Carrot Cake (With A Bit of Cyanide!)

by Studio Greenshade

After nearly killing her brother's ex-girlfriend, the Misery twins and their parents move to Japan for a new life. But misery always loves company! {TCOAL x MHA crossover} {set in AU} {Co-creator: SexySinneress}

11. Even the Gods Can Fall! (Part I)

Tsuyu held the door open with a quiet smile as the girls filed into the common area of Alliance Heights, each one clutching a cup of frozen yogurt like it was a trophy. The sunset outside painted the room in a soft amber glow, and the scent of vanilla and strawberries trailed in with them.

"Dibs on the telly!" Mina shouted, sprinting forward before anyone could argue. Plus, tonight was the latest episode of Girls on HBO and no way in hell she was going to miss that episode. Of course, Hagakure would protest saying that it wasn't like her favorite show, Gossip Girl. And it was typical Mina who would say that the show was kinda like Gossip Girl but with more tits. The pinkette alien dove dramatically onto the couch, snatching up the remote and immediately mashing buttons so she wouldn't miss a second of the episode.

Tooru plopped down beside her, phone already in hand. "Okay, everyone hold still—I need the perfect lighting for the froyo pic," she announced, angling her cup toward the light like it was a model. "Hashtag: TreatYoSelf!"

Momo, ever the composed one, glided into the kitchen area. "I'll get some napkins," she said gently. "We don't want sticky fingers on the furniture."

"Yeah, as if we don't want a certain dwarf getting any ideas." Kyouka responded as she claimed the opposite couch, flopping back with a relaxed groan. "In retrospect, we should have gotten some blankets for the couches."

"So we could enjoy a girl's night comfortably?" Tooru asked, taking more photos to add to her social media page.

"For our own protection," retorted the rocker chick. "Mineta is the type that would smell bicycle seats. His legs are definitely hotter than fish grease." She rested her froyo on her stomach, spooning it lazily with one hand while the other strummed invisible guitar chords. "I wouldn't put it past him if he tried impregnating the couches. The closest thing to ass that he is ever gonna get!"

Ashley was the last to enter, her steps slower and she was quiet. She slid into the space next to the invisible moe, cradling her cup carefully as she took in the scene.

Tsuyu then launched herself onto the couch, landing squarely on Kyouka's legs. "Sorry, Kyouka, ribbit!" she croaked playfully, digging into her yogurt with wide eyes.

"Ow, you frog menace," Kyouka grunted, but there was no bite to it. "One of these days, I swear…."

"Swear on what, ribbit!" Tsuyu retorted with a cheeky grin. "Like you swear that you wouldn't go for Kaminari, but yet you're grilling him like a pig's trotter."

"I know you are not still on about my choices of men. Yet again, I always knew you had unique tastes, but I didn't think you were into emotionally constipated weirdos with the personality of a wet sock."

"Says the girl who's basically dating a walking power outage with the IQ of a toaster. At least mine doesn't fry his brain when he sneezes, ribbit." Tsuyu retorted.

"You really think you're better, ribbit!" Kyouka snapped back. "Girl, your man probably stares at the moon for hours wondering if it understands his pain. Meanwhile, you're nodding like, 'Wow, that's so deep, ribbit!'"

"Clever, but hey, I get it. If I had to settle for someone who thinks Pikachu is a role model and short-circuits whenever I say 'responsibility,' I'd probably pretend it's love too. Let's face it, you're basically dating a broken phone charger with commitment issues."

Kyouka sat up, giving the frog vixen a sniveling grin. "Denki might be a walking power surge, but at least he doesn't need a demonic shadow third wheel monitoring our dates like a nosy cryptid. Do you two get permission from Dark Shadow before holding hands, or is he the one calling the shots?"

Tooru covered her mouth. Mina's eyes were wide as saucers. Even the others were nodding their heads in shock with their mouths agape. Ashley, on the other hand, was thinking she knew she and her mother threw jabs like they were serving at a tennis match, but these girls were playing dodgeball with their low blows.

The frog teen tilted her head, arms were crossed and dropped her voice just enough to make it hurt. "Funny you brought up shots, Kyouka. Because from what I've heard, Denki keeps missing his—both on the battlefield and in the bedroom." She wasn't finished, taking a breath before continuing, "How many times has he tried to impress you, only to short-circuit before round one? But hey, if your idea of foreplay is resetting him like a glitchy appliance and waiting thirty minutes for his brain to reboot, then who am I to judge? At least Tokoyami doesn't need a charger to last the night."

Kyouka nodded, showing a cascading grin onto her face. She brushed her hair with her fingers. Each time, she let out a tiny cackle. "So, it's like Froggy? Ok, fine! Well at least when Kaminari and I do get busy, we don't have to worry about some emo shadow demon lurking in the corner like a pervy gargoyle taking mental notes." She leaned forward, jabbed a finger in the air. "You think I'm gonna take bedroom criticism from someone who plus one has plus eyes during every intimate moment? Tokoyami out there whispering tragic poetry while you're trying to get undressed— 'O despair…the flesh is weak…the spirit is willing…the groin is spongy and bruised…' like, girl, are you sure he's into you and not writing fanfiction for his own Quirk?"

It wasn't long until Yaoyorozu returned, napkins in hand, and appeared stunned when hearing the lowbrow quips between friends. "Enough, you two. You're seconds away from turning the common room into a villain incident. I suggest you both stand down now!"

"I'll stand down when Courtney Cox here learns how to manage her tune…sorry, I mean tone," retorted Tsuyu.

The rocker chick snapped back and said, "I'll stand down when Tsuyu figures out how to fix her face. God really fumbled the blueprint on that one."

"I know Keloid Ears over there isn't talking, ribbit!" Tsuyu's eye twitched. Kyouka's earlobes sparked like they were about to throw hands and lightning. The ground was practically trembling from sass-based seismic activity.

The vice president clapped her hands once. It was loud and commanding, voice icy and calm. "If either of you would like to personally explain this to Aizawa-sensei, then be my guest."

Tsuyu and Kyouka immediately went silent. The frog vixen looked away, arms folded. "Fine~! Sorry, Jirou." "Unrefined vocal cords."

"I'm sorry, too, Asui!" Kyouka responded. "Frog-faced, Momo-looking drama queen."

Ashley sat cross-legged on the couch, nervously picking at her spoon. Her face was a little red. It wasn't from anger, but the lingering embarrassment from earlier with battle training with her classmates.

"Hey," she started, glancing around at the others. "I just…I just wanted to say thanks. For the froyo. And you know, trying to cheer me up after that mess of a training session."

She tried to laugh, but it was brittle. "I thought I was ready, but I got completely wrecked out there. My classmates probably think I'm a joke."

Mina, sitting sideways with her legs over the armrest, waved a spoon like a baton. "Graves, please. The joke is as if Minoru finally gets to score with flesh and not some body pillow. But in all seriousness, everyone gets wrecked at some point. That's like, step one of the hero starter kit. Trust me—my first training session ended with my butt in a crater and a full-face mask of dirt. She grinned, trying to lift the mood. "And I still made it fabulous."

Tsuyu, deciding to grab a beanbag nearby, wasn't going to sugarcoat it. She said, "We've all had to get our cherry popped when it comes to sparring with classmates. It's part of the process. You get hit. You fall. You feel like trash, ribbit." She then tilted her head toward Ashley, gaze steady. "Defeat is expected. But giving up? That's not part of the deal. Not here, ribbit!"

Ashley gave a small nod, eyes misty. "It's just hard not to feel behind when everyone else is already amazing."

Kyouka interjected. "You think we were all born with it figured out? Half the time, we're making it up as we go. The only difference between you and us is time. And bruises." She smirked, then added—dry, but sincere saying, "Also maybe don't take Tsuyu's phrasing too literally. Froyo and trauma bonding don't always go together."

Mina chuckled, tossing a mini marshmallow at the rocker teen. "Speak for yourself. I thrive in chaos."

Ashley finally let out a real laugh, soft and genuine. "Thanks, guys. Really I needed this."

"You'll survive, ribbit. That's what matters," said Tsuyu.

"And next time you're getting your ass kicked, just imagine the rest of us watching and judging. Builds character," said Kyouka, finishing the rest of her froyo.

"Exactly. We're here to listen and not judge," responded Momo. "That said, some of us do make it awfully easy. Like Jirou, with her, shall we say…underground taste in music and unplugged taste in men."

Kyouka squinted. "Excuse me?!"

Momo didn't break eye contact. She continued, turning ever-so-gracefully to Mina next. "And of course, our dearest Mina—whose hair is as bright as her wardrobe and nearly as loud as her voice."

Mina gasped, placing a hand on her chest.

Then, finally Momo shifted to Tsuyu. "And Tsuyu, darling Tsuyu Asui—the class vixen. You have remarkable instincts in battle. Such a shame those instincts vanish entirely when it comes to picking emotionally repressed bird-boys."

The room went quiet for a minute.

Then Mina, eyes wide, said, "Wait…since when do you throw shade like that?"

Momo simply smiled, looking directly at the alien pinkette. "Oh, snap snap, as you girls say. Just like when someone asked if Shouto's hair…matches the drapes."

Mina touched her cheek. "Yeah, I forgot that…."

"I keep my receipts, just as you do whenever you shop," retorted Momo. "Times get tough. I wouldn't know, but I understand. Yet, you can always feel good when you pay less."

The girls then laughed at how out of hand their comments were despite the fact they weren't really giving themselves the heat but rather the guys they were dating. Ashley realised these bitches were crazy but maybe that was how their friendship worked. She just sat there slowly lapping up her froyo as she came up with a plan to take on that rabid pomeranian. That's when the universe decided to be a dick,

"For fuck sake does that cunt have to be here!" spoke the devil himself, Katsuki as he just entered the dorms after being chewed out by Nezu. It wasn't bad enough he was already in shit because of her, even more so because of her brother but seeing her face made him froth at the mouth. "It's bad enough I see your inbred face in class and now I have to see it here too!? You don't even live in the damn dorms, so fuck off!"

Ashley glared at him before opening her mouth, "What, still mad I kicked your ass, pound dog? Or is my beauty just raging your hate boner for me?"

That statement alone pissed Katsuki off hearing "pound dog" as he remembered what her brother said earlier which infuriated him as he was heading to the elevator only for him to turn back to the girls while smugly stating "at least this pound dog knows what a bitch tastes like." before slowly approaching them "bet you'd love a pounding from this so called dog, bitch."

Ashley was pissed as some of her acid unknowingly dripped from her arms before Mina grabbed ahold of her to ease her rage as Momo stood in front of her before confronting Katsuki. She still hadn't forgotten how he ruined their night, how he caused all the tension in class and how he both forced himself on Ashley and still thinks he's the shit.

