Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Golden Ratio (and other body parts)
Izuku Midoriya's life smelled of dog shampoo and broken dreams. Specifically, "Gentle Oatmeal Formula for Sensitive Coats" and the vague stench of a failed bodybuilder's disappointment. Every morning, when he looked in the mirror, he didn't see the future Mr. Olympia he had imagined in his adolescent delusions of grandeur. He saw a fifteen-year-old boy with an untamable mop of green hair, a constellation of freckles, and a physique that screamed 'I try' rather than 'I'm a Greek god.'
It was all his Quirk's fault. "Train."
When it first manifested, the name had seemed like a promise. "Train! Of course! It's a physical enhancement Quirk! I'll train my muscles until they have muscles of their own! I'll be a legend, a mountain of hand-sculpted power!" The reality, however, had been far less spectacular and a lot more… hairy. His Quirk had absolutely nothing to do with muscular hypertrophy. It didn't matter how many weights he lifted or how many nauseating protein shakes he drank; his body simply responded like any other boy's.
After months of frustrated exploration, he reached a depressing conclusion: his Quirk was for training dogs. That was it. He could make Mrs. Tanaka's corgi sit with a ninety-eight percent success rate. He managed to get Mr. Hino's bulldog to stop trying to bite mail carriers. He was a glorified dog-whisperer. And so, his dream of Olympic glory had transformed into a part-time job walking the neighborhood's canine elite.
"No, Pochi, don't eat that. It's a gum wrapper. It's not nutritious," he said with the patience of a saint, gently pulling on the leash of the shiba inu that seemed to be on a suicide mission to consume all the trash in Musutafu. To his left, Brutus, a mastiff with a face that looked like it was contemplating war crimes, pulled with the force of a small tractor. And tangled in his legs, as always, was Fifi, a poodle that was eighty percent fluff and twenty percent pure evil.
"The life of a hero," he muttered to himself with an irony that no longer even stung.
It was then that the world decided to remind him just how far he was from being one.
A crash, a guttural roar that vibrated through the asphalt, shook the street. The dogs started barking like crazy. People screamed. Izuku looked up, and his fanboy heart skipped a beat so hard it almost knocked the wind out of him.
"It's a villain! Run!"
"He's going to destroy the station!"
A man as tall as a three-story building, with the skin of a rhinoceros, was tearing up the elevated train tracks as if they were licorice. The chaos was absolute. But Izuku couldn't look away. This was it. The real deal. The reason why, despite everything, he still filled notebooks with analyses of heroes he would never become.
And then, from the sky, she descended.
"Look! It's a hero! A new one!"
Izuku saw her before the rest of the world could process it. A colossal figure, a goddess in purple spandex and ivory horns, descending with the grace of a meteorite. The first image his brain registered was a kick. A beige high-heeled boot connected with the villain's jaw with a CRACK that silenced the crowd for a split second.
The camera in his mind zoomed in, devouring the image. The boot, the purple-clad calf, the knee, and then… the thigh. A universe of power and promise in a single limb.
The movement of her hip as she executed the kick was what broke something inside Izuku. It wasn't just strength; it was perfect fluidity, a lethal grace. The heroine landed, and the asphalt groaned under her weight. She stood tall, haughty, colossal.
"My debut day, and I'm already taking out the trash!" her voice was a melodic thunder. "A wink for my new fans!"
She blew that wink, and the flash of a dozen cameras immortalized the moment. Izuku felt the air leave his lungs. His hand clenched into a fist. The dogs, forgotten, pulled at their leashes, but he was anchored to the spot.
Holy shit, he thought, and it was the most honest prayer he had ever uttered in his life. I. Need. That. In. My. Life.
Purpose hit him like a freight train. It wasn't some vague dream of "saving people." It was a tangible, monumental goal with curves that defied physics.
The battle, if you could call it that, was over in seconds. With the villain incapacitated, she used her size to take down the other with a simple shove. It was a crushing victory. A perfect debut.
But perfection is a fragile concept.
As the new hero, whom the crowd was already cheering as "Mt. Lady," posed for another round of photos, a piece of debris from the train tracks broke loose. The already-damaged structure gave way. With a groan of tortured metal, an entire section of the track collapsed. Mt. Lady, caught mid-pose, turned and slipped.
She lost her balance.
Izuku watched her fall. It was in slow motion. A mountain of a woman stumbling backward, her arms flailing. She was going to fall. She was going to fall in the evacuated zone, where, thanks to a chain of cosmic bad luck, the only living being was a dog walker paralyzed by admiration.
Him.
Izuku couldn't decide if it was good luck or bad luck that a giant butt was heading straight for him. His brain, short-circuiting with panic and teenage ecstasy, reached a swift conclusion.
This is the most epic way to die. Crushed by a sexy giant butt. There could be no more heroic death.
He closed his eyes, preparing for sweet oblivion. The end of the world smelled like victory and spandex.
But the impact never came. Or at least, not how he expected.
To his surprise, as she fell, Mt. Lady began to shrink. Her Quirk, likely due to panic, deactivated at a dizzying speed. She went from a skyscraper to a normal-sized woman in a matter of seconds.
The problem was that her trajectory didn't change. Her landing point was still the same: Izuku's face.
The last thing he saw before the world became darkness, softness, and an overwhelming scent of strawberries was a pair of perfectly round buttocks, wrapped in purple spandex, growing larger and larger.
The impact was soft, cushioned, and strangely pleasant. His head bounced against something that was simultaneously firm and springy. The world was reduced to three primal sensations.
First: her butt smelled like strawberries. It wasn't an artificial scent, but fresh, like a strawberry field in summer. It was the most heavenly smell he had ever encountered.
Second: it was so plush. He could have taken a nap there and never woken up. It was the perfect pillow, the culmination of human comfort.
And third, and most importantly, was the sensation that shot through his body at the instant of contact. It wasn't pain. It was a spark. A current of warm, strange energy flowed from his face, through his Quirk, and directly into the woman sitting on him. He didn't see a manual. He didn't read any data. He felt it. He felt his own power, that useless dog-training Quirk, connect with her and do something.
He felt her butt become, subtly, almost imperceptibly… a little bigger. Firmer. More… perfect.
In that instant, Izuku Midoriya discovered that his power wasn't for training dogs. And he thought, with a clarity he had never experienced before, that he had reached the pinnacle of life.
"Oh my God! Are you okay? I am so, so sorry!"
The voice, now at a normal volume and dangerously close, was laced with panic. The weight lifted off his face. The light returned. And with it, the most incredible sight he would ever behold.
Mt. Lady, or rather, Yu Takeyama in her normal form, was kneeling beside him. Her face, without the filter of distance and gigantism, was even more beautiful. Flushed cheeks, hazel eyes full of concern, and a lock of blonde hair falling across her forehead. She was so close he could count her eyelashes.
But Izuku wasn't looking at her face.
His gaze was fixed, with the intensity of a laser, on the part of her anatomy he had just used as a cushion. Her butt. Even through the spandex, he could notice the subtle change. It was rounder. It had a slightly more pronounced curve. It was a work of art. His work of art.
"Hello? Can you hear me? Did I break anything?" Yu's voice snapped him out of his trance.
Fortunately, the area where she had fallen was deserted. The police had cordoned off a much wider perimeter. There was no one to witness the humiliating and bizarre scene. No one except Izuku, who was still on the ground, a look of pure ecstasy on his face.
"It's... perfect," he managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Yu blinked, confused. And that's when she noticed it. She stood up, and a strange look crossed her face. She felt her butt with both hands. The confusion turned to panic.
"What…? It feels… bigger!" she exclaimed, her voice jumping an octave. She turned, trying to look over her shoulder. "No way! My costume! It feels tighter! What did you do to me?"
"I improved it," Izuku replied with a simplicity so honest it left her speechless.
"Improved? What does 'improved' mean? I don't want an 'improved' butt, I want my own!" she shrieked, her panic rising.
And then she noticed another detail.
"The dogs! Where are the dogs?"
Izuku looked around. The leashes were on the ground, chewed and broken. Brutus, Pochi, and Fifi had taken advantage of the chaos to stage their own great escape. They were gone.
He was so getting fired. Definitely. Losing three client dogs in the middle of a villain attack was probably one of the first things in the "How to be a Terrible Dog Walker" handbook.
But Izuku didn't care. He had lost his job, but he had found his purpose.
"Change me back!" Yu begged him, her face a mixture of embarrassment and desperation.
Izuku got up, dusting himself off. He didn't take his eyes off Mt. Lady's butt. He saw it as if it were the most perfect object in existence, a masterpiece made by the greatest sculptor. In other words, himself.
His brain, at last, began to connect the dots. His Quirk. "Train." The contact. The improvement. Training wasn't always positive. Sometimes, to correct a behavior, you needed a… corrective action. A sharp stimulus. A spank.
It was the most twisted, hormonal logic in the world, but to him, in that moment, it made perfect sense.
"I think I know how," he said with a calmness that scared her.
"How? Tell me! I'll do anything!"
"I need you to turn around."
She stared at him, incredulous. "What for?"
"To… calibrate," he improvised. "I have to apply the Quirk again, but in reverse. It's a delicate process. I need the right angle."
Yu Takeyama, the newest hero in Japan, the woman who had just faced down two giant villains without blinking, found herself in a situation no hero academy could have ever prepared her for. She was desperate. She turned slowly, giving him her back.
"Like this?"
Izuku stepped closer. His heart was beating so hard he was sure she could hear it. The scent of strawberries was overwhelming. He raised his hand, trembling. And with a decision that would define the rest of his life, he spanked her.
SMACK!
The sound was sharp, clean, and oddly satisfying. His palm connected with the spandex with a firmness that surprised them both. At the instant of impact, he felt the same current of energy, but this time, in reverse. He felt his Quirk activate and undo the change.
Mt. Lady jumped, a small, choked gasp escaping her lips. She was stunned, her face burning with shame. This kid… this total stranger… had he just spanked her?
But the sensation that followed wasn't just humiliation. It was a surge of energy. She felt… slightly stronger. More focused. And when she felt herself again, she noticed her butt had returned to its normal size: glorious and perfect.
She turned around slowly, an expression of utter disbelief on her face. She looked at the boy, who still had his hand in the air, as if he had just performed a sacred act.
He looked her in the eyes, and a smile of pure, absolute conviction spread across his face.
"It worked," he said.
And in that precise moment, Izuku Midoriya knew, without a single doubt, what he had to do with his life.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2: A Connoisseur of Rear Ends
Chapter Text
The sound of the slap sharp and definitive hung in the alley's stale air. It echoed off the damp bricks and overflowing dumpsters before fading, leaving a thick silence. Yu Takeyama stood motionless, her back to him, her gigantic form now reduced to its normal size. The heat rising up her neck wasn't just from her Quirk's decompression; it was pure, searing shame that burned her ears.
It wasn't the pain, which was negligible, nor the humiliation of the act itself. It was the audacity. The absolute, baffling lack of hesitation with which this boy, a total stranger, had spanked her with the confidence of a professional evaluating his work.
Slowly, as if a sudden movement might break the spell of disbelief, she turned. Her eyes, which moments before had shone with the euphoria of her successful debut, were now a battlefield of fury and confusion. Her hand rose instinctively, not to rub the spot, but to confirm it was all real.
"You..." she began, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. The words got stuck. She tried again. "You... were you sure that was going to work?"
Izuku Midoriya, who until that moment had worn the expression of a scientist observing a successful experiment, blinked as if coming out of a trance. Then he nodded with a conviction that infuriated her even more.
"Well, about a seventy percent certainty, more or less," he admitted, adjusting a non-existent tie. His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather forecast. "But the logic was sound. My Quirk enhances things through physical contact. To reverse an unwanted effect, like uncontrolled growth, I needed a corrective action. A firm slap on the affected area is the most classic and documented training method."
Yu's jaw felt like it might unhinge. "Logic? Corrective training? Are you telling me you based the decision to... touch me like that... on a simple guess?"
"It wasn't a guess," Izuku corrected her, his almost academic seriousness like adding fuel to a fire. "It was a well-founded hypothesis. I have quite extensive knowledge on the subject, in fact."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, really? Enlighten me. What subject are you an expert in, exactly?"
Izuku stood a little straighter, adopting the air of a scholar about to present his thesis.
"In the appreciation of rear ends, of course," he declared with terrifying sincerity. "My knowledge isn't anecdotal; it's based on years of rigorous study: manga, action figures, and some late-night variety shows. I've analyzed thousands of panels, studied proportions, curvature, implicit density, the response to impact... I could consider myself a certified connoisseur of rear ends. And yours," he said, his gaze dropping for an instant, not with lust, but with clinical appreciation, "is top-tier. Exhibition quality. That's why I knew such a well-formed structure would respond favorably to the stimulus."
A dead silence fell over the alley. Yu stared at him, her brain trying to process the cascade of madness she had just heard. She was trapped between slapping that smug look off his face, screaming until her voice gave out, or just sitting on the dirty asphalt and having a full-blown nervous breakdown. This teenager hadn't just spanked her, he was now lecturing her on the quality of her butt as if it were a vintage wine. And the worst part was that, from his sincerity, she felt he truly believed he had done her a favor.
"You..." she began again, searching for a word that could encapsulate the magnitude of what she was witnessing. "You're unbelievable."
"Thank you. I do what I can for the common good," he replied with a modesty so out of place it made her want to tear her hair out.
Fortunately, the sound of approaching sirens snapped her out of her stupor. Her debut. Her first official day. If the police, or worse, reporters, found them here discussing the "exhibition quality" of her backside with a teenager, her career could be over before it began. The mental image of the headline made her turn pale: New Heroine Mt. Lady Involved in Bizarre Butt-Slapping Incident with a Minor.
"Listen," she said, her tone shifting to professional and urgent as she invaded his personal space. "Nobody. Absolutely nobody can know about this. Understand? If this gets out, my reputation will be ruined. It would be the end of my career."
Izuku blinked, her seriousness finally piercing his analytical bubble. He nodded, his expression now grave. "Understood. Your secret is safe with me. Professional discretion."
Yu watched him, scrutinizing his face. She saw sincerity, not malice. She saw the boy who, because of her fall, had just lost his job. And beyond the panic, she felt the memory of that strange surge of power that had coursed through her when he touched her. Just before shrinking, she had felt stronger.
Her ambition overcame her shame. This weird kid wasn't just a risk; he was an unknown variable, a potential shortcut to the top in the competitive world of heroes.
"We have to get out of here now," she said, making a life-changing decision. "You can't stay. If the police find you, they'll ask questions. And you..." she looked him up and down, "don't seem like a good liar."
"Lie? Why? I'd simply explain the scientific basis of my—" he started.
"No!" she cut him off, grabbing his arm. "You're not explaining anything to anyone. You're coming with me. Now."
"Where are we going?" he asked, stumbling as she dragged him out of the alley.
"To my agency," she replied, her mind racing. "I have a lot of questions. And you have the answers, even if you're too weird to realize it. Let's go."
They headed to the train station in a tense silence. Yu walked a yard ahead, setting a fast pace, and Izuku followed, casting furtive, analytical glances at her rear—like an artist admiring his own sculpture. Every time she caught him, he'd just offer a small, approving smile that made her incredibly nervous.
"Can you stop doing that?" she snapped without stopping.
"Doing what?"
"That! Staring!"
"I'm sorry," Izuku said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm just evaluating the results. There appear to be no adverse side effects. The structure has returned to its original state without losing integrity. It's fascinating."
Yu clenched her fists and walked faster.
On the platform, the normality of the outside world made their situation feel even more surreal. She bought two tickets, paying for Izuku's before he could pull out his wallet. Inside the train car, they found two seats facing each other.
Yu was the one who broke the silence. "I still don't know your name."
"Izuku Midoriya."
"Yu Takeyama," she replied out of reflex. "Though I guess you already know the other one."
"Mt. Lady," he said with an almost religious reverence and a glint of admiration that brought a faint blush to her cheeks. "Your debut was incredible. The Canyon Cannon was perfect execution. An impeccable angle to maximize impact without causing excessive structural damage. Your control when you fell was textbook."
"Thanks," she said, surprised by the precision of his analysis. "You know a lot about Quirks?"
"Only what I read and analyze. I'm a fan. Or I was," he corrected himself, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. "My Quirk isn't for fighting."
"I see," she said. "What will you do about your job now?"
Izuku shrugged. "I guess I'll look for another one. Though I doubt anyone will trust me with their dog after today. Mrs. Tanaka is going to kill me. Her poodle, Princess Fluffy III, has anxiety."
Yu felt a pang of guilt, quickly replaced by ambitious calculation. This wasn't a problem; it was an opportunity.
They arrived at her stop and walked a few more blocks to her apartment. It was in a functional building in a quiet neighborhood. The inside was spacious and bright but had the impersonal grace of someone who spent little time at home. It was the home of a rookie investing more in her career than in luxuries.
"It's not much, but it's my base of operations," Yu said, dropping her bag on a chair. "Want something to drink? I have water or... well, I only have water."
"Water is fine, thank you," Izuku replied, looking around with curiosity.
While she was in the kitchen, he walked over to a bookshelf and saw photos of her with other girls, probably from her student days. A glimpse of the person behind the hero.
She returned with two glasses of water and they sat on the sofa, keeping a safe distance.
"Alright, Midoriya. Let's talk about your Quirk. No theories about butts. Just the facts. What is it, exactly?"
"It's called 'Train," he said. "On my official registration, it's classified as an animal empathy Quirk. It lets me understand their needs and give them simple commands. Until today, I thought it only worked on animals."
"But it affected me," she said, disbelief still in her voice. "And I felt... A power boost. Temporary, I know. But it was real. Can you do it again?"
Izuku looked at her and saw the same naked ambition that had driven her in battle. "I don't know. I'd never done it on a person before. When you fell and I touched you, I just felt a connection. As if my power understood your body needed to be bigger and stronger, and it just gave it that. It was instinctive. And to reverse it, instinct told me the same point of contact needed an opposite command."
A faint blush colored their cheeks, but neither looked away.
"And do you think you could enhance other things?" she pressed. "Make someone stronger? Faster?"
"I have no idea," Izuku repeated, now fully engrossed in the problem. "I suppose it depends on the point of contact. Your rear end Is perfect. Maybe if I touch your elbow, it would just make it an excellent elbow. We might need a larger surface area for a systemic effect."
Yu stared at him, unsure if she should be flattered or offended. He was a diamond in the rough wrapped in dirty newspaper.
"Listen, Midoriya," she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "You lost your job because of me, and you don't have a plan B. And I need to understand your power. If it's what I think it is, it could be the key to making it to the top ten."
The ambition in her voice sounded incredibly attractive to Izuku, who had given up on his own dream.
"I'm offering you a deal," she continued. "Forget the dogs. Come work for me. Officially, you'll be my personal assistant. Unofficially," she gestured between them, "you'll be my personal test subject. And I'll be yours. Together, we'll discover the limits of your Quirk. In return, you'll get a salary and be closer to the world of heroes than you've ever been."
The offer was insane. Deeply unethical. And the best one Izuku Midoriya had ever received.
He looked at Yu Takeyama. He saw Mt. Lady, the ambitious woman, and the potential boss offering him a way out.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3: A Hero’s Terms and Conditions
Chapter Text
The offer hung in the air of the apartment, suspended between them with the weight of an impossible promise. Forget the dogs. Work for me. The proposal was so absurd, so direct, that for a moment Izuku Midoriya's brain, the very same one that had just cataloged a professional heroine's rear as "exhibition quality," refused to process it.
He just stared at her, at Yu Takeyama, the woman who an hour ago was a twenty-meter colossus and now seemed almost small on her own living room sofa. Her face showed a mix of high-octane ambition and the panic of someone who had just invited a wolf to guard her sheep.
The silence stretched on. Yu began to shift, uncomfortable.
"Well, you don't have to decide right now," she said, her voice losing some of its conviction. "It's just... it seems like a logical solution for both of us. You need a job, and I need... well, I need to understand what the hell happened out there."
Izuku didn't need to weigh the pros and cons. There was no risk benefit analysis. In his mind, there was only one line of thought, clear and bright as a neon sign: Work for Mt. Lady? Be near her every day? Have the chance to perform more... "calibrations"... for the sake of science and heroic progress?
The answer was so obvious that he felt almost insulted by the idea that there could be another one.
"I accept," he said, and his voice came out with a calmness that surprised even himself.
Yu blinked, taken aback by the speed of his decision. "Just like that? You don't want to know the salary? The conditions?"
"The details are secondary when the primary mission is so noble," Izuku replied with the seriousness of a monk taking a sacred vow. "My duty is to assist you on your path to greatness. It's an honor."
A nervous smile played on Yu's lips. This kid was dangerous. A fascinating danger.
"Alright," she said, extending a hand to seal the deal. "Then, welcome to the team, Midoriya."
Izuku took her hand. It was supposed to be a professional handshake, brief and firm. But the moment his fingers touched hers, a warm, familiar electric current ran up his arm. The same feeling from the alley, but more subtle. His thumb, almost instinctively, brushed against her palm. It was a fleeting, nearly imperceptible gesture, but intimate enough that Yu pulled her hand back a little faster than normal.
"Great," she said, clearing her throat to hide her nervousness. "So... I guess you're my personal assistant. Your first day starts... now." She leaned back on the sofa, striking a pose that tried to be authoritative but only managed to look awkward. "So... what does a personal assistant do?"
Izuku sat in the armchair across from her, slipping into the role with astonishing ease. There was no shyness in his posture, only a direct, unfiltered curiosity.
"Well, to start, I ask you questions," he said, leaning forward. "I need to understand the product to better assist it."
"The... product?" Yu repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"You," Izuku clarified, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Your kick, for example. The one you used in your debut. The 'Canyon Cannon.' The form was impeccable. The hip rotation, the leg extension... it was a work of kinetic art. Did they teach you that at U.A., or is it something you developed on your own?"
The question, so specific and so focused on the appreciation of her form, threw her off. She had expected him to ask about paperwork or if she liked her coffee with or without sugar. Not an analysis of her combat biomechanics.
"Uh... we received basic combat training, of course," she answered, a bit defensively. "But most heroes with gigantification Quirks focus on brute strength. I wanted to be different. More... elegant."
"You are," Izuku stated with absolute certainty. "Elegance is efficiency. Most giant heroes are clumsy, like hammers. The way you fell was also interesting. You lost your balance, but your body instinctively tried to correct your trajectory and minimize the impact. That shows incredible control. I bet you were first in your class in the Quirk control tests."
Yu stared at him. The kid wasn't just flattering her; he was analyzing her with a precision that made her nervous and fascinated her at the same time. No one, not even her teachers at U.A., had ever broken down her movements like that. For the first time since she had put on the costume, she felt truly seen.
"I wasn't first," she admitted, a shadow of old frustration crossing her face. "There was this girl a year ahead of me, Rumi Usagiyama... you know her as Mirko. Her control was... infuriatingly perfect. She was the benchmark everyone was compared to. I had the flashier Quirk, but she had that raw, concentrated power."
"Mirko," Izuku repeated, and a spark of intense interest lit up in his eyes. "Her Quirk is incredible. The amount of force she generates with her legs requires superhuman bone density and muscle control just to avoid shattering her own body. Her fighting style, with no support gear at all... it's the ultimate expression of confidence in one's own power. But it leaves no room for error..."
"Hey! Don't start analyzing the top heroes, too!" Yu cut him off, feeling a pang of jealousy she didn't understand. "Focus on the 'product' in front of you."
"Right, my apologies," Izuku said, refocusing on her with an intensity that made her shift on the sofa. His curiosity was an incandescent spotlight. "¿And what about your personal life? How do you unwind? What does Mt. Lady do when she's not being Mt. Lady?"
The question was so direct, so invasive, that it left her speechless.
"Excuse me?"
"It's important," he insisted, completely serious. "A hero's mental and emotional state directly affects their performance. Stress, fatigue... they're variables that can lead to failure. I need to understand your recovery and leisure protocols so I can optimize your schedule."
The excuse was so absurdly professional that Yu didn't know whether to laugh or throw him out of her house. She opted for an evasive answer.
"I don't have much time for 'leisure,' Midoriya. My life is being a hero. The rest is... secondary."
"No one is a hero twenty-four hours a day," he replied. "That's statistically impossible and psychologically unsustainable. You have to have something else. A hobby. Something you're passionate about."
As he spoke, his hawk like gaze swept across the apartment. It stopped on a corner of the living room. It was a glass cabinet, elegant and modern, and inside, perfectly arranged, were dozens of jars and bottles of all shapes and sizes. They were beauty products. Not just a few, but a collection. Creams, serums, lotions, perfumes... all from brands so exclusive that Izuku was sure a single one of those bottles cost more than his entire wardrobe.
He stood up and walked over to the display case with the fascination of an archaeologist discovering a lost tomb.
"Wow," he said, his voice full of genuine astonishment. "This is... an impressive collection of... dermal regeneration potions. Is it to repair cellular damage after battles? The exposure to the elements at twenty meters up must be brutal on the skin. It's a very clever countermeasure."
Yu's face flushed. She leaped to her feet as if she'd been caught in a criminal act.
"It's nothing! It's silly!" she said, her voice jumping an octave. "It's... it's a stupid hobby. A heroine shouldn't worry about these things. It's embarrassing."
Izuku turned to look at her. He saw the shame on her face, the raw vulnerability of someone whose silliest secret had just been discovered. And he, with his strange and wonderful lack of a filter, saw nothing to be ashamed of.
"Embarrassing?" he repeated, tilting his head. "Why? It's fascinating. Look at the organization. By brand, by product type, by expiration date, I assume. This isn't a hobby, it's a system. It's a science."
"It's an obsession," she corrected, her voice a whisper. "My Quirk... the size changes... they're hell on my skin. It stretches, it contracts... I'm terrified that one day a reporter will get a high definition photo of me and the headline will be 'Mt. Lady, the Hero with Stretch Marks.' It's stupid, I know, but..."
"It's not stupid," Izuku interrupted her with a softness that surprised her.
He stepped closer to her, and the smile on his face was so genuine, so free of judgment, that it completely disarmed her.
"It's not silly. For me, it's action figures," he confessed, as if he were sharing the deepest secret in the universe. "I have limited edition All Might figures that are worth more than all my clothes combined. But I don't see a toy."
He stopped in front of her, his green eyes shining with the passion of a true believer.
"I see the sculpture. I analyze the anatomy of the musculature, the paint application, the detail of the costume, the margin of error in mass production... It's my way of studying the heroes I admire, of understanding their form, their power'."
Yu looked at him. And in that moment, the weird kid who had spanked her, the teenager who had lectured her on the quality of her rear, the fanatic who analyzed her kicks... disappeared. In his place was someone who understood her. Someone who saw her "embarrassing" obsession not as a weakness, but as a passion, a form of control in a chaotic world. A nerd, just like her.
A laugh erupted from her throat. It wasn't a forced or seductive laugh. It was a genuine, liberating laugh that filled the apartment and broke the last barrier of tension between them.
"Action figures," she repeated, wiping away a tear of laughter. "So I'm the boss of a doll collector."
"And I'm the assistant to a cosmetic logistics expert," he retorted, laughing too.
The pact was sealed. It was no longer an agreement of convenience. It was an alliance of weirdos.
