you double-check your carry-on? Passport, phone charger, snacks?" she asked, her voice barely above a hush.

Izuku's mouth curled upward just a bit, a small attempt to lighten the weight between them. "Yes, Mother," he teased lightly.

She managed a weak imitation of a laugh, but it fizzled out as quickly as it came. Her fingers found the edge of a small photo album on his desk, and she picked it up, flipping through its pages. Mementos of their dates. The day they confessed they liked each other in the tulip garden; their sunrise date amongst the clouds; their dates at all the cafés and restaurants they dined; photos with Bakugou, Etsudo, and their friends. The ones near the end were more risqué. Memories of their first time, his birthday special, Halloween punishment.

She stopped at a photo depicting her asleep after a night of trysts. Her hair was tousled, and her face subconsciously twisted in a frown from not feeling Izuku's warmth around her. After she had woken up, he had made it up to her with lots of kisses. The problem was, she was not going to get that luxury for a long time.

"This is going to me for the next few years," Kamiko murmured, running her thumb over the lamination.

Izuku glanced up from his suitcase, craning his head to peer at what Kamiko was looking at. "That's not true. I'll come home every vacation. There's Summer Break, too. I heard in the States, it lasts for about three to four months."

She shook her head. "Still too long."

He stood, brushing his hands off on his pants as he moved to sit next to her. The bed creaked under his weight. For a moment, they sat in silence, the quiet hum of the city outside filling the space between them. He leaned forward, slinging his arm across her shoulders. "You're going to be okay while I'm gone, right?" Izuku's eyes were full of concern.

Kamiko blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry. She failed at it miserably. "I should be asking you that," she replied. "You're the one flying across the world to … whatever it is the Safety Commission has you doing."

"It's important," Izuku consoled, his gaze distant for a moment before refocusing on her. "My dream. For us, for Japan. But I'll miss you. A lot." An idea struck him. "You know what? Stay here tonight. In my room. In my bed. Let me love you so much tonight that it keeps you going until I return."

She had wanted to argue that no amount of intimacy would compensate for the duration they would be apart from each other, but the bigger part of her craved every last moment she could get with him. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

Goodbye sex.

That was what she would call it later. After tonight.

Even as she shifted to sit on Izuku's lap, thighs straddling either side of his hips. Even as his hands came up under her sweater and into her jeans. Even when she had taken to laving his neck, leaving a necklace of marks as a parting gift.

No words were spoken tonight. None had to be. If there had been, Kamiko feared that she would have broke down then and there.

Soon, she had her fill of his collar. Taking his lips, Kamiko seared his mouth into her memory. His lips against hers, his tongue playing with hers, his teeth clashing against hers. People had a scent; people had a taste. Tonight, Kamiko was determined to memorize every little detail about him.

He tugged at the hem of her sweater, pulling it and the shirt underneath over her head. Her bra followed soon after. The pile of clothes landed on the floor, growing as the jeans and underwear fell on top of them. As his clothes were removed, too. They slept together, side by side. Kissing, caressing. Adoring, admiring. Embracing, loving. In each other's arms, they bid good night, knowing another night like this would not come any time soon.

Kamiko absentmindedly touched her face, surprised to find her fingers wet. When had she started crying? Maybe around the point she reminisced about the photo album. Izuku had taken it with him. But what memorabilia did she carry of him anymore? Her pillow hardly carried his scent anymore. The treats he bought her were all finished. Her gaze landed on his sweatshirt hanging on her chair.

Better than nothing, she supposed.

After wearing it, Kamiko huddled into the article and climbed into bed. Hours later, she fell asleep, clutching that sweatshirt like a vise.

Izuku stepped off the plane, his shoes meeting solid ground as he descended onto U.S. soil. The balmy evening air carried with it the scent of rain-soaked pavement, and the darkened sky stretched endlessly above him. A deep sense of accomplishment mingled with his exhaustion as he adjusted the strap of his bag. The journey had been long, but here he was, finally at his destination.