"May I inform you Bakugou, Aizawa-Sensei informed me that if you even sneeze at Ashley the wrong way. You'll be spending the next three weeks with Hound Dog, Midnight and Snipe before you get permanently blacklisted from all hero courses from here to London."

Katsuki then had flashbacks to when Snipe used his ass for target practice, Hound Dog lectured him about basic rights, respect and beat him, while Midnight tied him up on a wooden horse in nothing then a revealing sailor uniform with quirk damping cuffs as his mom was invited to both give permission and to watch him be properly punished. He still had splinters from the hard wood and spikes of last time, Mitsuki even warned him that if he gets blacklisted he'll be forced to watch her, his father and Midnight get it on in front of him. Katsuki slowly backed off,

"Tch, fine. I'll back off Ponytail but you can't protect your white bread forever, soon enough a pair of teeth will tear through that neck of hers." he walked off into the elevator as it closed behind him. Some of the girls sighed in relief before Mina spoke out,

"Yaomomo we may need an acid proof glass, Ash's quirk is dripping onto the floor!"

Momo, being the responsible person she is, created a large acid proof sheet and requested Mina to drag Ashley onto it, which the pair did as she said.

"Ash, you need to take deep breaths. I can only neutralize your acid so much, I know my skin is immune to mine and your acid but we don't know if you are. You're also still trying to get the hang of it so please." Mina was really trying to calm the Misery sibling down from her white hot seething ire while giving her a hug. Slowly Ashley's acid production started to settle and eventually it stopped, luckily she didn't burn through hers or Mina's clothes. But then Mina felt water, Ashley was crying.

"I….I fucking *sniff* fucking hah..hate that ass-"

The girls all hugged her mid-sentence, knowing full well what she was about to say. She was in the right to still be so furious. Bakugou had humiliated her in school, forced himself on her at the club, psychically attempted assault and now tried to make her feel worse yet again. Momo rubbed Ashley's back while once again the pomeranian had to ruin another innocent moment between all of them.

"You heard Ash, he's been warned that if he tries anything with you again then he can kiss his future goodbye. I doubt he'd be stupid enough to risk harming you like he did, if he still wants his hero career. Right now you're safe" Momo spoke softly, reassuring her.

"Yaomomo's right Ash, plus he tries anything we've got your back. Quirk Siblings gotta stick together," spoke out MIna while giving her friend a big cheesy grin. The next one to speak was Jirou,

"I'll make sure Denki keeps tabs on Japan's Dacre Montgomery. He may be a dumbass but he's useful when it counts most."

"Yeah, I'll also go full espionage on Cujo, even if it means streaking for a few days. I do it just to make sure you feel better." spoke an ever too honest Tooru.

Ashley gave a faint smile. She actually believed them, they didn't say it just for the sake of it they meant it. Though she was still relatively shaken. The girls knew she was feeling anxiety, probably the type that new friends cannot fully help just yet.

"Wanna call your brother over, Ribbit?" asked Tsu, breaking through Ashley's thoughts. The froggy girl questioned so bluntly, she only said this cause he might be able to ease her heart.

Ashley then pulls out her phone and messages Andrew to come to the Alliance Heights dorms. She did really need to see him, feel her embrace and get his comfort.

'Andrew…can you come to the Alliance Heights dorms? Something happened and I…need you right now. Please?'

After that she sent the message to his phone as Momo created a weighted blanket while Ochako made hot Cocoa for her. She was saving it for tonight if she got alone time with Izuku but she felt it was best to use it now. Jirou put on some chill music. All the girls did something to help Ashley out while she waited for her Andrew to show up.

Meanwhile…

Andrew sank into a chair near the back of the empty classroom. Dust motes floated lazily in the streams of afternoon light cutting through the windows. The classroom still smelled faintly of soldering metal and warm plastic—residue from Support Course gear prototypes probably left out during the morning.

Hitoshi made her way to the teacher's desk, not bothering with subtlety as she plopped herself right in the seat with the ease of someone who felt she owned the place. With a half-unwrapped lollipop still stuck between her lips, she pulled a thick stack of bills from her jacket pocket and laid them out in front of her like a poker dealer prepping for a high-stakes game.

She began counting. Not just casually flipping through the cash, but counting—methodical, deliberate. One thumbed bill at a time, tapping them against the wood desk with soft, rhythmic snaps.

If one didn't know any better, one would think she worked at a bank. But Andrew did know better. This wasn't some end-of-shift balancing act. This was a post-transaction clean-up. Judging by the amount, she definitely wasn't selling candy.

When the final tally was done, Hitoshi pulled off a small cut from the stack and slid across the desk toward Mei, who sat next to Andrew with one leg tucked under her and a satisfied smile on her face.

"Finder's fee," Hitoshi said without looking up.

Mei accepted it without question, folding the bills neatly and slipping them into a hidden zip pouch in her boot. No hesitation, no surprise. Just another day at the office.

Then Hitoshi peeled off a few more bills and passed them along. "Hold onto that for a rainy day," she said, her tone so smooth it could've passed for something thoughtful—if not for the context.

Andrew leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching them in silence.

He wasn't judging—not exactly. Everyone had their own hustle. By the way the two of them moved, exchanged glances, passed cash without words—it was seamless. Practiced. Too practiced.

If someone walked in now, they would assume Mei was managing Hitoshi's "business affairs." Andrew snorted quietly. "Manager, huh? Yeah…that was one way to put it."

But in his head, a different word echoed. A grittier, less polite one. "Pimp." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, glancing away just as Mei flashed him a knowing grin, completely unaware of the running commentary inside his head.

He played it cool, arms stretched behind his head, fingers laced as he leaned back in his seat. His eyes flicked toward Hitoshi, watching as she casually flipped through the remaining bills like it was just another Tuesday.

"Must be a tough gig," he mused, tone lazy, "balancing the act of student and hustler."

The purple-haired teen didn't even blink. She pulled her lollipop out with a slow, deliberate motion, a thin trail of saliva stretching from the candy to her lips before snapping. She tilted her head and smiled—half amusement, half challenge.

"It ain't tricking if you got it," she said, her voice smooth like warm smoke.

Andrew blinked. "...the hell does that even mean?"

She didn't explain. Didn't need to. The way she said it—like it was gospel, like he was supposed to already know—only made it more maddening.

He didn't push. Not because he didn't want to. But because he was already certain Mei had dragged him up here for more than a handful of secondhand sweets. There was an angle—there was always an angle with Mei—and now he was starting to feel it.

As if on cue, Mei's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and stood with a stretch. "Duty calls," she chirped. "Try not to do any hanky panky while I'm gone."

Andrew propped an eyebrow.

She grinned. "If you two decide to release your teenage essence upon each other, crack a window, alright?"

"Classy," Andrew muttered.

Hitoshi didn't miss a beat. She raised her hand and flipped Mei off, casually, as if it were part of her regular vocabulary. Mei only laughed, shooting finger guns as she backed out the door and disappeared into the hallway, humming some ridiculous pop song.

And just like that, they were alone.

Hitoshi rose from the teacher's chair and strolled toward the desk beside him, hopping onto it with feline ease. She crossed her legs slowly, deliberately, her skirt riding just a little higher than necessary. Her eyes met his—slow, steady, unwavering—as she leaned back on her palms, the lollipop still twirling between her fingers.

The air shifted.

It was one of those moments. The kind they play out in movies—the dangerous kind. The cliche scene where the promiscuous schoolgirl corners the unsuspecting, "naive" boy in an empty classroom. Except Andrew wasn't naive. He was tired and mildly stressed, but wasn't naive.

And very much craving a cigarette.

He tapped his thigh restlessly, glazing toward the window. Lighting up in here would definitely get him in trouble. Still, he could already feel the itch crawling under his skin.

"Are you always this quiet when someone corners you?" Hitoshi asked, her voice low and teasing.

He smirked faintly. "Depends on if the corner's padded."

She laughed—low and genuine this time. It echoed through the empty classroom like something dangerous just shifted gears.

Andrew tapped his fingers against the desk in a slow, steady rhythm, eyes drifting toward the whiteboard across the room. The classroom was quiet aside from the faint hum of the AC and the soft, wet pop of Hitoshi working on her lollipop.

Something about the silence begged to be filled.

Out of idle curiosity or maybe something else, he asked, "So…how does someone like you decide to pursue this line of work?"

The purple-haired hustler snickered around the candy, pulling the lollipop out with a soft click of her tongue. She let it hang loosely in her fingers, still glistening.

"Oh?" she said, tilting her head toward him. "And why're you asking? Genuine curiosity? Jealousy?" She leaned forward, voice lower. "Or maybe…you just want to know more about me, Andrew Graves?"

He chuckled softly and leaned back in his chair, his posture casual, even if her tone sharpened the edge of the room. He played it cool—he had to.

"Just find it kinda fascinating," he said, smirking. "Student by day, hustler by…well, probably day too. Got a rap sheet, run side deals, schedule packed between classwork and late-night rendezvous."

She arched a brow, amused.

He continued, eyes narrowing slightly. "So either the school's real stupid…" He paused. "Or someone's getting a generous slice of the action."

Then, with a grin creeping into the corner of his mouth, he added, "Or maybe—just maybe—a certain someone's offering slices of giblet pie instead of cash."

The words had barely left his lips before she flicked him square on the forehead. He winced and rubbed the spot, still grinning.

"You've either been spending too much time in the rumor mill," she said, popping the lollipop back in her mouth, "or reading too much pulp fiction."

She slapped her thigh with a sharp smack, laughing dryly. "I operate the way I do because of the powers that be let me. And when they don't?" She shrugged. "A few bills here and there keep their lips zipped. But nah—nobody's getting a slice of this giblet pie for silence."

She swung her legs off the desk, letting her heels clack against the metal frame. "Respect helps. Reputation? Better. But the real kingmaker?" She tapped her pocket. "Cash. No one snitches on someone who pays better than they do."

Andrew opened his mouth to say something—probably to deliver another quip—but his phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't bother checking it. Probably his mom reminding him to swing by the store on the way home. Again. He slipped the phone back without a glance.

Hitoshi noticed but said nothing. Instead, she gave him a look—curious, unreadable—and slowly pulled her lollipop free again. "Still curious?" she asked.

Before he could get another word out, his phone buzzed again. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Another text. He muttered a curse under his breath. Probably his mom again.

What was the point of asking him to run an errand if she wasn't even going to trust him to get it done on his own schedule? He always brought back the right stuff. It wasn't like he was Ashley, who would show up late, empty-handed, and then spin some convoluted story their mother could poke holes through in seconds. His sister couldn't lie to save her life.

He sighed, slipping the phone back in his pocket. Across from his desk, Hitoshi was watching him, the lollipop still in the corner of her mouth.