They stood in silence for a moment, a comfortable silence, filled with a new understanding. Izuku looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set, staining the Musutafu sky a melancholy orange. He saw the news vans still lingering in the battle area. And he remembered the look on Yu's face when she realized her debut had been a disaster.
"Hey," he said, his tone changing, becoming softer. "I know the day didn't end the way you hoped. The fall, the dogs, me... it was all chaos."
Yu sighed, the smile fading from her face. "It was a disaster. My grand debut. Tomorrow the headlines will probably be talking about the 'Clumsy Heroine'."
"No," Izuku said with a firmness that made her look at him. "They'll talk about the heroine who saved the city. Your kick was perfect. You took down a giant villain in less than a minute. That's what matters. And that... that's worth celebrating."
She looked at him, confused. "Celebrate? What's there to celebrate?"
"Your debut," he insisted. "A debut is a debut, even if it ends with a crash landing. It's a big day. And big days deserve a good dinner. Let me take you out to dinner."
The offer left her speechless. This kid, whom she had just hired, whom she had almost crushed, whom she had dragged into her home... was now inviting her to celebrate her own failure. And in his eyes, there was no pity, only sincere admiration and a kindness that overwhelmed her.
A smile, this time small, genuine, and incredibly warm, formed on Yu Takeyama's lips.
"Alright, Midoriya," she said, her voice a whisper. "I accept. But you're paying. An assistant has to take care of his boss, right?"
"Of course," he replied, his own smile mirroring hers. "It'll be my pleasure."
Chapter 4: Chapter 4: A Goddess’s Appetite
Chapter Text
Izuku's idea of a place to celebrate a heroic debut didn't involve linen tablecloths or waiters in bow ties. His logic, as peculiar and direct as he was, operated on a much more fundamental axiom: a great achievement deserved a great meal. And the best, most honest food wasn't hiding in restaurants with unpronounceable French names, but in places where the air was thick with steam and the sound of happiness was the clatter of chopsticks against bowls.
That was why, to Yu Takeyama's surprise, he led her through a couple of crowded streets to a small shop wedged between an electronics store and a laundromat. It was called "Uncle Tetsu's Katsudon." A flickering neon sign with the image of a smiling pig wearing an apron was its only decoration. Inside, the place was a loud and wonderful chaos. The sizzle of breaded pork hitting hot oil, the shouts of the cooks from the open kitchen, the murmur of a dozen overlapping conversations; it all blended into a symphony of daily life.
Yu stopped at the entrance, her heels feeling absurdly out of place on the slightly sticky linoleum floor. She had imagined he would take her somewhere expensive, a clumsy attempt to impress her. This was… the opposite.
"Are you sure this is the place?" she asked, her voice sounding strangely formal amidst the bustle. "You didn't get the address wrong, did you?"
Izuku turned to her with a smile so genuine and free of irony that it completely disarmed her.
"Get it wrong? Impossible! Uncle Tetsu makes the best katsudon this side of Musutafu. It's legendary. A heroic debut must be celebrated with legendary food. It's the only logical choice."
Before she could protest, a middle-aged waitress with overwhelming energy spotted them.
"Izuku-kun! I didn't think it was your day for dog-walking! And who's this pretty thing? Did you finally get a girlfriend? It's about time! Have a seat, have a seat, I'll get you the best table!"
She led them to a small booth in the back, a little quieter than the rest of the restaurant. Yu slid into the red vinyl seat, feeling the curious glances of the other diners. She was Mt. Lady, the new giant heroine. And she was in a neighborhood diner with a freckled teenager who was, apparently, a regular. The situation was surreal.
"You come here a lot?" she asked, more to break the silence than out of any real interest.
"Almost every day after work," Izuku replied, studying the laminated menu with the concentration of a scholar. "Uncle Tetsu gives me the leftovers for the dogs. Well, he used to." The mention of his old job brought a fleeting shadow to his face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Everything here is good, but the house special is a must. And the milkshakes. You have to try a milkshake."
When the waitress returned, Izuku ordered for both of them with the confidence of someone who knows the menu by heart.
"Two katsudon specials with double pork, two extra servings of rice, and two giant chocolate milkshakes. The biggest you've got."
Yu stared at him, incredulous. "Double pork? Extra rice? Midoriya, I don't know if I can eat all that."
He simply smiled at her. "Trust me."
The food arrived on two steaming trays that seemed to defy the laws of physics. The katsudon bowls were enormous, the golden, crispy breaded pork covering a mountain of rice and egg. And the milkshakes… they were monumental. Thick glass mugs, overflowing with a thick, dark liquid, crowned with a cloud of whipped cream and a cherry that looked tiny in comparison.
Yu stared at her plate. She had spent the last few months subsisting on bland salads and protein shakes to maintain the "ideal" figure for her debut. The sight of so much honest, delicious food was almost an act of rebellion. With a sigh that sounded like surrender, she picked up her chopsticks.
The first bite was a revelation. The pork was crispy and juicy, the sauce sweet and savory, the rice perfectly cooked… It was the best meal she'd had in months. She ate with an appetite that surprised even herself. The stress of the day, the humiliation, the adrenaline… it all seemed to dissolve with every bite.
Izuku watched her from across the table. He wasn't looking at her with judgment, but with an almost scientific fascination. He saw how she devoured her plate, how her eyes closed in pure pleasure with the first sip of the milkshake. And instead of thinking it was unfeminine or unbecoming of a heroine, his face lit up with the glow of a newly discovered universal truth.
Halfway through her second bowl of rice, Yu realized he was staring at her. She paused, blushing.
"What? Is there something on my face?" she asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
"No, no. It's just… I was right," he said, with a seriousness that baffled her.
"Right about what?"
"My theory," he stated, setting his own chopsticks aside to give his declaration the weight it deserved. "I've always thought it. Girls who eat with gusto, who truly enjoy their food, are always the most beautiful. Seriously. It's a sign of vitality, of energy. It means they're full of life."
Yu froze. Her milkshake spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.
"Looking at you," he continued, completely oblivious to the social minefield he was crossing, "it makes perfect sense. To be Mt. Lady, to have all that strength, that power… you have to have a serious engine. And an engine like that," he gestured to her nearly empty plate, "needs quality fuel. And a lot of it."
His gaze dropped for a second, not to her cleavage, but lower, to the part of her still sitting on the vinyl bench.
"And well… to have a butt like yours… which is, honestly, the gold standard of the industry… it's obvious you're well-fed. It's the ultimate proof. The proportions are perfect."
The silence that fell over the table was as thick as the milkshakes. Yu stared at him. Her brain was trying to process whether what she had just heard was the strangest, most convoluted compliment in history, or the most elaborate insult she had ever received. Her expression shifted from surprise to disbelief, finally landing on a flushed indignation.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice an icy hiss. "Are you… are you calling me fat?"
Izuku blinked, genuinely confused. "Fat? No! I'm saying you're perfect! It's the golden correlation! A good appetite equals a good constitution, which equals beauty and power. It's the highest compliment I can think of!"
"You can't just go around commenting on a woman's appetite! And certainly not on her… her assets!" she exclaimed, lowering her voice as she noticed the couple at the next table looking at them curiously.
"Why not, if they're museum-quality?" he replied with an innocence so pure it left her speechless. "It's like admiring a sculpture. It would be an insult not to comment on the artist's mastery."
Yu rested her forehead in her palm, letting out a groan of pure frustration.
"You're unbelievable. Truly. Unbelievable."
"Thanks," he said, taking her words as a literal compliment.
The argument, if you could even call it that, continued for several minutes. He, defending his "golden ratio theory" with the passion of a scholar. She, trying to explain the basic rules of human social interaction, a losing battle from the start. But strangely, as they argued, Yu felt the "Mt. Lady" armor begin to crack. Frustration gave way to a strange amusement. This kid had no malice. He was a weirdo, an alien with zero social skills, but his sincerity was so overwhelming that it was almost endearing.
"Is it hard?" he asked suddenly, changing the subject with an abruptness that caught her off guard.
"Is what hard?"
"Having to worry about those things," he said, his gaze now filled with genuine empathy. "About what you eat in public, about whether a headline is going to be about your weight instead of your victories."
The question, so simple and direct, disarmed her. Her shoulders slumped, the weight of her failed debut settling back on her.
"It's hell," she confessed, her voice a whisper. "My whole life I've dreamed of being a hero. But no one prepares you for the other part. The part where you're a product. Every magazine, every blog, every gossip show… they're all just waiting for you to make a mistake, to gain a pound, to have a bad day. I've had to eat sad salads in public for months just so my debut image would be 'perfect.' And then I go and trip and almost crush a civilian. A disaster."
"It wasn't a disaster," he said firmly. "You saved dozens of people. And your kick was perfect." He offered her the rest of his milkshake. "Finish it. You've earned it."
Yu looked at him. And for the first time that night, she didn't see a weird fanboy or a troublesome employee. She saw a friend. She accepted the milkshake and took a long sip. The sweet, cold chocolate seemed to soothe the fire of her frustration.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the slurping of their straws at the bottom of the glasses. The tension had dissipated, replaced by a comfortable and unexpected camaraderie. Yu began to think that maybe, just maybe, hiring this kid hadn't been the worst idea of her life.
They were laughing, she was telling him an embarrassing story about how she'd almost failed her driver's test because she tried to use her Quirk to parallel park, when a melodic voice dripping with irony broke them out of their bubble.
"Well, well, Takeyama. I didn't know you were into them so young. Are you recruiting for your fan club straight out of high school?"
They turned. Standing by their table, holding a half-eaten hamburger and looking at them with a predatory smile, was Nemuri Kayama. Dressed in civilian clothes, with skinny jeans and a leather jacket, she was unmistakable. Her presence filled the small space with an energy that was both dangerous and magnetic.
What had started as her debut celebration, and had turned into a strange first date, was about to get much, much more complicated.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Two Girls and a Sponsor
Chapter Text
Yu froze. she knew that voice. It was a voice she’d heard shouting in triumph at hero award ceremonies, whispering taunts during interviews, and speaking with a confidence that had always gotten on her last nerve. Slowly, she raised her head.
Leaning against the edge of their booth, a half-eaten hamburger in one hand and a predatory smile on her lips, was Nemuri Kayama. Her civilian attire, a tight leather jacket and jeans that looked custom-made, was every bit as striking as her hero costume.
Seeing the look of pure panic on Yu's face, Nemuri leaned back and let out a laugh. It wasn't a discreet giggle. It was an explosion of genuine, malicious joy, a deep, full-throated sound that made several heads in the restaurant turn. She was enjoying Yu's panic with the dedication of an artist savoring their own masterpiece.
“Oh, my heavens, Yu! Your face!” Nemuri exclaimed between laughs, setting her hamburger down on its plate so she could hold her stomach. “I haven’t seen you look that pale since that disastrous TV interview you gave last month. I thought you were going to faint right on camera!”
“Nemuri!” Yu hissed, once she’d recovered a shred of breath and all of her lost dignity. Her face had made a chromatic transition from ghost-white to the deepest shade of red in record time. “What… what the hell are you doing here?”
“Me?” Midnight replied with infuriating calm, taking a sip of her soda. “Living my life. Eating a burger. You know, normal things people do when they aren't pretending to be a walking skyscraper.” Then, her feline gaze landed on Izuku, scanning him from head to toe with an amused and slightly condescending curiosity. “The real question is, what are you doing? And with… this.” She gestured toward Izuku with a tilt of her head, as if he were an exotic accessory Yu had picked up at a thrift store.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Yu said quickly, waving her hands in front of her in a universal gesture of frantic denial. The panic made her speak faster than usual. “He’s… he’s my new assistant. Yes, that’s it. We’re having a work meeting. Very important. Strategic. About… about the future of the agency and brand positioning.”
Nemuri raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. The smile on her lips grew sharper, more dangerous.
“Assistant? Work meeting?” she repeated, savoring the words. “Wow, Yu, your meetings have gotten a lot more interesting. My work meetings usually involve burnt coffee and an overwhelming desire to jump out a window, not chocolate milkshakes and puppy-dog eyes.”
“He’s not giving me puppy-dog eyes!” Yu protested, though a part of her knew that was the exact look Izuku had when his katsudon arrived.
Before Yu could dig herself any deeper, Izuku, who had remained unflappably silent throughout the exchange, placed his chopsticks on the table with a delicacy that completely contradicted the tension of the moment. He turned to Nemuri, not with shyness or arrogance, but with the serenity of a monk. A polite, calm smile formed on his face.
“Excuse me, Kayama-san,” he said, his voice an oasis of calm in Yu’s hurricane of mortification. “But I believe Takeyama-san is mistaken.”
Yu stared at him. Her eyes, now wide, were screaming a silent but deafening, “SHUT UP, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT UP RIGHT NOW!”
He ignored her completely, keeping his polite attention fixed on Nemuri.
“We are not in a work meeting,” Izuku concluded, aiming his smile directly at the pro hero. “We are on a date.”
The word “date” detonated at the table with the force of a small nuclear bomb. All the color drained from Yu’s face, shifting from furious red to a white so pale she looked like a ghost with digestive issues. Her jaw trembled slightly. If looks could disintegrate matter, Izuku Midoriya would have been reduced to a pile of freckled ash and a slightly crooked tie.
Nemuri, on the other hand, was speechless for a second. Her eyes blinked as she processed the information. Then, comprehension gave way to a fresh wave of laughter, this time louder, deeper, a laugh that came from the very bottom of her soul. She had to clutch her stomach with both hands to keep from doubling over.
“A DATE!” she roared, slamming the table with the palm of her hand and making the silverware jump. “Oh, this is pure gold! This is better than the day All Might signed my yearbook! Yu Takeyama, the great and powerful Mt. Lady, on a date with her… teenage assistant!” she paused, looking at Izuku. “And he’s the one who admits it! Kid, I like you. I like you a lot!”
“It’s not a date,” Yu growled through clenched teeth, her voice a murderous whisper that was barely audible over Nemuri’s cackling.
“Of course, it is,” Izuku insisted with unshakeable logic, as if explaining a simple law of physics. “Two individuals meeting in a non-work environment to share a meal and conversation, generally to celebrate a significant event or to get to know one another better. That is the technical and social definition of a date. We are celebrating her successful debut this morning. Therefore, it is a date.”
The explanation—so serious, so academic, and so ridiculously out of place—was the final straw for Nemuri. She was now literally crying with laughter, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Please,” Izuku said, now addressing Midnight with a gallantry that bordered on the surreal. His tone was that of a perfect host. “Join us. There’s plenty of room. Order whatever you like, my treat. It would be an honor.”
The offer left Nemuri momentarily speechless. She looked at the boy, who was watching her with sincerity so overwhelming it was impossible to doubt him. Then she looked at Yu, whose face was a portrait of silent suffering and apocalyptic resignation. The opportunity was too good, too juicy, to pass up.
“Well, if you insist…” Nemuri said with dramatic slowness. She picked up her plate and drink, slid into the booth, and settled in right next to Yu, effectively trapping her against the wall. “I never say no to a free meal. It’s one of my life rules.” She turned to Izuku, resting her chin on her hand with a flirty smile that had rattled far more experienced men. “You’re a brave one. Asking two pro heroes out on the same night. You’ve got guts, kid. Or very little sense of danger.”
Izuku didn’t seem to catch the innuendo. His gaze fell to Nemuri’s half-eaten burger, then to her milkshake, and a small, almost scientific smile of satisfaction appeared on his face.
“Well,” he said, as if he had just confirmed a fundamental law of the universe. “My theory holds.”
Nemuri tilted her head, genuinely intrigued. Her flirtatious games had just run into a wall of strangeness. “Your theory?”
“Yes,” Izuku nodded, completely serious. “Beautiful girls have healthy appetites. It’s an observable constant. You,” he said, looking her directly in the eye without a hint of shyness, “are enjoying that hamburger. You aren’t analyzing it, you aren’t dissecting it for calories. You’re eating it. That demonstrates great vital energy and a lack of pretense that is very attractive.” His gaze dropped for a moment, not in a lecherous way, but with the clinical appreciation of an expert. “And, well, it’s obvious you take great care of yourself. Your physique denotes rigorous training and admirable discipline. It’s a perfect combination of power and aesthetics. Very impressive, really.”
Nemuri just stared at him. She was used to compliments, clumsy come-ons, and brazen stares. It was part of her public persona. But never, in her entire career as a hero and as a woman, had a boy told her she was beautiful based on the way she ate a hamburger and her apparent training discipline. The compliment was so bizarre, so unexpected, and so absurdly sincere that, instead of offending her or making her laugh, it flattered her in a completely new way. He didn’t see her as Midnight, the teenage pin-up. He saw her as a person with a good appetite and a well-trained physique. And, somehow, that was infinitely more interesting. A faint, almost imperceptible blush colored her cheeks.
“Wow,” she said finally, her voice losing a bit of its mocking edge. “You really know how to win a girl over, huh, Midoriya?”
“I’m just telling the truth,” he replied with a simple shrug. “Observation and analysis are key in any field.”
Yu, meanwhile, wished her Quirk would allow her to shrink to the size of a molecule and disappear under the table. The conversation had shifted from personal humiliation to a bizarre flirtation session between her new employee and her lifelong rival, all sponsored by her own wallet. It was a nightmare with a side of french fries.
“So,” Nemuri continued, now completely fascinated by Izuku and directing all her attention to him, to Yu’s further torment. “Yu says you’re her ‘assistant.’ What kind of job is that, exactly? Do you fetch her coffee? Remind her not to walk into buildings?”
“Hey!” Yu protested through a mouthful of milkshake.
“I am Izuku Midoriya,” he said, and his tone shifted. The casual seriousness became an imposing formality that sounded ridiculous coming from someone so young. He took out his phone, typed something quickly, and turned the screen toward Nemuri. It was a simple digital contact card with his name and a title. “Professional Assistant to Professional Heroes. I specialize in pre- and post-combat performance optimization, tactical asset analysis, logistical support in high-risk missions, and personal brand management. If you ever require my services, do not hesitate to call. My rates are very competitive for the level of analysis I provide.”
The grandiosity of his presentation, delivered with the straightest face in the world, was the final blow for Yu. She had just taken another sip of her milkshake, trying to find solace in the sugar. The liquid shot out of her mouth in a fine chocolatey spray, spattering the table and a considerable portion of Nemuri’s expensive leather jacket.
“PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANT?!” she yelled, after another coughing fit. She whirled on Izuku, her eyes sparking with disbelief and fury. “You’ve been working for me for exactly three hours! Three! The only things you’ve done are analyze the structural composition of my butt, lose three clients’ dogs, make me feel like a glutton for ordering a milkshake, and get me a date with my biggest rival! What part of any of that seems ‘professional’ to you?!”
Her outburst, filled with such specific and humiliating details, only made Nemuri laugh even harder, if that was even possible.
“Oh my god, this is better than any comedy show,” Nemuri said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. She looked at Izuku’s digital contact card and, with a mischievous smile, scanned the QR code with her own phone. “Don’t worry, Midoriya-kun. I’m saving your number. One never knows when one might need a ‘tactical asset evaluation.’” The wink she gave Izuku was so blatant that Yu felt the urge to be sick.
The evening continued down that surreal path. Nemuri, having found her new favorite toy, didn't stop asking Izuku questions, each one designed to mortify Yu a little more.
“Alright, Midoriya-kun,” Nemuri said, leaning over the table. “Is what Yu said true? Did you really analyze… her assets?”
Izuku nodded seriously. “Of course. Takeyama-san’s Quirk is directly linked to her body mass. It was imperative to understand the distribution of that mass to calculate her center of gravity at different sizes and predict her stability in urban combat. I concluded that her balance is suboptimal when she exceeds twenty meters, especially against low-level attacks aimed at destabilizing her.”
Yu buried her face in her hands. “I want to die.”
“Fascinating,” Nemuri said, completely ignoring her friend’s suffering. “And tell me, what do you think of my combat style? Be honest.”
“Your Quirk, Somnolence, is extremely effective for crowd control and non-lethal incapacitation,” Izuku began, his eyes narrowing as if accessing a mental database. “However, its reliance on proximity and aerial dispersal makes it vulnerable to opponents with sealed life-support suits or those who can attack from a distance. Furthermore, your whip is more a tool of intimidation and restraint than a true offensive weapon. Against a villain with a brute-force Quirk, you would struggle if a close-quarters fight dragged on.”
Nemuri listened with genuine attention. The mocking smile was gone, replaced by an expression of professional interest. “You’re not wrong. I’ve had trouble with tank-type villains in the past.”
“You should consider incorporating smoke grenades with your concentrated scent,” Izuku suggested. “It would increase your area of effect and allow you to control the battlefield more tactically, creating zones of denial.”
“Smoke grenades…” Nemuri repeated thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea, kid. Not bad at all.” She turned to Yu. “Hey, where did you find this kid? He’s like a walking supercomputer.”
“On the sidewalk,” Yu mumbled. “Literally. I found him on the sidewalk.”
The rest of the dinner was torture for Yu and an endless source of entertainment for Nemuri. She learned that Izuku was an orphan and that his knowledge of heroes was encyclopedic to an almost frightening degree. By the time they finished, Yu was mentally exhausted, Nemuri was radiant, and Izuku seemed completely satisfied with the productive development of the “date.”
“Well, this has been an immense pleasure,” Nemuri finally said, stretching like a satisfied cat. She stood up, leaving several bills on the table to pay for her share, despite Izuku’s protests. “But I have to go. Duty calls. Or, rather, my couch and a bad horror movie are calling.”
She paused beside Izuku, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a final look loaded with an interest that was now much more than simple amusement.
“It was a real pleasure to meet you, Izuku Midoriya. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this entertained or gotten such an honest analysis. Call me if you ever get tired of working for the giantess.” Her gaze slid to Yu, who was glaring daggers at her. “And you, Yu. We’ll talk. We need to catch up.”
With a final wink at Izuku, Nemuri Kayama walked away, leaving a trail of expensive perfume, chaos, and one Yu Takeyama on the verge of a nervous breakdown in her wake.
Izuku and Yu were alone again. The restaurant’s buzz, which had seemed to fade, rushed back in to fill the void Nemuri had left. The atmosphere between them had irrevocably changed. It was no longer the awkwardness of a boss and a new employee, nor the strange camaraderie of a budding date. It was something far more complicated. A mixture of shared humiliation, begrudging respect, and a weird familiarity forged in the fire of absolute ridicule.
Yu sighed, a long, tired sound that seemed to carry away her last ounce of strength. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips.
“Never again,” she said, her voice an exhausted whisper. “I am never, ever going out to eat with you in a public place again. Next time, we’ll order pizza to the office. In a bunker. Underground.”
Izuku watched her, tilting his head slightly. “Did you not have a good time? The information exchange with Kayama-san was very productive. I obtained valuable data on a veteran hero’s strategies, and you had the opportunity to socialize with a colleague.”
“Socialize? That wasn’t socializing, that was a psychological torture session!” she exclaimed, though without her earlier fire. She was too tired to be truly angry. “She used me as her personal entertainment for the evening.”
“Technically, I was the primary catalyst for her entertainment,” he corrected. “You were the contextual topic of conversation.”
Yu stared at him, her eyes narrowed. She saw his serious expression, his complete inability to grasp the social catastrophe that had just occurred. And for some reason, it was so absurd, so ridiculously Izuku, that she couldn’t help it. A small, genuine, tired smile crept onto her lips.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Izuku seemed to consider it. “My teachers often said my focus was ‘unusual,’ but they never used the term ‘unbelievable.’”
She let out a small laugh. A real laugh.
“Never mind, nerd.” She leaned back in her seat, feeling the tension finally leave her shoulders for the first time all night. She looked at the remains of their dinner, the empty milkshake glass. “Okay, it was a nightmare. But the food was good, right?”
Izuku smiled back at her, and this time, it was a warm smile, free of analysis or observation.
“Yes,” he admitted. “The food was very good.”
Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Dating Protocol and First Steps
Chapter Text
The walk back to Yu’s apartment was noticeably different from the walk there. The adrenaline from the debut and the tension of the chaotic alleyway encounter had dissolved in the warmth of the restaurant, replaced by a different atmosphere. It was a heavy silence, but strangely, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that follows a storm, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and the surreal events of the last few hours. They walked side-by-side under the neon lights of Musutafu, and the constant hum of the nocturnal city seemed like a distant soundtrack to the strange bubble that enveloped them.
Yu’s brain was completely fried. She had spent her entire adolescence preparing to be a hero. She had memorized combat tactics, procedure manuals, laws on Quirk usage, and rescue protocols for every imaginable catastrophe. No one, in any of the theoretical or practical classes at U.A., had prepared her for a situation like dinner. The run-in with Nemuri had been an ambush of humiliation from which she still felt the aftershocks. And the worst part was that the boy walking beside her, the primary cause of all the chaos, seemed as serene as if they had just walked out of an action movie.
She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to break the silence before her own thoughts consumed her.
"Professional assistant to professional heroes?" she blurted out, the phrase dripping with a much thicker sarcasm than she had intended. "Seriously, Midoriya? Did you come up with that on the fly, or is that a line you rehearsed in front of the mirror for a special occasion?"
Izuku turned to her, and in the dim light of the street, intermittently illuminated by shop signs, she could see there wasn't a hint of embarrassment or irony on his face. Just his sincerity, so direct it was disconcerting.
"I have to start building my personal brand," he replied with the complete seriousness of a CEO discussing a new product launch. "First impressions are crucial in any sector. If Nemuri-san ever needs my consulting or assistance services, she now knows I'm a qualified professional and not just some amateur. It's about establishing credibility from the first contact."
Yu stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him, hands on her hips. "Personal brand? You've been my assistant for less than six hours! Your only documented work experience so far consists of losing a poodle with a clear-cut case of anxiety and performing an unsolicited calibration of my butt in the middle of an alley. You don't have a 'brand,' you have a history of incidents!"
"Exactly," he nodded enthusiastically, as if she had just grasped a key point of his master plan. "And every incident is a learning experience. A data point. Now I know, for example, that cheap leashes have a lower-than-expected breaking point under the stress generated by a panicked four-kilogram canine. That's not a failure, it's future resource optimization. I will not make that material acquisition error again."
She opened her mouth to argue, to point out the absurdity of his logic, but snapped it shut. It was completely useless. Arguing with his worldview was like trying to punch the wind. She sighed, a long, resigned exhale, and started walking again, feeling a headache begin to form.
"You know," she said, changing the subject before she had an aneurysm, "setting aside your delusional business plan, for being a complete social disaster, you handled it pretty well tonight."
"Who are you referring to?"
"Nemuri," she specified, though it was insultingly obvious. "You weren't intimidated for a second. Most people shrink when she smiles at them like that. She's like a shark that smells blood in the water. She knows exactly where to press to make you fall apart."
"Why would I be intimidated?" Izuku asked with a curiosity so genuine that Yu found it irritating. "She's incredible. Her control of the environment is fascinating. The way she commands a room with her presence alone is a Quirk in itself, beyond her actual power to put people to sleep. It's pure charisma applied tactically. And her analysis of my theory on appetite as a performance factor was very insightful. She asked questions that forced me to reconsider some variables. She's very intelligent."
Yu glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He didn't see the rival, he didn't see the R-Rated Hero who used her image to destabilize her opponents, he didn't see the dangerous woman who enjoyed putting others in a tight spot. He saw the professional, the strategic asset. And, in some twisted way, that both annoyed and impressed her in equal measure. It was as if he saw the world on a layer of analysis she didn't even know existed.
