Chapter 26 I'm just a punk rock girl.
Kyoka slammed the door behind her as she entered her house, her emotions a tangled mess of confusion and agitation. She darted straight to her room, where the familiar walls and clutter of musical equipment usually brought her comfort, but not today. Today they were just silent witnesses to her turmoil.
With a frustrated groan, she grabbed a pillow from her bed and buried her face into it, muffling her scream. "Why, why, why?" she shouted into the soft fabric, her voice laced with confusion and a hint of despair. "Does he like my music? Is he actually a fan?"
The questions spiraled out, each one feeding into the next. "Did I accidentally ask him out? Was that a confession? What does this even mean?" Her mind raced faster with each thought. "He has a girlfriend, doesn't he? Am I just reading too much into this?"
Realization struck her like a slap in the face. "Wait, no! I asked him out... technically. But I never said it was a date. Is this a date or just a hangout?" The distinction blurred in her mind, making her heart pound against her ribcage.
Exasperated and unable to sit still any longer, Kyoka tossed the pillow across the room and kicked her feet against the floor in frustration. Her eyes caught the sleek form of her bass guitar leaning against the wall. Without a second thought, she grabbed it and plugged it into her amp, cranking the volume up as her fingers found the familiar strings.
She strummed fiercely, the raw, aggressive sound matching her inner chaos. As she played, lyrics began to form, words tumbling out in a stream of consciousness. The song became her outlet, her way to articulate the whirlwind inside her.
Hey there, Broccoli Boy, with your emerald eyes,
Caught me off guard, took me by surprise.
Is this just fun, or something more?
Got my head spinning, my heart sore.
You're stealing hearts with that hero's charm,
But are you holding hers, or taking my arm?
I'm just a punk rock girl, lost in this swirl,
Playing my bass as my thoughts unfurl.
Did I ask you out? Did I cross a line?
Or are we just two friends, passing time?
You got a girl, yeah, that's the sting,
Am I just another fling?
You're stealing hearts with that hero's charm,
But are you holding hers, or taking my arm?
I'm just a punk rock girl, caught in your whirl,
Strumming confusion as my doubts unfurl.
Is this a date? Or just a hang?
In this weird game, are we the same?
Your laughter, your smiles, they seem so real,
But are you playing cards you're scared to deal?
Broccoli Boy, what's your real game?
Am I just a note in your heroic fame?
I'm screaming out, loud and clear,
With every chord, I drown my fear.
As the final chord rang out, Kyoka let the vibrations fade into the silence of her room. She leaned back, feeling slightly more drained but oddly relieved. The music hadn't solved her confusion, but it had given her a way to express it, a way to scream without making a sound.
She sat there for a moment, her heart still racing, but her thoughts clearer. Whatever tomorrow's "hangout" brought, she'd face it head-on, bass guitar in hand. After all, she was a punk rock girl, she could handle a little heartache and confusion.
Mika Jiro, ever the observant mother, opened Kyoka's door with a knowing smile as she watched her daughter slouched on the bed, a storm of emotions clearly brewing beneath her cool exterior.
"So, who stole your heart this time?" Mika teased as she leaned against the doorframe, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Kyoka's reaction was immediate and visceral. "No, Mom, I didn't," she protested, her voice a mix of exasperation and panic.
Mika rolled her eyes, her grin widening. "Come on, let's be for real. You always sing a song, you always rush back home, and tonight, hero, I heard 'love music' talking about a certain boy. I just want to know if he's coming for dinner tomorrow, you know? Just let me know."
Horrified, Kyoka bolted upright. "He's not coming over for dinner, he's definitely not," she stammered, her face flushing a deep shade of red.
"Okay, I'll set up another plate," Mika said nonchalantly, turning to walk away.
"No, Mom, please! He's not, he's definitely not."
At that moment, Kyotoku Jiro, Kyoka's father, bounded up the stairs. The man was like a bulldozer in human form, his presence filling the room as he barged in. "Oh my God, another boy? I thought we had some time," he exclaimed, his voice booming with a mixture of excitement and dread.
He turned to his daughter with earnest curiosity. "Wait, let me ask you one thing, does he like rock and roll? Does he play any instruments? Are you two setting up a duo band like your mother and I?"