Despite his protests that he could manage by himself, the Hero Public Safety Commission had ensured every aspect of his arrival was handled with meticulous care. A representative met him at the baggage claim, guiding him through the customs with practiced efficiency. Izuku marvelled at how seamless everything felt. No hiccups, no delays, and no need for him to stumble through explanations. His doubts whether his Japanese accent slipping through his English would pose a communication difficulty dissipated. The representative's practiced smile had been the last thing he saw before being dropped off at a hotel the Commission had pre-booked for him.

The hotel's grand facade loomed ahead, its glowing sign casting a welcoming light over the sidewalk. The polished floor gleamed under soft lighting, and the subtle scent of lavender lingered in the air.

The grandeur of the place told Izuku everything he needed to know - it was fancy and five stars. "Good evening, Mr. Midoriya," the concierge greeted him warmly as he entered the spacious lobby. The man must have been his senior by at least twenty years, yet it was Izuku who was being greeted so graciously.

"Good evening," Izuku replied, bowing slightly out of habit. Then, realizing that bowing was not common in the States, he hastily got back up.

Whether the concierge noticed, the man's expression belayed nothing. "Your suite is ready for you," he continued. "Please let us know if there's anything you need during your stay." They skipped past reception as the concierge guided him toward the elevators. Together they went up twelve floors and navigated the corridors. Izuku accepted the key card before bidding good night.

The moment he stepped into the suite, he was struck by its opulence. A plush king-sized bed sat against the far wall, adorned with crisp white linens and an assortment of decorative black pillows. A spacious sitting area featured an oversized armchair, a sleek sofa, and a coffee table that held a welcome note and a small basket of snacks. Izuku placed his luggage by the closet and explored the suite with growing awe. The bathroom was nothing short of luxurious, with a walk-in shower, a soaking tub, and a marble vanity stocked with premium toiletries. A kitchenette held a variety of complimentary beverages and a neatly arranged assortment of tea and coffee pods. It was clear the Commission had thought of everything, even ensuring he would not need to leave for essentials.

Still, the day's travels had left him restless. The soft hum of Californian city life drifted through the suite's windows, and Izuku felt the pull of exploration. He was not ready to sleep yet, despite his fatigue. A quick search on his phone revealed a coffee shop open late just a block away. "Perfect," he said to himself, grabbing his wallet and slipping into his jacket.

The coffee shop was cozy and inviting, with warm lighting and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. A small line formed near the counter, and Izuku joined it, glancing at the extensive menu displayed above.

"Wow," he murmured, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar terms. Macchiato, cortado, flat white … While he believed English was adequately serviceable, he was not versed in coffee shop jargon. The variety was overwhelming, and his brow furrowed as he tried to decipher the options. Funny. He never had this sort of problem back in Tokyo cafés.

"Next!" called a nervous voice from behind the counter. Izuku stepped forward, his eyes meeting a young woman who appeared about his age. Maybe just two or three youngers. Her uniform was slightly wrinkled, and a stray strand of blonde hair had escaped her ponytail. She offered him a tentative smile.

"Hi! Um, welcome. Sorry in advance if I mess up. It's my first day," she said, fiddling with her apron strings. Her badge read 'Tara' in block letters.

Izuku smiled back. "No problem. Take your time," he assured her. The words sounded fine to his ears. Perhaps they would to her, too.

It did. "Thanks. What can I get for you?" she asked, her fingers hovering over the register.

He hesitated, eyes flicking back to the menu. "I'm not really sure," he admitted sheepishly. "I've never ordered at a place like this before."

Tara blinked once before laughing lightly. "Oh, okay. No worries. Do you … like strong coffee? Or something sweeter?"

"Um, maybe something in between?" Izuku offered, his tone uncertain. He could feel the line behind him growing impatient, and a group of teenagers near the window began whispering and snickering.

"Just pick something already!" one of them called out, earning a hard glare from Tara.

"Ignore them," she said quickly. "Let's see … maybe a latte? It's got milk, so it's not too strong."

Izuku nodded, though his confused deepened. He inquired, "Okay, sure. But … what's the difference between a latte and, uh, a cappuccino?" That was one of the beverages that had an entire section of the menu devoted to itself.