"She was my senpai at U.A.," she confessed suddenly, the words coming out almost as a whisper, more to herself than to him. "She was always one step ahead. More popular, more controlled, more… everything. She was the perfect student. We competed for everything: the best scores on written exams, the fastest times on training circuits, the teachers' attention… It was exhausting. A constant battle."
"And did you ever beat her?" Izuku asked, his tone shifting from analytical to simply curious.
A small, bitter smile formed on Yu's lips as she remembered. "Once. Just once. At the sports festival in our final year, in the tournament finals. I caught her off guard with a move I'd been practicing in secret for months." The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the weight of the memory. "It was the best day of my life. I felt invincible. And the next day, while I was still nursing my bruises, she was already signing a pre-contract with a high-profile modeling and hero agency. I, on the other hand, was still struggling to get a decent internship offer. She always knows how to win the war, even when she loses a battle."
The confession, so personal and laden with an old wound, seemed to take Izuku by surprise. He saw the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.
"Well," he said softly after a moment of silence, "tonight, I think you won."
Yu stopped again, this time looking him directly in the face. "What? What are you talking about? She humiliated me in front of you."
"Her primary objective was to destabilize you," Izuku explained, returning to his logical mode but with a softer edge. "She came to your dinner with the intention of mocking you, of demonstrating her superiority. And she left having asked for my phone number and thinking I'm a potential genius. You, on the other hand, got the best dinner of your life, by your own words, and secured the services of a professional assistant with clear potential. From a strategic perspective, her objectives were not met, and yours were exceeded. I'd call that a crushing strategic victory."
She stared at him for a long moment. The logic was twisted, completely self-centered, and utterly absurd. And yet, she couldn't stop a genuine smile—the first real one of the entire night—from spreading across her face.
"You're an idiot," she said, but there wasn't a trace of venom in her words. Only an amused and complete resignation.
"Thank you," he replied, as if it were the highest compliment.
Finally, they reached the entrance of her building. The large glass door reflected the neon streetlights, creating a portal that separated the city's noise from the calm of her home. It was the end of the night. The moment of the inevitable goodbye. The bubble was about to burst.
"Well," Yu said, turning awkwardly toward him, not quite sure what to do with her hands. "Thanks for dinner, Midoriya. It was… unexpected."
"You're welcome, Takeyama-san. It was a pleasure. And very informative."
They stood there on the threshold, suspended in a silence that now did feel a little awkward. Social protocol, the unwritten rules that governed these situations, dictated that he should turn and leave; that she should go inside. But Izuku didn't move. He just stood there, looking at her. Not in a lewd or strange way, like so many other men had looked at her. He was observing her with that analytical intensity of his, as if he were trying to solve the universe's final puzzle, and that puzzle was her. His serious, focused green eyes scanned her face, her hair, her shoulders, as if he were memorizing every detail.
Yu started to feel incredibly nervous. Her heart, which had calmed down, began to beat a little faster, a dull drum in her chest.
What is he doing? she thought, her mind panicking. Why isn't he leaving? Why is he looking at me like that? Is he going to analyze the symmetry of my face? Is he going to say something else about the efficiency of my metabolism? Or about my butt? Oh God, he's going to say something about my butt, I know it. That's it. It's over. I'm firing him tomorrow. No, I can't, I just hired him. This is a nightmare. Just leave already! Please, leave!
One second. Two. Five. Ten long seconds of a silence so absolute she was sure he could hear her racing heartbeat. Each second stretched into an eternity.
Finally, he broke the silence. And what he said was so unexpected, so bold, and so fundamentally Izuku, that Yu's brain simply short-circuited.
"Aren't you going to kiss me?" he asked.
She stood there with her mouth agape, her eyes wide as saucers. The words bounced around in her mind, unable to find a place to land. Kiss him. Kiss him? Him? Here? Now?
"WHAT?!" she exclaimed, her voice a sharp, strangled shriek that shattered the night's calm and probably woke up a neighbor. "WHY THE HELL WOULD I DO THAT?!"
Izuku blinked a couple of times, as if she were the one being surprising. His expression was one of such pure, genuinely confused innocence that it was almost offensive.
"It's the end of the date," he explained in the tone of someone reciting a law of physics or a mathematical formula. "I have escorted you safely to your door. We have had a good conversation that included the exchange of emotional vulnerabilities. Based on 92% of the movies and TV series I've analyzed, this is the point where the protocol dictates the girl kisses the boy to conclude the social interaction. It's standard procedure."
Yu stared at him. At his serious face. He genuinely believed this was the next logical step in the sequence of events of a "date."
The tension in her shoulders vanished instantly, replaced by a wave of something she couldn't immediately identify. A wild mix of exasperation, disbelief, and a strange, very strange, tenderness.
She didn't know whether to laugh out loud, scream at him, or call security. She opted for the only response her short-circuited brain could formulate at that moment.
"Get out of here, Midoriya!" she snapped, though the command came out without the force she’d wanted. It sounded more like a desperate plea. "Get out of here before I fire you for insubordination!"
She spun around sharply, nearly tripping over her own feet, yanked open the main door, and slipped inside, letting it slam shut with a boom that echoed in the lobby. She leaned against the cool surface of the door, her heart hammering against her ribs as if trying to escape. She held her breath, listening to his footsteps fade down the sidewalk until the sound disappeared into the city's murmur.
When she heard nothing more, she let out the air in a long hiss. A tremor ran down her legs. She slowly slid down the door until she was sitting on the cold marble floor of the empty, silent lobby.
That boy… that boy is going to be the death of me, she thought, running a hand over her face.
She replayed the day in her mind, like watching a chaotic film. The debut, the humiliating fall, the alley, the "calibration," the dinner, Nemuri's ambush, the walk home, and now… the "dating protocol." It had been, without a doubt, the most stressful, embarrassing, baffling, and chaotic day of her entire professional life. And probably her personal life, too.
A broke teenager, an action figure collector, socially inept to an alarming degree, and with a dangerous obsession with butts, who had made her feel more things in a single day than she had felt in the entire past year. He had humiliated her, made her laugh out loud, angered her to the point of wanting to tear her hair out, listened to her, understood her in a way no one else had, and left her completely speechless at her front door.
A small, genuine, and tired smile appeared on her face in the dimness of the lobby.
"Hiring this pervert…" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible, "was it the best or the worst idea of my life?"
She stood up with a sigh, brushing non-existent dust from her clothes. As she walked slowly toward the elevator, she realized something with a clarity that surprised her.
Despite all the chaos, the embarrassment, and the stress, dinner with Izuku Midoriya had been the best "date" she had ever had.
And also, she realized with a pang of something she didn't want to analyze right then, it had been her first.
"I want you in the office at nine o'clock sharp, Midoriya," she murmured into the air, her voice echoing in the silent lobby as the elevator doors opened. "And you'd better be on time."
For the first time in a long time, the idea of going to work the next day didn't feel like a burden. It seemed… like an adventure.
Chapter 7: Chapter 7: The Buzz of the Vultures
Chapter Text
On the solitary peak of I-Island, the afternoon sun reflected off the pristine metal and crystal surfaces, creating an almost blinding glare. Inside a lab with high security, the only sound was the soft hum of servers and the occasional beep of a monitor. The face of David Shield, framed by his glasses and blond hair, showed deep concern. The holographic screen in front of him flickered with slight interference, displaying the gaunt, skeletal image of his best friend thousands of miles away.
"I don't understand, Dave," Toshinori Yagi's voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the lab's ambient noise. He was interrupted by a deep, dry cough that shook his frail body, causing the image to distort for a second. "I've done everything you told me. I've searched actively, I've observed the best prospects at U.A., I've consulted the records of young heroes... I've seen dozens of candidates."
He paused to catch his breath, a visible effort. "Young people with powerful Quirks, with noble hearts... Mirio Togata is the perfect example. He's bright, he's strong, he has an unbreakable spirit. He's everything a hero should be. He's the very image of hope. But..."
"But he's not the one?" David finished, his tone soft and understanding. He adjusted his glasses, leaning closer to the holographic projector, as if physical proximity could shorten the distance between them.
"It's not that he isn't worthy," Toshinori clarified, slowly shaking his head. "If something happened to me tomorrow, he would be the best choice, no doubt. But there isn't... that spark. That necessary bit of madness, you know what I mean, Dave? The kind you and I saw in Nana."
David nodded, a shadow of memory crossing his face. "The kind that made you jump from one rooftop to another using unstable prototypes because it 'seemed faster'."
A faint smile pulled at Toshinori's lips. "Exactly. Mirio is logical. He calculates the risks, chooses the best option. That's what a smart hero should do. But One For All doesn't always respond to logic. It's a burden, Dave. It's a torch that must be carried through the darkest storm, one that threatens to be extinguished with every gust of wind. It needs someone who, upon seeing a building collapse on a civilian, doesn't think about the evacuation plan or the best way to support the structure."
His gaze grew intense, his sunken eyes burning with an old flame. "It needs someone who doesn't think about what must be done, but simply jumps. Someone whose instinct to save others is so fundamental, so ingrained in their being, that it completely overwhelms their own survival instinct. And I can't find him. I can't find that kind of idiot."
Silence settled between the two continents, heavy and dense. David examined Toshinori's biometric readings displayed in a corner of his screen. The numbers were alarmingly low.
"Have you considered expanding the search outside of the hero academies?" David asked, changing tactics. "Sometimes the best material isn't polished. Sometimes it's raw."
"I have. I've watched high school sports festivals, I've read news about acts of civic bravery... Nothing. I only find good people, brave people. But I don't find that successor. It's as if the new generation is... too sensible." Toshinori rubbed his hollowed face, the skin stretched over his cheekbones. "And the worst part is, I feel like I'm running out of time."
"Don't say that, Toshi."
"It's the truth, my friend," All Might continued, his gaze lost somewhere beyond the camera, as if seeing ghosts in his own office. "I feel it in my bones. There's something... a pressure in the air. Like the calm before an earthquake. My old contacts in the underworld have vanished. Small criminal organizations are being absorbed or destroyed at an alarming rate. It’s as if someone is setting the stage."
David frowned. "You think it's him? All For One?"
"I defeated his body, but not his legacy," Toshinori whispered. "The evil I spawned by not eradicating him completely is dormant, regrouping in the shadows. I feel its influence spreading, corrupting everything. I need to find my successor, and I need to find him soon. The next generation must be prepared for something worse than what we faced. Much worse."
*****
The next morning, at a busy newsstand in Musutafu, the headline of the tabloid magazine "The Weekly Hero Buzz" screamed in fuchsia capital letters, designed to catch the eye of any passerby:
"MT. LADY'S SECRET LOVE? THE NEW GIANT HEROINE ON A 'DATE' WITH A MYSTERIOUS TEENAGER!"
The main photo took up most of the cover. It was grainy and obviously taken with a telephoto lens from across the street. It showed Yu and Izuku in their booth at "Uncle Tetsu's Katsudon." The lighting was dim and warm, and the way they both leaned over the table, laughing at the exact moment the photo was taken, created a false sense of conspiratorial intimacy. Other smaller photos, inserted in circles, showed them walking together down the street. One captured Izuku talking animatedly with his hands, and another showed Yu looking at him with an expression the article, in its cheap prose, described as "enraptured adoration."
In her elegant downtown apartment with panoramic city views, Nemuri Kayama took a sip of her morning coffee, an exclusive Ethiopian blend that cost a fortune. She almost spat it out on her marble countertop when she saw the magazine cover her assistant had left for her.
A genuine, throaty laugh escaped her lips.
"Oh, Yu, you're a magnificent disaster," she said to herself, a mischievous smile on her red lips. She picked up the magazine, the cheap paper contrasting with her perfectly manicured nails. "Not even a week as a pro and you're already wrapped up in a scandal with a minor? This is better than any reality show. I should send her flowers... or maybe a box of chocolates with a 'condolences' note."
Her amusement, however, began to sour as she turned from the cover and read the text inside. The insinuations and the lewd tone, which sexualized Yu and presented the boy as some kind of conquest, turned her stomach. Her smile vanished, replaced by a sneer. Professional rivalry was one thing. She enjoyed competing with Yu for media attention, for a higher spot in the rankings. It was a game. But this wasn't a game.
"Vultures," she muttered, slapping the magazine shut on the marble. "They live by tearing apart other people's lives to sell a few more copies."
The paparazzi who took those photos was a parasite, and while Yu's situation was comically unfortunate, this crossed a line. Nemuri felt an unexpected flash of protectiveness toward her rival. Yu was an impetuous and sometimes naive rookie, but she had potential. This kind of scandal, so early in her career, could permanently poison public perception.
And then there was the other piece of the puzzle. That kid. Izuku Midoriya.
She opened the magazine again, ignoring the text and focusing on the photos of him. There was something about his face. The night before, at the restaurant, he hadn't acted like a starstruck fan. Nor like a hormonal teenager. There was a conviction in his eyes, an almost alarming intensity. The way he had defended her... it wasn't normal. Most boys his age would be asking for an autograph or stammering. He had acted like her equal.
"There's more to you, isn't there, you perverted kid?" Nemuri thought, drumming her fingers on the blurry image of his face. She felt a pang of curiosity that went beyond gossip.
She pulled out her phone, found Yu's contact, and typed a message:
"Just saw the 'Weekly Buzz.' Hilarious and pathetic. Don't let those parasites get to you. If you need the name of a good defamation lawyer, let me know."
She reread it. Maybe it was too nice. She deleted the last sentence and changed it to:
"...Don't ruin the competition by getting kicked out in your first week. It would be boring."
She smiled. That was better. She pressed "send" just as her phone began to ring with her agency's caller ID. No doubt they wanted her "unofficial" opinion on the scandal. The media circus was already in full swing.
****
Meanwhile, in Yu Takeyama's apartment, the scene was a cliché of despair straight out of a teen movie. If a film director had seen it, they would have yelled, "Cut! Too over the top."
Yu was curled into a ball on the sofa, wrapped in a thick wool blanket as if she were a cocoon of misery in the middle of summer. She wore pajama pants with a cloud print and an old, faded All Might t-shirt that was too big for her, a memento from her student days. Her blond hair, normally styled with care, was up in a messy bun with several strands escaping. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying.
In her lap, she held a liter of ice cream, flavor "Rocky Road of Despair," which she ate directly from the container with a large spoon, not caring that it was melting on her hands. The television was on, tuned to a 24 hour news channel where a panel of "experts" (a retired hero with outdated opinions, a social commentator who had never been in a fight, and a pop psychologist) heatedly debated the "lack of professionalism" and "questionable judgment" of the new heroine Mt. Lady.
"My career is over," she moaned, shoveling a spoonful of ice cream with chocolate chunks and marshmallows into her mouth. "It hasn't even started and it's already over. The Public Safety Commission is going to call me. They're going to take my license. I'm going to be a joke. They'll call me 'the cradle robber' forever. I couldn't even get a shampoo sponsorship and now this!"
Izuku, sitting in the armchair across from her, watched her with an expression of intense, dispassionate concentration. He didn't seem worried, or guilty, or even sympathetic. He looked like a scientist observing an unpredictable chemical reaction. He held a notebook and a pen, and every so often, he jotted something down.
"From a nutritional perspective," he said with complete seriousness, without looking up from his notes, "the massive intake of sugar and saturated fats in a state of elevated stress can lead to a glucose spike followed by a drastic crash. This, in turn, will exacerbate feelings of depression and lethargy in the long term. I would recommend switching to Greek yogurt with blueberries for antioxidants and probiotics."
Yu stopped chewing and shot him a death glare over the ice cream container. "Seriously? That's your contribution right now? A dietary analysis of my emotional breakdown?"
"I am trying to help," he replied, unperturbed, finally looking up. "The first step in solving a problem is to analyze all the variables. And right now, you are introducing a negative physiological variable into an already compromised situation. The problem isn't the ice cream, or even the article. The problem is the narrative being built and your response to it."
"The narrative is that I went on a date with a teenager!" she exclaimed, waving her spoon and splattering a drop of melted ice cream on the rug. "And it's true! You said it yourself! Your exact words were: 'Technically, this is a date'! The entire restaurant heard you!"
"It was a factual statement based on the commonly accepted social definition of the event: two individuals sharing a meal in a social setting to get to know each other better," he corrected with robotic precision. "The error was underestimating the presence of hostile observers with long range surveillance equipment. A failure on my part in assessing environmental risks. It will not happen again."
Yu dropped her head back on the sofa with a groan that sounded like a small animal dying. "It doesn't matter. It already happened. Everything is lost. My agent isn't answering my calls. He's probably meeting with the agency's lawyers deciding how to fire me without paying severance."
Izuku set his notebook aside. The sound of the pen hitting the coffee table was surprisingly loud in the misery filled room. He stood and walked over to the sofa. For a moment, Yu thought he was going to try to give her an awkward pat on the back, but instead, he sat carefully on the edge of the cushion, at a respectful distance.
The tone of his voice changed. It lost its analytical edge and became softer, lower.
"When my Quirk manifested, everyone thought it was useless," he said suddenly, his gaze fixed on the ice cream tub as if he were reading a script from it. "Training dogs. That's all it did. Controlling animals. In a world of people who can fly, who throw fire, who freeze buildings... I could make dogs shake with one hundred percent efficiency."
Yu stopped eating. The cynicism on her face faded, replaced by a confused curiosity.
"All my dreams of being a hero, of being like All Might, turned to ash in an instant," Izuku continued. "For years, every time I saw a hero on TV, every time my classmates talked about which agency they wanted to join when they became heroes, I felt... what you're feeling now. Like the whole world was pointing at me and laughing at my failure. They told me to give up. To accept my place. 'You could work at a kennel,' they'd say. 'Or be a really good dog walker'."
He raised his head and looked directly at her. Yu was surprised to see the shadow of an old, familiar pain in his green eyes. It was the same feeling she had at that moment: the public humiliation, the sense of your dreams slipping through your fingers because of something beyond your control.
"People are always going to talk," Izuku said, his voice regaining some of its firmness. "There will always be vultures waiting for you to stumble, for you to show a weakness, so they can feast. It's their nature. You can't change it. You only have two options: you can let them devour you, or you can fly so high that their squawking becomes mere background noise."
He stood up, and his posture changed completely. He was no longer the weird kid or the clumsy assistant. His back straightened, his shoulders squared. There was a new authority in him, the same he had shown briefly in the restaurant the night before. It was as if a different version of Izuku Midoriya took control.
"So you have two options, Takeyama san," he said, his voice firm and clear, cutting through the self pitying air of the room. "Option one: you can stay on that sofa, drown your sorrows in ice cream until your blood sugar sends you into a coma, and wait for your agency to call and terminate your contract over a morality clause. Option two: you can get up, put on your costume, and come with me to the urban combat training gym I've rented for this afternoon."
Yu stared at him, her spoon halfway to her mouth. She blinked. "A training gym?"
"Of course," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He walked over to the chair where Yu's hero costume lay in a wrinkled heap. He picked it up with unexpected care and held it out. "This scandal will pass. Today's news is tomorrow's fish wrap. In a week, some other hero will do something stupid and everyone will forget about you. But for that to happen, you have to give them something new to talk about. You have to be so good, so spectacular, so undeniably heroic, that this anecdote becomes a footnote in your legend, instead of your epitaph."
Izuku's logic, though strange and direct, was irrefutable. The panic that had paralyzed Yu all morning began to be replaced by a spark of defiance. It was true. Hiding would only confirm the vultures' narrative.
"Your debut kick was perfect in its execution, but predictable in its application," Izuku continued, examining the costume. "We can improve it. We can increase the power output if you adjust the angle of your hip at the moment of impact. We can reduce the movement's preparation time if we work on your balance during the growth phase. We can analyze your weak points, like your vulnerability to fast, coordinated attacks while at your maximum size, and turn them into strengths by using the environment to your advantage."
His voice filled with a cold, intense passion. "We're going to train until your 'Canyon Cannon' isn't just a debut move, but the most devastating attack in the arsenal of any hero in your category. We are going to make them forget about this stupid magazine. We are going to make it so that when people hear the name Mt. Lady, they don't think of gossip, they think of power."
For the first time all morning, an emotion other than misery stirred in Yu's heart. It wasn't hope, not yet. It was rage. A cold, focused rage. Rage against the magazine, against the TV "experts," against her own stupidity for getting carried away.
Slowly, she put down the ice cream container, setting it on the coffee table with a dull thud. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
She looked at Izuku, and for the first time, she didn't see the boy who had gotten her into this mess. She saw her only way out.
"And what about you?" she asked, her voice still trembling but with a new edge of determination. "What are you going to do in all this? They've put you in the spotlight too."
A confident smile, the first genuine and self assured smile she had seen from him, appeared on Izuku Midoriya's face.
"Me," he said, folding the hero costume with methodical efficiency and offering it to her. "I'm going to train you."
Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Giant Instruction Manual (Not Included)
Chapter Text
Determination was a strange feeling. Yu had felt it before, of course. She felt it during the grueling U.A. entrance exams, during the sports festival, and she had certainly felt it on the morning of her debut. But this was different. This wasn't the bright, optimistic determination of someone chasing a dream; it was a cold, sharp determination born from the deepest humiliation. It was the kind of resolve that made you want to hit something. Hard.
Standing in the middle of her living room, already clad in the purple and ivory spandex of her Mt. Lady suit, she felt the power buzzing under her skin. The ridiculous magazine article, the smug faces of the "experts" on TV, the searing shame… it was all becoming her fuel. She looked at Izuku, who stood before her with an expression of solemn seriousness, and for the first time since meeting him, she felt a surge of genuine confidence in him. He had seen through her panic and offered her a plan, a way out. A path of training and sweat to escape the pit of public misery.
She was ready. She was focused. She expected him to pull out a whiteboard, maybe a stopwatch, or to start barking orders like a drill sergeant.
Instead, Izuku took out his laptop.
He placed it on the coffee table with an almost reverent delicacy, opened it, and the screen illuminated his concentrated face. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he began to type. Yu raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Maybe he was going to show her a video analysis of her debut, or perhaps a combat simulation he had programmed. Yes, that made sense. He was a nerd, after all. His genius had to manifest in technological ways.
She leaned slightly over his shoulder, her curiosity piqued, to see what brilliant strategy he was about to unveil.
And then she read the words he had just typed into the Google search bar.
How… to train… a… twenty meter… giant… girl… for combat.
The silence in the room suddenly became dense, heavy, and absolute. The distant hum of Musutafu's traffic seemed to fade away. The only sound was that of Yu Takeyama's hope dying with a quiet, pathetic whimper.
Her brain tried to process the sentence. It bounced off the walls of her skull, each word a hammer blow against her newly forged determination. How to train a giant girl? It wasn't a technical query. It wasn't a data search. It sounded like the title of a perverted fantasy light novel.
All the inspiration, all the confidence, all that rage turned into fuel evaporated, leaving an icy void in her stomach. The image of her career rising from the ashes was replaced by a much clearer vision: her, in a courtroom, trying to explain to the Hero Public Safety Commission that her "personal trainer" based his methods on the first three results of an internet search.
Her mouth went dry. "I've put my career, my life, and my dignity," she thought, with a terrifying calm that bordered on hysteria, "in the hands of a kid who uses Google for this. I'm going to end up as a cautionary tale in the academy textbooks. 'The Mt. Lady Incident: Why You Don't Hire Your Fan Club as Staff.'"
"Are you… kidding me?" she managed to say, her voice a choked croak.
Izuku didn't even seem to notice her existential crisis. His eyes scanned the screen with a frown, clearly disappointed with the results.
"Of course not," he replied, his tone completely serious. "Data acquisition is the foundation of any successful strategy. My experience is limited to canine training and theoretical hero analysis. I have no practical experience in developing training regimens for individuals with large scale gigantification Quirks. It would be irresponsible to proceed without consulting the existing literature."
"There is no 'existing literature'!" Yu hissed, her voice rising an octave. "Because nobody is stupid enough to look that up! This isn't a plumbing problem, it's a hero's life!"
"Exactly," Izuku said, nodding as if she had just grasped a crucial point. "Which demonstrates an alarming gap in the publicly available knowledge. The results are disappointing. A couple of niche forums with speculative theories, a Reddit thread that devolved into a debate about whether King Kong could defeat All Might, and several works of questionable quality fanfiction. Nothing useful."
With a sigh of academic frustration, he erased his initial search. Yu watched, about to suggest that maybe they should just call the whole thing off and go get more ice cream, when Izuku's fingers flew across the keyboard again.
New searches appeared, this time far more coherent.
"Endurance training routines for high impact heroes: A comparative analysis." "Reaction time and agility exercises for body mass alteration Quirks." "Combat analysis: Ryukyu vs. Class A Villain 'Juggernaut' – Destabilization tactics." "Oxygen consumption and muscle fatigue in gigantification Quirk users: a case study."
He began to scribble furiously in his notebook, muttering to himself.
"...fascinating correlation between atmospheric pressure and Quirk energy expenditure at altitude… center of gravity stability decreases exponentially, not linearly… the key isn't brute force, it's inertia management…"
A tiny spark of hope rekindled within her. Okay. The kid was a complete weirdo with zero common sense, but at least there was a method to his madness. A strange, internet self-taught method, but a method nonetheless.
To calm her nerves, she began to stretch, moving her arms and twisting her torso. The spandex of her suit clung to her muscles, a familiar reminder of her purpose. She needed to move, to do something, before the anxiety consumed her again.
It was then she noticed that Izuku had stopped writing. The silence made her look up.
He was staring at her.
But it wasn't the adoring gaze of a fan, nor the evaluative gaze of a coach. It was something else. An almost predatory intensity that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. And he wasn't looking at her eyes. His gaze was fixed, with the focus of a laser beam, directly on her chest.
The air caught in her lungs. She froze, one arm still above her head. Her mind, already on edge, began to panic again. What is he doing now? Is he analyzing my posture? My heart rate? Or…? Oh, no. No, please, no.
She heard a low, almost inaudible murmur from Izuku's lips. She strained to hear it, while a part of her screamed not to.
"...the hypothesis is sound…" he muttered, his eyes narrowed. "The rear proved to be an effective contact point for mass and firmness enhancement… a gluteal application… would the same principle work on other areas of large… soft tissue distribution?"
Pure, unadulterated terror seized Yu.
"...the contact surface is ample… nerve cluster density could be a factor… could an application to the breasts result in… structural reinforcement? Greater impact absorption? Experimentation… is needed…"
She crossed her arms over her chest instinctively, as if that could create a physical barrier against the incredibly strange and alarming thoughts emanating from the boy. Tactical genius or the most complex pervert in the universe? The line between the two was becoming dangerously blurry. The silence in the room grew heavy, charged with her fear and his intense, scientific concentration. She was about to scream, to run, to fire him and move to another country, when salvation arrived in the form of two sharp, shrill notes.
DING-DONG!
The doorbell echoed through the apartment, breaking the spell of awkwardness. Yu had never in her life been so happy to hear that sound. She jumped up, practically running to the door, grateful for any distraction that would get her away from Izuku's "breast hypothesis."
She yanked the door open, a relieved smile on her face, expecting to see a delivery person, a neighbor, anyone.
The smile died on her lips.