Kyoka's face turned an even brighter shade of red, if that were possible. "No, Dad, we're just hanging out. We're not dating, we're not dating, we're not dating," she repeated, each declaration louder than the last, trying to drill the point home.
Her parents exchanged a look, then her father chuckled softly. "Then he must have some charm to woo you," he joked to Mika.
Mika nodded, her expression turning nostalgic. "She hasn't gotten like this until that one boy, what was his name? I remember, he played drums, though his vibe was good. But then, you know, we found out he was seeing someone, and our little Kyoka was crying for a month straight. That punk kid."
Realizing the misunderstanding, Kyoka quickly blurted out, "I'm sorry, but I can't be dating him, he's seeing somebody."
Mika and Kyotoku looked at each other, then said in unison, "You're trying to steal him from another woman?"
Stunned, Kyoka shook her head vigorously. "No, no, I'm not—I—"
Her parents placed a hand on her shoulder, both of them beaming. "Go for it, you have our blessing. That's so punk rock. Show that girl who's the boss. Win over his heart with your music," her father encouraged, his voice full of an oddly proud enthusiasm.
Kyoka tried to interject, her voice raised in an attempt to clarify the misunderstanding, desperately trying to sway her parents from their wildly off-base romantic notions. "I'm not trying to steal him from anyone," she insisted, her frustration evident in the tightness of her voice.
Her parents, however, seemed to be on a different wavelength entirely, blissfully ignoring her protests as they romanticized the situation further.
"He must be a drummer," her father speculated with a knowing nod, as if imagining a fellow musician who shared his own passion.
Mika countered with a dreamy look in her eyes, "I bet he's a singer. Imagine that—singing a song maybe on the rooftop. Romantic, right? She fell in love with him at first sight."
Kyoka rolled her eyes, trying to correct the trajectory of their fantasy. "Actually, it's nothing like that."
But her father chuckled, undeterred. "Or maybe a guitarist! Remember how we met, Mika? I did fall for you when you were singing. You're a beautiful singer."
Mika blushed at the memory, her eyes softening as she looked at her husband. "Aww, that's so sweet," she cooed before leaning in to give him a kiss, much to Kyoka's dismay.
In front of their daughter, they shared a tender, lovey-dovey moment, completely lost in their own world.
"Ugh, can you two get out of my room, please?" Kyoka groaned, her face contorting with embarrassment.
They pulled apart, but not without a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. "Oh, come on, Kyoka. This is how you were conceived, so don't be all grossed out. Be grateful," her mother teased, her laughter light and carefree.
Kyoka's face flushed a deeper shade of red, mortification washing over her. "Oh my god, Mom, this is so gross. Dad, you're just the worst, too."
They chuckled at their daughter's antics, clearly amused by her reaction. As they finally started to leave her room, her father threw over his shoulder, "We want pictures with the boy!"
"And don't forget to tell us everything!" Mika added, her voice echoing down the hallway as they retreated, leaving Kyoka to collapse onto her bed with a pillow over her face, groaning into the soft fabric.
The last thing she needed was her parents' eccentric encouragement and their embarrassing displays of affection. Yet, as flustered and frustrated as she was, a part of her couldn't help but feel a tiny, warming glow at the thought that, no matter what, her parents were in her corner, ridiculous, embarrassing, but always loving.
The next day after classes
The evening air was crisp as Izuku stepped out of the training warehouse, his usual hero costume replaced by an edgier ensemble. The leather jacket hugged his shoulders snugly, paired with black jeans that accentuated his lean build. Perched on his nose were green-tinted glasses, lending him a roguish air. He grinned, feeling the part, and said his goodbyes to his classmates. "Gonna be a late night," he announced with a wink. The chorus of farewells followed him as he strolled down the street, heading toward the concert venue—an old warehouse repurposed for nights just like this.
Kyoka, meanwhile, arrived in a striking outfit that was both bold and unmistakably punk. She wore a black top with a cross strap design, shorts paired with black leggings that showcased her toned legs, and boots that clomped authoritatively on the pavement. As Izuku caught sight of her, his usual composure wavered slightly. "Wow, nice, um… You look um…" he stumbled, his brain momentarily short-circuiting.
Kyoka chuckled, amused by his flustered state, and grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's go," she urged, pulling him towards the entrance where they presented their tickets to the bouncer.
