Archive of Our Own ^beta

The ear guards still feel too bulky, Izuku notes as he stares through the scope at the target. He squeezes the trigger, bracing himself against the recoil, and watches the shot hit the dead center of the target.

He can hear Toshinori’s muffled shout of hole in one! and Snipe’s disgusted groan of this isn't mini-golf, y’know... Grinning, he slips off the guards and flips the safety on, reholstering the gun. “I wasn't too sure about using a gun with live rounds, but this is pretty fun.”

Toshinori slaps him on the shoulder, grinning broadly. “Doesn't hurt that you're so good at it, either, right?”

“It's not easy, gettin’ used to hitting non vital areas,” Snipe's tells him. “But you're on your way. I hear Support’s designed you a few different varieties.”

“Hatsume can't wait to be the sole outfitter of the first quirkless hero,” Toshinori says. “She can't seem to stop at one weapon. I caught her trying to outfit Izuku with a glove-based flamethrower last week.”

“That one was actually pretty cool,” Izuku admits. At least it was, right up until it exploded.

“Sure, up until it exploded,” Toshinori scoffs, unknowingly mirroring Izuku’s thoughts.

Snipe has a class soon, so Izuku and Toshinori clean up. Independent training takes up a lot of Izuku’s time, but he loves weapons training. It's just so satisfying. With how difficult it's been adapting to quirkless fighting over the past two years, it's amazing to finally have something he's a true natural at, something where quirks don't necessarily make much of a difference.

As Izuku finishes resetting the range to the default settings, Toshinori clears his throat. “Izuku, I was wondering if you had time to get dinner tonight? There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Yeah, I worked ahead, so I'm free tonight.” He tries to catch a hint of what this is about, but Toshinori’s expression is inscrutable. “Is six okay? I'm doing upper body next, and I'll need to shower after.”

“Six is perfect. I'll meet you at the gates,” Toshinori says. As he passes Izuku to leave, he rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

Izuku turns to watch him go, one hand drifting up to his shoulder. That…seemed odd. He can't stop the influx of fears and worries. Did he do something wrong? Is something wrong with Toshinori?

It's not that it's unusual that they have dinner together, but they typically plan in advance and most often just meet in Toshinori’s on-campus apartment. They probably haven't gone anywhere off campus since Izuku’s birthday, and hadn't that been a disaster. They'd been swarmed by fans and the media. Even two years after the war, even with both of them as quirkless as the day they were born, people still care. It's pretty amazing.

He heads to the gym next, briefly stopping in the locker room to change, then heads for the weight room. He has to reserve the specialty room because even without one for all, his max for basically every lift is way beyond the norm. Shinsou once joked that getting by Izuku was like getting punched by a brick wall with arms. Izuku had thought it was an exaggeration at the time. Apparently that isn't the case.

He works through his usual upper body routine in about an hour, then hits the showers. It's already 5:30, so he has to rush to get to the dorm and get dressed in time to make it to the gates to meet Toshinori. He's just stumbling down the stairs when Uraraka catches him.

“Deku!” She grabs him by the wrist, her pinky delicately raised. “Do you have a minute?”

He glances towards the kitchen. The microwave clock reads 5:45. “I have a few minutes, but I'm meeting Toshinori at six,” he says. “What's up?”

“Toshinori?” Uraraka’s eyebrows dip together for a moment. Then, “Oh, All Might! Tell him I said hi!”

Izuku grins. “Of course!” Then he realizes two things: first, Uraraka hasn't let go of his wrist. Second, it appears the entire class is sitting in the common area staring at them. Izuku stares back, confused, then returns his attention to Uraraka. “What's up?”

“Well…” Uraraka realizes she's still holding onto him and abruptly lets go, her face reddening. “Deku, can we–” She closes her mouth. “Um, tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? Izuku scrambles to think of what's happening tomorrow but draws a blank.

Uraraka looks over her shoulder at something, then back at Izuku. “Do you want to do something tomorrow?”

Do something? Oh, Izuku thinks. That's what this is! He’d booked the quirk training gym and was hoping to get some of his classmates to spar with him with their quirks to test one of Hatsume’s new suit designs. Uraraka must have heard and wants to help! “That's a great idea! I booked it for an hour, and I'm hoping that's enough time for Mei to get some data off the initial model. Zero Gravity will be perfect for that!”

All noise in the common room stops. His classmates are giving him some very odd looks. “An hour?” Uraraka echoes.

Izuku falters. “Do you…do you not think that's enough time? The quirk training gym is super popular on Saturdays, so I don't think I can get an extension….”

“Training,” Uraraka says. “You're…talking about training.”

“Of course! Thanks for offering, Uraraka! I hadn't gotten around to asking anyone yet, so this is really helpful! Let's meet there at ten?”

Uraraka’s face does something strange, but the expression is wiped away so fast Izuku can't get a read on her. “Ten is perfect,” she says, smiling. “I'm looking forward to it!”

“Come to think of it… we might get better data with additional quirks,” Izuku says, pulling at his lip in thought. “Zero Gravity…it would pair well with Creation in this case! Or maybe–”

“We are all busy tomorrow,” Ashido interrupts. She turns and appears to make eye contact with all of their classmates, her expression a touch manic. “Every single one of us. Guess it's just you two!”

“Oh,” Izuku says. “Everyone has plans?” No one asked him… Maybe they knew he plans on training? Then he shrugs, grinning at Uraraka. “Looks like it's just us!” He slaps a hand against her shoulder, then waves at his classmates on the way out.

He gets to the gate with a few minutes to spare, but Toshinori's already waiting, his distinctive blond mane and ridiculous height sticking out like a sore thumb among the passing students. He catches sight of Izuku and raises a hand, waving, his body lopsided as he leans heavily on his cane. Izuku notes the sight of it and frowns. Toshinori didn't use the can earlier. He must have overdone it at some point.

“There you are, my boy,” he says, one long arm draping across Izuku's shoulders. On his other shoulder, a thin case hangs by a strap. “Ready to go? I'm parked in the faculty lot.”

“We're driving?”

“I made reservations,” Toshinori explains, guiding him toward the parking lot. “I thought it might be nice to go somewhere more private this time.” He grimaces, obviously remembering their last disastrous outing.

“It's still weird to have to plan for things like that,” Izuku admits once they're in the car and driving away from UA. “After everything, I thought people would eventually lose interest.”

