Izuku trudged down the tree-lined sidewalk, his mind wrapped tightly around the paragraphs of his essay that still refused to flow smoothly.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long, golden streaks across the pavement, but he barely registered the beauty of the afternoon.
Three days.
He had been working on this paper for three whole days, and the deadline loomed closer with every breath he took. The blinking cursor on his laptop screen haunted him even now, lingering in his thoughts like an unspoken challenge.
He shifted his backpack higher onto his shoulder, pace steady but unhurried as he neared his apartment building. The faintest hope flickered in his chest that perhaps, by some miracle, the right words would come to him the moment he sat down again. He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed the voices calling out to him.
"Izuku! Hey!"
The sharp, familiar voice cut through the hum of the street, but it took Izuku a second to register that it was meant for him. He blinked and turned just in time to see two figures approaching - Jace and Elara. Jace, with his ever-present energy, lifted a hand in greeting while Elara, in stark contrast, strode forward with a knowing smirk already tugging at the corner of her lips.
"You look like you're thinking too hard again," Jace teased, reaching out to clap a firm hand on Izuku's shoulder. "What's up?"
Izuku exhaled, momentarily letting go of the stress lodged in his chest. "Essay," he answered simply. "Professor Greaves' class. I'm trying to finish it before the deadline."
Elara rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in a way that made her disapproval evident. "Ugh, that thing? Jace should be writing his too, but we both know that's not happening."
Jace waved a dismissive hand. "That's future me's problem. Besides, we were thinking of heading out for a bit. Wanna come with?"
Izuku hesitated. The offer was tempting but … "I really should-"
"Take a break," Jace interjected before he could finish, grinning. "C'mon, man. You've been holed up for days. We hardly see you in the dining hall, either. One evening off won't kill you."
Elara tilted her head, her tone laced with mock sympathy. "And if it does, I'll put a poisonous mushroom on your grave."
Izuku very much did not want a toxic fungus on his final resting place, but he could not help the small smile that tugged his lips. Jace's optimism was infectious, and Elara's sarcasm - though blunt - was oddly reassuring in its consistency. Maybe there were right. He had spent too long staring at his screen, agonizing over phrasing and structure. A break would not be the worst idea. "Alright, fine," he conceded. "But just for a bit."
As they began walking, Izuku's thoughts drifted to someone else. "Has anyone seen Renée today?"
Jace's expression dimmed slightly, his usual cheer subdued. "Nope. She hasn't answered my texts either. I was actually planning on checking in on her later."
Izuku frowned. Renée was not the type of person to ignore messages, especially not from Jace. A sliver of worry lodged itself in his chest, but he kept it to himself. Maybe she just needed space. "Hope she's okay," he murmured.
Jace nodded, though his usual carefree demeanor did not fully return. They walked in silence for a moment before he shook his head as if physically dispelling the concern. "Anyway, let's figure out where we're going. I was thinking Chinatown. There's this herbal shop I wanted to check out."
Elara arched an eyebrow. "You? Interested in herbs? Since when?"
He simply shrugged. "Hey, I'm full of surprises."
Izuku let out a quiet chuckle, his shoulders finally relaxing. He was not sure what the evening held, but for now, the weight of his unfinished essays and unanswered messages felt just a little lighter.
The trio arrived at one of California's many Chinatowns, stepping onto streets infused with history, culture, and the ever-present energy of a thriving community. The entrance was marked by a grand, ornate gate - a paifang - its deep red pillars embellished with golden accents. Above, an intricate carving of auspicious dragons intertwined with koi fish stood proudly, symbols of strength, transformation, and prosperity. At the gate's base, two stone lions - one with a paw resting on a sphere, the other on a cub - stood sentinel, their expressions frozen in fierce guardianship.
Izuku, captivated by the artistry, immediately reached for his phone. He adjusted the camera settings to capture the perfect angle, ensuring the sweeping curve of the roof tiles and the careful detailing of the dragons were in frame. A few quick shots - then a couple more - one with Jace and Elara standing under the arch, looking unimpressed.
"Tourist much?" Elara quipped, watching him as he examined his photos.
Izuku barely acknowledged her, too busy marvelling at the play of light against the gate's lacquered surface. "It's amazing," he murmured. "Every detail has meaning … Look at the balance in the design, how it frames the street beyond. Even the lions are positioned for harmony - male for protection, female for nurturing."
Jace let out a chuckle. "You really can't turn off your analytical brain, can you?"
He shrugged, unbothered. "I like knowing why things are the way they are."
They stepped beyond the paifang entering the heart of the district. Red lanterns stretched across the streets in long, glowing ribbons, swaying gently in the breeze. The buildings had classic Chinese architecture - curved eaves, tiled rooftops, wooden lattice windows - blended with modern storefronts designed to catch a tourist's eye.