Inside, the warehouse was alive with energy. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, the stage bathed in roving lights awaiting the band's performance. Opting for a moment of calm before the storm, they found a spot to relax.
Kyoka turned to Izuku, curiosity lighting her features. "Are you alright with how I look?" she asked, half-teasing, half-serious.
Izuku's smile was genuine, his cheeks tinged with a slight blush. "Yes, I honestly wouldn't want you to look any other way. You look really nice. And, um, I can't say that word," he admitted, his face deepening in color.
She playfully hit him on the shoulder. "Don't try to make me feel good by lying to me."
He chuckled, slipping his arm around her waist to draw her closer. "I meant it," he affirmed, lifting her chin to ensure their eyes met. His gaze was earnest, intensifying the moment.
Kyoka's face flared a brilliant red, and she groaned, lightly hitting him again as he let go, watching her with a mix of amusement and affection. As the initial awkwardness faded, they settled into a comfortable conversation about their aspirations.
"So, you're taking the support course too?" Kyoka asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Why would you do that? Shouldn't you focus on one thing?"
Izuku shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "No, I think it's important to focus on whatever drives you. Being a hero isn't just about fighting; it's about understanding all aspects, including support. It gives me a better perspective and tools to help others more effectively."
Kyoka's smile deepened as she listened to Izuku, thankful for his supportive words. She leaned in slightly, the noise of the bustling concert around them creating an intimate bubble. "Is it okay for heroes to have other hobbies, though? You know, like being a musician, for example?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity.
Izuku's eyes lit up with understanding, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, many heroes manage to balance their duties with personal passions. Take Barf Bag, for instance," he began, a chuckle escaping him at the hero's unfortunate moniker. "He opened up his own restaurant. It wasn't initially popular because of his name, but he was passionate about it. He's also involved in waste management but kept one restaurant running. We could actually go there if you want—it's close by."
Kyoka made a face. "I don't think I want to go to a place that has the word 'barf' in its name," she responded, half-amused, half-disgusted.
He sighed, acknowledging the point. "Yeah, that's kind of the reason why it failed, but he was very passionate about it."
As the conversation flowed, Izuku mentioned other heroes who pursued their interests outside of hero work. "Uwabami, for example, she focuses on beauty products. And then there's Present Mic, who not only fights crime but also releases music albums and runs a popular podcast where he interviews heroes and up-and-coming musicians."
"Why do you ask? Do you want to become a musician-slash-hero?" he queried, his gaze intent and encouraging.
Kyoka hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Well, yeah, kind of. I was thinking about giving up on my music career as soon as…" Her voice trailed off, uncertain.
The moment he heard those words, Izuku's arms wrapped around her shoulders in a comforting embrace. "Don't give up on your dreams," he said firmly.
She looked up at him, confusion evident in her eyes. "It's not my dream, though. I want to be a hero," she asserted.
Izuku clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Are you sure about that? Because you seem pretty happy about music. Besides, you can do both."
Kyoka looked away, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I can't. I'm not that talented."
He rolled his eyes, his support unwavering. "You are very talented," he insisted. She blushed at his words, her heart fluttering despite her doubts.
"I'm not. I'm just some third-rate musician trying to be a hero," she countered, her frustration seeping through.
Izuku turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders as he locked eyes with her. "You're not a third-rate musician. You are honestly... you're a talented musician. You can do both, trust me. I've seen the way you play the bass, the way you sing your heart out. Honestly, you're incredible. You look so at peace. Don't take that away from your fans, and especially don't take it away from yourself."
He was about to say more, to continue persuading her of her worth and talent, but the band chose that moment to start playing. The first chords of the next song rang out, cutting through the air and halting their conversation.
As the music enveloped them, Kyoka felt a stir of emotions. Izuku's words echoed in her mind, mingling with the raw energy of the live music that pulsed around them. Maybe, just maybe, she could be both—the hero and the musician. And as she stood there, beside someone who believed in her so fiercely, she began to believe it a little bit herself.
The music continued to throb through the air, the band's energy infectious as the crowd danced and swayed with each beat. Kyoka and Izuku were lost in the rhythm, their bodies moving instinctively to the powerful guitar riffs and pounding drums. They sang along, joined by hundreds of others, their voices melding into one loud, harmonious roar. Hours seemed to slip by in moments, each song fueling their exhilaration.