“I don't see why,” Toshinori says. “Your quirk was the least interesting thing about you.” His eyes are focused on the road, but his smile is soft, sincere. Not for the first time, Izuku catches himself thinking, I can't believe he's really here.

It's an impossibility he never thought he could have. All Might, Toshinori, in his life. His mentor, his father, his friend. It's like he saved up every bit of luck he should have had the first fourteen years of his life and cashed it all in at once.

Totally worth it.

They go to a small izakaya about half an hour’s drive from UA. Toshinori booked a private reservation, so the hostess leads them down a back hall to their room and closes the door behind them. The table is long and clearly meant for a large party. Izuku sits at the end nearest the door and Toshinori sits caddy corner to him, letting his cane rest against the table next to him.

The sight of it still makes Izuku smile. It took a lot of physical therapy to get Toshinori back on his feet after the war, and although it's still a work in progress, his mobility has vastly improved. He doesn't use his cane all the time anymore and hasn't needed the chair at all for the last six months. It's a reminder of how much better things are, even on days like today when Toshinori needs the extra assistance.

Toshinori slides the strap off his shoulder and places the thin leather case on the table. “There's something I've been meaning to speak with you about.”

“Oh?” Izuku feels on edge suddenly. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be just a regular outing, but he still worries. When Toshinori pulls out a thick stack of papers, he worries more. “What's all of this?”

“My will,” Toshinori replies. He sounds almost apologetic. “I revised it shortly after we met, but it seemed prudent to, ah, move a few things around.”

They've never spoken about Toshinori's will. Frankly, Izuku would prefer they never do because talking about his will is a touch too close to talking about his death. “What, um. What do you mean?” He glances at the paper door, trying to will an interruption just to put this off a few moments more, but the door stays stubbornly shut. He wonders if Toshinori asked specifically for privacy for a set time before they came to get orders.

“My health is better than it's been in years,” Toshinori begins, fiddling with the stapled edge of the packet. “But, that is to say, I can't say it's good.”

Suddenly, Izuku recalls the appointments Toshinori had over the last week. There were a lot of them. “The doctors found something?” His voice wavers.

“No,” Toshinori is quick to reply. He closes the distance between them and grabs Izuku’s crooked hand in his own, squeezing. “Not–not exactly. You remember that respiratory infection I had a few months back?”

“Yes.” Izuku doubts he'll ever forget the sound of Toshinori's labored breathing in the hospital room, of sleeping in a chair at his bedside and crying for his father to wake up.

“I recovered, of course,” Toshinori continues, glossing over how he very nearly didn't, “and the pulmonary specialist has been keeping a close eye on me. I did recover, but… my remaining lung’s functioning has….declined.”

Izuku stares blankly. “Declined?”

Toshinori squeezes his hand again. “Not a significant amount, but enough that they've prescribed emergency oxygen for me to keep at home and at work. If my lung was functioning at one hundred percent before, it's something like eighty five percent now. It's only been three months, of course, so the doctors are optimistic that function will improve a little more with continued respiratory therapy, but the point remains. If that happens again…”

If he gets sick like that again, he might not make it, Izuku realizes. Or his lung might stop working properly. Or–

Izuku slams the door shut on those thoughts. “Thank you for telling me,” he says instead.

“That brings me to this “ Toshinori releases his hand and grabs the packet, handing it to Izuku. “My will hasn't changed much. You still get everything, barring a few small bequests and charitable contributions, but I've also listed you as my power of attorney, effective immediately. This is your copy of everything.”

Izuku takes the packet and flips through it. “What does that mean?”

“It means going forward, if anything were to incapacitate me, you would have power over any medical or financial decisions. It means if you want access to my money now, you have it. You'll never want for anything, Izuku. And I needed you to know this, all of it. Just,” Toshinori grimaces, a hint of bitterness finally slipping through, “just in case.”

It isn't fair, Izuku thinks. It isn't fair that his hero, after everything he's done for the world, should have to suffer. Should have to face decisions like this, the potential loss of control over his own life and body. He doesn't even notice he's crying until Toshinori starts dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.

“I'm so sorry to put this on you, my boy,” Toshinori murmurs.

“Don't apologize!” Izuku wipes furiously at his eyes. “I would do anything for you–I want to be the one you rely on! I just–”

I'm going to miss you when you're gone, he thinks desperately, unable to voice the words, to face up to reality without Toshinori. It's a gaping hole that he knows will exist in the future, but he can feel it creeping closer now, unavoidable.

“Everyone dies eventually,” Toshinori says, his voice soft. “My boy, I have many years left, I hope. I'd do anything to be there for you as long as possible. This isn't me giving up.”

Izuku sniffs. “I know. I know it's not.”

Toshinori scoots his chair closer and wraps his long arms around Izuku. “I love you, son,” he says.

“I love you, too, dad,” Izuku manages to choke out, burying his face in Toshinori's shoulder.

They so rarely voice these feelings, but it feels right to say it now. Toshinori means the world to him. To call him dad feels like a gross oversimplification of all the things Toshinori represents: a father, a brother, a best friend, a kindred soul. Something like blood, but much more powerful.

Eventually, they separate, both of them wiping their eyes and laughing. “I won't let you down,” Izuku tells him.

Toshinori just shoots him that crooked grin that crinkles his eyes and takes years off his face. “I've never doubted you for a moment.”

It’s the last they speak of it that evening. The hostess comes in with impeccable timing, and they place their orders. Toshinori badgers Izuku into promising he won't let Hatsume test those gloves on him again, yes, Izuku, even if the mark two has been significantly improved, and Izuku discusses the possible agencies he might work with after graduation. It's a wonderful night, another moment he's eternally grateful to have with his mentor.

But all the while, that stack of paper sits like a two ton weight on Izuku’s lap, always holding his attention. Perhaps, he realizes as they head back to campus, he's been looking at this all wrong.

The answer is on the tip of his tongue.

Izuku spends the night thinking about it. He already sleeps poorly most nights without medication. He has plans in the morning and doesn't want to be drowsy, ergo: no medication.

By the time he wakes up and stumbles downstairs for breakfast, he can feel a plan almost coming together. Graduation is rushing toward him, the months quickly closing in. He has so many decisions to make: the agency he plans to work for, the type of heroics he plans to pursue, where he's going to live… There's so much to consider. At the precipice of adulthood, there's no going back. It's as exciting as it is frightening.