"Is that your boyfriend texting?" she asked, smirking. "Calling for a rematch?"

Andrew gave her a flat look. She bit her lip and held up hands in a mock surrender. "Kidding. I heard about your little squabble with Bakugo in the cafeteria."

Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled a stick of gum, unwrapping it with slow precision. He caught Hitoshi eyeing it and tossed her a piece.

"Thanks, Cowboy!" She caught it midair, popped it in, and let the candy stick hang from her mouth while he peeled open another for himself.

"Don't call me that!" He chewed lazily, jaw moving side to side. "Wasn't a squabble. More like a babble. A loud disagreement, mostly on his part."

She smirked. "Still. For all Bakugo's bark—and he does have that Pomerarian energy—he's got bite, too. One of the top students in his class. The guy's not all noise."

"And…" Andrew shrugged. "Good for him."

She leaned back, her gum clicking against her teeth. "At this school, ranking matters. Grades. Quirk strength. Favor. Bakugo may be a jackass with zero social grace, but he's a walking powder keg. Push too hard, and he will blow."

She blew a bubble, slow and measured, then popped it with a loud snap that echoed through the empty room.

Andrew tilted his head. "I'm not afraid of a fight." He rolled the gum between his tongue and teeth before continuing. "But I know my limits. What happened in the cafeteria wasn't a fight. It was pest control."

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, amused.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "Tell me—would you rather deal with a pest when it's got its paws in the cookie jar? Or wait until you find its droppings all over the floor after the deed's done?"

Her grin widened, lopsided and sharp. "I gotta admit…when you're not pretending to be cool, you're actually kind of entertaining."

Andrew gave her a half-smirk, chewing his gum like he had all the time in the world. "Yeah, well. I try."

"I'll give you this, Graves," she said, voice softer now. "You can handle yourself. Better than most."

Andrew glanced at her, curious about the sudden shift in tone.

"But," she continued, "don't underestimate someone's Quirk, especially when you don't have one."

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

She looked at him dead-on in his face. "You made an enemy out of Bakugo. He's volatile, prideful, and stupid enough to escalate things. If he gets pushed the wrong way, he won't just come after you. He'll go for your sister too."

He sat up straighter, his smirk was now replaced with something colder, more grounded. "I'm not scared of him," he said. "Anyone can have power. Hell, in this world, everyone does. But not everyone has respect." He looked her square in the eyes. "And that's what really matters."

Hitoshi gave a small nod. "Fair point. But remember—respect and fear? Two different lines. And people blur them all the time."

Andrew studied her for a moment, the way her voice had dropped a degree, the slight tension in her jaw. She wasn't preaching. She was warning him. Still, he wasn't one to leave a point hanging.

"Funny," he said, reclined again, the smirk slipping back onto his face. "I asked you earlier about your little side hustle. Now here you are, suddenly invested in my well-being."

He arched his brow. "So, what is it, Shinsou? Is this concern out of curiosity?" He let the pause stretch. "Or maybe jealousy? You seem really focused on the attention I'm getting lately."

Hitoshi blinked, then slowly stuck her tongue out at him like a lazy cat. "That doesn't even come close," she replied, grin returning. "But…points for effort."

Andrew exhaled slowly, the tension between him and Hitoshi shimmering just beneath the surface. He looked at her, genuinely this time—no smirk, no tease.

"I'll admit it," he said, voice quieter. "I admire the fact you care. Considering your…extracurricular activities and colorful clientele."

Hitoshi's expression didn't change immediately, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes. She plucked the lollipop from her mouth, twirling the stick between her fingers.

"Clients and friends," she murmured, "are just like fear and respect." She looked at him. "Two separate things…but sometimes? The line gets blurred."

The words hung in the air like smoke. For a moment, neither of them moved. Their eyes locked. There was a flicker of electricity between them, quiet but undeniable. Hitoshi shifted forward slightly, as if pressing into that tension, narrowing the gap—

The classroom door slid open with a sharp clack. Mei practically burst in, cheeks flushed and hair slightly askew.

"Shinsou," she huffed, hands on her knees, "it's that time of the month."

Hitoshi blinked. "Didn't Aunt Flo visit you last week?"

Mei puffed her cheeks, clearly annoyed. "Not that time of the month, you ass. The time of the month."

Hitoshi froze for a beat, then bit into her nail, eyes widening. "Shit. A few days early, huh? Damn it."

She hopped off the desk, already shifting gears. "Anyone from your class available?" she asked Mei.

The steampunk teen shook her head. "Unlikely. And I know you don't like using people from General Studies."

"Too nosy," Hitoshi muttered, before turning her head toward Andrew. Her eyes locked onto him again—but this time with calculation, not flirtation. "Well, looks like I'm taking my chances on you, Graves." She tilted her head. "How do you feel about making some extra money?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Depends. Am I being sold into organ trafficking, or…"

Hitoshi smirked. "Relax, Graves. No Mama-san. No bald, lonely salarymen. No sleazy compensation dating setups."

Hatsume chimed in with a quick nod. "It's nothing like that. There's something Shinsou needs to do tonight. The people involved…wouldn't be considered friends. Hell, barely even associates. I can't go—curfew. And I wouldn't want her going in alone."

Andrew frowned, cautious. "So, like security?"

"More like a bodyguard," Mei said. "We don't expect trouble, but let's just say…kindness isn't always guaranteed in a room full of men. Shinsou can handle herself, sure. But having someone at her side helps."

Andrew chewed his lip, concern growing in his chest—but he nodded slowly, still listening.

"It won't be long," Hitoshi added, her tone more serious now. "Few hours at most. I'll have you home before the late-night news starts blaring depressing headlines."

Then, as if sealing the deal, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded wad of bills. With practiced nonchalance, she slid them across the desk toward him.

Andrew unfolded it—eyes widening slightly. Over 10000 yen, easy.

He hesitated. He should say no. But something about the mix of urgency, intrigue, and that calm confidence of Hitoshi made it hard to walk away.

He exhaled and gave her a sideways look. "Alright. I'm in. But if I end up on the 10 o'clock news, you're the one explaining it to my mom."

Hitoshi grinned. "Deal."

---

Meanwhile with Ashley and the others….

"No Response. He hasn't even read the text, where is he?" Ashley spoke anxiously as she kept staring at the screen of her phone waiting for him to respond. She needed him right now, she wanted her brother right now. The one person in the world who truly understands her, her other half. "Why hasn't he read it already? Why won't he respond? Why? Why? Why?"

The girls watched as Ashley frantically shook before she started typing more texts to Andrew. Momo, the most mature of the group, put a hand on Ashley's Shoulder.

"I know you want him here right now Ash, but please take a breath. It's only been 30 mins. He could be busy right now." she tried to reassure her

"I know but I want him right now. I need to feel safe, I need to-" Ashley cut herself off as she started sending him more texts. She did tell the girls she was mad at him from the night prior but she still cared and needed him. He was her comfort, her other half of her soul. Mina immediately put her hands on both of Ashley's shoulders refocusing her thoughts of them,

"Girl, you need to chill. If he's unavailable, then you can confide in us. We're here for you and you can think of us as your sistas' from other Mistas' especially if Anders won't respond."

"Plus blowing up his phone the way you are will do more damage than good. He could end up responding in anger without knowing the whole story," spoke Jirou as she too tried to help bring Ashley's anxiety down. She could hear the misery sibling's heart beating incredibly fast and knew she and the others had to be careful with words unless they wanted to exacerbate Ashley's condition and cause her to have a full on anxiety attack. She remembered one time when Midoriya was breathing heavily and she heard his heart before he collapsed due to delirium and she freaked out while trying to get help, luckily Recovery Girl taught her how to look out for and treat someone who's about to enter one and Ashley was teetering on the edge of having a full blown overwhelming anxiety shutdown. Jirou immediately took Ashley's hands in her own while telling the others to keep their distance and without escalating the situation far beyond the need to.

"Ash, close your eyes, take a deep breath and just focus on my voice. When you open your eyes, we're gonna play a game but you have to focus on me okay, forget everything else right now." Jirou spoke softly as she attempted to ground her hysteric friend.

"What game? I just want-"

"Just trust me alright? Can you do that for me?" Jirou interjected Ashleymaking sure not to raise her voice too high and keep it at a calming yet soothing level, "just focus only on me. Nobody else, just me, okay?"

Ashley decided to trust the earjack user and closed her eyes before taking a deep breath as instructed. Then she slowly let the breath out as she opened her eyes directly on Jirou, as they held hands and made sure she focused solely on her words alone.

"Okay Ash first I need you to tell me five things you can see around us, any five. You don't have to say them aloud but you can if you'd like too." Jirou said.

Ashley slowly looked around the room and listed off Jirou herself, the pot of froyo, Hagakure's plush, the table and the TV. she then asked the punk rock girl what was next,

"That's good. Now, four things you can touch, it can be anything."

Ashley then firmly gripped Jirou's hand before gripping the blanket, her top and then a strand of her own hair. She didn't fully understand why Jirou was asking her to do it but she did as instructed.

"Alright, next three things you can hear."

"Your voice, the music on the TV and the breeze outside." she responded while taking another breath.

"Two things you can smell. Probably Mina's cheap perfume." Jirou half joked.

"Well, fuck you too then, bitch!" Mina shouted before she was shushed by the others so Ashley could concentrate.

Ashley giggled before giving her response "the mint choc froyo and my perfume. Are we almost done?"

Jirou heard Ashley's heart as it was slowly stabilizing, "almost. last one I promise, one thing you can taste."

"The froyo" Ashley responded as she was easing down from all the tension in her body. As the room felt a lot bigger than before to her "is that all?" she asked as Jirou still held her hand which wasn't as clammy as before. Jirou looked at Ashley's eyes and didn't notice how pretty they were. When she was dolled up the night prior she remembered how her heart skipped a beat As a faint blush came across her cheeks as she shook her head to focus on right now.

"Depends. Do you still wanna message your brother like the world's about to end?" Jirou questioned as she felt the softness of Ashley's firm hand. Kyouka knew full well that she wasn't letting her friend go til she said it for herself.

Ashley looked at her for a few seconds before giving her answer, "Not as much. I do feel a little bit better, thanks Kyouka." her breathing was back to its natural state and her heart rate was steady as well. Ashley actually felt a little better. She was kind of grateful to her friend for easing off all the tension in her body. Yet Ashley did still want her brother, it wasn't as manic as before.

"That was incredible Kyouka, I don't recall learning such a grounding technique in class, although it does seem to be very useful, especially when it comes to hero work. when did you learn that?" Momo questioned while being thoroughly impressed.

"Oh well Recovery Girl taught me once, she said it would be useful in case someone is about to have an anxiety attack. She also said that it'd be useful for me to learn since my quirk is sound based and I can hear heartbeats." Jirou responded as she slowly let go of Ashley's hands.