As the final notes rang out and the band took their bows, the venue began to empty slowly. Kyoka, still riding the high of the concert, mimicked playing an air guitar, laughing as she executed a particularly tricky solo. Catching her breath, she suddenly realized how hungry she was. "Man, I'm really hungry now," she exclaimed, scanning the area for options.
Izuku pointed toward Barf Bag's restaurant, which was nearby, offering a hero-themed menu. "We could try there?" he suggested, half-joking.
Kyoka made a face at the thought, then a better idea struck her. "My place isn't that far. We can have dinner there," she proposed, inviting him to a more familiar and comfortable setting.
"Sure, yeah, we can have dinner there," Izuku agreed readily, his stomach in agreement. As they left the concert venue, he glanced back at the restaurant with a wry smile, half-apologizing to it under his breath. For a surreal moment, he thought he saw the sign tear up, but he chuckled at his own imagination.
Arriving at her house, the scene was immediately set for an unintentional but inevitable introduction. Her parents were there, and their expressions lit up upon seeing them together.
"You were not like that last time. Wow, you almost really like this boy," her mother blurted out with a mix of amusement and surprise, the words echoing embarrassingly in the front hall.
Izuku, caught off guard, managed a polite smile, trying to brush off the awkwardness as he met her parents for the first time.
Her father chimed in, equally forward. "Oh, speaking of the boy..."
Kyoka's face turned a vivid shade of red, her embarrassment complete. She tugged at her earphone jacks, a clear signal of her distress. "Mom, Dad, stop," she pleaded, her voice a mix of pleading and mortification.
Especially since this was Izuku's first time ever meeting her parents, her mortification was palpable. She wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it.
Her mother, sensing her daughter's discomfort but also basking in the humor of the situation, winked at Izuku. "Don't mind us, dear. We're just excited to see our little girl bringing someone special home."
Izuku, understanding the delicate balance between embarrassment and parental curiosity, nodded respectfully. "It's great to meet you both. Kyoka has told me a lot about you," he said diplomatically, earning a relieved smile from Kyoka.
As they moved to the kitchen to prepare something to eat, Kyoka's parents followed, their interest in Izuku not quite sated, but their approach softened by their daughter's obvious discomfort. Dinner would be an interesting affair, no doubt, filled with more probing questions and hopefully, some bonding over shared stories, perhaps even over some music.
As the Jiro family gathered in the backyard for a cozy barbecue, the evening air was filled with the sizzle of meat on the grill and the fragrant aroma of green tea. Mika, ever the hospitable host, had laid out an impressive spread of veggies alongside slices of perfectly grilled meat and chicken. As they settled into their seats, the mood was light, but an unmistakable undercurrent of curiosity about Izuku permeated the air.
"So, Izuku, do you play any instruments?" Mika inquired casually as she passed him a plate loaded with food.
Izuku, caught a bit off guard by the sudden shift to personal interests, chuckled nervously. "Ah, no, I don't really. I've mainly focused on hero work, but I suppose I could learn an instrument if I needed to."
"And do you sing?" she pressed, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Um, no, not much of a singer either," he confessed, scratching the back of his head.
Mika and Kyotoku exchanged a look before turning to Kyoka with playful skepticism. "Is he a groupie then?" her father joked, eliciting a sharp blush from Kyoka.
"No! He's not a groupie, he's—he's a, you know, a friend," she stammered, her face heating up at her parents' teasing.
"Yeah, a 'friend,'" her father echoed, making air quotes so dramatically it was almost theatrical. Kyoka's gaze darted between her parents and Izuku, wishing she could sink into the ground.
"He's just a friend," she reiterated, her tone a mix of pleading and frustration.
Mika nodded, smiling knowingly. "They're just friends, but maybe he could potentially learn an instrument in the future. Why not now?" she suggested, the wheels clearly turning in her head.
Kyotoku sprang into action. "Wait right here!" he exclaimed, dashing upstairs. Moments later, he returned, guitar in one hand and dragging some of his old drums with the other. "What about this? Which do you think is more your style?" he asked Izuku, practically challenging him.
