Chapter 25 Combat Test, Aftermath
Author's Notes:
Hey everyone,
I know some of my recent chapters have been a bit rough around the edges. I usually get these out around 2:00 AM or 3:00 AM, which, I'll admit, isn't exactly peak mental clarity hours for me! That's why there's been a noticeable increase in mistakes. But I've decided to exercise a bit more impulse control. I'm dedicating time to go through and edit all of them thoroughly.
I also have some help now, which should make a big difference in the quality and consistency of the writing. So, you can expect some improvements moving forward!
Upcoming Chapters:
The next chapter will focus on Kyoka, and it's shaping up to be an exciting one. Consider it a setup for what I like to think of as a 'date/hangout' (wink wink) scenario. There was a lot I wanted to incorporate into the story from the last chapter, so you'll see those elements come into play here.
Thank you all for your incredible support and patience. Your feedback and encouragement mean the world to me, and I'm eager to bring you a polished, exciting next installment. Stay tuned, and see you in the next chapter!
In the vast warehouse turned makeshift recovery room, groans and murmurs filled the air as students and teachers alike regained their senses. Recovery Girl bustled about with her team, ensuring everyone received the care they needed, while the distinct aroma of antiseptic permeated the space.
Recovery Girl, a wry smile on her face, attended to Aizawa, who was clearly the worst for wear. She tsk-tsked, shaking her head as she applied a particularly stingy ointment to his injuries. "You really let your ego get the best of you this time, Shota. Stepping in like that, what were you thinking?"
Aizawa, his head wrapped in bandages, merely grunted in response, his usual stoic demeanor cracked slightly by a hint of irritation.
Meanwhile, the third-year students were visibly upset, particularly Rumi, whose anger was palpable. She stood, her fists clenched, her voice raised enough to draw attention from everyone in the room. "This is your fault, Eraserhead! We had him, we had Izuku cornered, and you just had to step in and mess it all up!"
The other third years nodded in agreement, though some tried to pull Rumi back, urging her to calm down.
"Don't touch me!" Rumi snapped, shrugging off their hands. "He needs to know he can't just interfere and expect no consequences!"
Across the room, Class 1-B students huddled together, their expressions ranging from shock to outright fear—all except for Himiko, who watched the unfolding drama with an amused smirk.
Seeing the need to refocus everyone, Recovery Girl flicked on the large TV mounted on the wall, bringing up the footage of the day's battle. "Let's review the tape, shall we? Perhaps seeing it all play out will cool some heads."
As the playback started, showing Izuku's strategic and at times brutal takedowns, murmurs filled the room. The third years and Class 1-B watched, transfixed as each move was analyzed.
Nejire, hovering by Rumi, couldn't help but tease her as they watched the moment Rumi unwittingly drank the sleeping potion. "Really, Rumi? Fell for the old 'sleeping potion as a sports drink' trick? That's classic Izuku for you."
Rumi's face flushed a deep shade of red, torn between embarrassment and the residual adrenaline of battle. "Shut up, Nejire! It could have happened to anyone!"
Eraserhead, now slightly more composed, took the opportunity to address the room, his voice firm yet weary. "The point of today's exercise was not just to challenge Izuku but to demonstrate that sometimes, retreating or reevaluating the situation is the smarter choice over brute force. Clearly, that lesson went out the window."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the bruised and battered students. "Izuku has shown us all that he's not just a force to be reckoned with but that he can outthink and outmaneuver us. We need to learn from this, not stew in our failures."
The room fell silent as the weight of his words sank in. Students exchanged looks, some nodding slowly, while others, still caught up in their bruised egos, seemed less convinced.
As the footage continued to play, the detailed breakdown of each move, each decision, played out, offering everyone a chance to see just how calculated Izuku's actions were. The slow-motion replay of his final maneuver drew a collective gasp, a mixture of respect and fear.
Recovery Girl turned off the screen as the replay ended. "Let's use this as a learning opportunity, not a reason to turn on each other. We're all here to become better heroes, and today, we've all seen what that truly entails."
The room, now filled with a contemplative silence
In the changing room, the atmosphere shifted from the somber reflections of the warehouse to the playful banter of the third years. Ryuko, still in her dragon form, playfully nudged Rumi with a giant claw, eliciting a startled yelp from the bunny hero.
"Come on, Rumi, admit it," Ryuko teased, her voice booming even in her human form, "If every villain was as cute as our little broccoli boy, you'd be handing out kisses instead of punches!"
Nejire, ever the instigator, floated around them, her energy quirk making her hair stand on end with excitement. "Yeah, Rumi! And don't forget the Bunny Law! Since Izuku defeated you, doesn't that make him your husband by hero tradition?" she giggled, winking mischievously.
Rumi's face turned an even deeper shade of red, if possible, and she wrapped a towel tighter around herself, trying to shield her embarrassment. "Shut it, you two! That's not how it works, and you know it! That potion was a cheap trick, and that kiss, he took advantage of the situation!"
"But it was quite romantic, wasn't it?" Ryuko teased further, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. "Swooping in, giving you a kiss as you drift off to sleep, sounds like something out of a hero romance novel!"
Nejire floated closer, her tone mockingly soothing, "And let's not forget how he planted that kiss. It was like watching a scene from a movie! Our very own rabbit hero, swept off her feet by the dashing broccoli knight."
Rumi buried her face in her hands, groaning. "Please, just stop! None of that was romantic, it was a battle strategy, and I fell for it like a rookie!" Her ears twitched irritably, betraying her agitation.
Ryuko laughed heartily, clapping her on the back, nearly knocking her over. "Oh, come on, Rumi! It's all in good fun. But seriously, you have to admit, Izuku's got some impressive moves, both in combat and in... other areas."
Nejire nodded eagerly, floating around the other two in circles. "Exactly! And think about it, Rumi. If you two were actually a couple, think of the power couple you'd be! Unstoppable on the battlefield and adorable off it!"
Rumi looked like she might explode, her cheeks puffing out as she tried to contain her embarrassment and frustration. "Fine! Laugh it up now, but just wait. Next time, I'll be the one coming out on top, and there won't be any sneaky sleeping potions involved!"