The scent of sizzling food filled the air: roast duck and char siu pork hung in display windows, their glistening skin reflecting the neon signs of the shops behind them. Vendors called out in a mix of Cantonese, Mandarin, and English, enticing passersby with trays of dumplings, skewered meats, and sweet pastries.
Izuku's gaze darted from one storefront to the next. Jade figurines, embroidered silk robes, calligraphy scrolls - many of the items looked authentic, yet their prices suggested otherwise. A souvenir shop sold cheap knockoffs of Chinese antiques alongside red envelopes and zodiac trinkets. A few stores away, a tailor's shop displayed a stunning cheongsam, the deep blue fabric embroidered with golden chrysanthemums.
"It's … beautiful," Izuku said, but his voice carried a hint of reservation.
Elara folded her arms. "It's commercialized. Watered down." She gestured vaguely at a shop with a giant 'FRESH BOBA TEA' sign that barely fit the frame of the small store. "Half of these places are catering to tourists who don't even know what they're buying."
Jace nodded. "Yeah, but it's still cool. There's history mixed in with the tourism stuff." He gestured toward an old temple tucked between two restaurants, its incense-filled courtyard acting as a buffer against the modern world. "You just gotta look past the gimmicks."
Izuku continued to take in his surroundings, but he could not shake the feeling that something was missing. The Chinatown he had imagined - one deeply rooted in tradition, where history and culture thrived without being reshaped for Western expectations - felt just out of reach. If anything, this place reminded him of the stereotypes the Western world held about East Asia as a whole.
Then, they found it.
A narrow street branched off from the main hub, running parallel to the one they had just walked. It was noticeably quieter, the air filled with the distinct scent of saltwater and fresh seafood rather than fried snacks and syrupy drinks. Izuku immediately noticed the difference - not just in atmosphere, but in authenticity.
Gone were the neon signs and kitschy souvenirs. Instead, local grocers and seafood markets lined the street, their storefronts bustling with activity. Elderly vendors stood behind wooden crates filled with fresh vegetables, dried mushrooms, and preserved delicacies. Massive fish tanks bubbled with live crabs, lobsters, and eels, their surfaces misted over with condensation.
"Now this is more like it," Elara remarked, clearly more appreciative of this section of Chinatown. She stopped to examine a stack of fresh lychees, rolling one between her fingers before tossing it back onto the pile.
Izuku paused near one of the seafood stalls, watching as an elderly man expertly gutted and descaled a fish with practiced efficiency. The blade of his cleaver glinted under the fluorescent lighting, moving with precision honed over years of experience. Nearby, a young woman negotiated the price of a bundle of Chinese chives, her voice calm but firm.
Everything here felt more real.
Izuku took another photo, this time capturing the contrast between the hanging roast ducks in the distance and the open-air seafood stalls in front of him. A Chinatown that existed not just for visitors, but for the people who lived and worked here.
After weaving through the quieter streets, the trio finally arrived at a herbal medicine shop tucked between two other unassuming storefronts. It was the kind of place one might miss if they were not looking for it. The exterior signage was modest, the faded Chinese characters written in traditional calligraphy rather than bright, flashing LED.
Inside, the store had an old-world charm, a stark contrast to the modern pharmacies found elsewhere in the city. Wooden counters stretched across the length of the shop, each lined with rows of small, labelled drawers - the kind that stored dried roots, rare teas, and powdered medicines used in Traditional Chinese Medicine. The fragrance of ginseng, dried goji berries, and bitter herbs filled the air, creating an aroma both foreign and strangely comforting.
An elderly shopkeeper, clad in a simple collared shirt, eyed them from behind the counter. He had the look of someone who had been running the store for decades, his gaze sharp but not unkind.
"Looking for something specific?" he asked in clear English, his voice gravelly from age.
Jace grinned, resting an elbow on the counter. "Anything that can boost brainpower? Our guy Izuku here is writing an essay, and he's been frying his brain over it."
Izuku shot Jace a look but could not resist the small chuckle that escaped him.
The shopkeeper gave them a slow, assessing glance before reaching for a jar of dried ginkgo leaves. "For memory and focus," he explained simply.
Elara hummed, stepping past the counter to examine a set of porcelain jars stacked neatly on one of the wooden shelves. "I like this place," she admitted. "It has character."
Izuku silently agreed. Unlike the flashier shops designed for tourists, this place felt preserved in time, a piece of history quietly existing between modern businesses.
Maybe this was the Chinatown he had been looking for.
Their casual sightseeing continued as they wandered deeper into Chinatown. They visited a century-old church, its wooden pews worn smooth by generations of worshippers. They explored an old telephone exchange, where dusty switchboards stood frozen in time, remnants of an era when operators connected every call by hand. A small local museum showcased the struggles and triumphs of early Chinese immigrants, their history etched into black-and-white photographs and preserved artifacts.