On the other side of the threshold was not a delivery person. It was Rumi Usagiyama. Mirko. In her full hero costume, her rabbit ears tense and an expression of righteous fury on her face. She had not come for tea.
Without so much as a word of greeting, Mirko burst into the apartment, forcing Yu to back away.
"Takeyama," Mirko said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "I just saw that piece of trash magazine they call 'The Weekly Buzz.' I couldn't believe it, so I came to see it with my own eyes. What the hell are you thinking?"
She planted her hands on her hips, her posture radiating barely contained aggression.
"You've barely had your pro license for five minutes and you're already embarrassing the uniform! A date with a teenager! Do you know how hard we heroines work to be taken seriously, to not be seen as mere decorations or idols? And you go and become the walking cliché of a tabloid scandal! You make all of us look bad!"
Mirko's gaze, sharp as a knife, swept the room, and then it landed on Izuku.
And, in a twist of cosmically cruel fate, at that exact instant, Izuku's predatory gaze, which had been interrupted by the doorbell, had returned to its original point of reference. The place where it had all begun. Mt. Lady's butt. He was observing the way the suit fit her curve, probably recalculating her center of mass or some other crazy thing.
But that's not what Mirko saw.
Mirko saw a teenage boy shamelessly staring at a professional hero's butt, in her apartment, alone.
The look of anger on Mirko's face transformed into something much worse. It became an icy contempt, an absolute disgust.
"Ah," she said, her voice dripping venom. "I see. You're not even trying to hide it. This is disgusting, Takeyama."
Yu's brain went into total panic mode. The words stumbled in her mouth, forming a senseless syllable salad.
"No-no-wait-he-wasn't-looking-he's-training-me!" she stammered, waving her hands frantically. "It's-scientific-it's-not-what-you-think-we-were-going-to-train-that's-why-I'm-in-the-suit-and-he's-my-assistant!"
Every word that came out of her mouth only made her sound more guilty, more pathetic. Mirko's expression hardened even further. It was clear she didn't believe a single word.
Just as Yu was about to faint from the sheer force of mortification, a calm, composed voice cut through the tense air.
"Mirko-san. A pleasure to meet you in person."
Izuku took a step forward, placing himself between the two heroines. His demeanor had shifted again. The curious, slightly creepy analyst had vanished, replaced by a calm, collected executive. He completely ignored the floating accusation, the tension, and Yu's panic.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, his tone so formal it was absurd for a boy his age. "I am Izuku Midoriya."
He reached into his pants pocket. Yu watched him, confused. What was he doing? Was he going to pull out his phone to show her his ridiculous resume?
No. He didn't pull out his phone. He pulled out a small, elegant metal card case. With a clean, practiced motion, he slid the lid open, extracted a single card with his thumb, and offered it to Mirko with a slight bow of his head.
"Professional Assistant to Professional Heroes."
The world seemed to stop for the second time in ten minutes.
Mirko, the hero who had faced building sized villains without flinching, was speechless. Her fury vanished, drowned by a wave of pure, absolute confusion. She looked at the card, then at Izuku, then back at the card. She took it with two fingers, as if it might be poisoned.
Yu felt her soul leave her body.
CARDS?
Her mind screamed.
HE HAS BUSINESS CARDS? PHYSICAL? PRINTED? WHERE THE HELL DID HE GET BUSINESS CARDS? I HIRED HIM YESTERDAY AFTERNOON ON MY COUCH! DOES HE CARRY A PORTABLE PRINTING PRESS IN HIS POCKET? DID HE PLACE A RUSH ORDER AT AN OVERNIGHT PRINT SHOP? DO OVERNIGHT PRINT SHOPS EVEN EXIST?
The card was of infuriatingly high quality. Thick cardstock, almost like plastic. The text was slightly raised, in a serious, professional font. His name, "Izuku Midoriya," was at the top, and below it, in slightly smaller letters, his ridiculous title. In the bottom corner, a phone number and a professional looking email address.
Mirko read the title aloud, her voice flat with shock.
"'Professional… Assistant… to Professional… Heroes.'"
She looked at Izuku, who maintained a perfectly neutral expression. The situation was so bizarre, so unexpected, that her fighter's brain didn't know how to react. She couldn't hit him. She couldn't yell at him. She could only stand there, holding the strange piece of cardboard.
Yu, meanwhile, stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He noticed her gaze, turned to her for an instant, and with the slightest of smiles, whispered:
"Details, details. Preparation is the key to professionalism."
That was too much. Yu felt a vein in her temple begin to throb dangerously.
After what felt like an eternity, Mirko finally seemed to process the situation, or at least, accept its weirdness. The fury had been completely neutralized by bewilderment. She tucked the card into one of her belt compartments with an almost automatic motion.
"Alright," she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, and I'm not sure I want to. But I still think you're reckless, Takeyama."
Izuku's attention, however, had already shifted entirely to Mirko. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, and Yu recognized the look. It was the analytical gaze, but this time there was nothing creepy about it. It was pure professional appreciation.
"An impressive physique," Izuku said, his voice regaining that academic tone. "The muscle density in your legs is extraordinary. It's indicative of extreme and consistent training. You are the personification of high speed, high impact, close quarters combat."
Mirko raised an eyebrow, surprised and, reluctantly, somewhat flattered by the technical analysis.
Izuku then turned to the two of them.
"Takeyama-san's main tactical weakness is her vulnerability to rapid, coordinated, short range attacks when in her giant form. Her size makes her an easy target and her reaction speed decreases. Usagiyama-san," he said, turning back to Mirko, "is the number one specialist in that precise field. There is no better sparring partner in all of Musutafu to identify, exploit, and consequently, correct those weaknesses."
Silence fell again. Yu and even Mirko watched as the boy's brain connected the dots with a cold, terrifying logic.
He looked directly at Mirko, without a hint of intimidation.
"Mirko-san, would you be interested in participating in our training session today? It would be a unique opportunity to measure your tactics against a 'giant' class opponent in a controlled, simulated urban environment. For you, it's valuable combat data. For us, it's a crucial optimization of our training regimen."
The audacity of the proposal left Yu speechless. Did he just invite his biggest rival, who had come to yell at her, to participate in her humiliating, secret training session?
But Mirko didn't laugh. Mirko didn't scoff. Mirko, the combat junkie, the one always looking for a challenge, her eyes lit up. She loved to fight. The idea of testing her skills against Mt. Lady in a sparring match was a challenge she had never considered. And this kid… this weird kid, with his business cards and his borderline perverted analysis… fascinated her. A wild grin, the first since she'd arrived, spread across her face, baring her teeth.
"I'm in, shorty," she said, slamming a fist into her other palm with a sharp crack. "I've been wanting to see what the rookie can do up close for a while. Let's see if you're as good at training as you are at handing out cards."
She turned to Yu, who seemed to have suffered a total paralysis.
"Let's go, Takeyama. Don't just stand there. You've got a scandal to bury under a mountain of sweat."
As they headed for the door, the three of them together in an unbelievably strange alliance, Mirko leaned toward Yu and gave her a playful but painfully sharp elbow to the ribs.
"Hey, Takeyama," she whispered, her voice full of a new, mischievous amusement. "Now I get it."
"G-get what?" Yu stammered.
Mirko winked at her.
"Now I get why you fell for this weirdo. He's got guts."
A paparazzi's camera would have focused on Yu Takeyama's face at that moment. It would have captured the way the last shred of color drained from her cheeks. It would have recorded the exact moment her brain shut down, unable to process the cascade of humiliations. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Chapter 9: Chapter 9: The Trainer’s Touch
Chapter Text
The smell of the place was the first thing that hit Yu. It was a mixture of superheated metal, damp concrete, and the sharp scent of rust. It was definitely not the clean, almost antiseptic air of the U.A. facilities, not even the gym Izuku had initially secured.
"I'm sorry, Takeyama, but the reviews were five stars," Izuku had tried to explain that morning, showing her his phone. "It said 'spacious and with excellent ventilation.' It didn't specify that the ventilation came from a hole in the ceiling and that the space was shared with a senior citizens' yoga class."
"Midoriya, I almost crushed a woman who was in warrior pose," Yu retorted, crossing her arms. "She kept telling me my 'aura' was a 'chaotic color.' It was humiliating."
It was then that Mirko, who had been listening with a mocking grin, snatched the phone from Izuku. "Let me handle it. I know a place. An old friend owes me a few favors."
And now here they were, in the industrial bowels of the city. A warehouse so vast its ceiling was lost in shadows, supported by a web of steel beams that looked like the skeleton of a colossal whale. The concrete floor was covered in scars: craters of various sizes, fissures that spread like spiderwebs, and deep scorch marks that told stories of past battles. Scattered across the space were enormous concrete blocks, shipping containers stacked like a giant child's toys, and a jungle of pipes and scaffolding.
"Welcome to the 'Dome of Destruction'," Mirko announced, a wild smile on her face that seemed perfectly at home in this environment. Her voice echoed in the silence of the place. "Nobody here will ask questions about collateral damage. You can get as big as you want, Takeyama. You have no excuses to hold back."
Yu swallowed hard. The air felt heavy in her lungs. She felt small and insignificant in the vastness of the place, and that was before activating her Quirk. The determination she had felt in her apartment, that spark of confidence, now felt like a distant memory, replaced by a growing wave of dread. This was Mirko's territory. Every surface was a launchpad for her, every shadow a place to hide.
Izuku, on the other hand, looked like a kid who had just walked into the world's biggest candy store. His green eyes shone with an almost feverish intensity as he spun around, taking it all in.
"Whoa..." he muttered, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. "This is incredible. The tactical possibilities are nearly endless. The containers create perfect blind spots, the scaffolding offers multiple levels for vertical attacks, and the scattered concrete blocks can be used as destructible cover to change the battlefield in real-time. You could even use the echo to disorient an opponent with a sonic Quirk!"
"Exactly, short stack," Mirko said, clapping him on the back so hard it nearly knocked him over. Izuku stumbled but caught his balance with surprising agility. "And the first tactic we're going to test is seeing if pretty girl knows how to throw a punch without being sixty feet tall."
She turned to Yu, her smile vanishing, replaced by a predatory gaze that made Yu's skin crawl.
"You and me. No gigantification Quirks. Let's see what they really taught you at the academy."
Yu felt a knot form in her stomach. She knew she was a decent fighter in her base form. She had passed her exams, had good grades in hand-to-hand combat. But Mirko... Mirko was a force of nature. It was like comparing a house cat to a wild tiger.
"Aren't we going to warm up first?" Yu asked, trying to buy some time, her voice sounding weaker than she intended.
Mirko's smile returned, sharp as a knife. "Warm up? Panic is the best warm-up. You ready to cry, rookie?"
She dropped into a low, elastic combat stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. She was the picture of contained energy, a coiled spring about to explode. Before Yu could even form a coherent response, the rabbit hero launched herself forward.
What followed was a blur of pain, confusion, and humiliation. Yu barely had time to raise her arms to block before the first blow landed. It wasn't a punch, but a swift, hard kick to her thigh that instantly made her leg go numb. The impact resonated through her entire body like a sledgehammer blow.
Too slow! Yu thought, as she tried to counter with a right cross. But the space where Mirko had been was now empty. She felt a dry impact on her back, right between her shoulder blades, that sent her stumbling forward. Before she could regain her balance, a precise sweep hooked her ankle and sent her face-first onto the dusty concrete floor. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and the taste of dust and metal filled her mouth.
She pushed herself up, coughing, her jaw tight. Okay, she's fast. I have to anticipate, not react.
She faced Mirko again, who was simply waiting for her with an almost insulting patience. Yu threw a jab, followed by a cross, aiming for where she thought Mirko would move. But the hero didn't move sideways. She ducked under the punches with impossible fluidity and landed three quick, stinging blows to Yu's abdomen. They weren't knockout punches, but hits designed to demoralize, to steal her breath and her focus.
"Come on, pretty girl!" Mirko taunted, dodging a clumsy hook with a simple bob of her head. "My grandma hits harder! Is that all you've got? Your footwork is a disaster. You're planted on the ground like you're waiting for roots to grow."
"Shut up!" Yu growled, frustration beginning to cloud her judgment. She lunged forward in a desperate flurry, a series of punches that met only air. It was like trying to hit smoke.
Mirko slipped around her, a white blur of relentless motion. "I'm getting bored!" she sang. Yu spun, trying to track her, only to be met with a spinning kick that connected cleanly with her ribs. The pain was sharp and white, and the air left her lungs in an audible hiss. She doubled over, unable to breathe.
Finally, Yu was on the ground, on her hands and knees, panting. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead and temples. Tears of pure frustration stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. It had been a total, absolute, one-sided beatdown. She hadn't even come close to touching her. Every move she made, every strategy she tried to formulate, Mirko was already three steps ahead.
A pair of worn, familiar red sneakers entered her field of vision. Izuku knelt beside her, his face unusually serious. Yu braced herself for a barrage of cold analysis and data about her failure. She expected to hear about her reaction time and a detailed breakdown of every mistake she had made.
But Izuku's voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly gentle.
"You were overthinking," he said, not a trace of judgment in his tone, just calm observation. "Right before you threw that last combination, I saw you hesitate. Your shoulder tensed, but you stopped for a split second. You were looking for the perfect opportunity, the flawless moment to strike."
Yu didn't answer, too ashamed to look him in the eye. She just stared at a crack in the concrete.
"Against an opponent like Mirko, the perfect opportunity doesn't exist," he continued. "She's not going to give it to you. You have to create it. Force it. Even if the punch isn't perfect, it forces her to react, and in that reaction, you can find your real opening."
The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by Yu's ragged breathing.
"When you feel cornered," he added, his voice barely a whisper, "you reach for your Quirk like a life raft. I can see it in your eyes. Behind every punch you miss, there's a thought: 'If only I could get big.' But what happens when you can't use it? When the environment doesn't allow it, or when the villain is too fast? You drown."
His words hit her harder than any of Mirko's kicks because they were the naked truth. Her Quirk was her identity. She was Mt. Lady. It was her power, her confidence, her everything. Without it, she felt weak, exposed, incomplete.
"Your foundation is fragile, Yu," he concluded, using her first name for the first time. The sound was strangely intimate in the starkness of the warehouse. It made her look up. "And that's the first thing we're going to fix. But for now... we're not done. Get up."
She looked at him, confused. "Get up? For what? So she can use me as a punching bag again?"
"No," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Get up and remind her why they call you Mt. Lady."
A fresh wave of adrenaline shot through her, mixed with a stubborn defiance. She got to her feet, her legs trembling from the effort and the impacts, and activated her Quirk.
The sensation was, as always, intoxicating. The world shrank around her as she grew, the containers becoming shoeboxes, the scaffolding fragile cages. The warehouse ceiling, once lost in the shadows, was now at shoulder height. The pain in her ribs and thighs vanished, drowned out by the immense feeling of power that flooded her.
Mirko, now a small white figure on the ground below, looked up and grinned widely. There was no fear on her face, only pure, predatory excitement.
"That's more like it!" she yelled, her voice booming off the walls. "Now this is a real fight!"
The battle changed drastically, but not in the way Yu expected. Now she was the one with overwhelming power, and Mirko was the gnat. But she was the most dangerous, cunning gnat in the world. Yu tried to swat her with a blow that would have pulverized a car. The strike came down with the force of a hydraulic press, but Mirko was already gone. She had leaped, bouncing off a container and then a wall, dodging the impact with insulting ease. Yu's fist smashed into the concrete, kicking up a cloud of dust and sending shockwaves through the floor.
"You're gonna have to be faster than that, giant!" Mirko shouted from atop a stack of containers.
The fight became a large-scale game of cat and mouse. Yu destroyed the environment trying to catch the speedy hero. A missed punch brought down a scaffold, which Mirko immediately used as a new series of platforms to launch herself from. A stomp meant to trap her only created a crater that Mirko shot out of at an unpredictable angle. She was using the debris Yu herself created as new weapons and escape routes.
Despite her size, Yu managed to land a few indirect hits. She didn't strike her directly, but the force of her near misses created shockwaves that forced Mirko to dodge and reposition. A couple of times, she almost caught her, feeling the displaced air from her fingertips brush against the hero's suit. It was exhausting, physically and mentally. Moving that much mass with precision required immense concentration.
Finally, after a particularly clever move, Mirko lured Yu into a corner of the warehouse. Yu, thinking she had her trapped, threw a sweeping sideways blow to take her out. But it was a trap. Mirko bounced off the back of Yu's hand just before impact, launched herself onto a remaining scaffold, and from there, at the apex of her jump, she dove. She came down like a white missile, striking the back of Yu's knee with an axe kick of incredible force.
Yu's leg buckled with a metallic clang and a groan of over-strained tendons. She fell to one knee with a crash that shook the entire building. The lights on the ceiling flickered from the impact.
She stayed there, panting, the fatigue weighing on her like a mountain. She placed a gigantic hand on the floor to steady herself. She saw Izuku approaching her, his notebook in hand, probably to detail her new, colossal failure. She prepared for another round of analysis.
"Yu," he said, his voice strangely calm as he stopped beside her. He was so tiny she had to tilt her head to see him properly, a small green-and-black figure next to her knee. "I need you to trust me. Just for a moment. Don't move."
Before she could ask what he meant, or even process the request, he moved. Not with Mirko's speed, but with a quiet, determined efficiency. He simply took a step toward where she was now kneeling and, with a naturalness and a lack of hesitation that left her completely paralyzed, placed both of his hands on her rear and held on.
It wasn't a hit, or a playful pat. It was a firm, deliberate, almost technical grip. His fingers molded to her form through the spandex of her suit, squeezing with a clear, focused intention that was anything but lewd, yet undeniably physical. Yu's mind went blank for a second. The logical circuit that processed social behavior, personal boundaries, and basic physics simply shorted out. She couldn't comprehend the audacity, the absolute violation of every unwritten rule.
"WHAT THE--?!" she screamed, her voice a thunderclap of indignation that made the remaining glass in the highest windows vibrate.
But her shout was drowned out by the sensation that flooded her. It was instantaneous and overwhelming. Like liquid solar energy had been injected directly into her bloodstream. A deep, vibrating warmth spread from the point of contact, an electric hum that coursed through her legs, surged up her spine like a tide, and reached the tips of her fingers. The fatigue that had been crushing her vanished in an instant, replaced by a clarity and strength she had never felt before. Her muscles, which had been burning with effort, now felt like taut steel cables, filled with limitless power.
She felt Izuku's hands and body pull away.
"Now!" he yelled from the ground, his voice filled with a feverish urgency that cut through the fog of her confusion. "Get up and fight! Use that energy!"
Driven by a strange mix of pure rage at what he had just done and this bizarre new surge of power, Yu leaped to her feet. The movement was so fast and explosive it surprised even her. She looked at Mirko, who was watching from across the warehouse with a raised eyebrow, and roared. She charged forward, not with her previous clumsiness, but with a speed and agility she had never possessed in her giant form.
Mirko, visibly surprised by the sudden burst of speed, jumped to dodge. But Yu's punch was so fast that the shockwave caught her in mid-air, destabilizing her. For the first time in the entire session, Mirko had to land awkwardly, rolling across the ground to dissipate the momentum.
She sprang to her feet, a grin of pure combat joy on her face.
"THAT'S IT!" the rabbit hero yelled, brushing some dust off her shoulder. "THERE IT IS! COME ON, HIT ME IF YOU CAN!"
The battle continued, but now it was a true duel. Yu still couldn't catch Mirko, but the difference was night and day. Now she was forcing her to go all out, to use her full skill to avoid her newly empowered, swift attacks. Yu's punches were more precise, her movements more fluid. She was no longer just reacting; she was anticipating, cutting off Mirko's escape routes and forcing her to make split-second decisions.
When Izuku finally called the session by shouting, "Time's up!" both sides were completely exhausted. Yu shrank down, the sudden power leaving her. She landed softly on her knees on the floor at her normal size, breathing heavily, every muscle in her body trembling. Mirko, some distance away, was leaning against a wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but with a huge, satisfied grin on her face.
Once she caught her breath and the feeling returned to her lungs, Yu's rage, which had been supplanted by the concentration of combat, returned in full force. She stood up, ignoring the pain, and marched directly toward Izuku. He had his back to her, diligently writing in his notebook, oblivious to the storm approaching him.
With a snarl, she snatched it from his hands.
"Let's see what brilliant analysis you made of... of...!" She stopped short, her eyes scanning the latest notes. Her face went from red with anger to pale with shock in a matter of seconds.
She read aloud, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"'Note: Direct Quirk application with intent of 'strength enhancement' is successful. The rear area in giant form is much more comfortable than in her normal version... I wonder if in the future she could pay me by letting me sleep on her butt, it's comfortable.'"
She paused, swallowing hard, her eyes moving frantically to the next line.
"'Elasticity level: outstanding'? 'Rebound factor on impact: impressive'? 'Curvature defies conventional anatomical expectations'?! 'Firmness level: comparable to a high-performance tire but with the softness of a luxury dessert'?!"
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, the notebook trembling in her hand.
"THIS ISN'T ANALYSIS, IT'S A PERVERTED POEM! I THOUGHT YOU WERE TAKING COMBAT NOTES!"
An explosive sound, a choked gasp followed by a snort, interrupted her tirade. It was Mirko. She had snuck up on them and was now bent at the waist, howling with laughter. She was clutching her stomach, tears streaming from her eyes as she struggled to breathe.
"AHAHAHA! Oh, I can't... I can't breathe! 'Luxury dessert'!" she managed to get out between laughs. "That's pure gold, short stack! GOLD!"
After calming down a bit, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she looked at Izuku with a new level of interest, a spark of manic curiosity in her gaze.
"So, you little pervert," she said, her voice still shaky with laughter. "That trick... does it work on anyone? Or just those with a 'show-quality' rear end?"
Izuku, who seemed completely unfazed by the accusation, looked at her with total seriousness. "The hypothesis suggests it would work on any part of the body. The intent is the key, not so much the area of application, though a larger surface area might facilitate a more stable energy transfer."
Mirko grinned, a dangerous and exciting idea forming in her mind. "My legs are pretty well-developed. They're my main asset. What can you do for them?"
Izuku nodded, as if it were the most normal, scientific request in the world. "Get into a jumping stance. I'll analyze the effect on explosive muscle propulsion."
Mirko obeyed instantly, crouching slightly, the muscles in her legs tense and defined. Izuku knelt and placed his hands on her powerful thighs. Yu watched the scene with a sense of total unreality, as if she were in a fever dream. Mirko didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest; she was expectant, almost vibrating with anticipation. Izuku concentrated for a moment, and Mirko let out a sharp hiss.
"Oh... whoa. That's... an interesting tingle. It feels like... static electricity building up directly in the muscle."
"Try it now," Izuku said, removing his hands and stepping back.
Mirko grinned. And jumped.
It wasn't a jump. It was a launch. She shot up and forward like a white rocket, a blur that crossed half the warehouse in the blink of an eye. Her cry of surprise was drowned out by a deafening CRASH! as she slammed into the far wall. She tore through a sheet of corrugated metal like it was tissue paper and left a car-sized dent in the thick concrete behind it.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Yu and Izuku stared at the cloud of dust and debris.
"Mirko!" Yu yelled, genuinely worried.
A wild, euphoric, and completely unhinged laugh echoed from the other side of the warehouse. Mirko rose from the rubble, her suit a little torn but seemingly without a scratch. Her eyes were wide with pure adrenaline.
"AHAHAHA! I FELT THAT! THE ACCELERATION! IT WAS INCREDIBLE!" She pointed a trembling finger at Izuku, her entire body buzzing with energy. "YOU! I WANT MORE!"
She strode toward them, her energy vibrant and chaotic. She looked at Izuku with a mixture of awe and an almost reverential respect.
"Short stack, I don't know what the hell your Quirk is, but it's insane. It's the best drug I've ever tried."
She pulled the business card he had given her from her belt and then her phone. With surprising care, she entered the number.
"We're in touch," she said, putting the phone away. "Very in touch. If you ever need a testing ground, or someone to experiment on the limits of that power with, you call me. Any time. And you," she said, turning to Yu, her tone now a strange mix of mockery and newfound respect, "you're not bad, Takeyama. You were a punching bag today, but you had some bite at the end. If you stick with the kid and his 'luxury dessert analyses,' you might stop being so boring."
With one last predatory grin, Mirko left, leaping through the hole in the wall she had just created, leaving a trail of destruction and confusion in her wake.
Yu and Izuku were left alone in the vast, now-silent dome, surrounded by the debris of their training. Yu was sore, exhausted to the bone, and her brain felt like it had been blended and reconstituted several times in the last hour. She looked at the boy beside her, the boy who had humiliated her, made her stronger, written an ode to her butt, and had just turned the number five hero into an addict for his power.
She didn't know whether she wanted to kill him or thank him.
"Midoriya," she finally said, her voice hoarse with exhaustion.
"Yes?" he replied, having already retrieved his notebook and making a new entry.
"We need to talk about your... training methods. Specifically, the ones that involve unsolicited physical contact."
Izuku looked up, blinking, as if the idea that this was a problem was completely foreign to him.
"Of course. We should analyze the data from the session. The energy transfer was considerably more efficient in your giant form, likely due to the increased surface area and the... tissue composition. I'll have to investigate if different body parts offer different conductivity..."
Yu just let out a long, deep groan of frustration and let herself fall backward onto the dusty concrete floor, staring up at the distant, dark ceiling. This was going to be a very, very long collaboration.
Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Post Combat Care
Chapter Text
The last trace of Mirko's laughter faded, leaving behind a silence as vast and heavy as the Dome of Destruction itself. The rabbit hero's departure had sucked all the chaotic energy from the place, leaving Yu and Izuku alone amidst a landscape of wounded concrete and twisted metal. The adrenaline, that glorious, burning drug that had made her feel invincible, retreated from her veins like a tide, and what was left on the shore was the pain.
It was not a sharp pain, but a deep, dull protest from every muscle, every tendon, every bone in her body. She tried to take a step toward the exit and her right knee, the one Mirko had struck in her giant form, buckled with a gelatinous weakness. She leaned on a chipped concrete pillar to keep from falling, the cold of the surface seeping through her suit. A low, pitiful groan escaped her lips before she could suppress it.
"I'm fine," she lied, more to herself than to Izuku, her jaw clenched. Pride was just another muscle, and at that moment, it was the only one that didn't hurt.
She tried to take another step, dragging her foot, and the world tilted dangerously. She closed her eyes, bracing for impact with the ground. But it never came. A firm hand had grabbed her arm, steadying her.
Izuku looked at her, his face devoid of analytical intensity or social awkwardness. What she saw in his eyes was simple, plain concern.
"You can't walk to your apartment," he said, his voice calm and firm, a point of support in her world of pain. "It's more than twenty blocks away. You'll hurt yourself more."
"I'm a professional hero," she retorted, though her voice lacked all conviction. "I can handle a little muscle soreness."
"This isn't pride, it's inefficient," he replied, using his logic in a way that, for the first time, sounded more like care than analysis. "Forcing your muscles in this state will only prolong recovery time and increase the risk of serious injury. Wait here."
Before she could protest, he gently let her go, making sure she was stable against the pillar, and jogged toward one of the warehouse's side exits. Yu watched him, confused. Where was he going? To get a taxi? The thought of getting into a vehicle in her suit, covered in dust and sweat, was almost as humiliating as the rest of the day.