Ryuko leaned in close, her dragon-like grin spreading wide as she teased Rumi relentlessly. "Coming out on top, huh? That sounds... promising," she quipped, her voice dripping with insinuation. "So, when is the wedding? Should we start calling you Mrs. Broccoli?"
Nejire, unable to contain her laughter, chimed in with a gleam in her eye. "Oh, definitely! Eri's going to need a little brother or sister soon, right? And we all know how strong those hero genetics are!"
Rumi's face burned an even brighter shade of red, if that was possible. She waved her hands frantically, trying to dispel the images and suggestions being thrown her way. "No! Stop it! It's not like that at all! We...we just fought, that's all!"
"But he did kiss you, right? As you were falling asleep? That's like something out of a fairy tale," Ryuko teased, nudging Rumi with her elbow. "Did you feel like a princess?"
"Shut up! It wasn't romantic or anything!" Rumi protested, though her flustered expression told a different story. "He tricked me with that potion. It was a battle tactic, not...not a proposal!"
Nejire laughed, her voice musical and light. "Sure, sure, a 'battle tactic.' So, what was your tactic when he planted one on you? Did you strategize your blush?"
The locker room echoed with laughter as Rumi tried to cover her face, her ears twitching in embarrassment. "You're all awful! I'm going to train twice as hard just to wipe those smirks off your faces!"
"Train all you want, but remember, it's all in the name of love—Bunny Law dictates it!" Ryuko added, winking dramatically.
Rumi finally snapped, grabbing her towel and throwing it over her face to muffle her mortified groan. "I'm leaving. And when I come back, you'd all better be ready to take me seriously!"
As Rumi stormed out, Ryuko and Nejire exchanged looks, their smiles wide but affectionate. "She's so cute when she's flustered," Nejire whispered, and they both nodded, their laughter fading into a shared understanding that beneath all the teasing, they truly cared for their fiery friend.
The warehouse
Izuku stepped into the warehouse, Eri perched on his shoulders, her tiny hands gripping his hair as she swayed side to side, giggling. She stretched her arms up as if reaching for the ceiling.
"When I grow up, I wanna be this tall!" she announced proudly, wiggling her fingers.
Izuku chuckled, holding onto her legs to keep her steady. "That'll only happen if you eat your vegetables, kiddo."
Eri let out an exaggerated groan, flopping forward against his head dramatically. "But veggies are gross!"
"Then I guess you'll stay tiny forever," he teased, walking over to the couch and gently pulling her down from his shoulders to set her on the floor.
She pouted, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. "What if you eat my vegetables? Then can I grow up?"
Izuku smirked, crouching to her level and poking her cheek. "That's not how it works, sweetheart. You gotta eat them yourself if you wanna be big and strong."
Eri puffed up her cheeks, thinking about it. Then her eyes lit up with an idea. "Fine! I'll eat my vegetables... but only if Papa plays video games with me!"
He let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. "We just came back from the arcade!"
"But this place has beanbag chairs!" she countered, pointing toward the massive pile of soft cushions in the corner of the warehouse. "And I wanna spend more time with Papa!"
Izuku sighed playfully before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her over to the beanbags. "Alright, alright, you win. But just a few rounds, got it?"
Eri grinned as she nestled into his lap, the game console already booting up. "Yay! You're the best Papa ever!"
They selected their characters—Izuku picked his usual powerhouse fighter, while Eri chose the tiniest, most adorable character available, one that she claimed had "secret ultimate power."
The match started, and Izuku held back a little, letting her land some hits, but even with his efforts to be nice, he was still clearly winning.
Eri let out a frustrated whine, gripping the controller tightly. "Papa, stop blocking everything!"
He grinned. "Gotta learn to adapt, kiddo. What if a villain blocks your attacks one day?"
"I'm not fighting villains—I'm fighting you!" she pouted, furiously button-mashing.
Izuku let out a dramatic "oof" as her character finally landed a combo. "Whoa, nice! You're getting better!"
Eri beamed at the praise but quickly turned serious again. As their match continued, she suddenly looked up at him with big, curious eyes.
"Papa, when am I gonna go to school?"
Izuku froze, his fingers pausing on the controller for a split second before resuming play.
School. Right. She needed a proper education. It wasn't just about training her to be strong or keeping her safe, she deserved a normal childhood, friends, and all the things that came with going to school.
He needed to talk to Mei about setting something up.
"I'm working on it," he said finally, reaching over to ruffle her silvery hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get the best school ever."
Eri nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer—at least for now.
The game continued, but this time, Izuku let her win. The way she threw her hands up in the air and cheered made it worth it.
He smiled. "Alright, alright, you won fair and square. But now…" He picked her up and tossed her gently into the beanbags, making her giggle. "Bedtime."
She gasped in betrayal. "Nooo! One more game!"
"Nope, deal's a deal. You ate your veggies today, so you'll grow big and strong, and strong kids need their sleep," he teased, crossing his arms.
Eri huffed dramatically before crawling under the nearest blanket pile, peeking out with a tiny, mischievous grin. "Fine... but only if I get cuddles."
Izuku rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest was undeniable. "You little manipulator."
He lay down beside her, wrapping an arm around her small frame as she nestled against his chest.
"Goodnight, Papa," she murmured sleepily.
"Goodnight, kiddo."
As he closed his eyes, he made a mental note to talk to Mei first thing in the morning about getting Eri into school. She deserved the best, and he'd make sure she got it.
As Rumi stepped into the warehouse, her face was red with frustration, her fists clenched at her sides. She was ready to tear into the broccoli-haired menace for his underhanded trick during their fight. Sleeping potion. Seriously? That was low, even for him. She was going to kick his ass so hard he'd wake up next week.
But then she saw them.
Izuku was lying back on one of the oversized beanbag chairs, his little daughter Eri curled up on his chest. His arms were wrapped protectively around her, his hand unconsciously gripping hers as if shielding her even in his sleep. Eri's tiny hand rested against his chest, rising and falling with his slow, even breaths.
Rumi stopped dead in her tracks. Her frustration, her anger—it all fizzled out in an instant.
Her ears twitched as she took in the peaceful sight, her heart squeezing at how... utterly soft he looked. How safe Eri looked. How safe she felt just looking at them.
Her lips pressed together, her fists loosening. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling heat creep back up her face.
"Damn it..." she muttered under her breath.