How does Toshinori fit into all of it?

His mother, of course, has offered him his old room when he graduates for as long as he wants or needs.

You'll never want for anything, Toshinori told him. But what about him? What does Toshinori want?

“Good morning, Midoriya!” Ashido is, surprisingly, already awake and in the kitchen. Izuku glances at the clock, but no, he was correct the first time. It's only just gone six in the morning.

“Good morning,” he returns, heading for the fridge. “You're up early. Heading out for the day?”

Ashido makes a face. “No? Why?”

“Didn't you say you and the others all had plans?”

“Oh. Oh. Yes. Plans. We do have…plans.” Ashido quickly stuffs another bite of egg in her mouth, looking everywhere but at Izuku.

Baffled, Izuku grabs a protein shake from the fridge and twists off the cap. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine! Perfect,” Ashido says. “And what about you? Any special plans today?” She leans her elbows on the table, her chin resting in her hands.

“Well, I'm training with Uraraka,” he says slowly, and just manages not to add as you well know. “Nothing much beyond that. I'll probably work on that ethics essay later.”

“What about Uraraka?”

Izuku downs the last of his shake. “What about her?”

“Maybe you can hang out with her today?” Ashido suggests.

Izuku feels like he's missed a step in this conversation. “Maybe,” he allows. He usually hangs out with Uraraka and the others.

“You could always take her out,” Ashido continues.

“Like outside? Off campus?” Izuku frowns. “No, we're training in the quirk gym.” He's definitely missing something here.

Ashido’s smile looks a little less natural then. “I mean after all that. You could take her to lunch!”

“It would be easier to eat at the dorms…”

“But not as fun, right?”

Izuku isn't sure about that. “It's pretty stressful going out,” he admits. “I'm still not used to all the, you know,” he waves a hand. “Last night Toshinori had to book a private room in a restaurant pretty far from school just to make sure we didn't get swarmed.”

“He did?” Ashido asks, suddenly looking interested again. “How come?”

Izuku looks down at his hands. “Just so we could talk,” he deflects. “I'm heading out for a jog. Want to join me?”

Ashido pulls a face and gives him a thumbs down. “No offense, Mido, but hard pass.”

Izuku laughs, and they high five as he leaves the kitchen. “See you later,” he calls back to her softly as he pushes open the door and slips on his trainers. He takes off at a steady pace, letting his thoughts drift back to the problem at hand. Graduation is coming up so quickly…

What happens next?

Uraraka beats him to the gym. Izuku runs up with his support case under one arm and a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry, Uraraka! I got a little sidetracked.”

Uraraka shakes her head, smiling. “Don't worry about it. Are you ready to get started?”

Izuku is practically bouncing in place. “Yes! Okay, so, I have a few ideas to run through. I'd like to try navigating the obstacle course while your quirk is on me for the first run through. For the second, I want you to alternate turning gravity on and off across the gym. No warnings given.”

“That sounds like it'll be tough on you… Are you sure you want to start that hard?”

Izuku pats the case. “Hatsume’s newest suit is designed for suboptimal conditions. The material she made it from is reinforced by any impacts it takes. I think your quirk is probably the best way to break it in.”

“She's really serious about your gear, huh?”

“Something about showing how her babies can stand up to any quirk,” Izuku laughs as he punches the code to let them in for their time slot. “You know how she is.”

They split ways to suit up in their respective locker rooms before returning to the main gym. The suit looks similar to the one he wore during the final battle. That had been Toshinori's idea, a way to remind people of who he was and who he is. That quirk or no quirk, he's the hero who sacrificed everything to save them. Izuku wasn't sure about it at first, but the public response has been very positive.

Hatsume’s newest adjustments are a complete rework. The suit has been remade entirely with a quirk infused fabric designed with similar properties to a shock absorption quirk. The idea, as she explained it, is that the suit can essentially absorb kinetic energy, reinforcing itself with each impact. She also mentioned something about a way to release that energy again being in the works, but Izuku’s still on the fence about that particular idea. It sounds difficult to control, and the potential for collateral damage is too high. Not that that will stop Hatsume.

“Ready for round one?” Izuku asks, turning on the suit’s sensors so the data can transmit directly to Hatsume.

“Ready,” Uraraka replies, nodding with a determined look. She reaches out and taps Izuku’s shoulder.

Zero Gravity is still such a fascinating quirk. Izuku feels the moment he goes weightless, his feet lifting off the ground. He grabs the wall next to him, pushing himself down into a low lunge, then rocketing himself up onto the first wall of the course.

It helps that he's had so much practice with it, but Izuku knows how disorienting it is for someone to suddenly drift upward like that. The course he's running is meant for mobility-based quirks. The first wall leads to a steep drop off, then a series of cables that can take the user in three different directions. Izuku gets both hands around the center cable and throws himself down the length of it, keeping low.

He finishes the first run quickly, but Uraraka kicks his ass during the second, activating and releasing her quirk over and over to catch Izuku off guard. Shock absorption or not, he's already black and blue by the time they move on to sparring. When they're done and cooling down, he's basically one enormous bruise. It's perfect. He never has to worry about Uraraka taking it easy on him because he's quirkless again.

“That was awesome,” Izuku says, holding out his fist. “Thanks for helping me out!”

Uraraka bumps his fist with her knuckles, giggling. “It's always fun working out with you. We should do this more often. Just the two of us.”

She's right. They usually train in groups of four or five. Izuku can't remember the last time they did something just the two of them. “Yeah, we should,” he agrees. He should make an effort to have more one-on-one time with all of his friends before graduation. There's no telling the next time they'll all be able to spend time together. Things are only going to get busier from here, and he knows the majority of his classmates will be going into limelight heroics, right to the top of the charts.

“Deku, there was–” She paused, chewing at her lip and glancing at Izuku, then back at her own hands. “I've been meaning to talk to you.”

“Oh?” They're both soaked in sweat and crashed out on the floor, so Izuku scoots himself across the mat to face her. “What's up?”

“We're graduating soon,” she starts, and Izuku nearly cringes.

Don't I know it, he wants to say.

“And things are, well, they're going to change.” She glances at him again, and Izuku nods encouragingly. “And sometimes change is good!”

“It is,” Izuku pipes up. He gives her a thumbs up. “You're going to be a great hero, Uravity. You already are one!”

Her smile wavers for a moment, then comes back strong. “Even outside of heroics, things are going to change.”