"Could you teach me how to do it? I wanna be able to do that if I save someone and they're in a state like that." Ochako asked as she eagerly waited for a response. Hagakure also wanted to learn it as it looked fun to her.

Kyouka smiled as she began "Kyouka Jirou's Grounding techniques: For when someone's about to have an anxiety attack". She then thought the name needed a bit of work but that can be for another time.

---

Meanwhile….

Greek was on the menu—souvlaki, dolmades, warm pita with tzatziki—and the smell alone was enough to make the whole room feel cozier. The wine was chilled, the kotatsu warm, and laughter echoed through the Midoriya household.

On the TV, Renee had managed to find something more to her taste: a Dane Cook comedy special streaming with subtitles. The high-energy absurdity had both women in stitches, the screen casting flickering shadows across their wine glasses.

Renee, halfway through a glass of red and barely keeping her composure, was holding her plate like a prop as she launched into a joke.

"So a couple's on their first date, and afterwards they decide to head back to his place. They get to the front door, and before the guy can even get the keys out of his pocket, the girl says, 'You know, I can actually tell if I'm compatible with a man based on how he opens the door. If he busts it open? Selfish lover. If he drops the keys? Inexperienced in bed. And that's not what I'm looking for.' So she stares at him and goes, 'So… how do you open the door?'"

Renee paused dramatically, already grinning before the punchline hit. "'Well,' the guy says, 'I'll just lick the lock first, if you don't mind.'"

Inko slammed her hand against the kotatsu, nearly spilling her wine. "Renee!" she gasped, eyes wide as she let out a shocked laugh. "Oh, my God, you are terrible!"

Renee cackled, barely managing to keep her plate steady as she snorted into another sip of wine. "You're not the first to say that. My husband once told me I should try stand-up."

Inko wiped her eyes, still laughing. "You should!"

Renee shrugged. "Yeah, well…might as well. It seems nowadays the only thing Chet's managed to stand up to lately is Filipino teens and gravure models."

Inko lost it. She let out a loud, uncontrolled cry of laughter, nearly tipping sideways on the cushion. She slapped the table again and buried her face in her hands, wheezing.

"Oh Dio, Renee!" she cried between fits of laughter, her voice shrill with disbelief. "You're going to kill me!"

Renee leaned back, smug and satisfied, swirling her wine. "Not my fault I'm the only one keeping things entertaining tonight." She leaned back against the cushion, legs stretched slightly under the kotatsu, sipping the last of her wine. She wasn't too worried about the kids. Before leaving the house, she had wired some money into their accounts—enough for take-out or whatever they needed to hold them over. She hadn't bothered telling them exactly where she was going. It wasn't that she didn't care; she just didn't think it was necessary.

After everything that had happened with the police, she figured they would be smart enough to avoid stirring the pot again. If anything, she trusted that the memory of that holding cell would keep them grounded for at least a little while.

Across the table, Inko dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye, her cheeks still flushed from laughter. "This has been…one of the best outings I've had in a long time," she said sincerely. "You really know how to entertain, Renee. I bet you were a riot back in the States."

Renee gave a dry chuckle, shaking her head. "You'd think so, but not really."

Inko tilted her head, curious.

"I didn't have many real friends," she admitted, pouring herself more wine into her glass. "Not the kind you sit down and talk with like this. Most people were acquaintances or other parents from school drop-offs. I didn't have time for real connection—raising two kids with very different needs…and then there was Chet."

Inko gave a soft, understanding smile, nodding slowly. "I get it. Managing a household, raising Izuku on my own most of the time…it's exhausting. Especially with Hisashi always away at work. I think there were weeks I went without having an adult conversation."

Renee raised her glass slightly in mock toast. "To women holding the fort."

Inko clinked her glass gently. "To women doing everything."

They sipped, and the quiet between them was warm—not awkward, not strained. Just the kind of silence that came after shared honesty.

"It's amazing what you've done alone, Inko. I don't think people give single mothers nearly enough credit—especially when the other parent just…" She paused, swirling her wine. "...disappears."

Inko opened her mouth to respond, but Renee raised a hand gently. "And before you say anything—I'm not taking a dig at your situation with Hisashi. I get it. Business calls. Sacrifices are sometimes necessary for a comfortable life. Cozy homes like this?" She glanced around. "They don't come cheap, and someone's gotta foot the bill."

Inko relaxed a little, her shoulders easing. She nodded. "Still, thank you. That means a lot coming from you." She smiled warmly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I should be the one commending you. You came to Japan on a whim—moved your family across the world. And you're doing all this while being separated from your husband. That…had to be a huge change."

Renee froze for a fraction of a second, the words hanging in the air like a thread pulled too tight. She managed a small, polite smile. "Yeah…it was."

Technically, she hadn't lied. She just hadn't corrected the assumption. She let Inko believe that "separated" meant physically, emotionally, maybe even legally. In truth, she and Chet still exchanged words, mostly terse and transactional, and his money still showed up in the account like clockwork. But the reality of their relationship was a complex mess she didn't care to unpack—not now, not here.

Renee rested her elbow on the kotatsu and tilted her head. "Can I ask you something?"

Inko blinked, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "Of course."

"What was it like? With Hisashi, I mean. How did you two meet?" Renee asked, her tone light but sincere. "What was it about him that made you look at him and say, 'Yeah, he's mine'?"

Inko's lips parted in surprise, her hands instinctively folding into her lap. She looked down at them for a moment, the pads of her fingers gently brushing over one another in thought. A soft blush touched her cheeks.

"Oh," she said with a breathy little laugh. "It was nothing fancy. We met at university—he was in the international business program, and I worked part-time at the campus cafe." She smiled softly at the memory. "He used to come in every morning at the same time. Always ordered a plain coffee, never sugar, never milk. He was quiet, polite, but I could tell he was always watching the world around him, taking it in."

Renee nodded, listening intently.

"What made me say he's mine?" Inko echoed, her gaze drifting slightly as if looking back through time. "It wasn't anything dramatic. He wasn't flashy or loud. But he was kind. Steady. I liked that he didn't try too hard to impress anyone—he just was. He helped me carry boxes one day after a delivery came in late, and he didn't even say much. Just rolled up his sleeves and did it. No big speech, no expectation."

She smiled again, a bit more wistfully this time. "That night, I remember walking home and thinking…'that's the kind of person I could build a life with.' Someone who didn't need to be the center of attention to do the right thing."

Renee studied her, quiet for a moment. Inko's voice carried no bitterness, no obvious pain, just a soft sort of longing—a warmth that hadn't quite gone cold.

"How long after that did you two start dating?" Renee asked gently.

"Not long," Inko said, her smile deepening. "We started talking after his morning visits. Then he started staying longer. Eventually he asked me out—awkwardly, I might add." She laughed lightly, almost embarrassed by the memory. "But I said yes."

Renee looked down at her own glass. "And now he's halfway across the world."

Inko gave a small nod, her hands folding a little tighter in her lap. "Yes. But I try to believe that he still loves us, even from far away. That he's doing what he can…in his own way."

"Can I ask something a little personal?" Renee asked, her voice quieter, more vulnerable.

"Of course," responded Inko.

"Has Hisashi's absence affected your love life?"

The question lingered in the air like heavy perfume—sweet, sharp, and nearly stifling. A beat of silence passed. Then another.

Renee blinked, realizing the weight of what she had asked. "Ah, damn, I'm sorry," she said quickly, raising her hands. "That was too much. Ignore me. Wine's making me nosy."

But Inko, instead of brushing it off, surprised her. "No," she said gently. "No, you're right to ask. It's not easy."

Renee watched her, giving her space.

"I wouldn't pretend that I don't have needs. I'm human. And a lonely bed…only gets colder the longer no one's there to share it." She turned slightly, her eyes drifting toward a framed photo on the shelf: a much younger Izuku, beaming proudly in his homemade All Might costume. She smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "That's what made it easier to ignore," she murmured. "Being his mom gave me something else to focus on."

There was a pause. Then, Inko turned her eyes back to Renee. "What about you? How did everything with Chet start unraveling? Lack of attention? Affection? Or both?"

Renee leaned back, folding her arms loosely over her chest. "In the beginning, there was love. The obvious kind—the loud, messy kind. But if I'm being honest, I think what we had was more lust than anything. And we mistook it for something deeper."

Inko blinked, listening casually.

"I was young," Renee continued. "Really young when I had the twins."

"How young?"

Renee looked her head in the eyes. "Young enough that when Izuku could've started high school, I was already a mom."

Inko gasped softly, instinctively reaching across the kotatsu to take Renee's hand. "Oh my gosh…"

Renee let her take it. "Yeah. Me and Chet? We were young, stupid and curious. Had unprotected sex when I was 14—didn't take a genius to figure out what would come next." She gave a dry laugh. "Our parents thought we were out of our minds. But once the kids were born, I packed my things and left with them. Didn't want them raised in a house where they were reminders of a 'mistake.'"

Inko squeezed her hand, visibly moved. "And you stayed together. Even after everything."

Renee nodded slowly. "Somehow, yeah. I won't sugarcoat it. Our relationship…it's like a med student reading a textbook while performing surgery on a live patient. We didn't know what we were doing, just figuring it out as we went. There were good days, bad days…even worse days. But in the end, we made it work."

Inko smiled, misty-eyed. "That's incredible!"

Renee shrugged her shoulders. "It's survival. Not everyone gets a fairytale. But sometimes, making it to the next day is enough." She took another sip of wine. "It was Chet who stepped out. Not me."

Inko looked up, quiet.

"I caught him," Renee continued. "In our bed. With some stranger. I didn't do much talking." She gave a cold, dry laugh. "I let the knife in my hand do the talking for me."

Inko's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in silent shock.

"No one got hurt and the woman dropped the charges," Renee clarified with a shrug. "But the point was made." She stared at the wine glass as if the past were swimming at the bottom. "We tried to talk it out after. Therapy came up. So did just waiting it out until the kids finished high school. But…"

She paused, her jaw tightening. "It was his smile, Inko. That goddamn smile. I walked in, and there he was, grinning like a fool with that woman as he planted his seed in her, wrapped tightly around each other. Like she was the sun and the moon and everything in between."

She shook her head slowly.

"In all our years together—even on the best days—he never smiled at me like that."

Inko swallowed, her gaze softening as she reached out again, but Renee just waved a hand.

"It's fine," she said. "Really. At least Hisashi didn't do that. Even if he's not here, he's still a presence. He made the effort to stay important to you and Izuku."

Renee shifted, sniffing the air. A faint sweetness drifted from the kitchen.

"Dessert's almost done," she said, rising from the kotatsu and stretching. "I'll go check on it—"

"One time."