Tara paused, biting her lip. "Okay, so … a latte has more milk, and a cappuccino has … less milk, but more foam?"

"More foam?" Izuku echoed, feeling utterly lost.

"Yeah, like … the frothy stuff on top?" Tara explained, though her tone suggested she was not entirely confident in her answer.

Izuku replied, "Oh. I think I get it," though his bemused expression betrayed him. "But what about an Americano? Or a flat white?"

Tara's cheeks flushed. "An Americano is just espresso and water, and a flat white is kind of like a latte but with less foam?"

The teenagers burst into laughter, their jeers growing louder. "Just get a plain black coffee, dude!" another shouted.

Izuku's shoulders tensed, and he gave Tara an apologetic look. "Sorry, I-I don't want to make this hard for you. I'll just t-t-take whatever's cheapest."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, no, it's okay! I want to help. The cheapest thing would be a double-shot espresso. It's really strong, though. Are you sure that's what you want?"

He nodded hurriedly, eager to end the ordeal. "Yeah, that's fine. Thank you."

"Okay!" Tara exclaimed, visibly relieved. She took his name and punched the order in the register and handed him his receipt. "It'll be ready in just a minute." Izuku stepped aside, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as the teenagers' laughter followed him. He kept his head down, pretending to study his receipt until his name was called. "Double espresso for Izuku!"

He retrieved the small paper cup, its contents dark and steaming. The aroma was rich but intimidating. As he took a cautious sip, the bitter taste hit him like a punch. His eyes watered slightly, but he forced himself to swallow.

"Wow," he muttered under his breath. "That's intense. Never again."

Izuku leaned back in the plush armchair of his hotel suite, exhaustion weighing down his limbs. The small cup of espresso he had wrestled from the coffee shop sat on the side table, half-empty and entirely too bitter for his taste. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, and pulled out his phone. Seeing Kamiko's name on the screen brought a smile to his face.

He tapped the call button and brought the phone to his ear. It did not even finish its first ring before her voice answered, warm, enthusiastic, and familiar. "Izuku! You made it!"

"Hey, Kamiko," he greeted, his tone softening. "Yeah, I'm here. Safe and sound."

"Thank goodness," she breathed on the other end. "I was worried, you know. It's such a long flight, and the time difference, and …" She trailed off, then added, "Well, I'm just glad you're okay."

Izuku chuckled lightly. "Thanks. The flight was smooth. And the hotel is … um, let's just say it's a bit more luxurious than I'm used to. The Commission really didn't hold back."

"Oooh! What's it like?" she asked, bubbling with curiosity.

"It's huge," Izuku began, glancing around the room for the umpteenth time. "The bed looks like it's meant for royalty, the bathroom has a soaking tub and a shower big enough for get-together. And there's this little basket of snacks and drinks they left me."

Kamiko let out an appreciative hum. "They're treating you the way you deserve to be treated: like a king. You're moving up in the world, Izuku."

"I guess so," he figured with a shy laugh. "But honestly, it's a little overwhelming. Everything here feels so different. The city, the people, even the air. California is a whole world apart from Japan, not just literally speaking."

Kamiko said encouragingly, "I can imagine. All those photos we searched together made the place seem like a different planet. It's a big adjustment, but you'll get the hang of it. You're good at adapting. Besides, there's a huge Japanese American population on the West coast. That was one of the factors in your decision to study there."

His heart warmed at her words. "I'll do my best. Actually, I already had a little taste of American culture tonight."

"What happened?"

The memory had already brought a wry smile to his face. Izuku began, "I went to this cafe near the hotel. I thought it'd be a good way to unwind. But when I got there, the menu was full of these fancy names I didn't recognize. Macchiatos, cortados, flat whites, and so many more."

Kamiko giggled. "Oh no, were you lost in translation?"

"Basically," Izuku agreed. "I tried to ask the barista for help, but it was her first day, and she was just as unsure as I was. It turned into this whole back-and-forth where neither of us really knew what we were doing."

"You're kidding," Kamiko gasped between chuckles.

"I wish I were. And to make matters worse, there was this group of teens in the back who kept shouting at me to hurry up. It was so stressful!"