She had been ready to pounce on him, ready to get her revenge for that sneaky little trick. But now?
Now she didn't have the heart to wake them up.
Rumi let out another frustrated huff before making her way over, dropping down onto the beanbag next to them. She carefully slid her arm around Eri, placing her hand over the little girl's open palm, mirroring the way Izuku held her other hand.
She glanced at Izuku, who was still out cold, his head tilted slightly toward Eri.
Her face heated up again.
"Damn him for looking so cute while sleeping."
Leaning in slightly, she whispered, "You're lucky, Broccoli Boy."
Then, acting on impulse, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
Just as she was about to settle in for a nap herself, she heard it.
A low, amused murmur, a voice tinged with drowsy amusement.
"Yes, I am."
Rumi's eyes snapped open wide.
She pulled back, her ears standing straight up in shock, and saw him.
Izuku's eyes were slightly open, hazy with sleep but filled with that damnably familiar mischief. His lips curled into a lazy, satisfied grin.
She wanted to punch him.
She really wanted to punch him.
But then she glanced down at Eri, nestled so comfortably between them, and realized she couldn't do a damn thing.
Izuku chuckled softly and pulled her closer with his free hand. He kissed her lightly, just brushing his lips against hers, before murmuring, "Sorry for the dirty trick... but I'll beat you one day with my own strength."
Rumi narrowed her eyes, her pride demanding she argue, but her heart betrayed her. She whispered back, "You think you can beat me?"
Izuku smirked, brushing his nose against hers. "I know I can." His voice dropped lower, teasing, confident. "And when I do… you'll be my wife."
Rumi's breath hitched, and for the first time in her life, she felt completely caught off guard. She tried to form a retort, to deny it, to scoff and tell him he was dreaming.
But instead, he kissed her. Deeply. His lips molding against hers, his tongue sliding against hers, coaxing her into responding. Her breath hitched, and she melted before she could stop herself. Her hand clenched against his shirt, her ears twitching wildly as their tongues tangled, slow and warm and intoxicating.
When they finally pulled apart, both gasping slightly for air, she whispered, "You're so damn cocky."
Izuku just chuckled, resting his forehead against hers.
"You love it."
Rumi rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. She sighed, pressing her forehead into his for a moment before mumbling, "We'll see about that."
She snuggled closer, locking fingers with his as they both settled in. Their hands held tight together, one with their little daughter resting between them, the other entwined in a silent promise.
She closed her eyes, feeling warmth spread through her chest.
Maybe… just maybe… she wouldn't mind losing to him.
One day.
Inko Midoriya's Apartment
Eraserhead stood outside the door, his face set in its usual deadpan expression, though the exhaustion in his eyes was more pronounced than usual. Recovery Girl had dropped him off, despite his numerous protests about wanting to go back to his own apartment.
"Come on, I can walk home just fine," he grumbled, arms crossed.
Recovery Girl simply chuckled, waving a dismissive hand at him. "Oh, stop being stubborn. This is your apartment now," she quipped, a sly smirk on her face as she knocked on the door.
Eraserhead sighed deeply, knowing there was no winning against the old woman. The door creaked open, revealing Inko Midoriya, dressed in her yoga outfit, her hair tied up loosely. She blinked in surprise at the unexpected visitors before her eyes landed on Eraserhead, immediately softening with warmth and concern.
Recovery Girl wasted no time. "Good evening, dear. I just thought I'd bring my grandson over since he got his ass thoroughly handed to him by his new stepson," she said, shooting Eraserhead an impish glance.
Eraserhead's eye twitched as he turned to glare at her. "He's not my stepson, and you're not my grandmother," he grumbled.
Recovery Girl chuckled, patting his arm. "Oh, see? The concussion must've rattled a few screws loose. You told me to bring you here, just kept giving me this direction." She gestured toward the apartment as if proving a point.
"I gave you directions to my own apartment," he deadpanned, exasperated.
Inko, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly looked a little crestfallen. "Oh… so you don't want to come over?" she asked softly.
Eraserhead turned to her quickly, his expression unreadable but his voice lacking its usual gruffness. "I didn't say that. I just… didn't want to disturb you."
A small smile spread across Inko's face as she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're never a bother. Come inside," she said, stepping aside to let him in.
Recovery Girl clapped her hands together. "Well, I'll leave you two to it! I can trust my grandson in your capable hands," she teased, her smirk widening as she turned to walk away. "And don't do anything too spicy now, you hear?" she added with a playful wink before making her way down the hall.
Eraserhead groaned, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. "I swear, that woman is going to be the death of me."
Inko giggled, stepping aside as she motioned for him to come in. "Well, she's got a point… You are in my care now, so you better get comfortable."
He sighed, stepping inside, already regretting the inevitable teasing he was going to endure.
And yet, somehow… he didn't mind it.
Inko guided Shota inside, a warm smile on her face as she placed his favorite black licorice candy next to the couch. The couch had been pushed back to make room for her yoga session, and she chuckled nervously, a slight blush dusting her cheeks.
"I'm just going to finish my yoga video, but after that, we can definitely have some fun," she said with a lighthearted giggle before stepping over to her usual spot in front of the TV.
Shota sighed as he settled onto the couch, letting his body sink into the cushions. His head tilted back, eyes closing for a moment as he took a deep breath, finally feeling a sense of peace. No rowdy students, no exhausting hero work, just a quiet evening in a comfortable space. He allowed himself to relax, basking in the moment of normalcy.
However, when he opened his eyes again, his gaze immediately fell upon Inko, positioned directly in front of him. She was mid-stretch, her form framed perfectly against the TV screen. His breath hitched as he noticed how the tight leggings clung to her figure, accentuating every curve with each graceful movement. His face heated up slightly, but he quickly looked away, clearing his throat in an attempt to compose himself.
Inko turned her head slightly, catching his subtle shift in behavior. "Something wrong?" she asked curiously, tilting her head.
Shota coughed into his fist, shaking his head quickly. "No, no. Just... my injuries. They've healed a bit, but I'm still a little sore, you know?" He avoided her gaze, hoping she wouldn't press further.
Her expression softened in understanding. "Oh, of course. You should rest then," she said before refocusing on her yoga session.