Renee stopped mid-step. She turned slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. "What?"

Inko didn't meet her gaze. She took another sip of wine, her hands trembling just enough to rattle the glass slightly against the kotatsu.

"It was one time," she said again, her voice thinner now. "One time."

Her head dropped, shoulders folding in as she whispered, "One freaking time."

Renee stood frozen in place, the sweet scent of dessert wafting in from the kitchen suddenly clashing with the sour weight hanging in the room.

She didn't speak. Not yet. Because what could she say to a confession like that?

Meanwhile with Andrew and Hitoshi….

Hitoshi paid for both of their bus fares without hesitation, swiping her card with a casual flick of the wrist. Andrew opened his mouth to protest, but she shut it down with a single glance. "Don't even start."

Andrew clicked his tongue. "You're right. Good call! Especially since I am not sure if I am coming back with or without a kidney or the holes I was born with."

"Your macabre humor arouses my curiosity about you, Cowboy," she retorted.

"Goddamn you, Shinsou."

"My pleasure," she winked as they stepped inside.

She scanned the rows of mostly empty seats. Without saying a word, she made a beeline for the very back, the kind of place no one really cared to eavesdrop. Andrew followed, adjusting the strap of his bag as the bus gave a gentle lurch and pulled off the curb.

Hitoshi slid into the window seat, eyes briefly scanning the passing city through the smudged glass. Andrew settled beside her, giving a quick glance around—no one close enough to hear.

Before he could even lean back, she was already digging into her purse. Out came a compact mirror. A tube of lipstick—gothic black. A small brush.

She popped open the mirror, tilting it just right as she touched up her lower lip. A precise swipe. Then another. She pressed them together with practiced ease, her expression unreadable in the reflection.

Andrew tried to stifle a laugh, which didn't go without notice from Hitoshi.

"Something funny?" she asked, not looking at him.

He smirked, shaking his head. "Just thinking…for someone trying to stay lowkey, maybe dressing like you're about to hit a Sid Vicious concert isn't the best way to be inconspicuous."

She snapped the compact shut. "Cobain, please. Half the people on this bus wouldn't notice if I lit a fire back here or someone pulled a Mia Zapata on me."

She leaned back into her seat, relaxed now, the edge of streetlights catching the curve of her lip gloss.

Andrew stretched his arms, one sliding up casually along the back of the seat behind her. It definitely didn't go unnoticed.

Hitoshi tilted her head toward him, one brow lifting ever so slightly. "Trying to tell me something, Cowboy?"

Andrew winced. "Ugh! Enough with that fucking nickname."

She grinned, settling in as she popped in a stick of gum. "Well, Cowboy," she teased, "you're the one tossing your arm behind like we're on a drive-in movie date. Can't blame a girl for calling it like she sees it."

Andrew rolled his eyes but didn't move his arm.

"So, Shinsou…" he said, shifting slightly in his seat, "mind telling me what exactly this mysterious 'time of the month' is? And why do I get to be your so-called insurance policy?"

Hitoshi glanced out the window, biting into her lower lip. Not playfully this time—more thoughtful. More calculated.

"Because," she said quietly, "what we're about to do isn't exactly legal."

Andrew scoffed, leaning back. "What isn't legal about you? What's next? You're the illegitimate child of a Pro Hero like Aizawa-sensei or something?"

Without even blinking, the purple-haired hustler gave him the finger. "Tch! You damn bastard!"

"Whoa, hit a sore spot?" Andrew interjected, grinning at her.

"But seriously," she said, waving off the joke and leaning a bit closer, "you know anything about baccarat?"

Andrew thought for a moment. "I know the name. Fancy-sounding. Card game, right? Never played it."

"Good," she said, reaching into her purse again—not for a mirror this time, but for a slim deck of battered playing cards, wrapped in a thin rubber band. "Crash course time."

She peeled off the band and shuffled expertly. The soft shk-shk of the cards mixing blended with the gentle hum of the engine.

"Baccarat's a game of chance. Very little skill, almost no bluffing and way too much money. Two hands are dealt—the player and the banker. You bet on which hand gets closest to nine, or if it's a tie."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Pretty much. Face cards and tens are worth zero. Aces are worth one. Everything else is face value. But here's the kicker—if your total goes over nine, it drops the tens digit. So a hand of 7 and 6—thirteen, actually counts as three."

He gave a low whistle. "Huh. And here I thought this would be complicated."

"Oh, don't worry," she said with a smirk. "It's complicated when you're sitting across from five guys with wallets thicker than their criminal records—and egos twice as fragile."

Andrew blinked. "So let me guess, you're the lucky charm. And I'm the body shield?"

"Exactly," she said sweetly.

He gave her a sidelong look. "You do know I'm not bulletproof, right?"

Hitoshi shrugged. "Me neither. But I'm hot, lucky, and a little unhinged. That gets you surprisingly far in these places."

Andrew muttered under his breath. "Yeah…until it doesn't."

She grinned and tapped her temple with two fingers. "Don't worry, Graves. I play smart. You're just the insurance policy in case things go dumb."

He leaned back again, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at her with a trace of amusement. "And here I thought I was just tagging along for ramen and teen spirit."

"Faunus please," she snorted, tucking the deck back into her purse. "This is way more fun." Out of nowhere, she reached around Andrew and snapped a photo of the two of them together, her cheek pressing briefly against his as the camera clicked.

He blinked, caught off guard. "The hell was that for?"

She smirked. "Insurance, Cowboy. Besides…around these parts, they call me the Janitor."

He raised a brow. "Let me guess, because you've gotta clean up afterward? Pay them back? Or maybe use a certain anatomy of yours to wipe away the mess?"

Hitoshi flicked him hard on the forehead. "Screw you."

He chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

"They call me that because I clean house after the mess is made," she said, tone cool but with pride laced in every word. "It's not easy, y'know—running a day-to-day side hustle, moving money around, avoiding school scrutiny, making sure no one gets too greedy."

Andrew leaned his head against the seat, watching her as she spoke.

"You must be building a nice little trust fund," he mused. "For your future kids."

She scooted closer, slow and deliberate, resting one hand lightly on his thigh. Her lips were inches from his ear. "Why so curious, Graves?" she purred. "Are you thinking about being involved in making that happen?"

His jaw tightened, unsure if he was more surprised or amused. Thankfully, mercifully, the bus jolted to a sudden stop, the brakes hissing loudly as inertia pushed her slightly back into her seat.

"End of the line!" the driver barked, getting up, and stepping out through the front.

Andrew blinked, looking around in confusion. "Wait. We're at the end of the line? Did we miss our stop?"

She was already on her feet, smoothing her skirt with casual grace. For a second, Andrew caught a glimpse of her panties—purple and black-striped. "Shimapan!" Andrew thought to himself.

"Nope," she said, grabbing her bag. "We're here. Come on."

Andrew followed her out of the bus and immediately regretted asking. The moment he stepped into the terminal, it hit him—hard!

The smell of stale grease, urine, scat, sweat, and mildew all swirled together into something sour and desperate. The air felt heavy, like the atmosphere itself hadn't been refreshed in years. Flickering overhead lights buzzed above the stained tile floors, and the lingering heat from engines and too many bodies hung over the lace like a thick, invisible fog.

He saw it all in one sweeping glance—hunched-over figures talking in hushed voices, clusters of smokers gathered by cracked walls, eyes scanning and judging anyone unfamiliar.

Andrew wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, we're definitely in downtown."

It was definitely a far cry from the polished marble floors of UA's entry halls.

"Welcome to the other side of the tracks, my gaijin friend. Just like back home for you, every city has a ghetto, the hood, the barrio, the slums," Hitoshi said, sliding her bag over her shoulder. "Keep close, Cowboy. The night's just getting started."

Back to Renee and Inko….

Renee placed a warm cup of coffee on the end table beside Inko and gently sat beside her on the couch. The television was off now, the room dimly lit by the soft light of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. The atmosphere had shifted—quiet, subdued.

"Thanks," Inko murmured, her fingers curling around the mug, as if the warmth could calm the tremble in her hands.

Renee picked up her plate, trying to focus on the delicate, flaky dessert before her. She took a careful bite of the sweet red bean mochi, but it felt dry in her mouth.

Inko hadn't touched hers. The mochi sat on its plate untouched, its shine slowly fading.

Inko kept her gaze down, avoiding eye contact. Her earlier confession still lingered heavily between them, like the scent of something burnt clinging faintly in the air.

Renee took a sip of her coffee, then quietly reached out and rested a hand on Inko's arm.

"Hey…" she said gently. "I want to say I'm sorry."

Inko finally looked up, startled.

Renee continued, voice even but sincere. "I pushed too hard. I asked questions I probably shouldn't have. That was on me."

But Inko shook her head, setting her mug down with care. "No, Renee. It wasn't your fault. If I thought you were going too far, I would've said something."

Renee gave a small nod, though her face remained composed, unreadable. Inside, though, she knew. She had crossed a line—danced too close to something raw and exposed.

Still…was it really that surprising?

"She's raising her son alone," Renee thought. "And her husband's never around."

It wasn't an excuse, not exactly. But the signs had been there. The long-distance marriage. The quiet looks. The way Inko spoke of Hisashi like a memory, not a man.

Renee didn't judge her. Not really. She had seen what loneliness could do to people. She just hadn't expected the admission to come from someone like Inko.

"You're not a bad person," Renee said quietly. "Whatever happened…doesn't erase everything else you've done. You're a good mom. You're still standing. That counts for something."

Inko swallowed hard, eyes glistening. She nodded, but said nothing. She then held the coffee cup close, but didn't drink. Her voice came softly, fragile at first—as if unsure whether to let the words out or keep them buried.

"When the bed got colder," she said, "I guess…so did my heart."

Renee turned slightly, listening.

"I missed Hisashi," Inko continued, her eyes fixed on the untouched mochi in front of her. "I still do. But he was never really home. I knew his job required him to leave, and I told myself I could handle it. I thought…this is temporary. I didn't know I'd have to fill the spaces where he used to be with silence."

Renee said nothing, her expression unreadable, but her eyes remained locked on Inko, focused.

"I never agreed to invest myself into the time of his absence," Inko murmured, her fingers curling slightly around the handle of her cup. "But that's exactly what happened. And when he did come home…he wasn't really there. He was in the room, but never with me. There was always an excuse—exhaustion, deadlines, reports, travel plans."

She swallowed hard, her voice thinning. "Even when I tried, I'd dress up. Try something flirty. Sometimes I'd cook his favorites and make it feel special—set the tone, the mood. I wanted him to want me."

Renee's gaze softened. Her heart ached, but she didn't speak. Inko's eyes watered, and she laughed bitterly under her breath. "He would barely even look at me. I'd try to touch him, and he'd gently push me away. 'Too tired," he'd say. Or 'Not now.' Always the same."