Outside of heroics, huh? That's the hardest part to come to terms with. “It'll be sad, leaving the dorms.”

“It will.” She sounds almost impatient now. “Deku–no, Izuku. Izuku, do you know how important you are to me?”

Flustered at suddenly jumping to first names, Izuku feels the burn spread across his face. “Yeah, of course,” he stammers. “You're important to me too!”

Her expression takes on a determined edge. She sits up on her knees and reaches out, grabbing Izuku’s hands. “I don't want you to misunderstand me, okay? So I'm going to say it clearly. Izuku, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for a long time.”

Izuku, face burning and bright red, gapes at her. “Love?” he stammers, barely getting the word out. “You–for me?” Where the hell is this coming from? he wants to demand. Love? In love with? Like romantically? With dates at the amusement park and–

No, he has to be misunderstanding this.

…But no, she specifically said she didn't want to be misunderstood. She said she's in love with him.

They sit there staring at each other for a moment, and for the briefest second, something ugly stirs in Izuku’s chest, something writhing in discomfort that wants to shriek at her why would you say that over and over.

But he doesn't let it. Instead, Izuku gently pulls his hands away.

“I'm sorry,” he tries, knowing he's fumbling this terribly. The words taste foul on his tongue. “I don't feel the same. You're my friend, one of my best friends. I do love you, Uraraka! Just–”

“Just not like that,” Uraraka finishes for him, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I'm so sorry,” Izuku says, miserable. He can't even look at her. He keeps his eyes on his feet, his shoulders hunched. This is wrong. This is all wrong, and he doesn't know why or where it's coming from.

He hears rather than sees Uraraka sniff and wipe at her eyes. “Don't be,” she says. “It isn't your fault. You can't make yourself love someone.”

And doesn't Izuku know that. If he could, he'd make himself love her in a heartbeat. Now, face to face with this particular trainwreck, he wishes he'd fallen in love with her, too, even if only so he wouldn't have to watch her cry. “I'm sorry,” he says again, at a loss for how to fix this.

Uraraka doesn't stick around to give him the chance. She doesn't make any excuses about it, just gives him a watery smile and turns away. Izuku listens to the sound of her footsteps fading, the slight squeak of her shoes against the floor, the door opening and closing. Then he's alone again.

The worst part, the very worst part, is that he didn't see it coming. He simply had no time to prepare himself before she blindsided him with her confession. Did everyone else know? Is this just another thing he's managed to miss, another social expectation with which he's been found wanting?

Izuku doesn't know the answer. But he knows someone who probably does.

Kacchan picks up on the first ring.

“Izuku.”

“Kacchan, Uraraka–”

“So she did it? Ballsy. I figured she'd wait until graduation.”

Well. There's that question answered.

“Oi, still there? You better not have called me and hung up immediately!”

“I'm still here,” Izuku mutters petulantly. “How'd you know she was going to confess?” And why didn't you warn me?

“Pinkie told me. Everyone knew she said she was going to do it today. I'm surprised Pinkie didn't beat you to the punch with the good news.”

Izuku is lost again. “Good news?”

“Yeah, you and pink cheeks. The–” Kacchan stops. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. She did confess, right?”

“She did.”

There's another long pause. “You didn't accept,” Kacchan says. “You rejected her.” It's not a question, but Izuku answers anyway.

“I did.”

“Huh,” Kacchan says. “Why?”

Isn't that obvious? “I don't like her,” Izuku says plainly. “Not–not like that.”

“But you knew,” Kacchan says, “right? You knew she liked you.”

“No, Kacchan. I had no idea.”

Another long silence. Then, “Well, shit. This is gonna be messy.”

It takes a while to pull the story out of Kacchan, who insists he has no interest in Izuku’s drama, but apparently everyone in their class has been convinced Izuku returned Uraraka’s feelings since first year. And apparently they thought it was just the whole battle over One For All that kept Izuku from confessing. So when the war ended in second year and no confession was forthcoming, it became THE topic of conversation. When will Deku and Uravity stop running circles around each other? Uraraka must have gotten tired of it and decided to take matters into her own hands.

“You really didn't know?” Kacchan asks again, voice thick with skepticism.

“I really didn't,” Izuku confirms. Again. “I really, really didn't. I wish someone warned me this was coming.”

“Shit,” Kacchan says again. Then, “Damn, Pinkie’s calling. I'll…keep you updated.”

“Sure,” Izuku says after Kacchan hangs up. Now he wants to keep Izuku in the loop.

He's been sitting in the gym alone since Uraraka left, and he doesn't want to leave even though the sweat from training has cooled unpleasantly and his stomach is churning with hunger. If he leaves, if he opens that door and returns to the dorms, he'll have to face Uraraka again. He'll have to answer questions since everyone was in the know and thought Izuku's answer was a no-brainer. He doesn't want to face it because he doesn't have any answers. Is it so wrong, not liking someone back? It feels distinctly like he's done something terrible.

The worst part isn't even that he rejected her. It's the way he felt almost repulsed when he heard it. Who hears I love you and instinctually wants to get himself as far away as possible?

Evidently, Izuku.

He lets another ten minutes pass that way before giving up and trudging out of the gym. His time is up, so if he doesn't leave, the next student will come along. He doesn't think he can face anyone right now. It's a weekend, so maybe he'll get lucky. They all said they had plans. Maybe they'll all be out, and he can get to the dorms and go right upstairs and shower and never leave his room again–

Except when Izuku opens the door to the 3-A dorm, it's to the sight of every guy in his class sitting on the couches and staring him down.

“Um,” he squeaks, manfully repressing the urge to turn and run. “Hi? Everyone?”

So much for everyone having plans.

“Dude!” Kaminari shouts, practically lunging over the back of the couch. “What happened?!”

That seems to trigger them all into roughly the same response. Only Kacchan remains seated, mouthing you should have checked your texts at him.

“What happened about what?” When all else fails, play dumb.

“With Uraraka!” Kaminari says, exasperated. “I figured by now you two would be–”

Iida slams a hand over Kaminari’s mouth. “What our classmate means to say, of course, is that we are all simply concerned there may have been…a misunderstanding.”

Whatever Izuku’s face does at that must project just how confused he is because Kacchan finally steps in and says, “These gossipy old ladies want to know why you're not off sucking face with pink cheeks.”