Shota exhaled in relief, thinking he'd avoided an awkward situation. However, as Inko continued her routine, moving into deeper stretches, his self-control was tested again. She transitioned into a particularly low squat, her movements fluid and natural, but from his position on the couch, it gave him an unintentional yet dangerously captivating view.
His face burned a deeper shade of red, his hair falling over his eyes as he desperately turned his head in different directions, trying to look anywhere else. But every time she moved, his traitorous gaze would drift back, catching glimpses of her toned form adjusting through various poses.
At this point, he was certain his luck was being tested. Was this some kind of karmic punishment? He pulled his scarf up slightly, as if trying to hide his flustered state.
Inko, completely oblivious to his turmoil, continued gracefully, enjoying her routine. Meanwhile, Shota sat rigidly on the couch, gripping his knee, internally cursing his sharp peripheral vision.
This was going to be a long evening.
Shota's eyes fixated on Inko's butt, It jiggled around, with each of her movements. He felt a mountain of shame in his chest.
Shota's eyes instinctively flickered downward before he quickly averted his gaze, his jaw tightening as he internally scolded himself. What the hell am I doing? His grip on the pillow over his lap tightened slightly as he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. The last thing he needed was for her to notice anything.
Inko, completely oblivious, turned off the tv and stretched, her back arching slightly as she smiled at him. "Alright, all done!" she chirped before tilting her head. "Hey… why are you acting so weird? And why do you have a pillow over your lap?" She gave him a curious look, stepping closer. "Are you feeling cold? I can grab you a blanket."
Shota nearly choked on air. "No—! Uh, I mean, no, I'm good. I just needed… to, uh… feel a little more comfortable," he muttered, shifting in place and refusing to meet her gaze.
She blinked at him but shrugged. "Alright," she said, walking away. "I'm gonna go take a quick shower."
He nodded stiffly, keeping his gaze locked on the ceiling like his life depended on it. But then, damn it, his traitorous eyes flicked downward just as she walked away, her hips swaying ever so slightly with each step. He swallowed thickly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes.
"She's just a friend," he mumbled under his breath, gripping the pillow like it was his lifeline. "Just a friend. There are no romantic feelings here. None."
Then his phone buzzed. He looked down, unlocking it to see a message from Midnight.
Midnight: Are you in yet?
His brow furrowed, and he quickly typed back.
Shota: I'm not at work right now.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzed again.
Midnight: That's not what I meant.
Shota's eye twitched.
Shota: What do you mean?
His phone immediately vibrated with a reply.
Midnight: You. Are. A. Virgin.
Shota growled under his breath, his grip tightening around the phone. "Damn it, Nemuri," he muttered, turning off his notifications before tossing the phone onto the couch.
Before he could dwell on it further, Inko returned from her shower, now wearing a soft, simple dress. It was nothing extravagant, but for some reason, she looked… different. She seemed more self-conscious, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear as she walked over. She hesitated for a moment before sitting down right next to him, her knee lightly bumping against his.
Shota, now fully composed, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "A dress?" he asked casually.
She flushed slightly. "I don't know… I just… put it on. Felt like a nice change," she murmured, playing with the hem of the fabric.
He raised a brow, leaning back against the couch. "Looks nice," he said simply, popping a piece of black licorice into his mouth.
She beamed, her shoulders relaxing. "Thanks, Shota."
He nodded, silently enjoying the way her smile lit up her face.
For a brief moment, the air between them felt… different. There was a warmth, an unspoken tension neither of them seemed to want to acknowledge.
But then Inko, being Inko, broke the moment by pointing at his lap. "You're still holding onto that pillow," she teased with a sly grin. "You sure you're not cold?"
Shota nearly choked on his licorice.
As he chewed on the licorice, Inko frowned, patting him gently on the back. "Are you okay? You seem… I don't know, a little out of it."
He waved her off with a dismissive grunt. "It's nothing."
She raised a skeptical brow. "It doesn't seem like nothing."
Shouta let out a sigh and leaned back against the couch. "Let's just watch TV," he muttered, clearly wanting to change the subject.
Inko, still watching him closely, decided not to push—at least not yet. She grabbed the remote and flipped on the television. "Alright, what do you feel like watching today?"
"Doesn't really matter," he grumbled. "I'll watch whatever you want."
She smiled at his nonchalant attitude, brushing her fingers through his messy hair. "Oh? Are you sure about that? Because last time I put on a cooking show, you fell asleep in under ten minutes."
He rolled his eyes. "I was exhausted that day."
"Uh-huh," she teased before scrolling through the channels. "Ooh! How about 'Odd Nature: Darker Predators'? It's a documentary about snakes. That sounds fun, right?"
Shouta hummed, considering it. "Sure. Snakes are efficient hunters. Should be interesting."
As she started the documentary, Inko glanced at him again, eyes narrowing slightly. "So… how did you get so beat up?"
Shouta let out a tired sigh, tilting his head back against the couch. "Your son."
Inko immediately panicked, sitting up straighter. "Does he—does he know about us?" Her voice was strained with anxiety, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress.
Shouta furrowed his brows, confused. "About us?"
She looked away for a moment, before turning back, exhaling sharply. "Well… you know."
He blinked at her, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "We're just friends, Inko. So I don't think that would be a problem."
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out at first. She stared at him, her green eyes dimming just a little before she forced out a laugh that didn't reach them. "Yeah, right. Just friends," she muttered, shaking her head.
Then, she abruptly stood up, brushing her dress down with a bit too much force. "I'm going to get changed. I think this dress was a mistake."
Shouta watched as she disappeared down the hallway, his brows furrowing slightly. "I mean… we're just friends, right?" he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples.
When Inko returned, she was wearing a more casual outfit—simple and comfortable—but instead of sitting back next to him like she usually did, she settled on the far end of the couch, creating an invisible wall between them.
The TV played the documentary on snakes, filling the silence between them with soft narration, but the room felt different. Off.
Shouta could feel the weight of the distance she had put between them, and it felt… wrong. He scooted a little closer, attempting to rest his head on her lap like he usually would, but she immediately pushed him away.
"We're just friends, right?" she said, her voice quieter now, but with an edge of something else.
He let out a short chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender as he leaned back. "Right."