She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, ashamed. "It made me question myself. Was I not enough? I wasn't the same skinny girl he used to know. I'd gained weight—slowly, over the years. Cooking for Izuku, eating alone at night, stress snacking…it just crept in."

Inko looked down, her voice breaking. "At first, I blamed myself. I thought I was the reason he didn't want me. I thought maybe if I changed. If I lost weight, if I did more, said less, maybe then…" She trailed off.

Renee slowly reached out, resting her hand over Inko's again—no judgment, no pressure, just presence.

Inko's lip trembled, and her voice cracked into a whisper. "But over time, I stopped blaming myself. And I started blaming him. For not recognizing me as a woman. For not seeing that I still had needs. That I still wanted to be held. That I needed to be more than just the mother of his child or the caretaker of his home."

A long silence followed.

Renee squeezed her hand gently, not with sympathy, but solidarity. She knew that silence. She had lived in that silence.

"I see you, Inko," Renee said quietly. "Even if he didn't."

Inko didn't pull her hand away from Renee's. Her grip tightened slightly, trembling, like someone trying to brace against a storm already breaking inside her.

"There were so many times Hisashi should've been there for Izuku," she said, barely above a whisper. "Moments that mattered."

She took a shuddering breath, her eyes locked on some faraway memory.

"His first steps—I was the only one there. He stood up, holding onto the coffee table, and when he let go and waddled toward me, I wanted to scream from joy. I recorded it. Sent it to Hisashi." She laughed weakly. "He texted back four hours later and said, 'Great job.' That was it."

Renee stayed still, saying nothing, only letting her listen.

Inko's voice cracked. "First time on a bike? I was running behind him, panting in the heat, cheering him on until he finally coasted on his own for three seconds before falling into a bush." She smiled faintly. "He cried. I patched his knee with a dinosaur Band-Aid. Took a picture. Sent it. No reply until two days later."

She blinked hard. "The school's father-son baseball game? I told him about it a month in advance. Hisashi promised he'd try to fly in. You know who ended up in the stands instead?"

Renee said gently, "You."

Inko nodded, eyes red. "Me. In a folding chair with my sunhat, a thermos of barley tea, and a sign saying 'Go Icchan,' watching Izuku sit on the bench alone while the other boys laughed with their dads."

Then came the silence. A slow, suffocating pause. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"But the worst…" She clenched her jaw, and the tears started again. "The worst was the day I had to sit Izuku down…and tell him he didn't have a Quirk."

Renee's breath caught.

"He was only four," Inko said, her voice breaking. "He kept asking when his powers would show up. He watched the TV and said, 'Maybe I'll breathe fire. Maybe I'll get laser eyes.' And I had to sit across from him and explain why he wouldn't be like the other kids."

She sniffed, shaking her head slowly. "And when I did…he just went quiet. Like something in him shut down. I reached out to touch him, and he flinched like I'd hurt him."

Her voice was barely audible now. "And Hisashi? He wasn't there. He wasn't on a business call. He wasn't stuck in another country. He just…didn't come home."

She turned her eyes to the mantle, locking on the photo: a younger Inko in a simple, elegant wedding dress and Hisashi in a clean suit, laughing with his arms around her. She stared at it like it was a relic from another lifetime.

"That day should've been both of us. Telling him together. Holding him. But no…just me. Like always."

She drew in a sharp breath. "I don't care how nice the apartment is, or what the stipend pays for. None of it replaces him. I didn't want Hisashi's money. I wanted his time. I wanted him to show up. At least not for me, but for his son, my son, our son."

Then she broke, giving a quiet, broken laugh as her shoulders shook. "So tell me, Renee…" she whispered, turning to her with tears slipping down her face, "What does that mean? Huh?" Her voice cracked into something desperate. "Tell me. What does that fucking mean?!"

Renee didn't flinch, just looked her dead in Inko's solemn eyes. "It means you were left to carry everything he abandoned," she said, her voice low and unflinching. "It means the man who promised to be your partner, your son's father, chose distance over presence. And it means none of that was your fault."

Inko let the silence settle, as her tears fell freely now—hot and silent.

"So…" Renee leaned back slightly, swirling the last drops of coffee in her cup. Her eyes flicked to Inko. "Who was he?"

Inko hesitated, her fingers tightening just slightly around her mug. "Well, the thing is—" she began, her voice cautious.

But she was cut off by the sudden trill of her phone. Both women glanced toward it, the screen lighting up on the table. Inko exhaled, checking the name. "It's Izuku," she said apologetically, already reaching for it. "Do you mind if I take this? I'll be quick—"

Renee lifted a hand. "No, it's okay. I should probably get going anyway. It's getting late."

Inko nodded, phone still in hand. "I'll just tell him I'll call him back." She answered quickly, her voice soft. "Hi, sweetie. I'm with a friend right now—I'll call you back in just a little bit, okay?"

Renee stood up and stretched a little, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair. Inko ended the call and turned to her. "Let me take you home. I don't mind."

But Renee shook her head, slipping her arms through the coat sleeves. "Nah, it's fine. I'll grab a taxi or an Uber. Besides," she added with a smirk, "with the wine we had? I wouldn't trust either of us behind the wheel right now."

Inko blinked, then smiled. "Fair point. Still, let me arrange the ride, at least. Please."

She didn't argue. "Alright, Inko. Thanks."

Inko bowed slightly, hands clasped in front of her. "Thank you for coming, Renee. I really appreciated the company tonight."

Renee nodded, her voice warm. "I appreciate the invite. Honestly, I needed this too."

They walked to the entryway together. As Renee slipped on her shoes, Inko looked at Renee with a smile. "Next time, maybe we can go out with some of my other friends too? You'd get along with them."

Renee smiled back, but this one didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure," she wanted to say. "Friends." What she actually said was, "Yeah. That sounds nice."

But inside, she couldn't care less about Inko's other friends. She'd seen them, especially since the gala sometime back—fake smiles, shallow laughs, conversations that never went beyond shopping, husbands, and neighborhood drama. And Mitsuki? Don't even get her started. That woman had presence, but no filter, no tact, and no respect.

Still, Renee wasn't here to pick fights. She had gotten what she came for—a little connection, a little honesty, and surprisingly, a lot of truth. As Inko waited at the door for the Uber to arrive, Renee stood beside her in the quiet. She looked at her—truly looked—and saw not just a woman trying to hold a family together, but someone still waiting to be seen.

Renee gave a genuine smile this time. "We'll do it again," she said. And that, at least, was something she meant.

---

Back to Ashley and the others….

The movie flickered softly on the screen, casting fleeting shadows along the walls of Momo's dorm. A Quiet Place played almost silently, its tension palpable even in the comfortable stillness of the room. The space had become their little sanctuary for the night—blankets piled high, half-empty snack bags scattered across the desk, and the soft hum of nail polish drying in the air.

Ashley lay in the bed, tucked between Kyouka and Momo, her head resting just slightly on a pillow that still smelled faintly of lavender fabric spray. Kyouka was beside her, legs casually crossed, one hand lightly brushing against Ashley's wrist now and then—not enough to crowd her, just enough to remind her she wasn't alone. The earbuds in Kyouka's ears weren't playing anything anymore, but she kept them in—half out of habit, half to give Ashley the illusion of quiet privacy.

Tooru was stretched out on the floor with her back against the base of the bed, flipping through a teen magazine. She gasped dramatically every few pages, reading out cheesy quizzes or giggling over interviews with pop idols. Occasionally, she'd glance up to comment on something in the movie, only to realize no one could respond without breaking the atmosphere, and she would go back to her glossy pages with a theatrical sigh.

Tsuyu sat nearby with her legs extended, toes wiggling as Mina, crouched in front of her with determined focus, applied a second coat of pastel polish. Mina's face was hidden behind a bright green face mask, her hair tied up in a messy bun, strands poking out at odd angles like a halo of chaos. They whispered back and forth about color choices and which agency would give the best spa discounts when hired.

At Momo's desk, Ochako leaned forward, her elbow planted on the wood, chin resting in her palm. Her eyes were on the screen, but they weren't watching. Every now and then, her gaze drifted to the others—lingering on Mina and Tsuyu, flicking toward the bed, her expression unreadable. Her lips were pressed into a faint frown, mind clearly caught in some quiet storm of thoughts she hadn't voiced yet.

Momo herself was seated against the headboard, back straight, her presence as steady as always. She didn't flinch when Ashley's feet came to rest casually on her legs. If anything, she welcomed the contact, one hand resting gently on the blanket draped over all of them. She looked like a queen at rest, regal even in a hoodie and pajama pants, her hair pulled into a low, effortless ponytail.

Ashley exhaled softly, the kind of breath one releases only when one feels safe enough to do so. Her heart still trembled slightly from earlier—when she'd felt it coming on, the panic, the tightening in her chest like invisible wires. But Kyouka had noticed. She'd taken Ashley aside without making a scene, sat her down, and coached her through grounding exercises.

Now, lying there, Ashley turned her head and looked at her. "Thanks again," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kyouka didn't say anything right away. She just gave her a small smile, the kind that said "you don't need to thank me."

Ashley blinked rapidly, her throat tightening in a different way now. A painful warmth filled her chest—the kind she hadn't let herself feel in a long time. Outside of her brother, no one had ever done that for her. No one had ever stayed when she showed cracks. No one had cared enough to help—most would've reported her, written it down, passed her off. The system never asked if one was scared, only if one were compliant. A bad day meant regression. Regression meant consequences. She'd been conditioned to hide every tremor like it was a crime.

But not here. Not with these girls.

They hadn't turned away. They hadn't pitied her. They hadn't treated her like something fragile or broken. Kyouka had simply been there. Momo hadn't minded her weight on the bed. Mina had joked to lighten the mood. Tsuyu had offered her slippers without asking why. Even Tooru, who had a flair for the dramatic, toned it down just enough to make space for Ashley's silence.

It was overwhelming. And yet—so, so comforting. She blinked again and wiped the corners of her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie, hoping no one noticed. She didn't want to cry in front of them, not when she finally felt like she belonged. "So this is what it feels like to have people in your corner." For the first time in a long time, the noise in her head was quiet.

"Ouch!" Tsuyu croaked suddenly, jerking her foot slightly.

"Sorry!" Mina winced, holding up the cuticle cutter like it had personally betrayed her. "Got distracted by the movie. I forgot this part was coming."

Tsuyu blinked, then gave a slow nod. "It's fine, ribbit! Just no more near-blood sacrifices, please."

"I can't believe the guy who directed this also put Dwight's stapler in a Jell-O mold," Mina added, her eyes flicking to the screen. "Talk about range."