Her laughter turned into full on chortling. "Poor you! What did you end up getting?"

"The cheapest thing on the menu," he said not so proudly. "A double-shot espresso. I didn't even know what that meant, but I didn't want to hold up the line any longer. Peer pressure got to me."

"A double-shot espresso?" Kamiko repeated, her voice full of mock horror. "Izuku, you don't even like strong coffee!"

He winced at the truth. "Not really. I took one sip, and I thought my soul was going to leave my body."

With how long she had been losing her mind, Izuku figured her stomach must have started hurting. That only made Izuku laugh along with her. "I can just picture it," she heaved, trying to catch her breath. "You, standing there, trying to be polite while secretly dying inside. Oh, Izuku, that's priceless. Gods, I wish I could have seen that!"

He said good-naturedly, "Sure. Savor my misery. It's not like I've had enough embarrassing moments in my life or anything."

"I'm sorry," Kamiko rasped, though her voice was still tinged with barely suppressed giggles. "But seriously, you'll have to find a better drink next time. Maybe a caramel latte or something sweet."

"Noted," Izuku answered, feeling much better now. "I'll be better prepared next time. Hopefully, without an audience of rowdy teenagers."

"You've got this," she reassured. "It's all part of the adventure."

He had not realized how much he needed to hear those words. That it was okay to stumble once in a while. To not be caught up in his Symbol of Peace ascension. "Thank you, Kamiko. I needed that."

"Anytime," she promised sweetly. "Now, go get some rest. You've got a big day tomorrow."

"You're right. I'll make a call to Mom and Kacchan before going to bed. Good night, Kamiko."

"Good night, Izuku. Sweet dreams."

The following morning, Izuku woke up to the sound of his alarm, the soft beeping pulling him from a surprisingly restful sleep. Combined with the jet lag and espresso debacle, the plush bedding of the hotel had been a welcome comfort after his long journey. He stretched lazily, allowing himself a moment to relish the quiet morning before rising to face the day. All his research of California implied that the state would be raucous at all hours of the day. Then again, the hotel was located considerably far from any major city. Perhaps that explained why he could hear the birds singing outside.

Izuku's itinerary was clear: check out of the hotel, handle the necessary formalities at the university's admissions office, and move into his new apartment.

After a lengthy shower and a heavy breakfast - courtesy of the hotel's complimentary buffet - Izuku gathered his belongings and made his way to the lobby. The concierge from last night greeted him warmly as he approached the desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Midoriya. Checking out today?" the man asked, his tone polite.

"Yes," Izuku replied, handing over the room key. "Everything was great. Thank you for your hospitality."

"It was our pleasure. Safe travels, and best of luck with your studies." Izuku dared not question how the concierge knew of his education plans. Like everything else, maybe the hotel was informed of this as well by the Safety Commission.

He offered a small bow - intentional, this time - before stepping outside into the cold morning air. A black car awaited him at the valet pick-up-drop-off, the driver holding a small sign with his name on it. Izuku approached cautiously, confirming his identity before sliding into the backseat. The drive to the university was short but scenic, the city's skyline giving way to sprawling campus grounds. Tall trees lined the streets, half of them still with their leaves, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. It amazed him to not see any snow despite it being so late into the year. Students bustled about, their chatter filling the air as they hurried to early classes or lingered in small groups on the manicured lawns. Izuku could not help but feel a flutter of excitement - this was where he would spend the next four years of his life.

The admissions office was housed in a grand brick building with ivy climbing its exteriors. Inside, the air was warm and filled with the faint traces of paper and coffee. A receptionist directed him to a waiting area, where he sat agitatedly until his name was called.

"Mr. Midoriya?"

Izuku looked up to a see a man in his late thirties approaching. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with neatly combed dark chocolate hair, emerald green eyes, and a friendly smile. His name tag read 'Elliot Schuyler' in bold letters.

"Yes, that's me," Izuku said, standing quickly and extending a hand. Elliot shook it firmly.