The air grew heavier between them. Normally, they would joke around, laugh at the absurdity of the documentaries they watched together, but now, an awkward silence stretched between them.
Thirty minutes passed.
Not a single word.
Shouta kept stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye, but every time he turned his head toward her, she quickly looked away. Her fingers were clutching the hem of her shirt tightly, knuckles white.
Then, suddenly—
"I can't do this anymore!"
Shouta flinched slightly at her sudden outburst, turning to her in confusion.
She was trembling.
Her eyes welled up with tears, and before he could react, they started rolling down her cheeks.
"Can you please leave?" she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.
Shouta blinked, sitting up properly. "Did I—did I offend you?" His voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern. "Inko, I—"
She shook her head furiously, her hands gripping her own arms. "No. You didn't offend me."
She squeezed her eyes shut, frustration pouring out of her as she choked on a sob. "I'm just—so stupid. I'm so, so stupid."
"Inko—"
"I should have said something sooner. I should have—I—"
She started hitting herself on the head with her fist, mumbling about how much she had messed up.
Shouta immediately reached out, gently grabbing her wrist to stop her. "Hey. Stop that."
She turned to him then, her tear-streaked face filled with regret, with longing, with something that had been left unsaid for far too long.
His grip on her wrist softened, but neither of them let go.
The space between them seemed smaller now.
Her breaths were uneven, her body trembling, but before she could hesitate again—
Shouta's fingers tilted her chin upward, his gaze holding hers in place.
And then—
A pair of lips pressed against hers.
Her breath hitched, but she melted almost immediately, her hands gripping onto his shirt like she was afraid he might slip away.
It was soft at first, almost hesitant, but when Inko let out a quiet, shaky breath against him, he pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss.
The documentary droned on in the background, but neither of them cared anymore.
All that mattered in that moment was them.
Shouta felt the warmth of Inko's body pressed against his, her breath still heavy from their passionate kiss. He hovered over her on the couch, his arms caging her in, as if he were afraid she'd slip away if he moved even an inch. His heart pounded in his chest, a strange yet exhilarating sensation for a man who was usually so composed.
Inko, however, couldn't help but laugh, her head tilting back against the cushion as the sound bubbled up from her throat. It wasn't mocking, nor was it meant to tease—it was pure joy, a mix of relief and amusement.
Shouta's brow furrowed. "What's so funny?" he asked, his monotone voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.
She wiped at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, still smiling. "You! You're adorable!"
His expression remained flat, though the slight twitch in his brow betrayed him. "I don't see how that's possible," he deadpanned, shifting slightly but still not moving away from her.
Inko shook her head, her fingers moving to his chest, tracing gentle circles through the fabric of his shirt. "You were all serious, looking like you were about to apologize for kissing me, and then suddenly you're stuttering over your words like a nervous schoolboy." She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over the faint scratch marks he hadn't noticed earlier. "You're always so composed, so in control… it's kind of nice seeing you flustered for once."
Shouta exhaled through his nose, shifting his gaze away. "I'm just… not used to this." He paused, trying to find the words, but every time he opened his mouth, he felt like he'd say something wrong. "I keep to myself. I don't—" He let out a short sigh, his fingers gripping the couch as he forced himself to continue. "I don't let people in, not really. Only the people I trust completely. And you… I think… I think I could let you in."
His words came out hesitant, uncertain, but there was a weight to them—a sincerity that made Inko's chest tighten. She could see how difficult it was for him to say those things, how much it took for him to be vulnerable.
She smiled softly, running her fingers through his messy hair, brushing it away from his tired eyes. "Shouta…" she murmured.
He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "But I don't want you to feel like you have to… y'know… deal with me."
Inko frowned, pushing herself up slightly, her forehead resting against his. "Why would you even say that?"
He looked at her, really looked at her, green eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Because I'm not an easy person," he admitted. "I work too much, I forget to take care of myself, and I'm probably not the most romantic guy out there."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You think I don't already know that? I see the way you push yourself past your limits, how you forget to eat sometimes, how you pretend like exhaustion doesn't exist." She tapped his chest lightly. "But I also see the way you care, the way you go out of your way to make sure the people in your life are okay, even if you don't always say it out loud."
Shouta held his breath, letting her words sink in.
Inko smirked. "I mean, I probably should've known the moment you gave me that workout routine. I was stress eating like crazy, and instead of just watching me self-destruct, you gave me something to help me get stronger."
His lips twitched slightly. "It was practical."
"It was sweet," she corrected, poking him in the chest again. "And you don't have to be all lovey-dovey or overly romantic. I like you just the way you are, Shouta."
He felt something inside him relax at her words, as if the tension he'd been carrying for years had suddenly loosened its grip.
Inko took a deep breath, her fingers trailing down his arm before taking his hand in hers. "So let's be honest with each other. No more overthinking. No more second-guessing. I think we should start dating."
His throat tightened. "You do?"
She nodded. "But only if that's what you want."
Shouta stared at her, his heart hammering against his ribs. He didn't need time to think about it. He already knew his answer.
"Yes," he said firmly. Then, realizing how stiff he sounded, he cleared his throat. "I mean… yeah. Yes, Inko."
Her eyes lit up, and before he could react, she pulled him down into another kiss, this one softer, slower, filled with something deeper than before.
When they pulled apart, Inko rested her forehead against his. "Good. Because I think I might really fall for you, Shouta."
He exhaled, a small, genuine smile forming on his lips. "Yeah," he murmured. "Me too."
The next morning
Izuku stirred awake in the warehouse, the warm weight against his chest reminding him of the previous night. His emerald eyes blinked open, adjusting to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the gaps in the ceiling. Rumi was still curled up beside him, her white ears twitching slightly as she dozed, her arms wrapped around him possessively. Her breath was slow and steady, her body relaxed in a way that showed how deeply she trusted him.
Eri was gone, likely already awake and having breakfast. The scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of oil and metal, a telltale sign that Mei was up and about.
A soft groan caught his attention, and he turned to see Himiko sprawled out on a bean bag, her fox-like tail wrapped snugly around her body like a makeshift pillow. Her golden ears drooped in disappointment as she clutched her gaming console, pouting at the screen.
"Damn it! Stupid AI, cheating piece of—" She growled, fangs bared, before groaning dramatically and tossing her head back.