With a sportive spirit, Izuku chose the drums, sitting down behind them somewhat awkwardly. "I guess I'll give this a try," he said, his curiosity piqued.
Kyotoku began instructing him on the basics, his teaching style enthusiastic yet comically over-exaggerated. Kyoka watched, mortified yet strangely fascinated as Izuku started tapping out simple rhythms, gradually getting the hang of it.
Surprisingly, Izuku took to it naturally. His analytical mind quickly worked through the patterns and rhythms. As he played, a thought struck him. He tapped into his system, considering the possibility of buying an 'instrument skill.' With a mental shrug, he dumped enough XP to achieve a Level 5 mastery in drumming.
As he played, his progress was astonishing. What started as a hesitant beat morphed into a confident, rhythmic drumming showcase. Kyotoku, following along, found himself actually needing to keep up with Izuku's sudden proficiency.
Kyotoku paused, coughing into his hand as the drumming ceased. He crossed his arms, giving Izuku a deadpan stare. "Alright, you have my permission to marry my daughter," he declared, dead serious.
The statement hung in the air, thick with awkwardness. Kyoka's mouth fell open, aghast. Izuku's eyes widened, not sure if he should laugh or run. The only sound was the quiet hiss of meat on the grill, as everyone processed Kyotoku's declaration.
"Dad!" Kyoka finally exclaimed, her voice a mixture of horror and exasperation.
Izuku, managing a nervous chuckle, replied cautiously, "Uh, I appreciate the… vote of confidence, sir."
Kyotoku beamed with pride and a bit of mischief. "He can play a decent set of drums, and that was his first try. Imagine if he actually learned how to play properly! Oh boy, this guy is a prodigy. He'll go far, he's literally just like you—and not like that two-bit drummer you cried over, who played the drums with one stick, I bet."
Her parents turned their enthusiastic attention toward Kyoka. "You got this, I'm so proud of you for finding a proper boyfriend," Mika said with a wink.
Kyoka protested, her voice a mix between frustration and embarrassment, "We're just friends."
Mika placed a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder, her voice soft but firm, "I told my parents the same thing, and guess what? I married the idiot. Come on, just let loose, have some fun."
Kyoka blurted out, almost defensively, "He has a girlfriend!"
Both parents paused, exchanged a glance, then Mika shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, but he doesn't have a wife. You keep looking at the first step. You gotta look at the big picture," she advised, her tone implying the wisdom of experience.
Kyoka tried to argue back, but her parents were already lost in their own world, reminiscing about their past and how they ended up together.
As they continued to eat the barbecue, meat charred just right and veggies grilled to perfection, the atmosphere was a mix of awkward and celebratory. Despite Kyoka's discomfort, her parents were lost in their memories.
Mika reminisced about their early days. "Remember when I sang alone at that bar with just a guitar?" she asked Kyotoku, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia.
Kyotoku nodded, his voice filled with warmth. "Seeing her there, I fell in love immediately. We started playing together, singing as we both played, becoming a power duo." His pride was evident as he continued, "And now, look at us, with our own record studio helping young musicians."
Their conversation drifted back to their youthful adventures, their voices blending together as they shared tales of past performances and spontaneous duets. It wasn't long before they were leaning into each other, kissing softly, rekindling the romance of their youth right in front of their daughter and her friend.
Kyoka and Izuku exchanged uncomfortable glances, both unsure where to look as Kyotoku and Mika got lost in their affection, oblivious to the discomfort they were causing.
"Uh, should we… maybe go check on dessert?" Izuku suggested, eager to escape the intense display of affection.
Kyoka nodded eagerly, almost relieved. "Yes, let's do that. Dessert. Good idea."
Kyoka and Izuku found solace in the kitchen, seeking refuge from the overly affectionate display in the backyard. They settled down at the dinner table, each with a bowl of custard pudding in front of them, spooning the dessert in somewhat awkward silence. The sweetness of the pudding did little to soothe the lingering tension in the air.
As they finished, Izuku checked his watch and sighed softly. "I should head back home after this," he said, his tone reluctant but resigned.
Kyoka looked up at him, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry about...everything tonight. It was a lot," she murmured, her voice tinged with embarrassment.