He returned five minutes later with a small plastic bag from a convenience store that must have been on the next street. From it, he pulled a pair of large, plastic framed sunglasses, a plain black baseball cap, and a disposable face mask.
"Put these on," he said, offering them to her. "We can't risk someone recognizing Mt. Lady needing help to walk down the street. The narrative would still be negative."
Yu stared at the objects in his hand. It was a simple disguise, almost insulting in its lack of sophistication. But the foresight… the fact that he had thought not only of her pain, but also of her public image, of protecting her from more gossip, disarmed her. Silently, she put on the sunglasses, the cap, and the mask. She felt ridiculous, but also, strangely, protected.
"Good," he said, satisfied. "Now, turn around."
She looked at him, confused. "What for?"
He didn't answer. He simply turned his back to her and crouched down, presenting his back.
The realization hit her with the force of a punch.
"Oh, no. No way," she said, taking a step back. "No! Absolutely not! I can walk!"
"Takeyama san," he said, his voice calm and patient, without even turning. "We can spend the next thirty minutes arguing here while your muscles cool, lactic acid crystallizes, and the pain becomes unbearable. Or we can be halfway home in ten minutes. It is the most efficient solution."
His logic was a hammer that shattered her pride. Every word was true. She could already feel her muscles starting to stiffen. With a groan that was a mixture of defeat, frustration, and unfathomable humiliation, she gave in.
"I hate you," she muttered, approaching him.
"I know," he replied, without emotion.
Getting on his back was one of the most awkward acts of her life. She felt clumsy and huge, even at her normal size. How was she supposed to do this? Wrap her arms around his neck? Hold onto his shoulders? Finally, she put her arms over his shoulders and held on awkwardly as he stood up.
She expected him to stagger, to groan from the effort. She was tall and, while fit, she was not exactly a feather. But Izuku rose with a fluidity and a solidity that took her breath away. There was not a single hesitation. His shoulders were firm and broad under her hands, and his back was a solid wall. She felt the tension of his muscles through the fabric of his uniform, a quiet, contained strength she never would have suspected he possessed.
He began to walk, his steps steady and rhythmic on the broken asphalt of the industrial district. The afternoon sun was setting, painting the sky orange and purple. Yu, too embarrassed to look around, hid her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. She could smell his shampoo, a simple mix of green tea and something else, probably the dog formula he had yet to replace, mixed with the scent of sweat and exertion from his training. It was an odd combination, but strangely comforting. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the motion of his steps began to lull her. The shame gave way to a strange sense of security, of being cared for. It was a vulnerability that terrified her and, at the same time, calmed her in a way she hadn't felt in years.
They had walked in silence for nearly ten minutes when a familiar, tempting smell broke the spell. The greasy, salty, unmistakable aroma of French fries. It was coming from a McDonald's on the corner, its golden arches glowing like a beacon in the twilight.
Just as Yu was about to tell him to ignore it, her stomach betrayed her. A loud, guttural roar emanated from her gut, a sound so loud and embarrassing it seemed to echo between the buildings.
Izuku stopped dead in his tracks.
There was a moment of absolute silence. Then, she felt a slight tremor in his back and realized he was trying to suppress a laugh.
"I'm hungry," she admitted, her voice muffled by mortification and the fabric of his uniform.
"Me too," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "Tactical analysis and intermittent Quirk use consume a significant amount of glucose. Replenishment is logically necessary."
He carried her inside, not putting her down, until they found an empty booth in the farthest corner of the restaurant. The sight must have been surreal: a high school kid with messy hair carrying a tall girl in an absurd disguise on his back. But they were too hungry and tired to care in the slightest.
Once they were seated, with two trays full of burgers, fries, and sodas between them, the tension finally broke. Being in such a normal, mundane place, after the madness of the Dome of Destruction, felt like returning to Earth from another planet.
Izuku, after inhaling three French fries at once, was the first to speak.
"So…" he said, his mouth still a little full. "Aside from… my unorthodox methods, what did you think?"
Yu took a long sip of her soda, the cold, sweet liquid a balm for her dry throat. She considered it for a moment.
"It was horrible," she finally said with brutal honesty. "I felt useless, clumsy, and completely outmatched. I hated every second of the first part."
He nodded, listening intently.
"And then…" she continued, lowering her voice. "For a moment, when you gave me that… 'boost'… I felt invincible. I had never felt my body respond so quickly in my giant form. It was the most incredible and, at the same time, the most humiliating feeling I've ever experienced in my life."
She stared at him over her hamburger, her expression serious. "And if you ever use my butt as a turbo button again without warning me first, I solemnly swear I will use you as a projectile in our next training session."
He swallowed the bite he was chewing and nodded seriously. "Understood. An explicit verbal consent protocol will be required for future Quirk applications in non conventional contact zones."
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. "Just say 'I'm going to touch your butt, get ready,' will you? It would simplify things."
He seemed to consider that. "Noted."
They talked about Mirko, about her insane speed and her almost psychotic joy for battle. They laughed about the perverted notes in his notebook, though Yu still blushed remembering them. For the first time, they were not talking like boss and employee, or test subject and scientist. They were talking like two people who had survived an incredibly strange experience together.
When they finished, Izuku reached into his pocket for his wallet. Before he could find it, Yu's gold credit card was already on the table.
"My treat," she said firmly.
"You don't have to. Technically, this is a work related expense."
"Consider it a hazard pay bonus," she retorted with a half smile. "And for emergency transport. And for not letting me starve to death. I'm paying. End of discussion."
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded, putting his wallet away. The small gesture, the simple act of her paying, changed something fundamental in the air. It was a thank you. An acknowledgment. A declaration that, in that moment, they were a team.
The rest of the way back was different. The awkwardness was gone, replaced by a strange familiarity. Yu, feeling safe and full, rested her head on Izuku's shoulder, the sound of the city lulling her to sleep. They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
When they reached her building, Izuku carried her through the lobby with the same quiet determination, ignoring the curious stare of the night doorman. Inside her apartment, he deposited her on the sofa with unexpected gentleness. She sank into the cushions with a sigh of pure, absolute relief. Home. Finally.
Izuku stretched, making his back and shoulders crack. He looked at her, sprawled on the sofa, and a tired but genuine smile spread across his face.
"Well," he said, his tone light and teasing. "I think carrying a professional hero halfway across town and serving as her emotional shield against her nemesis definitely counts as overtime. I'll have to add a hazard surcharge to my next invoice."
Yu, with her eyes closed, grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it weakly in his direction. It didn't even make it halfway.
"Shut up and get me a bottle of water," she murmured, but there was no anger in her voice. Only deep exhaustion and a hint of amusement.
He chuckled softly and went to the kitchen. The joke, so simple, so normal, felt like a turning point.
When he returned with the water, he found her trying to take off her boots. They were an intricate part of her costume, knee high, with a series of buckles, straps, and zippers designed for both aesthetics and function. With her muscles stiff and her body aching, she could not even bend over far enough to reach the first buckle. A grunt of frustration escaped her lips.
Without her asking, Izuku placed the water on the coffee table and knelt in front of her.
"Allow me," he said quietly.
Yu sat still, watching him. With methodical concentration, as if he were defusing a bomb, his fingers worked on the complex straps. He undid each buckle, pulled down each zipper, his touch sure and efficient. It was such a simple and unexpected act of service that Yu found herself holding her breath.
Once the boots were off, he did not get up. He saw the state of her feet, red and swollen from the pressure of combat. And then, as naturally as he had offered her the cap or lifted her onto his back, he took one of her feet in his hands.
Her first reaction was pure panic. Her instincts screamed at her to pull her foot away, to tell him to stop, that this was too much. Too intimate. Too strange. But she was so tired...
His thumbs pressed into the arch of her foot. It was not a clumsy or lewd touch. It was firm, expert, finding a knot of tension she did not even know she had and working it out with steady pressure. A wave of pure relief washed over her, so intense it almost brought her to tears.
She leaned back into the sofa, closing her eyes, and just felt. She let the silence of the room envelop her as he worked, methodically undoing the pain and tension in her body. Her mind, however, was racing.
She watched his face through her eyelashes. His head was bowed in concentration, his messy green hair falling over his forehead. There was not a trace of perversion in his expression. Only absolute focus on the task at hand. He was solving a problem: her pain.
And in that quiet moment, Yu understood. This boy, this complete weirdo, this socially inept pervert with a fixation on her butt, was the most genuinely dedicated person to her well being she had ever met. He had seen her at her lowest, crying and eating ice cream. He had seen her be humiliated and beaten by her rival. And at every moment, instead of judging her, or running away, or treating her like a boss, he had only looked for a way to help, to "fix" her, in his own strange way.
As Izuku worked, his own mind was far from blank. Physical contact was a conduit, not just for his Quirk, but for information. He could feel the residual tension in her muscles, the deep fatigue in her bones. He connected the dots from the day: the fragility of her base form, her dependence on her Quirk, the explosion of power when he channeled it directly into her. Her "base," the word he had told her in the Dome, echoed in his head. It was not enough to add power at the top. He had to build something new from the foundation. An idea, a form, a method, began to crystallize in his mind.
Yu did not realize the moment exhaustion finally claimed her. Her breathing slowed, deepened, and she sank into the first dreamless sleep she had had in days.
Izuku noticed the change. He gently finished what he was doing, placed her foot carefully on a cushion, and stood up silently. He looked at her, vulnerable and peaceful in her sleep. He took the blanket from the back of the armchair and carefully covered her.
Chapter 11: Chapter 11: An Unusual Educational Proposal
Chapter Text
"So, let me see if I've understood this correctly, Mr. Midoriya."
Director Nezu's voice was soft, almost a melodic whisper infused with a politeness so pristine it bordered on unsettling. The delicate clink of porcelain was audible as he set his teacup on its saucer. It was the only sound that broke the silence in the vast office.
Outside the panoramic window, which took up an entire wall, the city of Musutafu stretched out like a vast network of concrete and glass, bathed in the golden light of a Saturday afternoon. The air inside the room was a subtle mix of high-end black tea and the expensive wax used to polish the mahogany furniture. Every detail, from the gleam of the floor to the impeccable order of the desk, communicated power, control, and meticulous order.
Izuku Midoriya, sitting in a leather chair that likely cost more than his apartment's rent for an entire year, didn't seem to notice any of it. His attention was fixed, with unshakable calm, on the small, formidable creature before him.
Nezu steepled the tips of his small white paws on the desk, his black eyes, small and deeply brilliant, fixed on the boy.
"I received your email this morning. At three-fourteen, to be exact. A rather unusual hour to send professional correspondence, wouldn't you say?"
"My apologies, Mr. Director," Izuku replied without a hint of nervousness. "The idea came to me at that moment, and I felt it couldn't wait. I wanted it to be the first thing you saw in your inbox."
"Oh, it certainly was," Nezu admitted with a nod. "But let's return to the contents."
Nezu paused, like a professor about to question a student.
"In it, you request a meeting. And in that meeting, you present me with a proposal. You are, according to the records I've been able to access in the last five minutes—and believe me, they are exhaustive—a civilian," Nezu began, listing the facts with an analytical tone. "Is that correct?"
"Yes, sir. Completely," Izuku affirmed.
"Good. Point number one established. Point number two: you do not possess a teaching license of any kind. Not provincial, not national, not even a volunteer certificate from a community center. I even checked the Boy Scout records. Nothing."
"That is also correct." Izuku's back remained straight, his hands resting calmly on his knees. He showed not the slightest sign of intimidation.
"Excellent. We're making progress," Nezu continued, pouring himself a bit more tea with a fluid motion. "Nor do you possess—and this is quite relevant given where we are—a professional hero license. Not even a provisional one."
"Correct again, Mr. Director."
"And, if your youthful appearance and the explicit mention of Aldera Junior High in your curious nocturnal correspondence are any indication, you are, in fact, a student. A middle schooler, to be precise. About to graduate, but a student nonetheless."
He paused, taking a sip of tea. The silence stretched on, heavy and expectant. Izuku didn't break it. He simply waited.
"However," Nezu went on, with the same unwavering calm, "despite this... lack of conventional credentials, you desire a position. And I quote your proposal, because I found the terminology fascinating: ‘Temporary Instructor of Quirk Optimization and Support Tactics.’ A position that, I must point out, does not currently exist in our staff structure."
He set the cup down carefully.
"And you are applying for this nonexistent position here, at U.A. The most prestigious, and without a doubt the best-funded, hero educational institution in all of Japan. Have I omitted any crucial details in my summary?"
Izuku, who had listened with devout attention, simply nodded. "No, Mr. Director. That summarizes it perfectly."
Nezu let out a small sigh, a sound not of exasperation, but of pure, genuine curiosity. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating. Most young people your age who harbor a desire to enter these gates tend to opt for more… traditional methods. The entrance exam, for instance. It's a rather robust system we've refined over decades. We rarely receive employment applications from prospective students. In fact, I'd say this is an absolute first."
He leaned forward slightly, his black eyes scrutinizing Izuku.
"Tell me, Mr. Midoriya, and please, be as specific as possible. What makes you think, in the first place, that you are qualified for a position you've just invented?"
Izuku took a moment. It wasn't the pause of someone searching for the right words, but of someone organizing a truth that had completely rearranged his perspective.
"You see, Director, until less than a week ago, I myself believed I was qualified for nothing," he began, his voice calm but firm, devoid of self-pity. "My Quirk, as it appears in my official record, is ‘Animal Empathy.’ A useful skill for calming Mrs. Tanaka's pets when the mail carriers approach, but little else in the grand scheme of things."
"An admirable skill, no doubt," Nezu murmured, a playful glint in his eyes. "Peace between citizens and the postal service is a fundamental component of a functional society."
"But something… unexpected happened," Izuku continued. "There was an… incident. With a professional heroine in distress. She was in a complicated situation."
"Incidents with heroes in distress often are," Nezu commented dryly.
"Yes. And, well, due to a series of very specific, very chaotic, and frankly, very improbable circumstances, my face ended up in a very… soft and supportive place. On her rear end, to be exact."
Nezu raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. He put down his cup and steepled his paws again. "Really? Please, continue. The details, if they aren't too… delicate."
"They're not. They're strange," Izuku corrected. "And in that moment of anatomical contact, I had a revelation. An epiphany. I understood the true nature of my Quirk instantly and overwhelmingly."
Izuku leaned forward, the passion of his discovery making his green eyes shine with a new, uncharacteristic intensity. He had forgotten his surroundings, the opulence of the office, the importance of the being before him. Only his truth existed.
"I discovered that my Quirk's name is a misinterpretation. A colossal error. It isn't ‘Animal Empathy.’ It isn't for ‘training dogs.’ It’s for ‘Training.’ Period. Its fundamental purpose isn't to give commands. It's to identify the latent potential in a living being and awaken it, optimize it. To force it out."
"How?" Nezu asked, his voice now devoid of irony. It was the question of a scientist.
"Through a direct application of energy. My energy," Izuku explained. "The dogs, the cats, the hamsters… they were my unconscious training ground. The fundamentals. I learned with them without even realizing it. But the true potential… I've discovered I can increase the strength, speed, endurance, and efficiency of a Quirk in a human being. And if I can do that…"
His voice filled with an absolute conviction.
"...then my place isn't walking poodles in the park. It's here. Where the next generation of heroes is forged. Where my ability can have the greatest possible impact."
Director Nezu observed him in silence for a long moment. He didn't laugh. He didn't dismiss him. He didn't treat him like a teenager with delusions of grandeur. Instead, he rose from his chair, walked with deliberate little steps to a small service cart, and poured another cup of tea. With the same ceremony, he offered it to Izuku.
"A gluteal epiphany, so to speak," Nezu said, his tone now tinged with a genuine amusement that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Fascinating. Truly fascinating. You postulate, then, that your Quirk is not a communication or control ability, but a sort of biological enhancer. An exogenous improvement agent."
"I hadn't thought of it in those words, but yes. That sounds incredibly good," Izuku replied, accepting the cup with a mumbled thank you. The warmth of the porcelain was comforting.
"But this theory presents a puzzle," Nezu continued, returning to his chair and resuming his thoughtful pose. "Our students' Quirks are incredibly diverse. Some emit energy. Others alter matter. Some, like my own, simply affect the intellect. How could your ‘application of energy,’ as you call it, affect such fundamentally disparate Quirks? A strength enhancer is one thing, conceptually simple. But how would you optimize a student whose Quirk is, for example, talking to insects?"
Izuku didn't hesitate. He had spent every second since his "epiphany" thinking about these very questions.
"I'm not sure of the exact details on a cellular or energetic level," he admitted with refreshing honesty. "It's a completely new field for me. I don't have the lab equipment to test it. But my instinct, the feeling I got, tells me it's not about enhancing the Quirk itself, but the user."
He took a sip of tea. The flavor was complex and delicious, but he barely noticed it.
"I believe my ability strengthens the connection between the person and their power. It removes the barriers that limit access to that power, whether they are physical blocks from lack of training, or mental ones from fear, doubt, or trauma. I don't make the Quirk bigger; I allow the user to access it more purely and efficiently."
Then, Izuku looked directly at Nezu, a sudden idea forming on his face, a spark of audacity.
"With all due respect, Mr. Director, you are an animal. An exceptionally intelligent one with an incredible Quirk, no doubt, but your physiology is fundamentally animal. My Quirk works on animals. And, as I've recently discovered, it works wonderfully on humans. You represent the perfect bridge between both fields of study."
Nezu froze, the teacup halfway to his lips. The amused expression was replaced by one of absolute stupefaction.
"If you would permit me a brief demonstration," Izuku continued, with deadly seriousness, oblivious to the risk his proposal entailed. "Not on your Quirk, of course. I wouldn't dare. But on a simple motor action. I bet I could increase your… efficiency in pouring tea, by at least fifteen percent. We could measure the fluidity of the pour, the stability of the hand, the absence of any residual dripping. A perfect movement."
The silence that followed was dense and absolute. Yu Takeyama, the heroine on whose rear end Izuku had his revelation, would have died of embarrassment on the spot. But Izuku simply waited, his proposal hanging in the air like the most reasonable and scientific of offers.
Suddenly, the tension broke. Nezu lowered the cup and a sharp, genuine, and shrill laugh erupted from him. He leaned back in his chair, his small body shaking with pure joy.
"You are magnificent, Mr. Midoriya!" he exclaimed between laughs, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye with the back of his paw. "Absolutely magnificent! The audacity! The unadorned sincerity! It has been years, years, since I've been this entertained in a meeting!"
Izuku blinked, confused by the reaction, but immensely relieved that it seemed positive.
When Nezu's laughter finally subsided, his expression turned more serious, though the playful glint never quite left his eyes. "Your proposal is, without a doubt, the most irregular I have ever received in my tenure. And believe me, I have received some very, very strange proposals. One man once wanted to install a giant slide from my office to the main entrance. Another suggested that combat classes be held entirely on trampolines. Your idea, however, surpasses them all in sheer originality."
"Originality isn't my goal," Izuku said, seeing his opening. "Results are."
"Ah, results," Nezu repeated. "The foundation of any enterprise. I see you've earned, if not my trust, at least my complete and utter attention. Continue, press your advantage. I'm eager to see how you attempt to close this deal."
Izuku's tone became more serious, if that was possible. He prepared to present his final argument.
"I'm not asking you to believe me based on my word alone, Director. That would be illogical and poor management on your part. I'm asking for a trial. A practical, controlled, and supervised demonstration."
He leaned forward, his hands now clasped on the polished surface of the desk.
"Give me your most troubled student. Not necessarily the weakest, but the one with the biggest gap between potential and performance. The one with the most promising Quirk but the worst control. The one with a mental block that your best teachers, your psychologists, and your trainers haven't been able to overcome. Someone you consider a difficult case, perhaps even a lost cause."
His gaze was intense, direct, and completely devoid of arrogance. It was the gaze of an absolute believer in his newly discovered ability.
"Give me one week with that person. Just one week of my… tutoring. Seven days. If, at the end of that week, you and the faculty you designate do not see a measurable, tangible, and significant improvement in that student's performance, I will walk out of here and you will never hear from me again. You will forget my name and my ridiculous proposal. You have absolutely nothing to lose, beyond a few hours of a student's time. And, potentially, you have a completely new training method to gain for U.A."
Nezu leaned back in his chair, his small black eyes looking at the ceiling, his paws drumming softly on the leather armrest. The amusement on his face had been replaced by an expression of intense, rapid calculation. The offer was absurd. It was a security risk. It was a logistical, legal, and bureaucratic nightmare. It involved parental consent forms, liability waivers, and the potential wrath of the Ministry of Education.
And yet… it was the most fascinating educational proposal he had encountered in his entire career.
His Quirk, High Spec, allowed him to process information at a superhuman speed. In those few seconds, he was weighing thousands of possible outcomes, analyzing legal variables, ethical implications, and the potential for both positive and negative public relations. The chance of a humiliating failure was high. Extremely high. But the chance of a revolutionary success, however infinitesimal… was irresistible. For a mind like Nezu's, curiosity was a more powerful force than caution.
"Your method of ‘energy application’…" Nezu said slowly, still looking at the ceiling. "From your description of the ‘incident,’ I gather it is tactile in nature, correct? It requires physical contact."
"Yes," Izuku confirmed, his face growing a bit warmer as he recalled the exact circumstance. "Physical contact seems to be the most effective method. The delivery system."
A small smile, this time full of playful malice, appeared on Nezu's face.
"Of course, that presents a small public relations dilemma, don't you think?" he said, finally lowering his gaze to meet Izuku's. His tone was light, but the question was sharp. "I can see the headlines now: 'U.A. Hires Unlicensed Teen to Manhandle Students in the Name of Pedagogical Science.' The headline is catchy, to be sure, but perhaps not the kind of publicity we're actively seeking."
Izuku's face filled with conviction.
"It's not manhandling!" he protested, his voice rising a few tones. "It's… a purposeful energy transfer! It's about the intent and the objective! It's a completely professional and focused process."
"Oh, I know, I know," Nezu said, waving a paw dismissively, clearly enjoying the boy's fluster. "I'm aware of the difference between intent and action. But public perception rarely concerns itself with such nuances. It's a variable to consider. A risk that…"
He was about to continue, to give some sort of verdict, to tip the scales toward conditional acceptance or polite refusal. The tension in the room was palpable. Izuku's future, and perhaps a new and strange chapter for U.A., was at a critical point.
It was then that two soft but firm knocks sounded at the office door.
Nezu frowned, a micro-expression of genuine annoyance at the interruption at such an absolutely crucial moment.
"Enter," he said, his voice instantly regaining its smooth, courteous tone.
The door opened and Nemuri Kayama walked in. She was in her hero costume, though without her mask, and her professional smile was firmly in place as she held a data tablet. Her stride was confident and efficient, that of a professional in her element.
"Director, I'm sorry for the interruption," she began, her melodic voice, accustomed to command, filling the office. "But I have the patrol reports for sector seven that you asked for, and there's an anomaly in the residual energy levels I thought you'd want to see right away…"
Her voice trailed off mid-sentence. Her eyes, which had been adjusting to the dimmer light of the office, finally landed on the second figure in the room. On the boy with messy green hair, sitting calmly across from the director's desk as if he were negotiating an international treaty.
Nemuri's professional smile froze. Then, it vanished. Her eyes widened, not just with surprise, but with a confusion so deep and pure it was almost comical.
In her mind, two images collided violently, creating an impossible conflict. On one hand, there was the image from the file she had reviewed the night before: Izuku Midoriya, student at Aldera, mediocre academic record, no notable incidents, and a Quirk officially registered as "Animal Empathy," rated as low-impact and useless in the hero field.
On the other hand, there was the image before her: the same boy, sitting with a posture of quiet confidence, having tea with the most intelligent, powerful, and inaccessible being in Japan. The two realities were so incompatible that her brain struggled to process them.
A silence heavy with unasked questions filled the room. Nezu observed the interaction, a new and delightful layer of chaos added to his already interesting afternoon. He glanced from Nemuri's dumbfounded face to Izuku's now slightly uncomfortable expression, and a small smile formed on his face. This was much better than trampolines.
Nemuri finally regained the ability to speak, though her voice sounded a bit strained, as if she were forcing it through a throat that had slammed shut.
"Director… Midoriya-kun," she said, her gaze shifting from one to the other as if watching an impossible tennis match. "What an… unexpected coincidence."
The tension in the room didn't dissipate. On the contrary, it became electric.
"Kayama-san," Nezu greeted with a cheerfulness that didn't fit the situation. "Just in time. Allow me to formally introduce you. This is Izuku Midoriya. Mr. Midoriya, this is Nemuri Kayama, also known as the hero Midnight. She is one of our most esteemed teachers and head of the Heroic Art History department."
Izuku stood and gave a respectful bow. "It's an honor to meet you, Kayama-sensei."
Nemuri barely registered the gesture. Her mind was still struggling to process the situation. "Yes… I know. I mean, I've heard his name," she stammered, trying to regain her composure. She directed her gaze to Nezu, searching for an explanation, a clue, anything that would make sense of this surreal scene. "Is there a problem? Is this about his application to the school?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that," Nezu said, his smile widening. "Mr. Midoriya is not here as a prospective student. He's here as a prospective colleague. He was just presenting me with a very… innovative job proposal."
Nemuri felt such a wave of disbelief she could barely speak. "Job? Here?"
"Precisely," Nezu confirmed, savoring every second. "In fact, your arrival is quite timely. We were just discussing the viability of his teaching method, which is, let's say, very hands-on. As an experienced teacher, perhaps you could offer us your perspective."
Nemuri looked at Izuku, then at Nezu, and back to Izuku. The confusion on her face transformed into an expression of pure incredulity. The boy who barely had a recordable Quirk was proposing a teaching method to Nezu? The afternoon had officially become the strangest of her career.
"My… perspective," she repeated slowly, as if the word were foreign. The patrol report in her hand suddenly felt heavy and irrelevant.
Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Aptitude Test
Chapter Text
Nemuri Kayama's phrase, "what an unexpected coincidence," hung in the crisp air of the office, heavy with the weight of a thousand unasked questions. Her smile was a work of art, a perfect mask of professional courtesy that failed to hide the storm of confusion and suspicion swirling in her violet eyes.
Izuku, unlike most who would have shrunk under that intense gaze, simply tilted his head with genuine curiosity. There was no fear in his expression, only the interest of someone watching a chess match suddenly become much more interesting.
"Midnight-san," he said, with a tone of polite recognition. "I didn't expect to see you. Principal Nezu and I were just discussing a potential educational collaboration. It's very exciting."
His enthusiasm was so sincere and so out of place that Nemuri blinked, momentarily thrown off.
Principal Nezu, who had been observing the interaction with the delight of a gourmand about to try an exotic new dish, steepled his paws.
"Ah, Midnight! Just in time," he said, his cheerful voice cutting through the tension. "You've arrived for the most interesting part. Mr. Midoriya has been kind enough to offer us a demonstration of his… peculiar pedagogical talents."
Nemuri composed herself, her professionalism taking over, though her eyes never left Izuku. She approached the desk, her hero costume whispering softly against the plush carpet.
"Principal, with all due respect," she began, her voice melodic but firm, "I just heard 'educational collaboration' and the name of Mt. Lady's assistant in the same sentence. And, while I admire the young man's enthusiasm, the idea of allowing an unlicensed civilian with an unverified Quirk to participate in any of our programs is…"
"A logistical, legal, and insurance nightmare waiting to happen," Nezu finished, with a cheerful smile. "Yes, I know. Your objections are perfectly reasonable, predictable, and, as always, impeccably logical. Which is why his initial plan was so delightfully problematic."