Izuku chuckled, shifting to sit up, careful not to wake Rumi. "Losing again, Toga?" he teased, stretching his arms.
She shot him a playful glare, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I was winning until the final boss pulled some bullshit!"
Shaking his head, Izuku moved closer, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Maybe you're just bad at the game," he teased.
Himiko gasped, clutching her chest like he'd just stabbed her. "You wound me, my love!" she whined dramatically, before flashing a mischievous grin. "But you better be careful—I might just take my frustration out on you."
Before he could respond, she suddenly pulled him down, pressing a quick but firm kiss to his lips. He barely had time to register the contact before she smirked and leaned in again, this time deepening it. Izuku let out a small hum of surprise, his hands instinctively finding her waist.
As his fingers trailed down, giving her backside a teasing squeeze, Himiko gasped before shoving him back, her face flushed. "P-Pervert!" she accused, though her giggles betrayed her playful tone.
Izuku grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "Hey, you started it."
Himiko stuck out her tongue, her tail swishing behind her. "Yeah, yeah, now go do whatever it is you were about to do before I distract you even more."
With a chuckle, he pushed himself to his feet and made his way toward the small kitchenette, where Mei was already busy at work. She stood at the stove, humming softly, her wild hair tied up in a messy bun to keep it from getting into the food. She wore one of her grease-stained tank tops, paired with shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, her legs swaying slightly as she flipped some pancakes onto a plate.
Without hesitation, Izuku stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Mei hummed in approval, leaning back into him as she continued cooking.
"Mm, morning, lover boy," she greeted, smirking over her shoulder.
"Morning, genius," he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her neck before moving up to capture her lips. Mei melted into it, responding just as eagerly before pulling back, her magenta eyes glinting.
"Alright, what do you need? You only butter me up this much when you want something," she teased, poking his cheek.
Izuku chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder as he watched her cook. "We need to talk about Eri. She's definitely at the age where she should be in school. I want to make sure she gets the best education possible."
Mei nodded, not even missing a beat as she flipped another pancake. "Already thought of that," she said, reaching for a small stack of pamphlets on the counter. "I've got a few schools in mind. Some are great for general education, others focus on hero training, but this one—" she pulled out a particular pamphlet and handed it to him, "—is tied to I-Island. David Shield owns a facility specifically for gifted young inventors."
Izuku raised an eyebrow as he looked over the brochure. "An inventor school, huh? She's not exactly an inventor, Mei."
Mei snorted, waving her spatula at him. "Yet. She's not an inventor yet. But trust me, she's been hanging around us long enough, she'll be one soon."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "We should talk to her about it first, see if she's even interested. She might want something else."
Mei huffed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But when we have kids, they're definitely becoming inventors, no questions asked."
Izuku laughed, squeezing her waist. "Yeah, yeah. I have no doubt if they take after you, they'll be building weapons before they can even walk."
"Damn right," Mei grinned, tilting her head back to kiss him again. "Now let's finish breakfast before Rumi wakes up and starts demanding food like a starving animal."
Izuku smiled, watching her work as he considered everything. School for Eri was the next big step, but with the people he had by his side, he knew they'd figure it out together.
Kyoka Jiro's Room – MorningKyoka Jiro groaned as she slowly woke up, blinking against the dim glow of her bedside lamp. Her room was a chaotic shrine to music, guitars hung on the walls, drum sets positioned in the corner, and a collection of amps and synthesizers littering the floor. Her wires and soundboards were tangled from last night's failed experiments, and her beloved electric guitar lay across her lap, its strings still vibrating softly from where she must've fallen asleep playing.
She rubbed her face, sighing as the memories of yesterday's fight at UA resurfaced. They had lost. Badly.
Class 1-B had been humiliated.
She groaned, flopping back onto her bed. I should have done more. I should have been stronger.
Her gaze drifted to support equipment on the floor. The special sound amplifiers designed to handle her quirk's raw power ,were supposed to regulate her output with electricity. But the moment he used the EMP, There was nothing stopping her from going full force.
Boom.
They exploded like cheap speakers at a death metal concert.
She clenched her fists. Useless. I was totally useless.
And then there was him.
Her mind flickered to the fight, the vicious, brutal, tactical way Izuku fought. He had moved like a ghost, striking when least expected, predicting every counter before they could even react. He had obliterated their team without breaking a sweat, and while she was lying on the ground, struggling to even get up, he had already moved on, untouched.
Her hands curled into the bedsheets as frustration bubbled in her chest.
"Why can't I be like that?" she muttered.
With a deep breath, she grabbed her guitar and let her fingers glide over the strings. A few soft notes echoed through the room before she began humming a melody—a quick, impromptu song about a broccoli-haired Yakuza who fought like a demon. The lyrics formed in her mind as she played, but halfway through, she let out an exasperated sigh and put the guitar down.
Music had always been her escape, her one true love. But lately…
Lately, she felt like she had abandoned it.
Shaking her head, she pulled herself together and got dressed, heading downstairs for breakfast.
UA – Later That Day
Classes were the same as always, structured, routine, predictable. She finished a few lessons, took notes, answered some questions, but her mind was elsewhere. She kept replaying the fight over and over again in her head.
By the time lunch rolled around, she found herself staring at her phone, her neglected music channel still open on the screen.
She hadn't uploaded anything since before she got into UA.
Her last video? A cover of a rock ballad, back when she still had time to perform without worrying about hero work. Her audience was still there, waiting.
Can I really keep doing this? she thought, biting her lip.
Then she remembered.
She had tickets.
Two of them.
A concert in the underground scene, an intimate, raw, real rock and roll performance. The kind of music that made your bones rattle and your soul scream. The kind of music she loved.
But she had no one to go with.
With a sigh, she pocketed the tickets and started walking, lost in thought as she wandered the halls of UA.
Then—
BAM!
She slammed straight into something solid.
The impact sent her stumbling backward, her head spinning as one of her tickets slipped from her grasp, fluttering to the ground.
Before she could react, a hand snatched it up.
"Oh, here—"
That voice.
Her heart froze.
Kyoka looked up, eyes wide as they locked onto emerald green.
Izuku Midoriya.
A walking storm wrapped in the body of a boy.