He offered her a gentle smile, his eyes warm. "You don't need to apologize. Everything was great. I wouldn't change this night," he assured her.
Her heart fluttered at his words, and instinctively, her hand reached out towards his, but she caught herself and pulled back abruptly. "No, sorry, I just, It's fine," she stammered, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief at her own hesitation.
Standing up suddenly, Kyoka's nerves felt frayed as she blurted out, "Hey, I'm gonna ask you an awkward question. Just, you know, throwing it out there. We're just friends right now, so remember, just friends," she rambled, her face turning away, unable to meet his gaze.
Swallowing hard, she continued, her words tumbling out in a nervous rush. "So, if you weren't seeing anybody, would you, kind of, you know, date me?" She paused, her eyes darting around, avoiding his. "I mean, I'm not the most physically attractive girl, and I get that the girls you're dating, well, the girl you're dating, she's probably...prettier than me. I guess I can't really compete, but..." Her voice trailed off into a mumble, her self-doubt spilling over.
Izuku reached out, placing a hand gently on her head, pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear, "Don't mock yourself. You're adorable." His words were soft but firm, intended to halt her self-deprecating rant.
Kyoka's face heated up at his proximity, her cheeks burning a bright red. "Oh, yeah, um…" she stammered, stepping back as if the air between them had become too hot, too charged with unspoken feelings.
Realizing the night was truly over, she hurriedly said, "I'm going to go back out. I'll tell them you've gone."
He looked at her, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Aren't you going to walk me to the door?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, of course," she replied, her voice a mix of eagerness and nerves.
They walked to the door in silence, each lost in their own tumultuous thoughts. As Izuku stepped out, he turned to face her, his expression sincere. "Thanks for the drum lesson. Maybe we can play together again sometime?"
She nodded, a genuine smile breaking through her earlier discomfort. "Yeah, I would like that a lot."
He walked away, leaving Kyoka to close the door behind him. She leaned back against it, pressing her hands over her face. "Ah, why did I say that? Why did I say that?" she groaned to the empty room, her heart racing with a cocktail of embarrassment, hope, and a budding excitement for what might come next.
After Izuku had left, a spark of realization lit within Kyoka. She hadn't gotten his number. Panicking, she snatched up her phone and dashed outside, catching him just as he was disappearing down the street. He turned around at the sound of her hurried footsteps.
"What's wrong?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Your number, I need your number," she blurted out, slightly out of breath.
Izuku smiled, a bit amused by her urgency. "Oh, sure," he replied as they quickly exchanged contact information on their phones.
"Thanks," she said with a relieved grin, then turned and sprinted back towards her house. Izuku watched her go, his smile lingering as he shrugged off the oddity of the moment and continued on his way.
Back at the Jiro residence, Kyoka's parents peeked into the kitchen, noticing the absence of their daughter's guest. "Oh, he left, giving us the old Irish goodbye. Classic," Mika commented with a chuckle.
"Shut it, I gotta do something," Kyoka shot back, not stopping as she rushed upstairs to her room. She set up her camera, her mind racing with inspiration. With a decisive click, she started recording a new song.
Meanwhile, Izuku had just reached the warehouse where he stayed. As he was about to head to bed, his phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Kyoka: "Listen to this. Good night." Smiling, he thanked her for the sweet send-off and changed into his pajamas.
In his room, Mei and Himiko were already asleep in his bed, their breathing even and calm. He slipped into bed between them, fitting comfortably into the familiar warmth. He placed his headphones on, opened the video Kyoka had sent, and hit play.
On the screen, Kyoka appeared, still dressed in her outfit from their evening out. Her expression was earnest as she introduced the video. "This is for somebody special. Well, you know, he's not that special. He's kind of special. He's a good friend," she stumbled over her words, her cheeks tinged with a blush.
The song began, a soulful melody about a girl torn between her love for singing and her ambition to be a hero. The lyrics flowed from Kyoka's heart, expressing her inner conflict and dreams. She sang about the duality of her desires, to mesmerize fans with her music and to save people from villains. The chorus was catchy yet poignant, illustrating her journey towards embracing both paths without sacrificing one for the other.