Nemuri stared at him. "His initial plan?"
"Mr. Midoriya proposed a large-scale test during the entrance exam. A field experiment, so to speak. Hundreds of test subjects. Gloriously chaotic!" Nezu explained, his eyes gleaming.
Nemuri paled slightly. The thought of Izuku loose among hundreds of teenagers with unstable Quirks was the stuff of lawyers' nightmares.
"But," Nezu continued, raising a paw to reassure her, "your arrival has reminded me of the importance of prudence. So, I have refined the proposal into something much more… elegant. A single case study."
He leaned back in his chair, now the school principal in complete control of the situation.
"When the list of applicants for the next entrance exam is finalized, Mr. Midoriya will be given access to the profiles. He will choose a single candidate—the one he believes he can 'improve' the most. He will have the weeks leading up to the exam to train that student, and you, Midnight, as a first-year teacher and the hero who has so conveniently appeared, will be his official supervisor. Every session, every method, will be under your watchful eye."
Nemuri processed the information, her mind racing. It wasn't the madness she had imagined, but it was still an enormous risk.
"The test is simple," Nezu concluded. "If Mr. Midoriya's chosen student passes the exam, he passes. If the student fails, we thank him for his time and our fascinating partnership ends. If he succeeds, we will offer him a provisional position as a support teaching assistant, where we can continue to study his… potential."
Silence fell over the office. It was an impossible offer, an opportunity born from a fever dream. The full weight of the decision fell on Izuku. Nezu and Nemuri watched him, waiting for his answer.
Izuku didn't hesitate. There wasn't a trace of doubt on his face. To him, it wasn't a risk; it was a challenge. A goal.
"That's an excellent testing protocol, Principal," he said, his voice clear and filled with a quiet confidence. "A clear objective with a measurable outcome. I accept."
Nemuri released a breath she didn't know she was holding. It was official. She was trapped in this strange boy's orbit.
"Marvelous!" Nezu exclaimed, clapping softly. "Then it's settled. The list won't be ready for a few weeks, we'll let you know. In the meantime, I repeat my request, Midnight. A tour of the facilities for our instructor candidate would be most prudent."
With a dismissive wave, Nezu turned back to his screen, signaling that the audience was over.
The heavy wooden door closed behind them, and the silence of the U.A. hallway felt completely different from that of the office. Nemuri walked a few steps, then stopped and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. She looked him up and down, her expression now a mixture of disbelief and an almost tangible curiosity.
"Alright, clever boy," she said, her voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. "You just did the impossible. You won over the rodent with a god complex. Now, you're going to tell me the truth."
Izuku looked at her, tilting his head. "I always tell the truth, Midnight-san. It's more efficient."
She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Don't give me that. I saw your face at the restaurant. The boy who can do that isn't the same one who has a file that reads: 'Notable achievements: 98% success rate in teaching chihuahuas to sit.' So, as we walk, you're going to explain to me how your Quirk really works. Forget the 'potential' talk. Speak plainly. And as your official supervisor, I need to know everything."
She started walking, and he followed, his red sneakers nearly silent on the polished floor.
"I don't know exactly how it works," Izuku admitted, as his eyes drifted to a display case full of old hero costumes. "It's new to me, too. But it's like… like everyone has a latent potential inside them, an internal energy. Most people, even heroes, keep it small, controlled, so they don't overload themselves. My Quirk… I just stir that energy so it burns stronger."
Nemuri listened, weighing his words. It was a simple, almost childish explanation, but there was an intuitive truth to it.
"And your 'first test subject'?" she pressed. "The one with the… 'gluteal epiphany'."
Izuku didn't blush. He considered it seriously. "Ah, yes. She is a fascinating case. Immense power contained by deep insecurity. She demonstrated excellent energy conductivity and a very positive power response, especially… in the hip and gluteal area. Her ability to maintain balance and project force from her core improved markedly after the application."
He said it as naturally as a mechanic would talk about tuning an engine. Nemuri stopped dead and stared at him. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. He was completely unabashed. There wasn't a hint of lewdness in his tone, just a clinical, brutal honesty that was somehow even more disconcerting.
"You're unbelievable," she finally said, shaking her head and resuming her pace. "You really have no filter, do you?"
"Filters reduce communication efficiency," he replied, as if it were obvious. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed to a section of the hallway wall. "Incredible! This is the section that had to be replaced after Thirteen's black hole incident during their first year of teaching. The spatial strain left permanent micro-fissures in the original alloy. Reading about it is one thing, but seeing it…!"
Nemuri sighed. Supervising him was going to be exhausting. And very, very entertaining.
The tour continued that way: a strange mix of a professional interrogation and a sightseeing tour for U.A.'s biggest fan. Izuku pointed out the sites of legendary training battles, recalled obscure anecdotes about the teachers, and generally displayed an encyclopedic and slightly obsessive knowledge of the school. Nemuri, for her part, kept pressing, trying to understand the nature of the boy before her. Slowly, a picture began to form in her mind. He wasn't a liar. He wasn't a manipulator. He was a genuine prodigy with a brilliant and strange mind, completely oblivious to social norms, but with an unshakable conviction in his purpose.
Finally, their journey brought them to one of the most imposing doors in the complex, a massive set of metal gates with a plaque that read "GYM GAMMA."
"And this," Nemuri said, swiping her keycard to open the doors, "is where the magic, or rather, the controlled chaos, happens."
The place was awe-inspiring. An open space as vast as an airplane hangar, silent and cold. The hum of the fluorescent lights in the towering ceiling was the only sound. Cranes, platforms, and all manner of machinery were parked at the edges, a nightmare construction kit for any aspiring hero.
Izuku walked in, his eyes wide. Nemuri let him enjoy the moment before closing the doors behind them, the metallic clang echoing in the silence.
They stopped in the center of the vast space.
"A very educational tour, Midoriya-kun," Nemuri said, her voice now devoid of all mockery. It was purely professional. "You've seen our facilities. You've accepted the principal's proposal. Now for the unofficial part of your evaluation."
Izuku turned to face her, expectant.
"I've heard your explanation. I've heard Nezu.," she said, taking a step toward him. "But words aren't enough. If I'm going to put my reputation on the line supervising your training of one of my future students, I need to understand exactly what you do. I need firsthand data, not anecdotes."
She looked at him intently, her violet eyes shining with an intensity Izuku hadn't seen before.
"So we're going to do a test. Here. Now."
Izuku's heart leaped, not with fear, but with pure, electrifying excitement. This was the real test. The chance to prove his worth to one of the best.
"An excellent idea, Midnight-san!" he said, his enthusiasm genuine. "A controlled test is the next logical step. What variable would you like me to optimize? Explosive strength? Reaction speed? Endurance?"
She smiled. "None of the above. I'm not interested in running faster or hitting harder. My Quirk is my primary weapon. My Quirk, Somnolence. It's an aroma my body emits to put my opponents to sleep. Its effectiveness depends on its concentration."
She looked at him with a clear challenge in her eyes.
"I want you to focus on my Quirk. Not my muscles. I want you to enhance the very manifestation of my power. Make my aroma more… potent. More concentrated."
The proposal fascinated him. It was entirely new territory. His mind raced, not with doubts, but with possibilities. Can I influence the Quirk factor directly? The very biological machinery that produces it? If the body is the engine, the Quirk is the type of fuel it uses. Can I refine the fuel? The idea was revolutionary.
"I've never tried," he admitted, his eyes shining with a feverish light. "But the theory is sound. I want to try."
"Perfect," she said. She adopted a relaxed stance, arms at her sides, completely open and trusting. "I'm all yours, coach. What do you need me to do?"
Izuku moved closer, his mind now completely immersed in the problem. The outside world faded away. There was only him, her, and the scientific question.
"For optimal transfer to your nervous system and the source of your Quirk, a point of contact on the upper back, near the spinal column, should be most efficient," he said, his voice quiet, clinical, yet strangely authoritative. He was no longer the schoolboy; he was the specialist.
He stood behind her and raised his hands. They were steady, without a single tremor.
"Alright, Midnight-sensei," he said, his voice a focused murmur that resonated in the gym's silence. "Inhale deeply and concentrate on the feeling of your Quirk, how it feels right before you release it. I'm going to begin."
His hands descended, about to rest on her shoulder blades. The air seemed to crackle, charged with the promise of an unknown power. For the first time, Izuku wasn't going to enhance the result of a Quirk, but its very source.
Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Condensation and Complications
Chapter Text
Nemuri stretched and rolled her shoulders. Despite her laid-back attitude, she felt genuine curiosity. She looked at the boy behind her, so focused he seemed unaware of everything else.
“Nervous, Midoriya-kun?” she asked in a gentler tone than usual, without her professional flirtation. “It’s not every day someone tries to alter a pro hero’s Quirk.”
Izuku blinked and came out of his concentration.
“No. I’m not nervous,” he replied calmly. “I’m focused. Theory is one thing and practice another. I need you to tell me exactly what you feel at each step.”
“Understood,” she nodded. “I’ll tell you everything. So, what’s the plan, genius? Are you going to turn my sleep gas into solid blocks?”
The joke had humor, but also surprise.
“No, nothing that drastic,” he said with a slight smile. “I’m not changing its state, but its density. I want to compress it. Force the particles to join instead of dispersing. In theory, you’ll be able to control it at a level you hadn’t considered.”
“Sounds promising,” Nemuri admitted. “I’m ready when you are.”
Izuku raised his hands. They were steady.
He set his palms on her shoulder blades, over the sturdy fabric of her costume. His touch was deliberate, neither timid nor aggressive. It was a specialist’s touch.
Nemuri didn’t flinch. She had expected tingling or a jolt, but it was different. She felt a deep warmth that started at her center and harmonized with her power. It was strange, intimate, and strong.
“Wow…” she whispered, closing her eyes. “This is new.”
“Describe it,” Izuku asked in a low voice.
“It’s not a spark. It’s steady. A warmth spreading from where you’re touching me. It doesn’t feel external; it’s waking something that was already there, dormant.”
Izuku nodded. What he sensed in her wasn’t explosive energy, but a subtle reserve ready to activate.
“Good. That energy is a push. Use it,” he said evenly. “Don’t release your Quirk yet. Feel it. Focus. What’s it like right before it comes out?”
Nemuri took a deep breath and settled into the familiar antechamber of her power. Now she felt it more clearly.
“It’s light. Gaseous. I feel it in my lungs,” she said, barely audible. “It always tends to expand. That’s its inclination. I feel the constant need to let it out.”
“Right,” Izuku approved. “Now counter it. Don’t let it escape. Hold it in. Gather it inward. Give it weight and substance in your mind.”
Nemuri frowned. She channeled the warmth from Izuku’s hands and used it as an anchor. Her Quirk wanted to dissipate, but she had a new foothold.
“It’s resisting,” she panted, sweat on her brow. “It slips away.”
“Don’t grab it by force. Guide it,” Izuku corrected gently. “Use my energy as a center of gravity. Draw all that mist to a point inside you.”
She adjusted her focus. She pictured a core in her chest and began pulling her power toward it. Lightness gained weight. Volatility gained density.
“I feel it,” she said, with a strained smile. “It’s hard, but I have it. It feels dense.”
“Perfect,” Izuku encouraged, sensing the change through his hands. “You’re doing great. Now don’t release all of it. Just a strand. Let out a minimal fraction from the tip of your finger.”
Nemuri extended her right hand, palm up. Precision had never been her strong suit, but she focused and guided a tiny portion of that dense power down her arm to her index finger.
It happened.
What left her fingertip wasn’t a cloud, but a thin strand of lavender mist. It didn’t dissipate; it flowed through the air under full control. Nemuri made it spin, draw a circle, then a figure eight. She had never had such precise control.
“No way…” she murmured, with a short laugh of disbelief. “I’m drawing in the air. Midoriya-kun, do you see this?”
“I see it,” Izuku said with a smile. “It’s excellent, Kayama-san. Let’s keep going. Next step.”
He increased the energy he was transmitting through his hands. Nemuri felt added firmness that held her focus.
“Don’t just control it,” Izuku said, containing his excitement. “Compress it. Take the strand and squeeze it. Make it smaller and denser. Make it take up less space.”
It was the opposite of her usual training, which was based on dispersion. Even so, she trusted him and the feeling.
She closed her mental fist around the strand. It tried to expand and return to its gaseous state. It began to glow a deeper purple and contracted, folding over itself again and again. The light intensified as it shrank. The effort was heavy. Her muscles trembled and a grunt escaped her.
“Almost…,” she said through her teeth.
“Keep going,” Izuku urged.
With a final effort, she drew all the energy into a minimal point.
The light went out.
At the tip of her index finger remained a bright drop of purple liquid, the size of a tear. It had an inner glow and reflected the gym’s ceiling lights.
They both looked at it without speaking. Midnight’s Quirk, once an airborne sedative, was condensed. Now it was a contact agent she could apply with precision.
“Villains with gas masks…” Nemuri whispered. “Windy fights… sealed suits…”
“Not a problem anymore,” Izuku finished. “You can apply it directly to exposed skin. Silent and precise.”
Maintaining the compression took a lot. The drop trembled and finally evaporated into a small puff of mist. As soon as it vanished, Nemuri lost strength. She pitched forward and her knees buckled. Izuku, also tired from channeling, caught her and helped her sit on the cold floor.
He withdrew his hands, exhausted, and dropped down beside her. They leaned their backs against a large block of concrete. They stayed quiet for a moment, catching their breath.
“Midoriya-kun…” Nemuri said, her voice hoarse and filled with genuine emotion. She looked at him intently. “It’s one of the best things I’ve experienced since my Quirk awakened.”
They weren’t teacher and student or supervisor and candidate. They were two people who had just seen something new born.
“It was incredible,” he said with a tired but warm smile. “I only supported you. Your control is remarkable. I just gave you a push in the right direction.”
“A push?” she laughed, shaking her head. “You just gave me a whole new arsenal. This changes everything. I’m going to need a drink tonight. Or five.”
A sharp ringtone cut through the gym’s calm.
“PLUS ULTRA! PLUS ULTRA!”
The clip of All Might made Nemuri let out a short, muffled laugh. Izuku pulled out his phone. When he saw the name on the screen, he smiled.
“It’s Yu,” he said before answering. “Hello?”
Yu’s voice sounded cheerful, oblivious to what had just happened.
“Hi!” she greeted. “Am I interrupting? You sounded out of breath.”
Izuku glanced at Nemuri, who was resting with her eyes closed and a small, amused smile.
“Not at all,” he replied. “We just finished a session. What’s up?”
“Just calling to see what you were doing,” Yu went on, with a hint of hesitation. “It’s Saturday and I thought you had the day off. After yesterday… I was wondering if you wanted to do something. Maybe grab lunch? Clear your head.”
The invitation was clear.
“About that,” Izuku said naturally. “I don’t have the day off. I’m at U.A.”
There was a pause. Yu’s tone shifted.
“At U.A.?” she asked. “What are you doing there?”
Nemuri opened one eye, alert.
“Things changed,” Izuku explained. “I met with Principal Nezu this morning. He offered me a trial position.”
The silence stretched. Nemuri sat up, focused.
“A position as what?” Yu’s voice was tight.
“Support instructor,” Izuku continued. “The trial is to train a candidate for the entrance exam and make sure they pass. It’s a useful system to evaluate my abilities in a controlled environment. And Midnight-san, who’s here with me, is my official supervisor during the trial period.”
The line went quiet a moment longer. Izuku waited, unaware of the emotional weight of the announcement.
“I know it’s a lot at once,” he added in a helpful tone. “We can talk in person. Lunch? I’ll explain everything.”
And then he added:
“We can invite Midnight-san since she’s here. We can review possible synergies between your Quirk and hers. It would be productive. We can set up a joint plan.”
Nemuri covered her eyes, holding back a laugh.
Izuku waited.
“Yu? Are you still there?” he asked.
Yu’s voice returned, firm and cold. She said a single word:
“Where.”
Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Terms of Custody
Chapter Text
"So? Have you decided if the concrete in Gym Gamma is superior to any other you've seen?"
Nemuri's teasing voice pulled Izuku from his reverie. He was so focused on his cappuccino, stirring the foam with a small spoon, that he hadn't realized he'd been silent for nearly a minute.
"It's not that simple," he replied, looking up with complete seriousness. "The one in Field Beta is designed to be replaced in sections. It's cheaper, more modular. You can destroy an entire wall and have a new one in under twenty-four hours. It's efficient for large-scale destructive training."
"Fascinating. Truly, I could listen to talk about cement all day," Nemuri said, taking a sip of her own latte. She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes shining with amusement. "But that's not what I was referring to, and you know it."
Izuku blinked. "No?"
"No. I was referring to the research that kept you up until three in the morning. Did you discover anything... revealing?" Her smile widened. "I thought your kind of analysis was limited to subjects with more... curves."
A light blush colored Izuku's face. "Oh, that! It was about weight distribution and tensile strength. Yu's costume isn't just for show; it's a work of engineering. The way the fibers stretch and reinforce at key points to withstand the strain of her gigantification without tearing is..."
Nemuri held up a hand to stop him. "Stop, stop. I take it back. I prefer the talk about concrete." She let out a small laugh. "Izuku-kun, sometimes I wonder if you realize how you sound."
"How I sound?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"You explain things like you're reading from a technical manual, but with a passion that practically shines in your eyes," she replied, her smile becoming a bit more genuine. "But I suppose that's part of your charm."
"I just think it's interesting," Izuku insisted, leaning over the table, the passion returning to his voice. "It's not just the costume. It's U.A.'s facilities! The material in Gym Gamma is an alloy with self-repairing polymers. That means it can withstand impacts from top-tier heroes without suffering permanent structural damage! Can you imagine the training possibilities that opens up? You could test full-power moves without worrying about the repair budget. We could simulate..."
He stopped short. It wasn't because of anything Nemuri said. It was the atmosphere. The constant buzz of conversations and the clinking of cups seemed to fade to near silence. A shadow had fallen over their table, blocking the soft light from the window. The air suddenly felt cold.
He looked up and saw her.
Yu Takeyama was standing beside them.
She wasn't wearing her hero costume. She wore designer skinny jeans and a cream-colored silk blouse that probably cost more than a month of Izuku's food. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and her makeup was subtle yet flawless. At first glance, she looked like a celebrity trying to go unnoticed, but her posture betrayed it all. She stood stiffly, her shoulders back and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The smile on her face was a tight line that didn't reach her eyes.
"Izuku," she said. Her voice was calm, but it had a sharp edge. "Kayama-san."
The way she used his first name wasn't a greeting, but a claim of ownership. The use of Nemuri's formal surname was a clear sign of hostility.
Izuku, oblivious to the tension that was brewing, smiled broadly. "Yu? I'm so glad you made it! Sit, sit. We were just talking about U.A.! It's an amazing place. Did you know the ventilation system in the main cafeteria can recycle the air in under five minutes to eliminate any toxic agents accidentally released during a food fight? Probably!"
"I didn't know you needed a supervisor to have coffee, Izuku," Yu interrupted, not even looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on Nemuri, sizing her up with a calculating, hostile gaze.
Nemuri was unfazed. She raised her cup in a gesture that was almost a toast, her smile as sweet as venom. "Oh, don't worry, Takeyama, dear. I'm just following orders. Principal Nezu insists I familiarize myself with all of young Izuku's... assets. It's a most exhaustive job, I assure you." She paused, giving her next words more weight. "Strictly professional, of course."
A young, acne-faced waiter approached the table, completely unaware of the cold war that had just been declared. "Are you ready to order anything else?"
"An Americano. Black," Yu said, her voice so low and sharp that the waiter flinched. She didn't take her eyes off Nemuri for a second.
Izuku, feeling the overwhelming tension in the air for the first time, tried to smooth things over. "Yu, you should try the cheesecake here. They say it's really good. Nemuri and I were thinking of sharing a slice..."
"I said black," Yu repeated, her voice dropping to a hiss.
The waiter nearly tripped stepping back. "Right away," he mumbled, practically fleeing to the safety of the counter.
Izuku looked from one woman to the other, his brain finally beginning to register the signs of open hostility he had been ignoring. Yu was sitting so straight it looked like she might snap in half. Nemuri, on the other hand, had leaned back in her seat, one leg crossed over the other, projecting an air of total and absolute control. She seemed to be enjoying the show.
The waiter returned, placed Yu's coffee on the table with a trembling hand, and retreated to what he considered a safe distance. Yu waited for him to leave before speaking, her voice now a controlled whisper, but every word was laden with an icy fury.
"So, Izuku. Explain it to me. Slowly." She leaned forward slightly. "How does my personal assistant, the person I hired to help me, with my career, end up taking a job at U.A. and going on trips with... her?"
"It's an amazing opportunity, Yu!" he said, his natural enthusiasm having no effect on her cold demeanor. "Principal Nezu made me an offer I couldn't refuse! I'm going to participate in a long-term test to develop a new training protocol! This could change the way heroes are trained!"
"I'm not asking Principal Nezu," she cut him off, her voice losing some of its control. "I'm asking you. You have an agreement with me, Izuku. A contract. Your primary responsibility is my training. My support. Or does none of that matter anymore because something bigger and shinier came along?"
The accusation, and the pain barely veiled beneath the anger, finally reached Izuku. The smile vanished from his face. "Of course it matters! It matters more than anything! That's why I accepted. Don't you see? Think of everything I can learn at U.A.! The resources, the knowledge, the access to dozens of different Quirks! Everything I learn there, every piece of data I collect, I can use to make you even stronger. It's a win-win situation!"
"What your enthusiastic assistant is trying to say, Yu, sweetheart," Nemuri interjected, stirring her coffee with infuriating slowness, "is that his talent is too great to be dedicated exclusively to a rookie hero who's still trying to figure out how not to trip over her own publicity. It's a natural progression."
Yu let out a laugh. It was a short, bitter sound, completely devoid of joy. "Natural progression? Or is it that you just can't stand the idea of someone else having something good that you don't?" Her gaze, cold and sharp, locked onto Nemuri. "It's always been this way, hasn't it, Nemuri? You always had to be the best, the most popular, the one who hogged all the attention. You've never known how to share the stage."
Nemuri placed her spoon on its saucer with a delicate 'click.' The edges of her smile tightened by a fraction of a millimeter. "Oh, how cute. I thought you were over your second-place complex. It's not my fault Principal Nezu recognizes generational talent when he sees it. Some of us don't need to literally stumble upon genius in a dark alley to recognize its value."
"I didn't stumble upon him!" Yu protested, her control finally starting to crack. Her voice rose, causing a couple at the next table to look over. "The situation was... complex!"
"So complex that you ended up on the cover of every tabloid for going on a date with a teenager. Yes, I vaguely recall," Nemuri replied with venomous sweetness.
As they exchanged verbal shots, Izuku's mind disconnected from the emotional weight of the conversation. He wasn't processing the venom, the history of rivalry, or the jealousy. To him, it was like listening to two executives arguing over the allocation of a valuable resource. His brain, almost by instinct, filtered out the emotion and focused on the raw data.
He pulled his notebook and a pen from his jacket pocket. Yu and Nemuri were too engrossed in their staredown to notice.
Problem, he wrote on a new page. Jurisdictional conflict of interest.
Entity A: Mt. Lady Agency (MLA). Objective: Exclusive optimization of the hero Mt. Lady. Advantages: Direct and constant access, focused testing environment. Disadvantages: Limited resources, repetitive training environment, potential for data stagnation.
Entity B: U.A. Academy (UA). Objective: Evaluation and development of Asset Midoriya for the benefit of the general hero program. Advantages: Nearly limitless resources, access to a wide variety of Quirks for comparative analysis, state-of-the-art facilities. Disadvantages: Time dedicated to Asset Midoriya limited by academic duties. External supervision (Kayama).
Primary Conflict: Logistics, he scribbled on the page, underlining it twice. Time is a finite resource. Transportation between the MLA agency and UA facilities is inefficient. Valuable training time that could be dedicated to MLA is lost. The assignment of Supervisor Kayama adds a layer of bureaucratic and authoritative complexity. How can Asset Midoriya achieve both objectives simultaneously without compromising the efficiency of either?
He looked at the two heroines. The argument had reached a stalemate.
"...and as his officially assigned supervisor from U.A., I will have the final say on his training schedule and the protocols he uses," Nemuri was saying with an air of finality.
"He's my assistant! I pay his salary!" Yu retorted, her voice a low, furious hiss. "My name is on his employment contract!"
"A contract that, I'm sure, has a professional development clause that this more than covers," Nemuri countered.
The solution was so obvious. So simple. So elegantly logical it was almost beautiful. How could they not see it? The answer wasn't division, but consolidation.
It was then that Izuku, having solved the puzzle in his head, slammed his palm on the table. It wasn't a strike of anger or frustration. It was a strike of pure, jubilant epiphany.
"I've got it!"
The sudden sound, amplified in the tense atmosphere, made both women jump in their seats. They fell silent instantly, startled by his outburst, and turned to stare at him in absolute bewilderment.
Izuku looked at them with a bright, beaming smile, the expression of a man who had just discovered the secret of the universe.
"You're looking at the problem the wrong way," he said, his voice vibrating with a contagious enthusiasm that stood in absurd contrast to the hostility of the moment. "The problem isn't who I belong to or who I spend my time with. The problem is logistics! The distance! The separation of resources!"
He pointed to his open notebook. "I need to be at U.A. for my test and to learn from the other students, but I also need to keep training you, Yu, with access to the best possible facilities. It's inefficient to have to choose! The travel time is a loss for both programs!"
His gaze shifted from one to the other, his excitement growing with every word.
"But! What if we eliminate the need to choose? What if we combine the objectives? What if the subject of my long-term training and my testing duties were... in the same place?"
His eyes landed on Yu, shining with what he considered the most brilliant idea in the history of mankind.
"Yu... you should become a teacher at U.A.!"
The silence that followed was of a completely different quality. It wasn't tense. It was a silence of pure, absolute, and abysmal stupefaction.
Yu's jaw visibly dropped. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to form words. Her brain tried, and failed spectacularly, to process the sequence of words she had just heard. She went through at least five different stages of disbelief in less than three seconds.
Finally, she found her voice. Or, at least, a strangled, high-pitched version of it.
"WHAT?!"
"Think about it! It's perfect!" Izuku continued, completely oblivious to the fracture in reality he had just caused. He half-rose from his seat, gesturing with his hands. "You could be hired as an assistant teacher or a special guest in the practical combat department. I could officially be your teaching assistant! We could train together at U.A.'s facilities after classes! We could collaborate on training the student I choose for my test, using your field experience and my analysis! We would optimize our schedules, have access to elite resources, and I could fulfill my obligations to both parties simultaneously! It eliminates all inefficiencies! It's the perfect solution!"
Yu stared at him, her face a mask of pale horror. "Izuku..." she began, her voice a trembling whisper. "Have you hit your head? Have you gone completely insane?" Her voice began to rise in volume and speed with every word. "A TEACHER?! ME?! I'm barely a full-fledged professional hero! My debut was a nationally televised disaster they still use as an example of what not to do! Right now there's a tabloid article about me dating a minor—YOU—circulating all over the country! I have no teaching experience! No pedagogical credentials! The Public Safety Commission would laugh in my face! It's the most absurd, insane, irrational, and absolutely stupid idea I have ever heard in my entire life!"