That earned a shared grin from both Mina and Tooru. Tooru stretched on her stomach flipping through another glossy teen magazine. She suddenly paused, eyebrows lifting.

"Hey…does this guy look a lot like Midoriya, or is it just me?"

Mina's eyes lit up, and she reached down to snatch the magazine from her. "Hold up–let me see…Oh snap! He does! Same curls, same sheepish smile."

Before she could turn the page, Momo reached over and expertly swiped it from Mina's hands.

"I want to see," Momo said with mild curiosity, adjusting her posture to get a better look.

Kyouka smirked from beside her. "What, Moes? Thinking of having that one true threesome with Izuku and Shouto?"

Momo gave her a dry look and tossed the magazine squarely at her. It bounced harmlessly off Kyouka's shoulder. Kyouka caught it before it hit the floor, flipping casually to a different page. "Ooh~! Now, this girl's a stunner," she murmured, tapping the image of a sultry young singer with smoky eyeliner and dyed lavender hair. "That's a girl I wouldn't mind putting my paws on. Or better yet…" she leaned into her voice, sultry and theatrical. "I'd let her think she's having me as an appetizer and let Kaminari set her up…and then I'd reveal I'm the main course."

Hagakure, the ever-so-whimsical, invisible moe, rolled her eyes and shook her head. "So Pikachu's the side dish, huh? I don't get why bi girls like you always treat guys like background noise."

Kyouka looked genuinely offended. "Hey! I'm not tossing him aside. If anything, I get super protective of the big lug. These flings? These are just desserts. But he? He's my full-course meal for the rest of my life!"

Momo snickered, clearly amused. "Still feels like there's a vacancy for that one true threesome. You sure he's up for that?"

Kyouka stuck her tongue out and gave Momo the middle finger. "He'll survive. It's not every day he gets two eye candies. And besides, let's be real. I am the greatest good he's ever gonna get. Especially considering his best friend is that grape-headed dwarf."

That line got a chorus of laughter from around the room.

Ashley wiped a tear from her cheek, a grin tugging at her lips despite herself. She didn't chime, she didn't need to. For now, it was enough to just be in the moment.

Mina snorted as she flipped another page in the magazine and suddenly broke into a grin. "Man, I swear—Mineta really walks around like he's God's gift to women," she said, voice dripping with mock awe. "Like, sir, you look like a Funko Pop that got left in the sun."

Ashley choked on her soda as the room burst into a fit of giggles.

"He struts around like a ladies' man," Mina went on, shaking her head. "But the dude's got the romantic appeal of a used band-aid floating in a public pool."

"Please," Tooru chimed in, not even looking up from the magazine she had reclaimed. "If Mineta ever did get a girlfriend. Three scenarios—the first thing she would do is wake up screaming, check her surroundings and realize she's trapped in a simulation designed to test her psychological limits."

Even Tsuyu cracked a quiet chuckle at that one.

Tooru leaned back dramatically. "Second—not even Toga, you know, the girl who stabs people she likes, would touch him, saying that she doesn't want to get tetanus. And that says a lot." Her gloved hand showed three fingers. "Finally, Minoru may want to lift that skirt because she is actually a trap."

"Please." Kyouka interjected. "Mineta could walk into a room full of femboys and still get curved like a banana peel in Mario Kart."

The room howled.

Momo, trying her best to keep a straight face, raised a hand. "Okay, okay, girls—calm down," she said, through the corners of her mouth betrayed her. "Minoru can't help himself. He is who he is."

There was a pause.

Then she added, deadpan. "But honestly? Mineta getting a girlfriend might be the real UA entrance exam—because only a true hero could endure that level of emotional damage."

That broke them.

The laughter was instant and uncontrollable. The bed shook beneath them as the girls doubled over, howling, snorting, wheezing. Even Ashley, who had spent most of the evening quietly absorbing the warmth of their friendship, was holding her stomach and wiping tears from her eyes.

Ashley cleared her throat. "The only way Mineta could get a girlfriend is if it's either a confused lesbian going through an identity crisis or an AI hologram that glitched so hard, it thought 'desperation' was a love language.

"Like seriously, even Siri would ghost him mid-conversation. Mineta's a chick magnet, huh? The only thing he's ever pulled is a muscle from jerking too hard. Bro could have a wish from a genie, Cupid's bow, and Love Island villa, and he would still walk out single.

"Even villains with no hearts have better dating prospects than him. At this point, his best shot is if someone makes a dating sim where he's the only option—and even then, the player base would uninstall out of protest."

The room buzzed with unapologetic energy, every voice lifted in purple, unfiltered joy.

"I guarantee you right now, Mineta is someone grabbing tissues as I know he is sneezing like crazy," responded Mina.

"He probably has his trash cans labeled for his knuckle children and for actual use," interjected Tooru.

Ashley clicked her tongue as she pulled the blanket closer to her chest and let out a soft, almost bashful sigh.

"This…this might be one of the best nights I've had in a long time," she admitted, her voice tender, but no longer trembling. "Like, years."

The other fell quiet, their attention shifting to her with a warmth that didn't demand she go on, but invited to.

"I told my mom I'm not coming back tonight," she continued. "Said I would crash here with Momo and just head to class in the morning. She left me some money earlier for dinner, though we haven't eaten yet." Ashley laughed softly, a little surprised herself. "Honestly, I don't even care. I feel full already. Just being here."

That drew a collective "aww" from the girls, but Ashley wasn't finished.

"I feel better now, I really do," she said, glancing down at her fingers as she twisted a loose thread in her sleeve. "But I still feel bad about cancelling my tutoring session with Izuku. He rearranged his schedule for me, and I just—"

Kyouka reached over and gently nudged her shoulder. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. Deku's probably the last person who would be upset over something like that. He's familiar with crises. Sympathy too. He gets it. He really does."

The alien pinkette leaned back against the foot of the bed. "Plus, he's probably busy making up for lost time with that pen pal of his."

Ashley blinked. "Pen pal?"

"Oh yeah," the rocker teen said, chuckling softly. "You weren't in our class last semester, but we had this weird writing assignment. Everyone got a random pen pal from another school. Most of us ghosted after the first letter, but of course he kept in touch."

"Izuku would write to them even when he didn't get responses back right away," Mina added. "Said it was about 'consistency' or whatever. It was cute in that totally dorky, wholesome way."

Ochako, who had been quiet most of the night, finally spoke up from her seat at the desk. Her voice was calm but with a faint edge, like a ripple across still waters. "That's just how he is," she said. "He doesn't ghost people. He always finds time, even when the rest of us forget to."

Tooru blinked, tilting her head toward the desk. "Wait…Ochako's still here?"

Everyone turned, as if remembering at the same time.

Ochako raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yeah, well, if anyone actually included me in the conversation, maybe I would feel like I was."

There was an awkward pause before Momo, ever the diplomat, broke the tension with grace.

"You have been quiet lately, Ochako," she said gently. "Not just tonight. Distant. And you haven't really explained why."

Ochako didn't respond right away. She gave a small nod and turned away, as if retreating behind the curtain of her own thoughts.

The class vice president continued, more softly now. "You know you can talk to us, right? You don't have to keep things locked up. Not here. We're your friends."

Ochako exhaled slowly. Then, without warning, she pivoted in her seat and looked directly at Ashley.

"So, Graves," she said, voice sharp with mock cheer. "Day one of training and you went out like a wet balloon."

Ashley blinked, caught off guard, her body instinctively tensing at the sudden shift in tone.

Ochako leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "What's gonna happen when you face Bakugo during the exam? You think he's gonna go easy on you because you've got a good sob story and a nice support system?"

The room went still.

Ashley's chest tightened. For a moment, she had forgotten about the looming practicals. The fact that her place here wasn't just about fitting in—it was about earning it. And her first day of battle training had been, in no uncertain terms, a disaster.

"I'm not trying to spoil the party," Ochako went on, her tone even but unmistakably pointed, "but if you can't even hold your own against Koda or Mineta, then yeah–that's a problem. A big one."

"Alright, lighten up, Ochako," Kyouka said, sitting up straighter. "Ashley's still recovering from earlier. She's not even at 100% yet."

"Yeah," Mina agreed, tossing a throw pillow at Ochako's feet. "You're coming in a little hot, girl. This isn't a feedback session—it's a movie night."

Tooru nodded, flipping the page of her magazine but clearly listening. "Seriously, what's with the hard truth hour all of a sudden?"

Tsuyu croaked, "It's the one thing to be honest. It's another to be…well, harsh, ribbit!"

Ochako rolled her eyes, unbothered by the pushback. "I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just saying what no one else is."

She turned back to Ashley, tone sharpening. "Ashley couldn't hold water unless it was solid," she said plainly. "You can't pretend that this is The Owl House where everything magically works out because you've got a quirky attitude and a found family."

The words stung—more because of the unexpected coldness behind them than their accuracy. "This is the real world," Ochako continued. "You may have shown something resembling skill during that fight at the drink bar. But let's be real—you didn't win that fight. Izuku bailed you out. If he hadn't stepped in, Bakugo would've flattened you."

Ashley's lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

"And now you're gonna face him again," Ochako said, her voice cool, calculating. "But this time? He won't be holding back. No interruptions. No last-minute saves. No takesies-backsies! Just you and him. And if you're not training, if you're not practicing, then what are you even doing here?"

Ashley just stared at her, frozen in place. A thick silence blanketed the room—heavy, tense, sharp at the edges.

"You can sit there all 'happy, happy, joy, joy,'" Ochako said, crossing her legs and leaning back, "but unless you do the work, your time here is finite."

For a second, Ashley didn't react. Then, quietly, subtly, her gaze sharpened. Something stirred behind her eyes. Fire, or fear. Or maybe both. And as the others watched, unsure whether to speak or stay silent, none of them noticed the briefest flicker of something on Ochako's face.

A smirk.

She crossed her arms, posture relaxed, her expression unreadable—except to Ashley.

"Sorry, Ashley," she said with a shrug. "But that's the truth."

"You're such an asshole," Kyouka snapped, voice rising louder than anyone had heard all night. She shot up from the bed, eyes burning with fury. "You see how unhinged she's been, how hard she's trying to hold it together, and you're just spreading bum raps like the flu! What the hell is wrong with you, Ochako Uraraka?!"

Tsuyu looked over with a slow blink. "Not gonna lie, Ochako, ribbit, ever since that drink bar incident, your attitude has been off. Negative. I don't know what's happening in your life, but saying all that just now?" She shook her head. "That's not like you. And it was uncalled for, ribbit!"

Tooru sat up straight, no trace of her usual bubbly tone. "You really need to apologize to Ash. Right now!"