As Izuku listened, his eyes drifted closed, the song weaving through his thoughts. Kyoka's voice was clear and resonant, filled with a passion that resonated with his own struggles and aspirations. The song painted a picture of a girl who was not just a hero in the making, but also a musician ready to steal hearts. It was deeply personal, and he felt honored to be considered that 'kind of special' friend who inspired such heartfelt creativity.
With the final notes lingering in the air, Izuku's smile widened in the dim light of his room. Her music was a gentle lullaby, easing him into a peaceful sleep filled with dreams of drumbeats and heroic deeds, a perfect end to an evening of unexpected connections and revelations.
The next day after class
The bell had just rung, signaling the end of another rigorous day at U.A. High School. As the students filtered out of the classroom, Kyoka caught up with Izuku, her expression one of earnest gratitude. "Thank you," she began, adjusting the strap of her guitar case on her shoulder, "for giving me the push I needed."
They walked together through the bustling hallway, the noise of their peers blending into a familiar backdrop. "I've decided I want to be both a hero and a musician, thanks to you," she continued, her eyes bright with determination. "And, you know, maybe we could work on a song together one day?"
Izuku smiled, genuinely pleased by her renewed spirit and ambition. "That would be great," he responded warmly, giving her a friendly pat on the head. "Oh, and by the way, Rumi loves your song."
Kyoka's smile widened as she reached her locker, pulling out her guitar. "I have a lot of song ideas I've been keeping on the back burner," she confessed, excitement lacing her voice. "I've got to go, but let's definitely catch up soon!" With a final wave, she dashed off, her steps echoing down the hallway.
Izuku waved back, his own heart lifted by Kyoka's enthusiasm. As he turned to leave the school, his path took him towards the daycare where Eri was waiting. However, his journey was interrupted by a commotion near the school hallway .
A group of general education students had encircled a girl from Class 1-B, recognizable by her mushroom-shaped hairstyle, it was Kinoko Komori. Her distress was palpable as the students around her issued critiques and taunts.
"You shouldn't even be in Class 1-B; your quirk is kind of useless," one of them jeered, a sneer twisting his features. "All you do is sprout mushrooms. How is that useful? You're just lucky they interfere with the robot gears. That's the only reason you won in a real fight they'd be quite useless," he scoffed.
Izuku's brow furrowed at the scene, and he approached the group with a steady gait. "Is there a problem here?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.
The students turned to face him, recognition flickering in the eyes of a few. "Oh, it's you, the support course kid," one remarked, his tone dismissive but wary.
Izuku met their gazes one by one, his smile unwavering yet serious. "Please leave her alone," he said, his request sounding more like a gentle command.
The boys sneered at Izuku, the tallest one stepping forward with a challenging glare. "You got a problem with us? We almost made it to the hero course. A support course student like you should stay out of our way," he taunted, towering over Izuku.
Izuku's smile didn't falter. "I mean, come on, three boys like you picking on a girl? This is kind of a cliché. Don't you have anything better to do?" he retorted, his voice calm but edged with a stern undertone.
"What did you say?" one of the boys growled, his hands morphing into claws, a clear threat simmering in his posture.
Izuku's demeanor remained unshaken. "You know, fighting in your way is a quick way to get expelled, but I don't feel like doing that today. I'm just here to return this." He held out his hand, and as he opened it, their uniform buttons lay on his palm. The boys stared, baffled, unable to comprehend how he had removed them without their notice.
Izuku's smile turned into a smirk, his confidence peaking. "But if you do want to fight, this would technically be self-defense, so I can use as much force as I want," he stated, his voice laced with a warning, his presence now overwhelming.
The boys recoiled as if seeing a demon before them. "Um, yeah, no, we—we gotta go train," they stammered in unison, quickly retreating.
As the bullies dispersed, Izuku turned to Kinoko Komori, who was still recovering from the confrontation. "Kinoko Komori," he said gently, catching her by surprise.
She nodded, her head bowed in respect and a bit of awe. "Yes," she murmured, not lifting her gaze.
"Hey, you don't need to bow. It's okay. I just helped out a fellow classmate, that's all," Izuku reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
He then took out his phone. "Give me your number, just in case you need any help again," he suggested, his tone friendly yet earnest.
Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. "Okay," she replied, fumbling slightly as she pulled out her phone, adorned with a mushroom keychain. They exchanged contact information swiftly.