Nemuri, who had been watching all this with near-total paralysis, suddenly let out a choked sound. A snort she tried to suppress, but it escaped anyway.
And then, it happened.
A deep, genuine, and absolutely hysterical laugh erupted from her. She threw herself back in her seat, laughing so hard that people at nearby tables turned to look, some in alarm, others in curiosity. She covered her mouth with her hand, but it was useless. The laughter shook her whole body. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she surrendered to the pure, glorious madness of the situation.
"Oh, my God..." she managed to get out between gasps, wiping a tear with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry... really... it's just... a teacher! Oh, this kid is a national treasure!"
It took her a full minute to calm down, a minute during which Yu looked to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Izuku watched her in total confusion. When she finally did, she took a deep breath and looked at Yu. Nemuri's eyes shone with a renewed malice and amusement, and with the spark of a new, terrible idea that had just been born.
"You know, Takeyama..." she said, her voice still trembling with suppressed laughter. "Now that I think about it... it's not actually the worst idea I've ever heard."
Yu's head snapped toward her. "Excuse me? Have you gone insane too?"
"No, no, hear me out," Nemuri continued, leaning forward, her face taking on a conspiratorial expression. "Not as a combat teacher. You're right, that's ridiculous. But think about it another way. You have firsthand experience with the dangers of a failed debut. With pressure from the media. With scandals." Her smile turned sharp. "You could teach a special class. A seminar for third-years. Something like... 'Public Image Management Post-Scandal' or 'Damage Control for Emerging Professionals.' You would be, without a doubt, the country's foremost expert on the subject."
Izuku nodded with feverish enthusiasm, missing the venom in Nemuri's words. "Exactly! Practical experience! It's the best kind of teaching! You could use your own debut as a case study. Analyze the mistakes, propose alternative strategies! It would be incredibly valuable for the students!"
Yu looked from the earnest, enthusiastic face of her assistant to the malicious smile of her lifelong rival. The battle she had come to fight, the struggle for custody of her only advantage in the competitive world of heroes, had been lost. Worse. It had been hijacked, twisted, and transformed into a completely different war, one she could never have imagined in her wildest, most feverish dreams.
She was trapped. Completely trapped between the crushing, insane logic of Izuku and Nemuri's insatiable appetite for chaos. She had come here to reassert her control, to put Nemuri in her place, and to remind Izuku where his loyalty lay. Instead, she had completely lost control, not just of her assistant, but of the entire trajectory of her professional life.
I've lost, she thought, a void opening inside her as she looked at the two expectant faces. I don't even know what battle I was fighting, but I've lost it completely.
Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Cold War in the Cafeteria
Chapter Text
Izuku's smile was so bright and sincere that, for a moment, he almost managed to convince everyone of his logic. For a split second, his proposal that Yu Takeyama—a rookie hero, the subject of a national scandal, and currently the most stressed woman in Japan—should become a teacher at U.A. almost sounded like a reasonable idea.
It was a very, very short split second.
It shattered the moment Yu's jaw, which had gone slack with sheer disbelief, snapped back into place with an audible "click". Her brain, which had short-circuited, rebooted with a single objective: process and annihilate the most insane idea she had ever had the misfortune of hearing.
She leaned across the table, her voice a whisper so low and full of controlled fury it was more intimidating than any shout.
"Izuku," she began, pronouncing his name slowly, each syllable loaded with disbelief. "I'm going to ask you to repeat what you just said. Because there must be a mistake. I must have had an auditory hallucination brought on by stress. There is no other logical explanation."
Izuku, oblivious to the danger, nodded enthusiastically, delighted to explain his genius idea again. "Of course! I said you should become a teacher at U.A. It would solve all our logistical problems!"
"There it is again," Yu muttered, closing her eyes for an instant as if feeling a sharp pain. "It wasn't a hallucination."
Nemuri, who had been observing the scene with poorly concealed amusement, decided the silence had gone on long enough.
"Personally, I think it's an idea with tremendous potential," she said, taking a sip of her latte with infuriating calm. "It has a certain… anarchic charm. I like it."
Yu's head turned toward her with nightmarish slowness. "You… think… it's a good idea?"
"I didn't say good," Nemuri corrected with a sweet smile. "I said it has potential. Those are two very different things. A good idea is predictable. An idea with potential… that's what makes life interesting."
Yu felt a vein in her temple begin to throb. She was being flanked. She was caught in a pincer movement of madness.
"Alright," she said, taking a deep breath, trying to cling to logic, to reason, to the known laws of the universe. "Let's analyze this. Point by point. Izuku, look at me."
He looked at her, his expression open and expectant.
"I'm a rookie hero," she said, speaking slowly, as if to a small child or a foreigner. "My professional career is, literally, less than two weeks old. What, exactly, am I supposed to teach? 'How to Survive Your Humiliating Debut 101'?"
"Exactly!" Izuku exclaimed, as if she had just grasped the main point. "Practical experience! It's much more valuable than textbook theory! The students could learn from your mistakes and your successes. You could show them your combat analyses. It would be a lesson on the importance of self-assessment and continuous improvement!"
"It would be a lesson on how my unlicensed assistant had to adjust my costume in public because my debut was a disaster!" she retorted, her voice rising slightly.
Nemuri chimed in again, her tone like that of a patient counselor. "But that's precisely what makes you so… relatable, Yu, dear. You aren't an unattainable legend. You're real. The students would identify with you. They'd see that even pros make mistakes and that the important thing is how you get back up. It's inspiring."
"It's not inspiring, it's embarrassing," Yu hissed. "Next point. The scandal. Remember the scandal? The one that's in all the tabloids? The one that has me on the verge of losing my sponsors? The headline is, and I quote, 'MT. LADY'S SECRET DATE WITH A TEENAGER'. That teenager," she said, pointing a trembling finger at Izuku, "is you. How, in the name of all that is holy, am I supposed to be a teacher in a school full of teenagers when the press is accusing me of dating one?"
"But we aren't dating yet," Izuku said with simple, crushing logic. "It was a work dinner that was misinterpreted. Once it's cleared up, there won't be a problem."
"The problem isn't the truth, Izuku! It's the perception!" Yu exclaimed, feeling like she was losing her mind. "The perception is that I'm a predator!"
"I wouldn't say predator," Nemuri said thoughtfully, tapping a finger to her lips. "The press used terms more like 'cradle robber' or 'teen heartbreaker'. They're a bit more… playful."
Yu shot her a look of pure hatred.
"Besides," Nemuri continued, ignoring the murderous glare, "that gives you another subject to teach. And a very important one. I've thought about it myself. At U.A., we teach combat, rescue, law… but we barely scratch the surface of the most dangerous subject of all: media management. You, Yu, have just completed an intensive, hands-on course. You could teach a seminar. 'Crisis Management and Damage Control in the Digital Age'. Nezu would pay a fortune for a course like that. You're an expert."
"I'm not an expert, I'm the victim!" Yu protested, her voice now a high-pitched squeak that made the family at the next table glance over curiously.
"The best lessons are the ones that hurt," Nemuri said with mock solemnity. "You're more than qualified."
Izuku nodded eagerly. "She's right! Your experience is an asset! It shows resilience! That's a fundamental heroic quality!"
Yu sank into her seat, feeling overwhelmed by their absurd logic. She was arguing with two people who didn't operate in her same reality. They were immune to reason, to shame, to common sense.
"I have no teaching experience," she tried one last time, her voice now tired, defeated. "I don't know how to make a curriculum. I don't know how to grade. I don't know how to handle a classroom full of kids with explosive Quirks."
"I can help you with the curriculum," Izuku offered instantly. "I've analyzed hundreds of hero biographies and their training regimens. I can design a complete program based on historical case studies."
"And I can give you some tips on classroom management," Nemuri added with a malicious grin. "My primary method involves the strategic use of fear and public humiliation. It's very effective for maintaining discipline."
Yu rested her forehead on the cool surface of the table. She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. The battle wasn't just lost; the enemy had taken her capital, paraded through her streets, and was now redesigning her system of government with cheerful and completely demented suggestions.
She realized she couldn't win. Arguing with them was pointless; every logical objection she raised, they twisted and handed back to her as an argument in their favor.
She fell silent. She stopped arguing. She sat up slowly, picked up her cup of black coffee, which had gone cold, and took a sip. The taste was bitter.
The change in her demeanor was stark. The combative energy that had filled their corner of the restaurant dissipated, replaced by a tense, resigned stillness.
Nemuri, seeing the argument was over, stopped prodding. The fun was over. All that was left was a young, visibly overwhelmed hero.
Izuku was the first to notice the change on a deeper level. He saw the way her shoulders had slumped, the light in her eyes had dimmed. Her anger had been a shield. Now, without it, she just looked… tired.
"Yu…" he said, his voice soft, devoid of plans and logic. "Are you okay?"
She looked up from her cup, her gaze empty. "I'm fantastic, Izuku. My life has just been planned out by my teenage assistant and my lifelong nemesis in a family restaurant. It's a dream come true."
The sarcasm was so thick you could almost touch it, but underneath it lay a vulnerability so raw it made even Nemuri a little uncomfortable.
"Well, it's just an idea," Nemuri said, waving a hand with a casualness that sounded a bit forced. "Something to think about. It's not like Nezu is going to hire you tomorrow. The U.A. bureaucracy is a nightmare."
It was an attempt at a truce, a small tactical retreat. But the damage was already done.
The rest of the meal passed in near total silence. Izuku and Nemuri tried to make conversation about U.A.'s security protocols, but their words seemed to float and die in the oppressive atmosphere emanating from Yu. The food arrived, and they ate. Izuku's hamburger, which he normally would have devoured with joy, lost all its flavor. Yu picked at the edge of a piece of toast the waiter had brought by mistake and drank her coffee like it was medicine.
When it was time to pay, a new, clumsy power struggle unfolded. Yu took out her credit card with a swift motion. Nemuri took out hers. Izuku, seeing it was a losing battle, simply put his wallet away.
"I'm paying," Yu said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Don't be ridiculous, I ate too," Nemuri replied.
"Consider it a professional consultation," Yu said. "I've just received a massive amount of… unsolicited career advice. It's the least I can do."
In the end, they split the bill, an uneasy truce that satisfied no one.
They left the restaurant and stood on the bustling sidewalk. The afternoon sun was setting, and the air was beginning to cool. For a moment, the three of them just stood there, unsure of what to say or do next.
Nemuri was the first to break the spell. She stretched languidly and smiled, her mask of amusement perfectly back in place.
"Well, this has been immensely productive," she declared, with an irony that only Yu fully understood. "I have to go prepare my lessons for the week. You know, teacher stuff."
She winked at Yu, one last biting remark.
"Talk later, colleagues," she said, before turning and disappearing into the crowd with agile steps.
Izuku and Yu were left alone on the sidewalk. The city noise seemed to rush in to fill the void Nemuri had left. Izuku stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at Yu, who avoided his gaze, watching the traffic go by.
"So…" he began, his voice a little hesitant. "Will you think about it? The idea of…?"
Yu turned to look at him. Her expression was unreadable. There was no anger, no sadness. Just an infinite exhaustion.
"I'm going home, Izuku," she said, her voice flat. "I need… to think."
Without another word, she turned and started walking toward her apartment, leaving Izuku alone on the sidewalk.
He watched her until her figure was lost from view. He stood there a while longer, processing the disastrous meeting. It hadn't gone as he'd expected. But, despite everything, his strange logic allowed him to hold on to a sliver of hope.
"She didn't say no," he thought to himself, a small hint of his optimistic smile returning to his face.
"That's progress."
Chapter 16: Chapter 16: The Terms of Madness
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The door closed with a sharp click that echoed throughout the apartment. Izuku stood motionless, feeling the sound sever the last tie to the outside world.
Yu threw her keys onto the kitchen counter. The metallic clatter was sharp, a burst of violence in the tense silence. She didn't even take off her jacket.
"Do you want me to make some dinner?" Izuku asked, his voice sounding strange, too formal. It was a stupid question, a peace offering he knew would be rejected.
"I'm not hungry," she replied without looking at him. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion other than a cold, sharp disdain.
She started pacing. From the kitchen counter to the large window overlooking the city and back again. The movement was short, repetitive, like a cornered animal searching for a nonexistent escape.
Izuku swallowed. The silence was worse than shouting. He decided he had to try, to use the only tool he truly understood.
"Yu, I know you're upset," he began, choosing his words carefully. "From a purely strategic point of view, my proposal maximizes the potential for long-term growth for both of us. If you could just see the cost-benefit analysis…"
"Shut up, Izuku."
The command was so sharp his words died in his throat. She didn't stop, didn't look at him. She just kept pacing, her shoulders rigid and her jaw tight.
He waited a moment, his brain working at full speed, trying to find a new angle. Maybe she didn't understand the benefits. He had to explain it better.
"But the resources," he insisted, taking a tentative step toward the living room. "Think about the access we'd have. U.A.'s gyms, their combat simulators, the analytical data they have on every registered Quirk… We could accelerate your training. We could…"
It was as if he had stepped on a landmine.
She stopped dead, halfway to the window, and turned to face him. The mask of cold indifference she had worn since the café had shattered. What lay beneath was a fury so pure, so raw, that it made him step back instinctively.
"Don't you dare," she hissed, her voice a low, poisonous whisper that made the hair on his neck stand up. "Don't you dare talk to me about resources and damn percentages right now. Not after what you did."
"I didn't do anything wrong," he defended himself, his own frustration starting to bubble up. "Why can't you see it? This is an incredible opportunity!"
"An opportunity for who, Izuku?" she shot back, taking a step toward him. The distance between them was shrinking dangerously. "For you? Or for 'us'? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were offered the job of a lifetime and decided I was just luggage you could check along with you."
"That's not true! The plan includes you!"
"Really?" A bitter, joyless laugh escaped her. "Did you ask me? Did you have the decency to mention the idea to me before presenting it as a done deal in front of Nemuri? Or did you just assume I'd be thrilled to become your pet project at U.A.?"
The blow hit its mark. He hadn't thought to ask her. The solution had occurred to him, and he had executed it. It's what he always did.
"I was just trying to fix things," he mumbled.
"Fix my life without asking me?" her voice rose, thick with a painful betrayal. "I pulled you off the street, remember? You were about to get fired for losing three dogs and for… for harassing a hero on her debut. You were a disaster! I gave you a job when no one else would have. I gave you a purpose. I trusted you!"
Her eyes were shining, and it wasn't just from anger.
"I told you things I haven't told anyone," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "About how hard it was at U.A., about having to put up with Mirko, about my stupid creams to stay young and my fears of not being good enough. I let you into my life, Izuku. Into my stupid, chaotic life. And what do you do? You go and sell all our secrets, all our plans, to the first person who smiles at you."
"I didn't sell anything!" he protested, feeling the injustice of the accusation. "Principal Nezu offered me an opportunity! And Nemuri is my supervisor! It was all professional!"
"There is nothing professional about her!" Yu burst out. "Professional. Nemuri hasn't been 'professional' with me a single day in her life. Her entire existence has been about getting in my way and taking what's mine! And now… now she has you."
"Nobody has me!" he insisted, desperate to make her understand. "I'm your assistant! And now I'm also an instructor candidate! I can do both!"
"For how long, Izuku?" she cut him off, and suddenly, all the force vanished from her voice. The anger crumbled, and underneath, exposed and trembling, was the true root of it all: a vulnerability so deep it left him breathless.
The tears she had been holding back with so much fury finally began to fall, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.
"You just… you don't get it…" she said, looking away, hugging herself as if the room had suddenly gone ice-cold. "Ever since my debut, everything has been a disaster. The press tears me apart, critics say I'm just a pretty face with a one-trick Quirk. Every time I turn on the TV, there's some expert analyzing why my last rescue was 'clumsy' or 'careless.' I feel like I'm drowning, Izuku. Every single day."
She paused, struggling to maintain her composure.
"And then you showed up. With your stupid notebooks and your perverted Quirk and your incredible, irritating habit of analyzing everything. And for the first time… for the first time, something worked. Something in my life went right."
She looked up, meeting his eyes again. The desperation in them was like a physical blow.
"You're my only advantage," she confessed, her voice broken. "You're my secret weapon. You're the only thing that's made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I have a chance in this world. That I'm not destined to be a footnote in the history of heroes."
The confession hung in the air, fragile and terrible.
"And now… now that U.A. has seen you, that Nezu knows what you can do, that she's seen your potential… how long do you think it will be before they realize you don't need me at all? They'll give you the best students. Kids with incredible Quirks, stronger than mine, more versatile, more interesting. They'll give you resources I could never dream of offering, a lab, a real salary… And I'll… I'll go back to being just Mt. Lady, the clumsy rookie who got lucky for a couple of months."
A sob escaped her, a choked, painful sound.
"You're going to leave me behind, Izuku. You'll find someone better and you're going to replace me. And I'll… I'll be alone again."
In that instant, the entire logical structure in Izuku's mind came crashing down.
He finally understood.
It wasn't about logistics. It wasn't about schedules or resources. It wasn't about a career opportunity.
It was about fear.
Her fear of being abandoned. Her terror of being found insufficient once again. It was about him, the only solid piece in the chaotic puzzle of her career, slipping through her fingers. And he, in his stupid, enthusiastic quest for a "perfect solution," had been the one pushing her off the cliff.
The guilt hit him with brutal force. He felt like an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. How could he have been so blind?
He took a step toward her, closing the distance his anger had created. She flinched back out of instinct, an invisible barrier still between them, but he took another step, slow and deliberate, until he was right in front of her, close enough to see the tremble of her lips.
"You're right," he said. His voice was so soft she almost didn't hear it.
Yu looked at him, confused, tears still streaming down her face. She had expected him to argue, to defend his logic, to tell her she was being irrational. She hadn't expected a surrender.
"I wasn't thinking," he continued, the sincerity in his voice absolute, devoid of any excuses. "I was so excited about the idea, about the possibility… about the feeling that I could finally do something important… that I didn't think. I didn't think about how it would make you feel. I didn't think that it would look like I was abandoning you. I didn't think about you. And that was wrong. I'm so sorry, Yu."
He raised a hand, slowly, with a hesitation she had never seen from him. With a delicacy that contradicted the intensity of his mind, he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. His touch was incredibly gentle, almost reverent.
"I would never leave you behind," he said, his green eyes locked on hers. "You're the starting point for all of this. You're the reason."
His voice filled with the same feverish passion he had shown in Nezu's office, but this time, it wasn't directed at a principal or a famous hero. It was just for her.
"The U.A. idea… the only reason it's a good idea, the only reason it would work… is because it's for us. I don't want a job at U.A. and to leave you here. I want us to be at U.A. I want to have access to their weight rooms so I can design a strength regimen that supports your gigantification without fatigue. I want to use their simulators to test you against threats we can't replicate in the city. I want to steal their secrets, their teaching methods, their combat analyses… for you."
He looked at her, his expression reflecting his desperation to make her understand.
"We're a team, Yu. You and me. It's always been that way, since that alley. The plan wasn't to leave you. The plan was to bring you to the top with me."
The intensity of his words, the absolute, clumsy sincerity of his motivation, completely disarmed her. The anger, the fear, the insecurity that had been consuming her… it all began to dissolve under the warmth of his declaration. She had completely misunderstood his intention. It wasn't the selfish ambition of a budding genius.
A sob escaped her, but this time it wasn't from sadness. It was from a relief so pure and overwhelming that her knees buckled. She covered her face with her hands, too embarrassed for him to see her fall apart completely.
She felt his arms wrap around her. It wasn't a smooth or expert hug, but a clumsy attempt to hold her up, to keep her from falling.
After a long moment, which could have been seconds or minutes, she pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt completely drained, empty, but also… lighter. The pressure in her chest was gone.
"It's still the craziest, stupidest, most completely insane idea I've ever heard in my life," she said, her voice still shaky, but the venom was gone. In its place was an undertone of exhausted amazement.
He managed a small, relieved smile. "I know."
"And just so we're clear, I'm not going to be a teacher at U.A.," she added, with a firmness that sounded more like herself. "I don't have the patience."
"Understood," he replied without hesitation.
They stood in silence for a moment, a new kind of silence. It wasn't tense or oppressive. It was a space to breathe, an understanding settling between them. The crisis had passed. Their strange, dysfunctional partnership, which had been on the verge of breaking, now felt more solid than ever.
"But…" she said, and he looked at her, expectant, ready for any condition. "If you're going to do this crazy thing… if you're really going to try this suicidal plan at U.A…." She paused, making a decision that would change everything. "You're not doing it alone."
Izuku's smile widened, genuine and bright. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Good. Because we're going to set some ground rules," she continued, her tone shifting to that of a business partner laying out the terms of a crucial contract. She sat on the couch, motioning to the coffee table for him to do the same. "Rule number one: no more surprises. Ever. If you come up with a life-altering plan, I'm the first person you tell, not the last."
"Okay," he nodded, with absolute seriousness.
"Rule number two: Full disclosure. You will tell me everything," her gaze was intense. "Every meeting with Nezu. Every student you consider for your stupid class. Every conversation you have with Nemuri, especially with her. I don't want summaries. I want the details. We're a team, right? Then we'll act like one."
"A team," he confirmed, his voice firm.
"And rule number three," she said, leaning forward. "If she tries anything, anything at all, to pull you away from my agency or to turn you against me… you tell me immediately. Don't try to 'handle it' yourself. Don't try to 'fix it' with logic. You come and you tell me."
She leaned back on the couch, and the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to her. She was exhausted, as if she had run an emotional marathon. She closed her eyes.
"Don't leave me out of this again, Izuku," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
He got up and went to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and offered it to her. A simple, mundane gesture. She took it, her fingers brushing against his.
Izuku sat down again at the coffee table, right across from her, his expression soft and serious. There was no trace of the clueless boy from an hour ago. He had learned his lesson the hard way.
"I won't," he promised, his voice quiet and steady, a certainty in the chaos of her life.
And for the first time since she had walked out of that café, Yu believed him without a single shred of doubt.
Notes:
Author's Note: This is the only emotional drama chapter I'll be doing. I honestly hate drama and that kind of stuff, but I felt it was necessary this time. From now on, I'm not touching drama; I prefer comedy.
Chapter 17: Chapter 17: One week later
Chapter Text
"I can't believe this."
Yu Takeyama's voice, muffled by the rim of her coffee mug, cut through the Sunday morning silence. She was sunk into a corner of the sofa, with a pile of papers on the coffee table.
"I swear, being a pro hero is more about filling out reports on dented streetlights than actually being a hero."
Across the room, at the small kitchen table, Izuku looked up from his bowl of cereal. His brow was slightly furrowed, his spoon halfway to his mouth.
"You're approaching the problem inefficiently."
Yu shot him a look over her mug. "Excuse me?"
"The paperwork," he said, setting down his spoon. He leaned forward, with a sudden intensity that clashed with the morning's calm. "If you grouped the reports by damage type instead of by date, you could create templates. One for public property damage, another for collateral damage insurance claims, another for civilian injury reports…"
"Izuku," she interrupted, her tone half warning, half amusement. "It's Sunday morning. My brain refuses to process the word 'template' before noon."
"But it would save you a lot of administrative work time," he insisted, completely serious. "We could even develop a system of simple macros to autofill the recurring fields. Hero name, license number, agency…"
A small, genuine, and tired smile formed on Yu's lips. "Thanks for the unsolicited advice, brainiac. I'll add it to the list of things I'll probably never do."
"But it's inefficient," he muttered, returning to his bowl, though his gaze remained fixed on the pile of papers, analyzing it.
"It's my way of rebelling against the system," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee.
The silence that followed was comfortable. There was a strange normality in the air, a calm that had settled after the storm of the previous week. He was still her assistant, weird and socially awkward. The only constant in the madness that was her life.
She was about to make another sarcastic comment about efficiency when the peace of her morning was brutally interrupted.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
A thunderous, fast, and insistent rhythm echoed from the front door. The pounding made the mugs vibrate and Yu's coffee spill onto her hand.
"Ow! What the hell…?"
Izuku was already on his feet. "Are you expecting someone?"
"No one who tries to knock the door down!" she hissed, heading cautiously to the entrance.
She looked through the peephole and a groan of pure annoyance escaped her. She opened the door just a crack, enough to peek her head out.
"What do you want, Mirko? It's ten in the morning on a Sunday."
On the other side, Rumi was smiling with overflowing energy. She wore a black sports top and gray compression leggings that fit her muscles perfectly. She didn't wait for an invitation. She pushed the door open with the palm of her hand, forcing it wide and making Yu stumble backward.
"Good morning, lovebirds!" she announced, her voice echoing into every corner of the apartment. "I could smell good coffee from the hallway. I need fuel! You wouldn't think of leaving your favorite training partner dehydrated, would you, Yu?"
Completely ignoring her host's indignant expression, Mirko strode into the apartment, her eyes quickly scanning the place. Her gaze landed on Izuku, who was watching her from the kitchen, still on guard.
"Squirt!" she greeted him with a cheerful nod. "You look less pathetic when I'm not using you as a punching bag. Almost."
She headed straight for the kitchen, walked past Izuku, opened Yu's fridge without a hint of hesitation, and pulled out a bottle of cold water. She took a big gulp, leaned against the counter, and looked at them both with a chaotic energy that had already completely shattered the morning's peace.
"So," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I ran into Nemuri at the gym this morning. She was acting weird."
Yu rolled her eyes as she closed the door. "Define 'weird.' For Nemuri, that's a very broad spectrum."
"She was... glowing," Mirko continued, ignoring her. Her gaze locked onto Izuku. "She wouldn't stop talking about 'Quirk condensation' and 'qualitative potential.' She sounded just like you when you go into nerd mode. So, spill it. What did you do to her?"
Izuku, who had been watching the invasion with a mixture of surprise, lit up at the question. He left his half eaten cereal on the table, excited to share his discoveries.
"It was an incredible success!" he said, approaching them, his social nervousness forgotten at the chance to talk about his research. "Midnight-san's Quirk is fascinating. Her theory that my power could influence her Quirk's manifestation, and not just her physical attributes, was correct."
Mirko leaned forward, her interest now genuine and sharp. "Yeah, yeah, science. Get to the point. What exactly did you do?"
"It wasn't just about making her stronger or faster," Izuku explained, his hands moving as he spoke, gesturing to shape his ideas. "It was different. Midnight-san's power usually manifests as a gas. It expands, fills an area, but its precise control is limited."
He paused, searching for the right words. "What we achieved was changing its state. We condensed that gas into a liquid. It's still her Quirk, with the same potency, but in a much more concentrated and controllable form."
"The same substance, the same power, but in a completely different form," Izuku continued, his enthusiasm growing with every word. "She was able to create a thread of her gas and move it at will with total precision! And then she condensed it into a liquid! She could administer it with a dart or a capsule! The tactical implications are enormous!"
Mirko's mind, always focused on combat, processed the information instantly. Her eyes widened, her playful smirk disappearing to be replaced by an expression of intense concentration.
"Incredible," she whispered. "You mean you can not only increase the power of someone's Quirk, but you can change how it works?"