She stepped back instinctively, her breath hitching. Her hands trembled.
The other ticket slipped from her fingers, landing beside the first.
Oh no. Oh no no no no.
She barely managed to stammer out an apology before spinning on her heel and bolting the other way.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest, panic clawing at her throat.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she muttered under her breath, pressing herself against the nearest wall.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe.
"Now he's going to kill me. Why did I have to bump into him?"
Then—
A voice.
"I'm not gonna hurt you."
Her eyes snapped open.
The voice wasn't coming from the hallway.
It was next to her.
She jumped back, pulse spiking as she saw Izuku standing there, mere inches away.
Her hands shot up defensively, but she knew it wouldn't matter. She wasn't fast enough, strong enough, smart enough to fight him.
But he… just handed her the tickets.
"Here," he said simply, his expression calm. "I'm not a bad guy. I'm trying to be a hero."
For a moment, she just stared at him.
Waiting for a trick. A trap. Something.
But he just… stood there.
Waiting.
Her hands, still trembling, hesitated before she slowly, cautiously took the tickets back.
Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
Izuku tilted his head slightly, observing her like he was trying to figure her out. "You okay?"
She blinked rapidly.
Was she okay?
She didn't even know anymore.
All she knew was that the monster from the battlefield was standing in front of her… and he was just talking.
No intimidation. No threat. Just words.
"I…" She swallowed. "I thought you'd—"
Her voice died.
Izuku sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, I figured," he muttered. "I don't blame you for thinking that."
There was an awkward silence.
Kyoka shifted uncomfortably, the tickets crumpling slightly in her grip.
Then Izuku glanced at them.
"Are those for a concert?"
She nodded, slowly.
He hummed, looking thoughtful. "Sounds cool. You excited?"
She hesitated. Did she even want to go anymore?
"...I was," she admitted.
Izuku smirked slightly, crossing his arms. "So, what happened? You don't have anyone to go with?"
Her ears burned.
She hated how easily he read her.
"...Yeah," she muttered.
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
"Guess I'm going with you, then."
Kyoka's entire body locked up.
Her brain short-circuited.
Her eyes snapped to his. "W-What?"
Izuku shrugged, his smirk never fading. "You dropped the tickets. I picked them up. I think that makes them mine now."
Her jaw dropped. "You— You just—"
He held up the tickets, twirling them between his fingers. "I mean, unless you'd rather go alone," he teased, green eyes gleaming with amusement.
Kyoka gaped at him.
Her mouth moved.
No sound came out.
Then—
Her brain caught up, and she scowled.
"You literally just robbed me," she hissed, snatching the tickets from his hand.
Izuku chuckled, completely unfazed by her glare. "You know where to find me if you change your mind," he said casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked away.
Kyoka's ears burned as she watched him go. Flustered. Irritated. Annoyed.
That damn green-haired Yakuza punk!
Her teeth ground together as she turned on her heel and stomped back to class, her mind still buzzing from the interaction. Why was he always like that? Smirking, teasing, like he had her all figured out.
The worst part? She let him get to her.
By the end of the school day, she needed to clear her head.
She made her way to her locker, grabbed her bass guitar and a small amp, and climbed up one of UA's rooftops, a quiet place she had claimed as her own.
The sun hung low in the sky, painting the city in shades of gold and violet. The wind ruffled her dark hair as she plugged in her amp, adjusted the dials, and ran her fingers over the strings.
With a deep breath, she began to play.
A slow, deep bassline rumbled from the amp, the vibrations thrumming in her chest. The song formed naturally.
A song about a broccoli-haired boy who thought he was so damn tough.
Oh, look at you, standing so tall,
Like some green-haired punk, thinkin' you've got it all.
Tactics and tricks, a devil in disguise,
But one day, boy, you're in for a surprise.
You fight like a demon, move like a ghost,
Act like you're always the one in control.
But you don't know what's coming, don't have a clue,
'Cause one day, I'll be the one outplaying you!
Dancin' in shadows, always two steps ahead,
Thinkin' you're scary, like I should be scared.
But the thing about music, it gets in your brain,
And I'll be the song that drives you insane.
You fight like a demon, move like a ghost,
Act like you're always the one in control.
But you don't know what's coming, don't have a clue,
'Cause one day, I'll be the one outplaying you!
Yeah, you act so cool, act like you don't care,
But I see that smirk, boy, don't you dare.
One day, I'll knock you flat on your ass,
And that's when you'll know, I play to surpass.
Bet you think I'm just wasting my breath,
But I'm the sound that won't let you rest.
Keep me in your head, keep me on repeat,
One day, you'll be bowing to my beat.
You fight like a demon, move like a ghost,
Act like you're always the one in control.
But you don't know what's coming, don't have a clue,
'Cause one day, Broccoli, I'll be beating you!
As she let the final note ring out, a sharp whistle cut through the air.
She froze.
Her fingers slipped off the strings, her heart jumping into her throat.
Slowly, dread pooling in her stomach, she turned around.
And there he was.
Shirtless.
Izuku. Midoriya.
Standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his ridiculously toned chest, looking completely at ease like he hadn't just caught her mid-performance.
Kyoka's face exploded in red.
Her first instinct? Cover her eyes.
"WHAT THE HELL!?" she yelped, turning away so fast that she almost tripped over her amp. "Why are you here?! And why are you, why are you SHIRTLESS?!"
Izuku blinked at her reaction before following her gaze down to himself. "Oh. That."
He casually gestured toward the sky, where a UA-issued T-shirt was currently floating mid-air, slowly descending.
Kyoka's brain short-circuited.
"...Why the hell is your shirt up THERE?"
Izuku, completely serious, pointed at it. "I was testing something."
Kyoka narrowed her eyes, still not looking directly at him. "...Testing what?"
"Well," he began, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt, "I was trying to see if I could use my quirk to manipulate my clothing as a last-minute restraint if I ever get disarmed. Basically, I can control the force in my movements to an extent where I can make things react mid-air. I got it to work on my shoes first, but my shirt still needs some adjustments."
He shrugged. "It's just a precaution."
Kyoka turned, finally daring to look at him, and immediately regretted it.
Because Izuku Midoriya wasn't just standing there.
He was standing there looking like he'd walked out of a goddamn fitness magazine.
