To say that Izuku was starved of company would be an understatement.
Since acknowledging that he liked Furukawa, he was desperate to talk with her.
Rain darkened the afternoon sky and pelted the windows relentlessly. The weather channel reported that the stormy weather would persist for the next few days. So he and Furukawa decided to converse over telephone. It was the weekend. Both of them were free. Perfect opportunity.
He scrolled through his contacts and pressed her number. As the dial rang, he scoured his room for a set of lifting weights. Due to the weather, it was unsafe to go out on patrol and gain some exercise. His compromise was to multitask: talk on the phone and lift some weights.
A few seconds later, Furukawa picked up.
"Hi!" she greeted cheerfully. "How are you?"
Izuku held his phone to his ear with one hand and began lifting a weight with the other. "Doing all right. What about you?"
"I'm good, too!"
He was happy, knowing that she was happy. What with his nightmares making a comeback, he craved comfort. And who was better than the personification of radiant joy?
Izuku set the phone on speaker. He intended to talk for a long time.
Kamiko was amazed by her instantaneous acting.
She had responded so confidently and brightly, no one would have believed that she was a blushing mess. It had taken everything in her not to burst into a series of squeaks when she heard his voice on the other end. Lately, her thoughts had spiralled around one proverb hanging on the wall of Abe-sensei's office. The proverb itself meant not to give up, but Kamiko interpreted it as reflecting on the past before trying again.
Abe-sensei liked her interpretation and encouraged her to adopt that mindset as she practiced the piano. Kamiko broadened it to other aspects of her life. Especially toward a green-haired boy with cherubic features.
She liked him. More than a friend.
Once she made that realization, she could not contain herself. The mate bond drove her into a frenzy. One moment she was doing homework, the next she threw herself on her bed. The ruckus caught the attention of her mother, who called from below, demanding to know what just happened. Kamiko gave her a reasonable excuse all the while she hid her face in her pillow. It was useless.
Perhaps it was best that they were speaking over telephone and not in-person. Maybe Kamiko would not have been able to conceal her embarrassment. She did not know if he felt the same for her, so she did not dare to progress their relationship without knowing the truth first.
And yet, her tail swayed back and forth when he spoke.
At Furukawa's prompting, Izuku recounted the events that took place since they last talked.
He talked quite a bit about Katsuki. After all, the two of them shared an interesting history. Enduring his bullying while admiring his tenacity throughout primary and intermediate school. Come secondary school, their enmity slowly evolved to rivalry into mutual camaraderie. They were not friends by any means; years of abuse made it impossible to cross that bridge. But they were allies. Both of them understood each other in a way no one else could.
It was said that relationships defined people. If that was true, then Katsuki was a crucial aspect of Izuku. Izuku wished for Furukawa to know at least know that before he considered asking her out. He wanted her to know more about him so that it would not seem like he was keeping secrets.
Actually, so it would not seem like he was harboring too many secrets.
One for All was a dangerous subject to discuss, even after the last war. It was not something he was willing to reveal so soon.
Kamiko listened attentively.
Partly because of her acute hearing and partly because of her personality, Kamiko was a very good listener.
Although, the recent developments in her feelings may have been a third reason.
That was not to say that she was a lovesick yandere, daydreaming impossible yet toxic scenarios. No. Not at all. She was curious about Midoriya and the people that surrounded him. Dynamite. The hero name of Bakugou Katsuki. He had acquired substantial fame for his role in the wars. If Pro-Hero Deku was regarded as the future Symbol of Peace, then Pro-Hero Dynamite was treated with the same amount of respect.
Kamiko had so many questions and plenty of time, she figured it would be best to multitask. It would also help calm her jubilation.
She searched around her room for a lengthy activity to do, when her eyes landed on the horde of animal plushies on her bed. An idea sparked in her mind.
She pulled out a basket with rolls of fabric, scissors, and string. Kamiko planned to sew a plushie. Since she had already gifted Midoriya with a stuffed animal as a keepsake of hers, she wanted a reminder of him, too. Having had plenty of practice sewing and stitching before, she began taking measurements on a portion of chartreuse fabric.
Kamiko was careful to give deference when she asked about his comrade. "How did you and Dynamite-san meet?"
Midoriya chuckled at the honorific but let it slide. He was receptive to her questions, giving thorough answers. Meanwhile, she outlined the pieces she intended to cut. Almond shapes for the ears. An ellipse for the stomach. A semicircle for the head. Little by little, the anatomical features of her plushie began to manifest.
In turn, he asked about her activities at the music school.
"What are your classmates like? Do you have mean professors?"
Kamiko cut the first shape.
"My teachers are very nice. Especially my private tutor. Her name is Abe Kanato," she told him. And she devolved into a discussion about school.
Izuku was amused.
Not in mockery of her, but because he recognized a part of his former self in her. Like her, he too was once an enthusiastic boy ready to make his place in the world of heroes. Almost a year of training his body to hold One for All in full capacity had made him believe that the sky was the limit, and there was no stopping him now. That was before he realized how the shining glory of heroes was a mask for the ugly darkness beneath. Before he grasped how deep the brainwashing and discrimination ran.
He prayed that Kamiko would not experience the same bitter realizations as he did.
From her description, it seemed that everyone in her friendship circle was a mutant. Understandable, given the vast resentment society held for them.
He knew that she was not naive. Having had his own experiences of discriminated against, he knew that it felt degrading. For him, it was bullying; for her, it was outright racism. Still, there were many parallels.