Ochako's jaw clenched as she slammed her hand on the desk, hard enough to make a pen bounce off and clatter to the floor. "For what? For telling the truth," she shouted back. "We've barely known this girl for a month and suddenly everyone's acting like she's the second coming, the great white messiah! When we got here, no one rolled out a red carpet. No one treated us like some white knight fresh off a bullhead in a redemption arc!"

Her voice cracked slightly, but she powered through it. "And now that I say what no one else will, that if she doesn't step up she'll be gone, and you're making me the fucking bad guy?!"

Kyouka stared at her, dead-eyed. "No, Uraraka. You made yourself the bad guy."

Ochako opened her mouth, but Kyouka stepped closer, her voice like steel. "I don't know what crawled up your ass and set up shop, but you sound like you want her to fail. Like you're hoping Bakugo wipes the floor with her. And you know what?" Her eyes narrowed. "I'm starting to think this isn't about truth. I think this is about jealousy."

Ochako's head jerked toward her. "How in the fuck am I jealous?"

Kyouka didn't flinch. "Because she's new. And yeah, she's been getting attention. People have been checking in on her, making room for her—trying to help her adjust. That's what friends do when someone joins a new environment."

Kyouka's voice softened just a fraction, but her edge remained. "But no one ever made you feel like a wildflower, Ochako. You did that to yourself. You pulled away. You shut people out. No one pushed you out of the circle. You stepped out on your own."

Ochako's eyes flicked toward Ashley, who remained quiet, stunned, and then back to Kyouka.

"You think I'm against her because I don't care about her? For me to go out for her is to mean that I give a damn," she scoffed. "No! I'm different about this damn gaijin. That's the truth. I don't hate her, but she hasn't given me any reason to trust her either.

"Then make it make sense, Ochako," Kyouka fired back. "Because honestly? The truth's in the pudding and as well in that pint of cum you call your vagina that keeps spewing out."

"Kyouka," Momo said gently, trying to deescalate. "Let's just all take a breath—"

"No," Ochako cut her off, stepping forward and glaring straight at Kyouka. "Let this ditch-digging bitch talk. Since she wants to be all up in Ashley's goodies, go ahead. Say what's really on your mind."

The room went dead silent.

Kyouka's face twitched, but she didn't back down. She leaned forward, voice low but deadly. "You really want to do this? Fine. Let's really talk."

She jabbed a finger toward Ochako. "This isn't about Ash, but all about Izuku! It's always been about Izuku."

Ochako's face furrowed, but Kyouka didn't stop.

"Ever since that duet at the drink, when he stood by Ashley and Bakugo teased you about it, you've been a stick in the mud. Pissed off. Distant. Bitter."

Ochako's mouth opened to protest, but Kyouka steamrolled right through her.

"You're threatened. Because for the first time, someone came along who might actually take the spot you've been too fucking scared to claim. You've had every chance to shoot your shot, and you never took it. You didn't have the guts to ask Izuku out, so now you're taking it out on the new girl who might—may I add hasn't shown anything to prove she might like him.

"And don't try to act like you're just looking out for him. If that were true, you'd be more concerned about that pen pal he keeps talking to. But no. That's easy to ignore. She's not here, but Ashley is, and she's tangible. It's easier for you to tear someone down right in front of you than admit you're scared of losing something you never even claimed."

Ochako's fists clenched at her sides, chest rising and falling rapidly. The rest of the girls sat frozen—wide-eyed, caught in the middle of a confrontation they never expected to see. Even Ashley, stunned, didn't know whether to speak or slip out the door.

Kyouka wasn't finished. "Oh, no, I'm finished," she said coldly, eyes locked on Ochako. "If you had even a sliver of confidence, which we both know you don't, then you would just go to Deku and tell him how you feel."

Ochako's eyes narrowed.

"But you won't," Kyouka went on. "Because your real kink? Is being the cuck in the room. A Hinata understudy—always watching, never acting. Waiting for someone else to move first, then crying when they do."

Gasps echoed across the room.

"And you know what? Ashley's green card?" Kyouka sneered. "It's about to turn your card red. Because truth be told…Izuku's probably better off with her than with you."

Ochako's face twitched—first disbelief, then pure rage.

"At least Ashley can afford his time. You? You're always too busy wallowing in your own indecision."

That was the final blow. Ochako lunged forward and slapped Kyouka across the face with a sharp crack that echoed through the room.

"Go to hell, you ditch-digging bitch!" she shouted.

Kyouka staggered a step back, holding her cheek, eyes wide but unyielding.

Ochako turned to the others, her face flushed with fury. "And to hell with all of you, too! You sit here and defend this girl who hasn't done anything to earn our trust? You don't know her. Not really. Do any of you even care who she really is?"

No one spoke.

"You fall for anything with a sob story and big eyes. So yeah—go to hell. All of you!" Then, she turned to Tooru, snatched her phone from where it lay charging, and opened the Instagram app with calculated precision. Her eyes locked on Ashley, a cruel smirk twisting her lips.

"Oh, Ash," she said mockingly. "That sweet, protective big brother you always talk about?" She tapped, flicked, and threw the phone onto Ashley's lap. "Turns out while you were reaching out for him, he was too busy trying to get busy—with the school's number one slut."

Ashley looked down. A photo glared back at her. Andrew. Sitting side-by-side with Hitoshi Shinsou on the bus. Laughing. Close. Too close.

Ashley's breath caught in her throat.

"How's that for loyalty?" Ochako hissed. Then she spun on hell, stormed to the door, and slammed it behind her so hard the walls vibrated.

Silence reigned. The tension in the room was suffocating. Ashley's hands trembled as she stared at the phone in her lap, the weight of everything crashing down around her. And no one, not a single girl in that room, knew what to say next.

"Oh shit…" Kyouka muttered, eyes glued to Tooru's phone. Her fingers hovered just above the screen, frozen in disbelief. "It's real. That's Shinsou and Ashley's brother. And the timestamp…that's when Ashley was trying to call him."

Mina moved in, frowning. "Wait, wait—this could be out of context. She shouldn't jump to conclusions."

Momo stepped in quickly, her voice measured but urgent. "Exactly. It could be a misunderstanding. Maybe they're just friends going out to hang. Maybe it's a coincidence, Ash, don't—"

But the words never reached her.

Ashley's breathing grew erratic as she stared at the image. Her mind twisted the scene into something unforgiving, something merciless. Yesterday's voices—ones she fought hard to silence—came back louder, sharper, crueler.

They jeered in her ears.

"No one stays, Ash! You're always second. Always disposable."

Her hands began to shake violently, the phone slipping from her grasp onto the sheets. Her eyes widened, wild with panic, and then—

A scream. A raw, piercing cry that cut through the dorm like a jagged blade.

Ashley bolted from the bed, her body moving on instinct, desperation propelling her forward, jumping over Jirou. The others barely had time to react as she shoved past the doorway and vanished into the hall.

"Ashley!" Momo shouted, scrambling to follow, but Ashley was already gone—feet pounding against the corridor floor, her sobs echoing off the walls.

"He abandoned me," she sobbed, the words tumbling from her lips like broken glass. "He abandoned me. Andy doesn't love me—he never did!"

Her vision blurred with hot, unrelenting tears as she charged through the hallway—until she missed the corner.

….!

Her foot caught on the edge, and with a shriek, she tumbled down the stairs. The world turned sideways. Cold air and hard surfaces slammed against her limbs. A jolt of white-hot pain shot through her ankle as her body crumpled against the wall at the base of the stairwell. Sobs poured out of her, sharp and breathless.

Everything hurt—her body, her heart, her memories. She curled in on herself, holding her ankle, trembling as the weight of every disappointment and betrayal came crashing down.

But then—

Footsteps. Fast, urgent, familiar.

"Ashley!"

She looked up through blurred, tear-streaked eyes to see Izuku running down the stairs two at a time, his expression etched with panic. He dropped to his knees beside her, hands hovering as if afraid to touch her, afraid to hurt her worse.

"Ash, I'm here. It's okay. I've got you," he said, his voice low, steady, trying to reach the part of her that was still clinging to reason. But Ashley didn't speak. She just sobbed harder, broken and shaking, as Izuku gently reached for her hand. And in that moment, all the hurt in the world sat between them on the stairwell floor.

Ashley buried herself into Izuku's chest, her entire body wracked with sobs. She couldn't hold it in anymore—couldn't keep pretending that the pain, the fear, the abandonment weren't there. It poured out of her, raw and unfiltered, muffled only by the warmth of his outfit as she clung to him like the last solid thing in a world crumbling around her.

Izuku held her tight, one arm cradled around her shoulders while the other gently stroked her hair. "Shh…it's okay, Ash. I'm here. You're safe," he whispered, his tone soft but unwavering. "Just breathe for me. Try to calm down. You're not alone."

She didn't respond, only trembled harder, clutching his jacket with white-knuckled fists, as if afraid he would disappear too.

Footsteps pounded from above, and within seconds the others arrived—Momo first, eyes wide with worry as she knelt beside them.

"She fell," Izuku said quickly, glancing up, his eyes already glossed with the weight of panic and empathy.

Momo nodded solemnly. "We know what happened. Ochako…she said something unforgivable. We've tried to stop her, but…" She glanced at Ashley, guilt flickering in her eyes.

As Momo explained, the air shifted.

Ochako appeared around the corner of the hallway, her face pale, the remnants of anger now giving way to something closer to shock. Her eyes landed on Ashley—limp in Izuku's arms—and then on Izuku himself, holding her with care and urgency.

And then her stomach dropped. She took one hesitant step forward…then stopped.

Kyouka looked up, eyes burning. "You! This is your fault."

Ochako opened her mouth, but no words came. Her gaze flicked between the others and Ashley, then to Izuku's face, his attention wholly focused on the girl in his arms. She took a step back. Her hands trembled.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, barely audible. And then she turned and ran.

No one followed.

Kyouka moved to Izuku's side without hesitation, looping Ashley's other arm over her shoulder as they gently lifted her off the ground. Ashley whimpered at the movement, pain flashing through her ankle, but she didn't let go. Her grip on Izuku's jacket tightened like a lifeline.

"We've got you," Kyouka murmured softly, her tone shifting from anger to protectiveness.

"We need Recovery Girl," Izuku said, his voice tight with urgency.

"I'm on it, ribbit!" Tsuyu croaked, already pulling out her phone as she moved back up the stairs.

The group coordinated in quiet urgency, working together without needing to speak further. Mina cleared a path. Momo stayed close behind, watching Ashley's face with gentle concern.

But Ashley? She said nothing. Not a single word.

Her sobs had quieted, but her grip on Izuku hadn't loosened. Her face remained buried in his chest, hiding from the world. Hiding from the betrayal. From the voice that had reminded her of everything she was trying to forget. And she wasn't ready to let go.

At least not yet.

To be continued….