"Welcome to the university! I'll be helping you with the rest of your onboarding today," Elliot explained, his tone matching his demeanor. "Let's head to my office first to take care of the paperwork." He led Izuku down a hallway lined with framed photos of past graduating classes. The office itself was tidy, with stacks of folders and a computer connected to a laptop on the desk. As they settled into their seats, Elliot handed Izuku a small stack of forms. "These are just the standard documents - emergency contacts, housing agreements, and so on. Nothing too complicated," Elliot detailed, gesturing to the forms. "Take your time filling them out, and let me know if you have any questions."

Izuku nodded, carefully reviewing each page. He filled in the information methodically, taking pictures for his own records, occasionally glancing up to ask for clarification. "So, this section here," Izuku began, pointing to a line on one of the forms, "does it mean I need to list someone local?"

"Not necessarily," Elliot replied, leaning over to look. "You can list anyone you trust, even if they're back in Japan. Just make sure their contact information is up-to-date."

"Got it. Thank you."

Once the paperwork was complete, Elliot gathered the forms and placed them neatly into a folder. "Great! That's everything we need here. Now, let's get you to your apartment."

They stepped outside, where a university-branded van was waiting. Elliot gestured for Izuku to hop in. "It's not far from here - just a five-minute drive," he informed as he climbed into the driver's seat.

The ride was short but filled with light conversation. Elliot asked about Izuku's journey, his impressions of the campus, and hi plans for the semester. Izuku answered politely, occasionally offering nervous laughter as Elliot's easygoing behavior helped to put him at ease.

The apartment building was a modern structure situated on a quiet street just off campus. It was clear that the Commission, in collaboration with the U.S. hero governmental department, had spared no expense in ensuring Izuku's accommodations were top-notch. Elliot parked the van and led Izuku inside, where the lobby was sleek and minimalist, with a security desk manned by a friendly guard who waved as they passed.

"Your unit is on the third floor," Elliot said, climbing into the elevator with Izuku. "It's fully furnished and ready for you to move in. The utilities are all set up, and there's a welcome packet inside with details about the neighborhood. Not to mention, my business card and instructions on how to access the university's online system."

When they reached the apartment, Elliot handed Izuku a set of keys. "Here you go. Take a look."

Izuku unlocked the door and entered, his eyes widening at the sight. The apartment was spacious and bright, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light. Even grander than the one he lived in with his mother. The living room featured a comfortable sofa, a coffee table, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The kitchen was modern, with stainless steel appliances and a small dining area. A hallway led to a bedroom and a bathroom, both immaculately clean and thoughtfully furnished.

"This is amazing," Izuku marvelled, his voice filled with genuine awe. "I didn't expect it to be so … cozy."

Elliot chuckled. When had he followed? The man was stealthy as a cat. "Well, we want you to feel at home. If you need anything or run into any issues, there's a number in the welcome packet you can call. Maintenance is pretty quick to respond."

"Thank you so much. This is more than I could have hoped for."

"Of course. Now, I'll leave you to get settled," Elliot declared, heading back toward the door. "Again, welcome to the university, Mr. Midoriya. I'm sure you'll do great here."

"Please, no formalities. You allowed me to address you by first name. I ask you do the same for me."

He smiled slowly. "In that case, we look forward to having you here, Izuku."

After Elliot left, Izuku spent the remainder of the day unpacking his belongings and familiarizing with the apartment. Each room held small touches of convenience and comfort, from the fluffy towels in the bathroom to the fully stocked kitchen cabinets. By late afternoon, he felt a sense of accomplishment as he placed the last of his clothes into the wardrobe.

As the sun began to set, Izuku decided to explore the campus. He grabbed his phone and camera, locking the apartment behind him as he stepped out into the even colder evening air. Though, the temperature did not bother him so much anymore. The campus was quieter now, with most students tucked away in dorms or the library. Izuku wandered the paths, taking in the grandeur of the buildings and the serene winter beauty of the landscaped gardens.

He paused at a large fountain of the campus, the sound of trickling water filling the silence.

He took a picture.

A sense of calm washed over Izuku as he sat on the edge of the fountain and soaked in the ambiance.

This place was brilliant.

Izuku loved it.