“I, well,” if there was an open window nearby, Izuku would be out of here. “She did, uh, mention she has, you know,” he makes a vague motion, uncertain exactly what to say here, “for me, that is–but I don't. I don't feel the same. So. I–” Another vague motion.

“You really rejected her?” Mineta looks horrified. “You rejected a girl with those proportions? What, are you gay or something?”

A dozen curious faces turn to Izuku as though to echo the question.

“No?” Izuku says, although a tiny part of his brain is shrieking am I gay on repeat like a skipping record. “I just see Uraraka as a friend.” He slumps. “Is it really that big of a deal?”

“Of course not,” Kirishima says, shooting a look at Sero. “Uh, totally normal! It's just, well… We all thought you were, like, super into her. Since first year.”

“Did you just get over her or something?” Kaminari tries. “Like bad timing?”

“I've never thought of Uraraka that way.” He doesn't understand what he did to make anyone think otherwise.

“Oh,” Kaminari says. Then he brightens. “So who do you like?”

“Um,” is the best Izuku can offer. He scrambles to find a name, if only to make this conversation end. He doesn't like anyone right now, but maybe he used to? He tries to think and realizes immediately that he can't come up with a single person. Worse still, he can't even admit to a time where he wondered if he liked someone. It's not just that he dismissed the idea. It's that the thought has never once crossed his mind.

“Shower,” he blurts so loud the boys closest to him startle. “I'm really gross from training, so I need a shower. Um.” And then, like the socially awkward coward that he is, he flees.

The problem is–

Well. There's a lot of problems, but the biggest problem is that Izuku knows he hurt Uraraka. One of his dearest friends, his first friend at UA, and he made her cry. Just picturing the way her face dropped when he rejected her twists his heart painfully.

After he showers and dresses, Izuku decides hiding in his room is probably the best option. He doesn't want to talk about this with his classmates, and he doesn't want to prolong Uraraka’s misery by showing his face. He wishes the entire class wasn't in on it. At least if she'd done it quietly, no one would have known. Now she's as stuck as he is.

Izuku immediately feels shame at that thought. Uraraka did nothing wrong by confiding in her friends. He's just being selfish.

It's just–he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix this, and it's eating him up. His stomach aches as bad as it did when he bombed the English mock final last semester. It's the agony of knowing you've failed and not understanding why.

So Izuku does the only thing he can think of. He calls his mom.

“Izuku!” His mother’s voice never fails to soothe him. “I wasn't expecting a call today. Is everything okay?”

She really does know him well. “I…no, not really.”

“Tell me,” she urges.

Best to just rip the bandaid off quickly. “Uraraka confessed. That is, ah, she said she–”

“Oh, I was wondering when this would happen,” Inko laughs, and really? Even his own mother knew? Then she goes quiet. “But you're not happy about it.”

“I rejected her,” Izuku clarifies because apparently he's going to need to say it another hundred times at the rate he's going. Inko doesn't say anything so he adds, “I was really surprised, mom. I've never thought about her like that, and I had no idea she thought about me like that! It was–it was awful. I feel terrible. She was so upset and–”

“Wait, Izuku,” Inko interrupts. “I’ll admit I'm surprised, but you didn't do anything wrong by rejecting her unless you were cruel about it, and I know you. You’d never do that.”

“I don't think I was,” Izuku says. Then, “Why are you surprised?”

“I could tell she had a crush on you the first time we met. It was so cute! I know you don't have much experience with girls, but I thought you liked her as well. I just thought you were being shy.”

“She's just my friend. She's only ever been my friend.”

“Well, that's okay,” Inko says quickly. “I'm sure Uraraka will understand. Just give her some time.” She pauses again, as though searching for the right words. “I'm just…like I said, it's a surprise. Is there…someone else?”

Someone else? “What do you mean?”

“You aren't interested in her, so is there another girl?” Inko then rushes to add, “...or boy? I love you no matter what, Izuku. You can tell me anything.”

It's so bizarre how everyone jumps from Izuku rejecting Uraraka to Izuku being gay. “I don't like anyone,” he says. Then, needing to say the words aloud, for someone to acknowledge that it's normal and okay, “I've never liked anyone, mom. I've never even thought about liking anyone.” He's eighteen and hasn't thought about romance or sex beyond a very surface level acknowledgement. “Maybe something's wrong with me.”

“Oh, Izuku…” Inko sounds close to tears. “No, honey, it's okay! You've always done things later than your peers. And with everything that's happened to you…connecting to other people must be so hard for you.”

What? The words catch him off guard. He doesn't have a problem connecting with people! Izuku has so many friends, and he loves them all so much.

“Have you ever considered, you know…talking to someone?”

“Like…Toshinori? Or Kacchan?” He talks to people literally all the time. It's kind of a running joke with his friends. Izuku has so many feelings.

“A therapist,” Inko clarifies. “A professional. Someone who can help you deal with things like this.”

“You…you think it's…abnormal?” Izuku asks. His grip on the phone tightens, the frame of it creaking.

Inko hesitates for just a moment. “I just want you to be happy, baby. You're eighteen now, an adult, but all the bad things that have happened to you are still holding you back from being able to form meaningful relationships. I don't want you to be alone, Izuku. You deserve to fall in love like everyone else. Promise me you'll consider it.”

“Sure,” Izuku says, but he feels hollowed out, raw. His eyes burn, so he makes up a quick excuse and ends the call.

He wipes furiously at his eyes, but the tears keep coming. He's abnormal after all. Even his own mother thinks there's something wrong with him. He's so broken she thinks he needs therapy. Izuku just doesn't understand. Why can't he just do it? Why can't he be like everyone else? If he goes to therapy, could they teach him how to be normal or would they just urge him to fake it? Is he really just a late bloomer? In a year or two, will he look back on this and laugh?

“It's fine,” he tells himself. “I'm fine. I'm fine.” If he just tries a little harder, he can fix this. Maybe, since everyone else thinks so, he really does like Uraraka. Maybe he's just too traumatized to realize it.

He tries to imagine a future with her. He tries to picture holding her hand at an amusement park and kissing her. It feels… not good. He tries to picture a wedding, kissing her in front of all their friends.

It feels terrible.

Uraraka just isn't the one for him. Maybe, like everyone is suggesting, he's gay. Maybe if he thought about a guy, it would fit better in his head.