His lean but absurdly toned torso glistened slightly from the afternoon heat, his muscles way more defined than she expected. The way his biceps flexed as he crossed his arms sent a weird jolt down her spine—
NO. NOPE. STOP. BAD. BAD THOUGHTS.
She shook her head aggressively, pointing a trembling finger at him.
"Y-You're unbelievable," she muttered. "Running around shirtless, stalking me."
Izuku blinked. "I'm not stalking you."
Kyoka scoffed. "Oh really? You just happened to be here?"
He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "I'm practicing. Same as you."
Kyoka glared. "So you weren't listening to my song?"
"I mean… you were singing about me," he pointed out.
Kyoka's face turned scarlet.
"IT WASN'T A LOVE SONG, IDIOT!" she snapped.
Izuku tilted his head, amused. "Didn't say it was."
She froze.
His grin widened.
"But it was about me, wasn't it?" he pressed.
Kyoka clenched her jaw, refusing to answer.
But his smug expression wouldn't go away.
With an exasperated sigh, she threw her hands in the air. "Fine! Yes, it was about you! So what!?"
Izuku nodded slowly, completely satisfied. "Sooo, that means I've been on your mind, huh?"
Her eye twitched violently.
"Not in a good way, dumbass!" she shot back.
"Still counts."
"IT REALLY DOESN'T!"
Izuku smirked, rubbing his chin. "You know, if you're thinking about me that much, I feel like I should at least get a yes for the concert."
Kyoka rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.
"You're so damn full of yourself," she grumbled.
"So… is that a yes?"
She grabbed her bass guitar case, hoisted it over her shoulder, and stalked past him.
"It's a no," she huffed.
"That sounded like a maybe," he called after her.
"It wasn't!"
She stomped toward the stairs, trying desperately to ignore how smug his laugh sounded behind her.
As Kyoka descended the stairs, her mind whirled with irritation and the sting of embarrassment. Her foot caught on the edge of a step, her balance faltering. She gasped, flailing for something to grasp, but gravity was quicker. Suddenly, she felt herself falling forward into a dangerous tumble.
But the fall never came. Instead, her body halted mid-air, suspended by an unseen force. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Izuku dash forward, his expression tight with concern. His arms reached out, steadying her just as his quirk activated, enveloping her in a gentle telekinetic hold that eased her back onto solid ground.
Kyoka's equipment, which had started to slip from her grasp, floated beside her, surrounded by a faint green glow. Once she was firmly on her feet, Izuku withdrew his power, allowing her instruments to settle safely without a scratch.
He was already slipping his shirt back on, his face a mixture of apology and mild reproach. "Look, I'm sorry if I teased you too much," he started, his voice sincere. "But you seriously gotta be careful. You could have gotten hurt."
Kyoka brushed off her clothes, her glare sharp as she met his gaze. "Whatever, whatever," she muttered, her words quick and clipped. "Just don't tell anybody that I play music, okay? It's just a hobby."
Izuku's eyebrows rose slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Are you sure it's just a hobby? Because you seemed quite passionate about it. Heck, you improvised a song pretty quickly, that's talent."
She huffed, her gaze flickering away for a moment. "Oh, talent? It's not talent. That's just luck. Besides, I'm not that talented in music."
Izuku shook his head, his disagreement clear. "I disagree. I think you're very talented."
"Oh, I'm very talented? I'll show you very talented," she retorted, her voice laced with a challenge. Without thinking, she pulled out one of the concert tickets from her pocket and thrust it into his hand. "Here. This is where real musicians are, like none of that crap you listen to."
His eyes lit up, both amused and intrigued. "So, is this a yes?" he asked, his voice teasing yet gentle.
Kyoka's mouth opened, then closed, her face flushing a deep red as she realized what she had just done. She looked at the ticket in his hand, then back at his eyes. "No, no, that's not what I…..okay, fine. You can come."
"Damn it, damn it, damn it," she muttered under her breath.
Izuku placed a hand gently on her head, his touch light. "Calm down, everything is going to be okay," he reassured her, a soft smile playing on his lips.
She blushed even more deeply. "Well, I gotta go now. Take care," she stammered, eager to escape the swirl of emotions Izuku stirred in her.
"Oh, by the way," Izuku added as he started to walk away, his voice carrying back to her, "Earphone Jack, Rumi is waiting for your next video. So don't keep her waiting. She's very into your music."
Kyoka's heart stopped. He knows about my channel. Earphone Jack was the name she used online, a persona she kept separate from her life at UA.
Oh my god, that means he knew the whole time.
The thought made her want to disappear into the ground. How did he find out?
As Izuku descended the stairs, a chuckle escaped him, his fingers tightening around the ticket. "This is going to be fun," he murmured to himself, anticipating not just the music but the chance to see another side of Kyoka Jiro.
Meanwhile, Kyoka stood frozen, her spirit feeling like it was hovering outside her body, not ready to deal with the revelation that Izuku had been aware of her secret passion all along. As the distance between them grew, she realized that perhaps this concert would be more than just a night out, it might just be the start of something new, something terrifying, yet exhilarating.
Author's Notes:
Hello everyone,
I want to share some updates regarding the schedule and quality of our upcoming chapters. Due to my increased focus on quality control, the release timing between chapters might extend a bit. This ensures that each chapter meets a higher standard before publication. I know the wait might be a bit longer, but I believe the improved quality will be worth it.
I could rush the chapters out "willy-nilly" and fix issues later, but I don't think that's what most of you would prefer. It's important to me that you all enjoy a polished and engaging story from the start.
Looking Ahead:
After we wrap up the upcoming "Rock Girl" chapter (and I'm excited for you to see what's in store there!), we'll be shifting focus to "Mushroom Girl." I'm currently fleshing out her personality and figuring out how to best integrate her story into Class 1-B dynamics. As you might know, Class 1-B doesn't have as many standout moments as Class 1-A, so it's a fun challenge to dig deep and bring those characters to the forefront.
As for the "Prayer Girl"—oh, I have some plans there. But no spoilers! You'll just have to wait and see.
Thank you all for your understanding and continued support. It means the world to me that you stick with the story, even through these adjustments. Stay tuned for more updates, and, as always, feel free to share your thoughts and feedback!