"If any of those people give you trouble again, let me know. I'll make sure they don't mess with you," Izuku offered, his voice carrying a protective edge that was both reassuring and slightly intimidating.
Kinoko looked up at him, half-joking, half-serious. "You really are a Yakuza," she teased, a small smile breaking through her initial nervousness.
Izuku laughed softly, shaking his head. "Just looking out for my classmates," he replied, his smile genuine as he waved goodbye and continued on his way, leaving Kinoko with a newfound sense of security and admiration for the unassuming hero in training.
Kinoko hesitated after parting ways with Izuku, her steps slowing as she headed toward home. Suddenly, compelled by an unspoken thought, she spun around and dashed back towards him, her heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and resolve.
Catching up to him, she skidded to a stop, slightly out of breath. Her hand dipped into her bag and emerged with a book titled 100 Mushroom Facts. Flipping it open to a page she obviously knew well, she recited a fact from memory, the words tumbling out in her eagerness. "Did you know that bioluminescent mushrooms can glow in the dark due to a chemical reaction involving luciferin and oxygen? They use it to attract insects," she stated, the fact hanging between them like a delicate spore.
Izuku looked at her, his expression a blend of amusement and curiosity. "Thank you for the mushroom fact," he responded sincerely, his interest genuine.
Kinoko's enthusiasm dimmed slightly, her shoulders slumping as she muttered, "Yeah, you're welcome," her voice timid yet tinged with disappointment. She lingered awkwardly, then, gathering a burst of courage, blurted out, "Do you wanna do something?"
Izuku paused, considering her request. "Um, well, I gotta go pick up my daughter. Do you want to join us?" he offered, a welcoming smile easing the unexpected intensity of the invitation.
Her face brightened, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Yes, I would love to," she replied eagerly.
"Okay then," Izuku nodded, leading the way. "Himiko is busy today with some Class B students, Mei is in the lab, and Rumi is at her internship. So I guess it'll just be us and my little girl," he explained as they made their way to the daycare.
Together, they made their way to the daycare to pick up Eri, who regarded Kinoko with curious eyes. Kinoko introduced herself with a shy wave. "Hi, Eri, I'm Kinoko. I know a lot about mushrooms!"
Eri seemed intrigued, her earlier reserve melting away as she greeted Kinoko. "Hi, Kinoko!" she said cheerily.
As they walked, Kinoko, now somewhat relaxed, started sharing more mushroom facts, each one accompanied by a small, nervous laugh. Izuku listened, his smile patient and encouraging. He recognized a bit of his old self in her, the nervousness, the eagerness to share knowledge about something loved, something that defined him before he had the system to bolster his confidence.
"I remember how jittery I used to be, talking about quirks and hero facts at my old school before everything changed," Izuku shared, his voice soft with reminiscence. "It's nice, you know, hearing someone else so passionate about what they love."
Kinoko glanced at him, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and delight. "Really? You think it's nice?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
"Yeah, really," Izuku affirmed, his reassurance firm. "It's what makes you, you. And that's pretty cool."
They continued their walk, the afternoon light casting long shadows on the ground as they approached the warehouse. Izuku's kind words had given Kinoko a newfound sense of acceptance, her earlier nerves melting away into a comfortable camaraderie.
As they entered the warehouse, Izuku's gentle demeanor and open acceptance seemed to brighten Kinoko's outlook, reminding her that sometimes, sharing a part of oneself could lead to unexpected friendships and, perhaps, a new way to see the world.
Arthur's Note:
Hello, everyone!
First off, I want to extend a huge thank you to all of you for your continued support and engagement. It means the world to me, and I'm thrilled to journey through this story together with you.
In the next chapter, we will dive deeper into the life of our beloved Mushroom Girl, following the little introduction we've already given her. I hope you're as excited as I am to explore her character further.
I would greatly appreciate if you could take a moment to leave a review. I'm particularly eager to hear your thoughts on how you'd like her musical talents to be portrayed in the story. Would you prefer I write out her songs in full, or would you rather I just describe them? Your feedback is invaluable and will help shape the narrative in a way that hopefully resonates even more with all of you.
Thank you once again for everything. After we get the Mushroom Girl sorted, we'll move on to the Prayer Girl. There's lots to look forward to!