He's closest to Kacchan, but he really can't picture that. He thinks about Todoroki instead. Everyone knows Todoroki is handsome. He just has to picture it a little: the date, holding hands, kissing–

Izuku cringes. Somehow, that's just as bad as Uraraka. He just can't do it. Even picturing it feels wrong.

Or maybe, a small part of his mind speaks up, you're the thing that's wrong.

He misses lunch, choosing instead to wallow in his own misery, eating through his stock of protein bars and bottled water and watching videos on HeroTube. It's a poor distraction, but it works well enough. No one bothers him, either, and he's still trying to decide if he's pleased or upset about that when someone knocks on the door.

For one heart stopping moment, he's sure it's Uraraka. He's not ready to face her yet, but he can't bring himself to hurt her again. But when he opens the door, it's Iida, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero. Iida has a tray with food on it.

“We brought dinner,” Sero says. “And we're really sorry for coming at you like that, dude. It was a crappy day for you, and we made it worse.”

Izuku opens the door wider and steps aside, finally able to smile again. “You don't need to apologize.”

“We do,” Iida insists, placing the tray on Izuku’s desk. “We made an uncomfortable situation worse with our insensitive questions! As your friends, we should have been more respectful.”

“Well next time someone tells you they're going to confess to me, promise you'll give me a heads up and we'll call it even,” Izuku jokes. It really isn't a joke, but he's sure it would be weird if he acts serious about it.

They all sit on the floor as Izuku digs in. Kaminari is the first to break the silence. “So you really had no idea?”

“That she likes me? No, none at all,” Izuku says. So apparently they're going to keep discussing it? Great. “It was really surprising.”

“The girls are all worked up about it,” Kirishima admits, wincing. “Mina especially. She feels like she set Uraraka up for failure. She really pushed her to make a move.”

Oh great. So now Izuku is in trouble with all the girls? He makes a face and stuffs some rice into his mouth so he doesn't have to answer.

“So we can, like, avoid this kind of thing in the future, who do you like?” Kaminari asks.

The others immediately jump in. “We said we weren't going to bother him about that!” Iida scolds him, chopping his hand rapidly.

“Yeah, not cool!” Sero agrees.

“Look, I'm not trying to bother you,” Kaminari argues, “but something like this is bound to happen again! Midoriya is a popular guy! If we know, we can try and steer people away who don't have a chance and avoid this kind of trainwreck in the future!”

A beat of silence. Then, “He does have a point,” Kirishima admits sheepishly.

“I don't like anyone,” Izuku says dully. He shouldn't have opened the door after all.

“But what's your type?” Kaminari presses. “Like favorite features or whatever? Does it matter if she's a hero student?”

“With girls you've liked before, what do they all have in common?” Kirishima adds.

“I've never liked anyone before,” Izuku blurts, just wanting to get this conversation over with so he can hide again. “I've never even thought about it.”

Now they're all looking at him weirdly–even Iida.

“Not once?” Sero asks. “I mean, you've never had any…fantasies?”

“Like dude, I get that you've had a busy few years, but it has to have crossed your mind at least once,” Kaminari tries. “Okay, how about this: what do you think about when you jerk it?”

“KAMINARI,” Iida shrieks. “That is unacceptable!”

“No, no, he’s onto something!” Kirishima says. “Midoriya, even if you've never wanted to date anyone, you've definitely done that.”

Well, this is a horrifying new turn. Izuku’s face burns a bright red, and he buries it in his hands. “Of–of course I have! But I don't, like, you know…” He drops his hands but doesn't look directly at them. “I don't really think about anything! I just…get it over with!”

“You just get it over with,” Sero echoes. He looks horrified. “What about porn?”

“What about it?” Izuku groans. This is single handedly the most humiliating conversation he's ever had.

“Do you watch it?”

“What? No!” Izuku snaps. “Why would I?”

“To get off?” Kaminari suggests, incredulous. “Dude, why else do you jerk off if you're not thinking about girls?”

Why? “It's a physical reaction,” Izuku snaps back. “It gets, you know, so you do it and it goes away!” Occasionally it's good for stress relief or to help him sleep, but it's not like he goes out of his way to do it!

“Midoriya,” Iida stammers, face equally red. “Your self-discipline is commendable, but that is…not strictly correct.”

Even Iida? “It is for me,” he mutters, but he keeps hearing his mother's words. You're eighteen now, an adult, but all the bad things that have happened to you are still holding you back from being able to form meaningful relationships… Is she right? All this time, Izuku thought he was happy and normal. Is he really that damaged?

“So you just don't think about it?” Kirishima asks. He doesn't look convinced. “Like…at all? Girls or guys?”

“I don't,” Izuku admits.

“But dude, that's so sad!” Kaminari looks heartbroken for him. “You deserve to be happy too, you know! If nothing changes, you're going to be all alone!”

“Okay what about this,” Sero tries. “In ten years, how do you see your life? Outside of heroics.” They all turn expectantly to Izuku.

But that's the whole problem, isn't it? The future is kind of scary. He thinks of the papers from Toshinori, still sitting in the top drawer of his desk. He thinks of being young and quirkless, of how alone he was all the time. He doesn't want that again, but he also doesn't feel that now. In ten years, he wants to keep being a hero. He wants to keep spending time with his friends, to make the world a better place. He wants to support Toshinori and make up for all the lost time. He wants–

Wait. That's it.

He thinks of all the money Toshinori has and their shared loneliness. It's just the two of them, when it comes right down to it. What was it he thought before? How much he's going to miss Toshinori when his injuries finally catch up with him and take him away from Izuku?

“You definitely look like you're thinking something,” Kirishima says encouragingly. “What is it?”

“I’m going to support my friends and be a great hero,” Izuku says, his resolve settling. He has so much planning to do…not to mention presenting said plan to Toshinori.

His friends all deflate.

“That's it?” Sero looks gobsmacked. “That's all you've got?”

“What more could I want?” Izuku smiles. “I'm not lonely, guys. I haven't been for a long time. If stuff like dating or romance or whatever isn't for me, isn't that okay?”

“There are people like that,” Iida concedes. “All Might never married. I don't believe Aizawa-sensei is married either.”

Holy shit, Izuku realizes. Iida’s right. Toshinori isn't married. He's never publicly dated during his career either, and since he's met Izuku, he hasn't even mentioned dating. There's been someone for Izuku to talk to right there next to him this entire time!