It was along a narrow side street, away from the bustling main roads, where things took an unexpected turn.
Jace, distracted by his surroundings, was not watching where he was going. His shoulder bumped into someone, a young Chinese American in his late teens, causing the boba in his hand to spill down the guy's shirt. The brown liquid seeped into the fabric, darkening the front of his hoodie.
"Ah, crap," Jace muttered, eyes widening in realization. "Sorry, man - totally my bad."
The teen froze, looking down at himself before snapping his gaze up at Jace, his expression morphing from surprise to pure rage in a heartbeat. His jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides.
"You think you can just bump into me like that and walk away?" His voice was sharp, edged with testosterone-fueled aggression. He stood taller, chest puffed out in an attempt to look more imposing. "You wanna die, bro?"
Izuku felt the atmosphere shift - a telltale sign of rising hostility. The guy's words were not just casual anger; they were escalating to threats, his body language broadcasting his intent. His hero intuition told him that they were only seconds away from a full brawl if he did not do something soon.
Meanwhile, Jace raised his hands in a placating gesture, perhaps having reached the same conclusion Izuku did. "Whoa, let's not go there. I said I'm sorry-"
"Not good enough," the teen spat. "You think you're tough?" His fingers twitched toward his pocket, and Izuku's man ran through a dozen scenarios, calculating the odds of a weapon being drawn. Knife? Switchblade? Gun? That last one would be particularly gruesome.
Without hesitation, Izuku stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Jace. "Listen," he said, voice calm but firm, deliberately changing to an American accent. "It was an accident. My friend didn't mean any harm, and I get that you're upset. No one wants their clothes ruined. But let's not make this bigger than it needs to be."
The teen's nostrils flared, but his stance shifted - still tense, but no longer a breath away from violence. He reconsidered, caught between pride and logic.
It was working.
And then Elara ruined it.
With a bored sigh, she folded her arms. "Wow, you're really gonna throw a tantrum over some spilled tea? What, your mommy didn't teach you how to use a washing machine?"
The tension snapped.
The adolescent's eyes blazed, and this time, he did not hesitate. He pulled out his phone - oh, thank goodness it was not a gun - and barked into it, "Yo, get over here. Now."
Izuku barely suppressed a groan.
Within minutes, his 'buddies' arrived - three more guys, all of them radiating the same aggressive energy, all of them looking for a fight. One cracked his knuckles, another smacked a fist into his palm. The message was clear.
Izuku exchanged a glance with Jace, who sighed, already resigning himself to the inevitable.
This was happening.
Jace took the first hit, dodging a poorly aimed punch before countering with a swift, measured strike to his attacker's ribs. Moments later, he morphed into his Red Ranger getup. Izuku moved instinctively, weaving through the chaos with well-practiced agility, redirecting blows and using his opponents' momentum against them.
Then there was Elara.
The instigator was having the time of her life.
Despite her delicate, elfish appearance, she was utterly ruthless. Instead of brute strength, she fought with precision and cunning. Tiny spores - nearly invisible to the untrained eye - spread from her fingertips, clinging to her opponents as they lashed out at her.
One of them stumbled mid-punch, clutching his throat as his breathing grew labored. Another let out a strangled yelp, falling to his knees as a hallucinogen toxin warped his senses. And then there was the scream. Bloodcurdling. Raw. The kind that sent shivers down Izuku's spine.
The first guy - the one who had started this whole mess - collapsed to the pavement, his expression twisted in horror. Whatever Elara had done to him, it was far beyond what his adrenaline-fueled bravado could handle.
Silence followed.
His buddies bolted, dragging their incapacitated companion with them, their earlier cockiness shattered. Elara, completely unbothered, beamed with satisfaction. "Now that was fun."
Izuku and Jace just stared at her.
"Seriously?" Jace exclaimed incredulously, wiping a stray drop of blood from his lip. "You just had to escalate things?"
Elara shrugged, entirely unapologetic. "Hey, at least something exciting happened."
Izuku exhaled slowly, forcing himself to let it go. It was over. There was no point in scolding her - she was not the type to listen anyway. Instead, he exchanged another look with Jace, who, after returning to his civilian form, simply sighed. "Fine," Jace muttered, rolling his shoulders. "It's done. But if the police come asking, I'm blaming the whole thing on you."
They moved on, leaving the fight behind them.
But as they walked, Izuku could not shake the feeling that this would not be the last time Elara caused trouble for them.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Izuku shot Elara a look.
"Wise choice," she said with a smirk.
Jace grumbled, "Let's just go home before we run into more trouble."
And with that, the three of them disappeared into the neon-lit streets, their misadventure in Chinatown another story for the next time they met up with Renée and Marco and later in the evening when Izuku spoke to Kamiko.