He recalled the night he first met her. He had become a deserter, a vigilante facing criminals head-on. Late one night during one of his searches for troublemakers, he found her being harassed by a group of men. He did not think much of it then: his goal was to defuse the situation. But now that he thought about it, he regretted being callous.
Izuku was determined to not repeat his mistake.
If Katsuki could come to respect him after so much torment, then the country could come to do the same toward its mutant citizens. Izuku would make sure that happened.
But small steps at a time.
For now, he was going to simply encourage Furukawa. From previous conversations and a little investigation, he had figured out that she was rejected from college because of her vixen status. So if she got another chance to pursue her dreams, who was he to steal that joy from her?
It was obvious that she was having fun.
Was not that good enough?
Kamiko had finished cutting out the pieces. Only the sewing and stuffing was left.
She started with the torso. It would be the biggest structure and require the most stuffing.
That was, if she could fit the thread through the needle first. The most frustrating task for even the most professional of designers. Lick the end. Angled cut. Needle threader. Tweezers. Loop and pinch. Paper fold. Name the trick, she tried it. And it was a hassle every time. She was half-tempted to toss the needle in the trash and opt for the yarn hook instead. The plushie's look would be ruined, but her anger surpassed her rationality at the moment.
Finally - just when she was about to follow through with her impulse - the needle threaded through.
Her irritation ceased.
In and out. In and out. The needle pierced through the cloth methodically. Slowly, the abdomen, chest, pelvis, and back appeared. Kamiko filled it with cotton balls before sewing the torso shut. Then she prepared the head and tail.
While her hands were steady, her mental state was not.
The notion that creating a plushie would soothe her emotions backfired. Her curiosity simply grew. She did not realize when her inquiry shifted from hero life to personal life. Not questions about favorite things. But deeper, private things.
"How did you feel when you confronted the League of Villains for the first time?" Kamiko asked.
Midoriya fell quiet. An uncomfortable hush was transmitted across the electromagnetic waves of the phone call. Kamiko feared that she had overstepped her boundaries. She berated herself for her carelessness and began to apologize profusely.
Then Midoriya spoke. "It's perfectly fine. It is only natural you would be curious. But forgive me, Furukawa. The League, the wars … they're kind of touchy subjects for me."
"I understand! Please don't feel pressured to tell me. It was insensitive of me to ask that without considering how you might feel. You have every right to your secrets."
That last sentence reverberated in Izuku's head.
He had every right to his secrets.
He could not help but smile sadly at that. Izuku should have given her more credit. She was more sympathetic than he thought.
If word got out about his PTSD and therapy, the fragile hope that society had begun to restore in heroes could break. He had fought to protect them; he did not regret that. But how would they react if they learned that he could not protect himself from his own past?
Occasionally, the media would bring up the villains. Sometimes it was to commemorate the death anniversary of a hero, other times it was to bring up All Might's retirement. These days, it was to analyze the reasoning behind new hero legislation. From there, the discussion would inevitably veer to the bravery of the students of U.A.
Izuku's former classmates often gave interviews. They were trained well in telling the public what they wanted to hear. So was Izuku. Heroism extended beyond saving people beyond the crime scene; assuring them to keep their hopes up was just as crucial. That meant that neither nor he nor his classmates could talk about how taxing the ordeal was.
Besides One for All and bloody coughing fits, this was another part of the legacy Izuku inherited from All Might.
Like his mentor, he feared that if the truth ever leaked out, no one would understand.
So for Furukawa, a member of the public, willing to respect his privacy … that simple gesture was especially significant to him.
Izuku set his weights aside and flopped onto the mattress. He grinned to no one but himself. "Are you doing something else right now?" He had heard sounds of shears snipping and pencils scratching.
Kamiko froze.
She had tried to be quiet with her crafting to not seem rude. But now that she was caught, what was the point of denying?
"I'm making a plushie," she told him.
"Oh? What kind?"
It was her turn to pause. Then she smirked, "It is a surprise. Maybe I'll show you when we see each other next time."
He laughed on the other end. "Then I look forward to seeing you soon. Can I guess in the meantime?"
Kamiko's ears perked up at the idea of seeing him face-to-face again. Phone calls were great, but to converse with someone in person … nothing quite matched the satisfaction of that. She said, "You are welcome to try. But my answer will be no to all your guesses."
"That's mean!" he mock-cried. "You like animals, so is it a bird?"
"No."
"A reptile?" Again, she told him no. "An aquatic creature?" Same response. "Rodents?"
"Definitely no."
"A capybara?"
Kamiko frowned. "A capybara is a type of rodent."
It was met with a giggle. "Just confirming. So it's definitely not a rodent."
She realized her mistake and was stubborn to not unknowingly relay any more clues to him. It was a good thing she did, because his next guess was canids. Not completely wrong. Actually, Kamiko was creating a fox plushie. The one Midoriya had was red, much like her fur. She constructed her plushie to look identical to that, except it had green aesthetics. Much like him. With a light green body but dark green tail, ears, and other tufts of hair. All that was left was to stitch the eyes. For that, she chose the forest green of Midoriya's eyes and stitched them onto the head.
After making a few more adjustments, the stuffed animal was done.
And so was the phone call.
The slate-colored sky had long since turned to stormy blue-grey. They had been talking for six hours. It was a miracle that no one had disturbed them for so long.
Kamiko hugged the finished creation close to her chest. She pretended that it was Midoriya. They conversed for so long, and yet she craved his company again. The one human friend she had. The boy she liked. Her ears and tail sagged in longing.
Little did she know that he was feeling much the same.
In another house, on another street, a boy embraced a red fox toy tightly.
He imagined the fox was real.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye when his fantasy ended.