His friends don't seem satisfied, but they do eventually leave after reminding Izuku he can always talk to them about anything. Izuku barely notices. His mind is busy, turning the idea over and over. But first, he needs to get a grasp of the moving parts, the most fundamental being, well, funds.

The paperwork Toshinori gave him has gone untouched up until now. Izuku pulls it out and flips to the power of attorney, then to the added notes. Toshinori really thought of everything. There's information about his bank account, which Izuku is now an authorized user on, and even information on how to log in or access the money. It feels strange, almost like he's doing something wrong, but Izuku boots up his computer and logs onto the site for the main bank account. When he looks at the amount, he chokes.

“Well, I knew he was rich…But wow.”

Okay, so! Funds are not going to be a problem!

Izuku quickly backs out of the site, still flustered by the enormity of what Toshinori is giving him. He has no intention of touching the money for anything except this particular idea.

He pulls up a list of properties within walking distance of UA and starts taking notes.

Sunday blurs by in a rush of homework and research. It's Monday morning before Izuku really has time to grasp that Monday means classes which means he no longer has the ability to hide in his dorm room and avoid awkward interactions with his friends.

He texts Toshinori first thing, asking if they can meet after classes end. Toshinori replies with a thumbs up, then a second message saying he'll order dinner in for them.

There. Now there's no backing out.

Izuku gets ready and, after a few minutes of hesitation, heads downstairs for breakfast.

It's surprisingly empty for a Monday morning. Uraraka is nowhere to be seen, but Ashido, Jirou, and Kaminari are all eating breakfast. Yaoyarozu shows up at the same time as Izuku, giving him an awkward smile before entering the kitchen.

“Good morning, Midori,” Ashido says, shooting a look at the others. “How, um. How are you?”

“Good morning, Ashido! I'm fine.” Just get breakfast, eat quickly, and run away. Everything will be fine.

“Good! That's good!” Ashido nods.

Jirou sighs. “Knock it off,” she tells Ashido. “Midoriya, we're all sorry.”

“You're sorry?” What do they have to be sorry for?

“We meddled where we shouldn't have and made a mess of things. We all made a lot of assumptions, but none of us actually asked you what you wanted. We'll do better.”

Wow, that's so nice… Izuku actually tears up. “You guys…”

Jirou cringes. “Please don't cry so early in the morning…”

“Kaminari told us you aren't really interested in…things like that,” Yaoyarozu says, only stumbling over her words a little. “Our interference hurt you and Uraraka. I'm sorry to keep saying it, but we apologize. All of us.”

It's clear they don't really understand where he's coming from, but they're trying. Izuku is, for a moment, overwhelmed by how much he loves his friends.

“Midori, if you keep crying in your food, you'll ruin it!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Izuku laughs. “I'm just really relieved!” But his expression quickly sobers. “How is Uraraka?”

Ashido and Jirou glance at each other before Ashido says, “She's fine, Midori. Obviously she's a little hurt, but she's not mad at you. Kaminari kind of explained things to us all yesterday. Just give her time.”

“Sorry if all of that was supposed to be a secret,” Kaminari adds. “I just thought it might settle things if I could explain your side.”

Izuku really hopes he left out any details about his masturbatory habits, but at least this means Izuku doesn't have to explain much himself.

He hopes, anyway.

Despite the relief of knowing the girls aren't mad at him, class is indisputably awkward. Aizawa-sensei spends most of it glaring suspiciously at them, but thankfully he doesn't go as far as asking why no one seems to be speaking. Uraraka does smile at Izuku when she sees him, but it's a small, sad thing.

Between how awkward the class is and Toshinori's unexpected absence from the heroics lesson, the day drags. When class lets out, Izuku bolts straight for the faculty dorms just in time to catch Toshinori getting on the elevator with a bag of food. He follows him up and starts pulling out plates and utensils while Toshinori unloads the food.

“You weren't in class today for our heroics lesson,” Izuku says, digging into the takeout boxes and piling his plate high. “Another appointment?”

“They moved my respiratory therapy appointment up,” Toshinori explains. “Apparently my therapist is going on vacation later this week. Something about continuity of care.” He waves a hand.

“Everything went well?”

“As well as can be expected,” Toshinori says cheerfully.

Izuku eyes him critically. He hasn't coughed as much over the last few weeks… And he isn't using the cane today.

“Enough of that though. You had something you wanted to talk to me about. I can tell.” Toshinori raises a brow. “Let's hear it.”

“It's awkward,” Izuku begins. He's already blushing.

“You can tell me anything,” Toshinori promises. He sets his plate aside, fixing his undivided attention on Izuku. “I might not be able to offer much advice depending on the topic, but I'll always listen to you.”

Izuku opens his mouth and tries to get the words out, then he buries his face in his arms on the table. “Uraraka confessed to me,” he mumbles.

“I…can't actually hear you, my boy. Try that again?”

Izuku lifts his face, knowing it must be a very unflattering shade of red. “Uraraka confessed to me,” he says again.

Toshinori sits back in his seat, blinking. “Really?”

Izuku nods. “And apparently everyone knew she was going to do it. Even mom.”

“How unexpected,” Toshinori mutters, a hand on his chin.

Finally! A reasonable response! “That's what I said!” Izuku cries. “Everyone thought I knew the whole time, but how would I know that? No one told me!”

Toshinori nods along. “What happened next?”

“Well…I rejected her.” Izuku slumps. “I tried to be really nice about it, but it was just so unexpected! And I've never thought about her like that! I was really unprepared. She looked so hurt. I felt awful…”

“I, unfortunately, don't have much advice to give here," Toshinori laughs self-deprecatingly. “But I know you. I'm sure you let her down as gently as you could. I'm sorry you were put in such an awkward position, my boy.”

“It got worse from there.” Izuku can't help but mope now that he's speaking to someone who isn't questioning his motives. “Everyone knew about it, and they were so convinced I felt the same! So they all wanted to know why, and they kept asking all these questions that made me realize it's not just Uraraka.” He glances up at Toshinori, who nods encouragingly. “I've never been interested in anyone like that. I literally don't even think about dating or, you know, relationships, or even like… physical stuff unless someone else brings it up, and even then, I'm not interested in it! It's something that happens to other people, and I've just never even considered it! I don't know why I don't feel the same way as everyone else, but I don't.” His shoulders hunch. “When I tried to talk to Mom about it, she told me I should go to therapy. That I was just traumatized, so if I talk to a professional, I'll be able to feel like everyone else.”

A heavy silence settles over them. Part of Izuku is waiting for Toshinori to agree with his mother, to tell him he's abnormal, that he should feel like everyone else.

Toshinori does none of those things. “Thank you for telling me this. I wish I had some helpful advice for you, but the truth is, we're in much the same boat.” He smiles, huffing a laugh. “You know, I've never even been on a date?”

Izuku knows there's no public information about Toshinori's dating history, but he still wouldn't have thought that's because it's non-existent. “Really?”

Toshinori nods. “I was so focused on becoming a hero when I was young! Then I was following Nana around, trying to convince her to train me. Then there was UA, and training to fight All For One… I was so busy and so driven, I never thought about it. And then once I was back in Japan and actively looking for All For One, the press started bothering me about it. I never knew what to say. Certainly, I was preoccupied with a very important task, but I didn't feel like anything was missing. I was…lonely,” he admits. “But all I wanted was someone who understood. Who I could talk to about everything that happened. I never spent much time, if any, thinking about romance.” He pauses, frowning in thought. “I do like romance in films, though. Books as well. Happy stories that end well are my favorite.”

That is…a lot of unexpected information. Toshinori isn't that different from Izuku. The tiny gremlin part of his brain is dying to note that All Might likes romance in fiction in his All Might notebook, but he pushes that away for another day. “So you think–I mean, is it normal?”

Toshinori laughs. “In general? I really couldn't say. For me and for you? It's our normal, I think. The world is a very big place, full of people with different priorities. I imagine there's plenty of people who live without dating or marriage and don't miss it.”

“I wish I'd realized earlier,” Izuku mutters. Then, louder, “I wish I'd thought to talk to you about this sooner.”

“It always surprises me, the things we have in common,” Toshinori chuckles, and that's probably as good of an opening as Izuku is going to get.

“Actually, this all made me realize something,” Izuku begins. “I don't want the same things my friends do. I'm not going to date or get married or, well, any of that. I'm going to be a hero, but it made me wonder about what my life outside of heroics is going to look like.”

“It's an important thing to consider,” Toshinori agrees.

“When I graduate UA,” just get it out, Izuku tells himself, “I'd like to use some of your money.”

Toshinori nods, but he looks surprised. “You don't need to ask permission…”

Izuku pulls out his phone and brings up the list he's compiled. He slides his phone across the table for Toshinori.

He takes it, humming thoughtfully. “Condos, homes… Three bedrooms?”

“I've been researching homes within walking distance of UA,” Izuku continues, nerves starting to get the better of him. “One bedroom for me, one for you, and a guest room.”

Toshinori looks up sharply. “One for me?”

“I told you before, didn't I? I missed out on fourteen years, dad. We have a lot to make up for.”

“Izuku…but–you really want to be stuck with this wreck of an old man? At your age, you should be enjoying yourself, not–”

“I'm not asking because I want to be your, I don't know, your caretaker or something, or because I feel obligated,” Izuku interrupts. He needs Toshinori to understand. “I'm asking because you're important to me. You matter to me, so much, and I know I call you dad sometimes, but even that doesn't really cover it. You're like,” he frowns, frustrated. “You are my father, but in another sense you're my best friend or even my brother. You occupy this enormous space in my life, and you make everything better just by being around. If it wasn't for you, I don't even know if I'd be alive today.” Izuku holds eye contact with him, willing Toshinori to understand. “Why should either of us have to be lonely anymore?”

“I–it's the same,” Toshinori begins, the words somehow stiff, dazed. “You saved my life, you know. You're also…very important. To me.” He looks down at the list, something vulnerable flashing across his face before settling into a warm smile. He clears his throat. “The first one will have to go. Aizawa lives there, and he'd never forgive us for invading his building.”

And just like that, everything falls in place.

The relief of knowing what the future will bring lightens life in a way Izuku didn't expect. The day after he and Toshinori talk, they've already narrowed the list down to five places.

Aizawa-sensei’s building does not get cut, no matter what Toshinori says.

Izuku accidentally left his ethics essay in the dorms, so he runs back during lunch to get it. Uraraka apparently follows him, because the moment he steps into his room, she's standing in his doorway. “Deku?”

Izuku jumps, startled. “Wha–Uraraka! Where did you come from?”

“Sorry,” she says, holding up her hands. “I didn't mean to scare you! I just…can we talk? I've been trying to get you alone, but…”

Izuku understands immediately. “Let me guess. They wouldn't leave you alone either?”

She laughs. “Yeah! They mean well, but…”

But their interference caused the situation in the first place, she doesn't need to say.

“Come on in,” Izuku says.

Uraraka closes the door behind her and sits on the bed. Izuku puts his essay in his bag, then joins her.

“I'm sorry,” she says after a moment. “I've ruined everything, haven't I?”

“No!” Izuku grabs her hand. “You haven't ruined anything! I hate that I hurt you, but you're one of my best friends. You were my first friend at UA!”

“You didn't hurt me,” Uraraka is quick to say. “None of this was your fault. I mean,” she laughs, a wet sound. “I knew you didn't like me. I was sure of it. But the girls kept telling me they were sure you did, and I got my hopes up. I think I just wanted to know and have it done with, one way or the other.”

“You knew? But–”

“You act the same with me that you do with Iida and Todoroki,” Uraraka explains. “Literally, the exact same.”

Ah. “I really am sorry, you know.”

“Stop apologizing!” Uraraka punches him in the arm. “Kaminari and Kirishima said you don't like anyone.”

Izuku looks down at his feet. “Yeah.”

“And you…you're sure? You're sure that's how it is?”

Izuku can't claim to understand that part of himself, but he knows with a bone deep certainty that he's not going to spring out of bed one day and suddenly want a girlfriend. It's a bittersweet feeling, watching the divide between himself and his friends grow, knowing he'll always be an outsider to their experiences. But he knows. “I'm sure.”

Uraraka squeezes his hand and doesn't let go. “Give me some time,” she says. “I'll get over you, and we'll be even better friends than before.”

Izuku finally looks up from his feet to Uraraka's face. “All the time you need,” he promises. “I'll be here.”

Uraraka throws her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder for a beat, then she lets him go and springs to her feet. “That's enough moping,” she declares, holding out a hand. “Let's go to lunch. I'm starving.”

Izuku, feeling lighter and lighter by the second, takes her hand.