"That's an excellent way to put it!" Izuku exclaimed, delighted that she understood so quickly. "Yes, exactly! It's not about quantity, but quality."
Mirko stared at him, her red eyes gleaming with a wild possibility. She pushed herself off the counter and took a step toward him, her presence filling the kitchen, closing the space between them.
"Do it to me," she said, her voice a low, eager whisper.
Yu snorted from the living room. "Didn't you have enough with nearly demolishing a training building last time?"
"That was speed," Mirko replied, not taking her eyes off Izuku. She turned slightly toward him, her body already adopting an instinctive combat stance. "Can you make my kicks hit harder? Not faster, but with more… force. Can you change the type of impact? Instead of piercing, make it… crushing. So it smashes instead of going through."
The question made Izuku's brain race. It was a brilliant hypothesis, a direct and brutal application of what he had learned with Nemuri.
"That is… an excellent theory," he murmured, his eyes unfocusing for a second as equations and possibilities ran through his mind. "It's consistent with Nemuri's experiment. If we can change the state from gaseous to liquid, we should be able to alter the inherent properties of the impact… the kinetic energy transfer could be reconfigured from a high, focused pressure point to a wider area of effect with superior concussive force…"
As his mind plunged into the labyrinth of theoretical Quirk physics, his eyes, almost by instinct, drifted. They left Mirko and landed on Yu, who had sat back down on the sofa and was watching them with her arms crossed and a look of profound exhaustion.
But Izuku's gaze was different this time. It was the look Yu had come to fear and hate in recent weeks: that of a scientist who had just found the perfect specimen for his new and insane experiment.
And that look, intense, focused, and completely devoid of social awareness, was fixed, unblinking, on a very specific part of her anatomy.
Her butt.
The intensity of his stare made Yu feel an uncomfortable heat spread across her skin, rising from the back of her neck to her cheeks. She shifted on the sofa, pulling down the hem of her loose shirt.
"Izuku…" she said, her voice a clear warning.
He didn't hear her. He was completely lost in his thoughts, his head tilted slightly.
"What do you think you're looking at?" she asked.
Mirko, curious about the boy's sudden silence, followed his line of sight. A slow, malicious, and absolutely devilish smile spread across her face. She leaned against the kitchen doorway, crossing her arms, clearly ready to enjoy the impending disaster.
"Careful, squirt, your eyes are gonna dry out from staring," Mirko said, her voice dripping with amusement. "What's so damn interesting? Did you discover the secret of the universe on Yu's couch?"
Mirko's question finally snapped Izuku out of his trance. He blinked a couple of times and looked at the two women. His expression showed no embarrassment for being caught, but rather the concentration of someone who had just had a scientific breakthrough and was ready to present his findings.
"I'm reevaluating my initial data," he said, with absolute seriousness, as if he were at a science conference.
Yu groaned and covered her face with one hand. "Oh, no…"
"My first experiment with you, Yu," he continued, completely oblivious to her suffering and gesturing vaguely in her direction. "Was an increase in 'mass and firmness.' It was a… quantitative result. I simply increased the properties that already existed. It was a success, but a simple success."
He gestured toward the door, as if Nemuri were still there.
"But the experiment with Midnight-san was qualitative. We changed the fundamental property of her Quirk."
His gaze, now filled with a new and terrible scientific curiosity, returned shamelessly to Yu's butt. He pointed casually with his chin.
"I wonder what properties I could change there. The first touch was an accident. The intent was unfocused, the energy flow was a raw pulse. But now that I understand the mechanism better? Could I make it more… elastic? You could absorb the kinetic energy from an impact and return it. It would serve to propel you in jumps or to return an enemy's blow."
Yu's face turned completely red. "Izuku, stop…"
He ignored her, lost in his own brainstorm. "Or could I make it denser? To give you such a low and stable center of gravity that not even All Might could move you. You'd be immovable! Or maybe I could alter the surface texture on a microscopic level to increase friction. You could stick to walls! The possibilities are…"
"STOP TALKING ABOUT MY BUTT LIKE IT'S A MIDDLE SCHOOL SCIENCE PROJECT!" Yu yelled, her voice echoing with a mixture of fury and pure humiliation.
Izuku sighed, a sound of genuine professional frustration, as if she didn't understand the importance of his research. He completely ignored her outburst, lost in the methodological problems of his initial experiment.
"The problem," he said, more to himself than to them, raising a hand to his chin. "Is that my first contact was an accident. The only clear note I have from that time, before I could understand the qualitative transfer mechanism, is that it was…"
He paused, searching his vast mental database for the most accurate description.
"…too comfortable."
He stopped, frowning, visibly annoyed by this flaw in his own procedure.
"The comfort level was so unexpectedly high that it interfered with the collection of objective sensory data. The tactile feedback was overwhelming. It was a fundamental confounding variable in the experiment."
The statement, so serious, so clinical, and so utterly ridiculous, hung in the uncomfortable silence.
Yu's mouth fell open, the words of protest dying on her lips. Had he just described her butt as a "confounding variable"? Was being "too comfortable" a design flaw? A scientific problem that had contaminated his precious data?
Mirko, on the other hand, doubled over, choking with laughter. The sound that came out of her was a howl, a scream of pure, unadulterated joy that made the windowpanes vibrate. She slid down the wall to the floor, clutching her stomach, completely incapacitated, her muscular body shaking with spasms of hilarity.
"I can't… I can't breathe!" she gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks, pounding the floor with her fist. "'Too… comfortable'! Oh my god! I'm going to die right here!"
It took her a full minute to regain some semblance of control, though small hiccups of laughter still escaped her, shaking her body. She got to her feet with difficulty, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and looked at Izuku, who was watching her with a slightly confused expression, not understanding what part of his methodological analysis was so funny.
"You know, squirt…" Mirko said, her voice still trembling with laughter. "You're absolutely right. A true scientist cannot, under any circumstances, base his conclusions on incomplete and contaminated data."
She turned and looked at Yu, who was still sitting on the couch in a state of catatonic shock, alternating between wanting to strangle Izuku and wanting to disappear from the face of the earth.
"You see it, don't you, Yu?" Mirko continued, her tone now filled with a terrible, twisted logic. "This is bigger than you. You need a new test. He has to do it again, but this time, with clear intent and taking proper, detailed notes. For the sake of progress!"
She approached Izuku, her face lit up with the energy of her idea, amusement replaced by a manic enthusiasm.
"I have a plan!" she announced, snapping her fingers. "Let's go back to the Dome! Right now! I urgently need to test my new crushing impact theory, and you," she said, turning and pointing at Yu with a thumb over her shoulder, "desperately need the kid to touch your butt. We can't let scientific malpractice stand in the way of a discovery of this magnitude!"
Yu looked in horror at the two people in her apartment. The hyperactive battle rabbit and the mad scientist with anatomical fixations. They were standing there, together, side by side, planning a new and humiliating training session to "collect data" on her butt with terrifying enthusiasm.
"No," Yu said, her voice barely a whisper. "Absolutely not."
Mirko didn't even look at her. "Come on, squirt, grab your notebook! We have to document this properly! We could be writing history!"
She grabbed Izuku by the arm, who, already lost in the possibilities, didn't even resist.
"I'm not going anywhere," Yu insisted, getting up from the sofa. "This is my apartment, and it's my… my…"
Yu Takeyama's quiet Sunday morning had just been kidnapped and taken to an insane laboratory run by a crazy rabbit. There was no escape. There was no refuge. Her life had been taken over by the strangest and most embarrassing science in the world.
Chapter 18: Chapter 18: A Small Disaster
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Ready for a little science, squirt?" Mirko's voice echoed in the deserted plaza, charged with an energy that seemed to make the air vibrate. "I need a boost. A good one. I wanna see if I can break the sound barrier in a hundred-meter dash."
Yu Takeyama crossed her arms, her expression a perfect mix of disbelief and exhaustion. "Excuse me? Did you just ask a minor to give you a 'boost' like you're in some dark alley?"
"Oh, come on, Takeyama! Don't be so uptight," Mirko retorted, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "You know what I mean."
"Let me see if I understand," Yu said, ignoring the rabbit hero's enthusiasm and turning her gaze to Izuku, who was caught between the two. "You and I drafted an agreement. We wrote it on the back of a napkin from a ramen stand—a legally questionable document at best—which clearly specifies that today's research would focus on 'thermal conductivity' and 'hard impact'."
Izuku nodded, his face the very picture of professional seriousness. "The terms were unequivocal. Item 3.a: Analysis of heat dissipation in a gigantified state. Item 3.b: Measurement of impact force in a controlled fall."
"Exactly. Unequivocal terms," Yu continued, shooting a death glare at Mirko. "And yet, the first thing you do when you get here isn't to prepare for a scientific analysis, but to demand a speed enhancement so you can play race car driver through an empty city."
Mirko paused mid-stretch—a series of movements that seemed to defy human anatomy—and gave her a shameless grin. "Warming up is the most important part of any workout, Takeyama! I need to get the blood flowing, get the muscles ready. How do you expect science to progress if I don't prepare properly?"
"And does that preparation necessarily involve running up the sides of buildings?" Yu asked with palpable sarcasm.
"Of course it does! It's to test the limits," Mirko argued, now holding a finger in the air with a lecturing gesture. "We can't just jump into evaluating your... conductivity, without a proper preliminary phase. That would be incredibly unprofessional."
"What's unprofessional is using Japan's most advanced training facility as your personal racetrack," Yu shot back, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Bah! Less talk, more action," Mirko said, dismissing her complaints with a wave of her hand. She turned to Izuku, her red eyes shining with an almost childlike energy that contradicted her reputation as a fierce hero. "Come on, squirt. Don't listen to her. Juice me up. I wanna see if I can run up the face of the Central Office Building without losing momentum. I bet I can do it in under ten seconds! What do you say? Ten seconds?"
Izuku looked to Yu for some kind of support, but she just rolled her eyes and sighed, a gesture of total resignation that said, "just do it and get it over with." She knew it was a lost battle. Letting the rabbit loose first was the only way to get some peace for her own humiliating "science" session.
"Alright, Mirko-san," Izuku said. "Starting position, please."
Mirko's grin widened, an expression of pure, predatory joy. She crouched down at an imaginary starting line, her muscles tensed, ready for the explosion of speed. Izuku walked over and placed his hands on her shoulders. Yu watched from a safe distance. The subtle green energy of Izuku's Quirk enveloped the hero for an instant.
"Now," he said.
With a cry of pure euphoria that tore through the silence, Mirko vanished, leaving behind a wake of wind that kicked up dust and a sonic boom that rattled the windows of the nearby buildings. Yu had to shield her face with her arm. She saw a white blur ascending the wall of a skyscraper, defying gravity, before disappearing over the other side of the roof.
A momentary silence fell, broken a couple of seconds later by a series of distant BOOMS that began to echo through the fake city, each followed by a faintly audible cry of joy.
"Well," Izuku said, looking in the direction she had disappeared. "That should keep her busy for a while."
He turned to Yu, and his expression changed completely. The amusement vanished, replaced by the intense focus of a researcher on the verge of a breakthrough.
"Your turn," he said, and the simplicity of those two words sent a chill down Yu's spine.
"Remember the contract, Izuku," she said quickly, raising a finger. "Just conductivity and impact today. No weird experiments. No 'let's see what happens if…'"
"Before the 'thermal conductivity'," he interrupted, his green eyes shining with an idea. "I want to test a theory. One that occurred to me last night after analyzing the data from the experiment with Midnight-sensei."
Izuku began to circle her, observing.
"With Nemuri, the breakthrough wasn't adding power," he explained, gesturing as he spoke. "It was changing the nature of its application. Her Quirk is ethereal; its natural state is to expand, to disperse. It always wants to occupy more space. What we did was force it to do the exact opposite. We compressed it until that entire cloud became a single drop of liquid."
He stopped right in front of her, his gaze so intense that Yu felt the urge to take a step back. "Your Quirk, Yu. It's called 'Gigantification.' The name itself implies a single direction: to grow. Everyone, including you, assumes that's its only function. But... what if the name is wrong? What if it's an incomplete description?"
"What do you mean, it's wrong?" she asked defensively. "It's pretty descriptive. It's what I do. I get big. End of story."
"You expand," he corrected. "That's the fundamental action. You push your mass and energy outward, increasing your volume. But every fundamental equation in physics, in nature, has its opposite. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Expansion has..."
A terrible feeling began to form in the pit of Yu's stomach. "Compression," she finished, the word escaping her lips, heavy with a bad feeling. "Shrinking."
"Exactly," Izuku said, his face lit up with the thrill of discovery. "What if your real power isn't just 'growing'? What if your Quirk is actually 'Absolute Size Control'? Growing is just half the story. It's the easy half, the flashy one, the one that manifests naturally. But the other half, compression... could be much, much more interesting."
Yu stared at him, completely bewildered. Then she shook her head in a firm, emphatic no.
"You're insane. Absolutely, completely insane," she declared. "Izuku, I've spent thousands, tens of thousands of hours, learning to control it, feeling it, living with it. If I could shrink, if there were even the slightest possibility, don't you think I'd know? Don't you think at some point, by accident, I would have felt it?"
"But have you ever actually tried?" he asked, with a simplicity that disarmed all her logic. "Have you ever actively focused on doing the opposite?"
"No! Of course not! Why would I?" she exclaimed in frustration. "My Quirk is called Gigantification! It's in the damn name! That's like asking Endeavor to try shooting ice! It goes against his very nature!"
"You've never tried because you never thought it was possible," he insisted. "Every time you activate your power, your intention is to 'grow.' Your mind, your instincts, your entire being pushes in that direction. You never had a reason to push the other way. And you never had someone to help you focus your power in a completely new way. Let me be that help, Yu. Just trust me, like Nemuri did."
She stared at him, a silent war raging inside her. Her skepticism, forged by a lifetime of practical experience, battled against the undeniable evidence of what this kid had accomplished. He had turned Mirko into a living missile and transformed Nemuri's Quirk. This boy didn't see things like everyone else. He saw the hidden potential beneath the surface. It was a terrifying, and to her own surprise, strangely tempting prospect.
With a sigh that seemed to carry away all her resistance, she gave in. "Fine. Okay. But if you break me, or I turn into a formless puddle of biological matter, I swear, Izuku, my ghost will haunt you for the rest of your life. I'll be the most annoying specter you've ever met."
A radiant smile lit up Izuku's face. "You won't regret it! Okay, let's start! Get big! Twenty meters should be enough for the initial test."
Yu closed her eyes and activated her power. The familiar sensation of growing, of the world shrinking at her feet as she towered over it, filled her with a comforting confidence. This was her element.
"Perfect!" Izuku's voice came through the small communicator in her ear. She saw his tiny figure run to her foot, which was now the size of a small car. He placed both hands on her ankle, and she felt the slight contact.
"Alright. Now, listen carefully. Forget the word 'shrink.' It doesn't exist in your vocabulary right now. I want you to focus on the sensation of your body. Feel the energy you're projecting outward to maintain this size. Can you feel it?"
She concentrated. She could feel it.
"Now," Izuku's calm voice continued, "I want you to do the opposite. Instead of pushing that energy out... pull it in. Pull everything toward your center. Compress it all!"
The energy of his Quirk flowed into her through his hands. Yu gritted her teeth and focused, fighting against every instinct. It was the strangest, most unnatural feeling she had ever experienced. It wasn't painful, but it was deeply unsettling. She felt an invisible force crushing her, pulling inward from all sides, a pressure that threatened to fold her in on herself. Vertigo hit her hard, and nausea threatened to rise in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding on to Izuku's calm voice and the warm sensation of his power on her ankle.
And then, without warning, something clicked.
She felt like she was falling, but without moving. The ground rushed up to meet her at a dizzying speed. The world around her grew, the buildings soaring like giants. She shot past her normal size in the blink of an eye, a transition so fast she barely registered it, but she didn't stop. The feeling of compression intensified for a split second until, suddenly, everything stopped.
She landed softly on the cold, rough concrete.
She opened her eyes. The world was gigantic. The cracks in the pavement were massive canyons. A discarded soda can a few feet away was the size of a car. She looked at her own hands. They were tiny, perfectly formed, but the size of a doll's.
She had done it.
She had done it! A laugh of pure euphoria and amazement bubbled out of her, a high-pitched, tiny sound. She could shrink! The possibilities were endless! Infiltration, stealth, espionage, rescues in tight spaces! A completely new ability! It was revolutionary! It was going to change her entire career!
The euphoria lasted for exactly three seconds.
That's how long it took for her brain to process two new, terrible sensations. The first was that she was completely surrounded by an immense mountain of purple and ivory fabric. The second was that she felt a decidedly strange breeze in places she had never, ever felt a breeze before.
With a terror that froze the blood in her veins, she looked down.
Her hero costume, designed to stretch to titanic proportions, had returned to its original size.
She, on the other hand, had not.
She was completely, utterly, and minutely naked in the center of a nest made from her own uniform.
Her shriek of panic, a sharp, microscopic squeal, was completely drowned out by a massive BOOM that echoed from the other side of the district, followed by Mirko's triumphant cry: "AHAHAHA, NEW PERSONAL BEST!"
Izuku, who had been watching the process, saw the giant Yu disappear and a tiny figure appear in her place. His first thought was an exultant, It worked! The hypothesis was correct!
His second thought, as he watched the look of euphoria on the tiny Yu's face twist into a mask of pure horror, was: Oh, no.
He saw the exact moment she realized her predicament. He saw the panic bloom in her tiny eyes.
Without a word, he took off his jacket. He ran to the pile of fabric, pushing aside the heavy material of Mt. Lady's costume. Carefully, he wrapped the small, trembling form of Yu in the garment. To her, the jacket was the size of a comforter.
"Don't look!" Yu's little voice shrieked, muffled by the fabric. "I told you not to look! You're a pervert! I knew this was part of your plan!"
"I'm not looking!" he replied. "I can barely see you!"
A tense silence fell, broken only by another distant BOOM, this time a little closer.
"Can you... can you go back to your normal size now?" he asked.
"I DON'T KNOW HOW!" she yelled from inside her shelter. "I JUST LEARNED HOW TO DO THIS, IT DIDN'T COME WITH AN INSTRUCTION MANUAL! AND EVEN IF I KNEW, IF I GROW NOW I'LL STILL BE NAKED, YOU IDIOT! MY COSTUME IS OUT THERE!"
"Right. Flawed logic. My apologies," he muttered. "Okay... Plan B. Can you... walk? Crawl inside my jacket? We need to hide your uniform."
There was a struggling sound from within. "THIS JACKET WEIGHS MORE THAN I DO! I CAN'T MOVE! I'M TRAPPED!"
They were at an impasse. An intimate, humiliating, and utterly ridiculous impasse. She, a professional hero capable of stopping giant villains, was now a tiny, naked figure lost in the folds of her teenage assistant's jacket.
In the distance, another boom, definitely closer, followed by Mirko's shout: "HEY, GUYS, EVERYTHING ALRIGHT OVER THERE?! I'M GONNA TRY AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME WITHOUT USING MY HANDS!"
Pure panic seized Yu. If Mirko came back and found her like this... death was a preferable option. The total annihilation of the universe was a preferable option.
From inside the dark safety of the jacket, a small hand tugged on the leg of Izuku's pants. Her voice, when she spoke, was no longer a shout of anger. It was a desperate whisper, devoid of all its strength.
"Izuku... what do we do now?"
Notes:
Don't miss the next chapter, available only at: Patreon.com/shurazero
Chapter 19: Chapter 19: The Secret in the Pocket
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Yu's voice was barely a thread of sound, a tiny, panic filled whisper struggling to escape from Izuku's jacket.
"Izuku… what do we do now?"
He stood completely frozen. His brain, which normally operated a mile a minute analyzing hero tactics, was now trying to process a series of logistical problems that no U.A. handbook could cover.
Problem number one: a professional hero, currently doll sized and completely naked, was taking refuge in his clothes.
Problem number two: said hero's uniform, an outfit the size of a small tent, was lying a few feet away, irrefutable proof that something incredibly strange had happened.
Problem number three: somewhere in the fake city, a supersonic battle rabbit, also known as his second mentor, was probably breaking the sound barrier for fun and could decide to return at any moment.
Another BOOM, this time decidedly closer, echoed between the buildings and shook him from his trance. The sound of Mirko approaching. Time was running out.
"Okay," he whispered frantically toward the collar of his jacket. "I have a plan. It's going to be weird. Very, very weird."
"Izuku, my concept of 'weird' has been shattered in the last five minutes," Yu's tiny voice replied, trembling. "How weird can it be?"
"Level: possibly illegal in several prefectures," he admitted. "I need you to not move and, please, don't scream."
"I'm already at a level of humiliation that transcends screaming, Izuku! Screaming would be a luxury! Just do something!" she shrieked, her panic rising with every passing second.
With painstaking care, Izuku picked up the jacket with Yu inside. She let out a small squeak of surprise at the abrupt movement. He held it against his chest for a moment, his mind racing. He couldn't just carry her in his hand. He needed a safe place, a hiding spot.
His eyes fell on his own jacket. It had large, deep pockets. One of them, on the inside, had a zipper. It was perfect. It was the worst idea he'd ever had in his life, but it was also the only one.
"I'm going to move you," he warned in a whisper. "Get ready."
"Move me where? Izuku, wait, what are you—!"
He didn't give her time to protest. Deftly, he reached into the jacket he was holding. His fingers brushed against Yu's small, warm form, wrapped in the fabric's lining. He gently grasped her and placed her in the inner pocket of the jacket he was wearing. He settled her in carefully and pulled the zipper closed, leaving only a tiny opening for air.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a murmur directed at his own chest.
"No! I'm not okay!" the tiny voice replied, muffled by the fabric and full of indignation. "I'm in your pocket! This is a miniature kidnapping!"
"I'm sorry," he muttered, though he wasn't exactly sure what he was apologizing for. "It was the only option. Now stay still."
He turned to face the second problem: the evidence.
Mt. Lady's uniform lay on the ground, a mass of purple and ivory spandex that seemed to mock him. He ran to the suit and started gathering it up. The fabric was heavy, designed to withstand the stresses of a twenty meter tall body. Wrestling with it was a frustrating ordeal.
He opened his backpack and began shoving the suit in by force.
"This is insane," he muttered to himself. "Completely insane."
First, he stuffed in the boots, then the gloves. Then he started on the main body of the suit, pushing and compacting the fabric with all his strength. It was a humiliating and strangely exhausting job. As he struggled with one of the suit's legs, something small and pink fell out and landed with a soft rustle on the dusty asphalt.
It was her underwear.
Izuku froze, staring at it. It was a delicate piece of lace. It seemed incredibly intimate and completely out of place on the ground of a training field.
From his chest pocket, a tiny squeal of pure mortification reached his ears. Yu, from her fabric prison, had a perfect view of the scene.
"Don't look at it! Don't you dare look at it, Midoriya!" her tiny voice screamed, filled with panic.
With an almost sociopathic calm, he picked up the garment. He held it between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a forensic sample, observing it with purely objective curiosity.
And then, with the casualness of someone commenting on the weather, he said aloud, knowing perfectly well she could hear him:
"Hmm. Nice color. Pink complements her skin tone and blonde hair. I wonder how you'd look in it."
The sound that emanated from his pocket was indescribable. It was a mix of a choked scream, a groan of agony, and the dull thud of tiny fists beating helplessly against the fabric.
"You're a monster!" the muffled cry was heard. "A pervert! An analytical sociopath with freckles!"
"I was just making an objective observation," he replied with the same calm, almost as if reasoning with a child. "The design is also efficient. Lace on the edges for aesthetics, but a functional cotton construction in the center. Very practical."
"I'm going to kill you! When I get my size back, I'm going to use your spine as a toothpick!"
With the same indifference, Izuku carefully folded the garment and tucked it into a side pocket of his backpack, zipping it shut. Just as he stood up, feeling the weight of a hero uniform and the shattered dignity of his boss on his back, a sonic boom split the air.
Mirko landed less than ten meters from him, creating a small crater in the asphalt. The ground trembled slightly. She was sweaty, her white hair disheveled, and she wore the biggest, wildest smile Izuku had ever seen.
"Whoo! That was awesome!" she exclaimed, her voice thrumming with adrenaline. Her chest heaved. "I think I broke the sound barrier on that last stretch! Totally worth it!"
Her bright red eyes scanned the empty plaza.
"So? Where did Takeyama get to? Did she go cry in a corner over my athletic superiority? I don't see her anywhere."
Izuku felt a small, frantic drumming from his pocket. This was the moment of truth. His brain, running on all cylinders under the pressure, discarded a thousand complex options. Instead, he clung to the simplest, and therefore most disastrous, solution he could conceive. It was stupid, it was risky, and it was the only card he had to play.
He turned to face Mirko. He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and looked her straight in the eye.
"She left," he said, his tone flat.
Mirko raised an eyebrow. "Left? Just like that? She gave up? That doesn't sound like her."
"She didn't give up," Izuku continued, setting the stage. "We had... a little couple's quarrel."
The phrase hung in the air between them. Mirko blinked, her predatory smile faltering for the first time.
"A what?"
"A couple's quarrel," Izuku repeated. "She got a little upset. Said I was paying too much attention to your speed improvements and not her... uh... training parameters."
The flood of humiliation that washed over the tiny Yu in his pocket was so intense she nearly fainted. She felt the world shrink around her. A couple's quarrel? Jealous?! I'm going to kill you, Izuku! I swear I'll find a way to grow just to the size of a giant wasp and sting you in the eye! In both eyes!
"She got... jealous," Izuku concluded, adding a sigh of resignation.
Mirko stared at him. Her expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. Her fighter's brain, which simplified the world into problems you could punch and problems you couldn't, struggled to process this new information.
"She said she needed space," Izuku continued, now fully committed to his terrible lie. "She got angry, said something about how I was 'always comparing her to you,' and went home."
As Mirko processed this, her expression slowly beginning to morph into something else, Izuku glanced down at his own chest. He directed his attention to the inner pocket where his boss was suffering a miniature existential crisis.
And he winked.
It was a subtle, conspiratorial wink, a gesture meant to convey: "Relax. I've got this under control. Just play along."
From the darkness of the pocket, Yu felt the slight movement of the fabric. She understood the gesture. And in that moment, she knew what it felt like to die inside. All her anger evaporated, replaced by an icy resignation. She was trapped in the most ridiculous lie ever told, and her accomplice was the most socially inept teenager on the planet.
"HA! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Her laugh wasn't a chuckle; it was a thunderous roar. She bent at the waist, slapping her knee, her laughter echoing across the training plaza.
"I KNEW IT! I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING BETWEEN YOU TWO!" she yelled between gasps of laughter. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Jealous! Of course she's jealous! Oh, that girl is so predictable! Always with that serious face, but inside she's pure dynamite!"
She walked over and clapped Izuku on the back so hard that little Yu bounced off the walls of her pocket prison, hitting her head on what she assumed was a seam.
"Easy there, kid! Don't worry! She'll come around!" she said, giving him a conspiratorial wink. "Though I have to admit, she's not wrong to be jealous of me."
Yu, in the pocket, emitted a sound that was a cross between a mouse's squeak and a seized engine. She wanted to scream, to protest, to tell the truth, but she was trapped, tiny, and voiceless.
"Well, her problem if she can't appreciate a good training session," Mirko said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "More time for us! And since your girlfriend has temporarily abandoned you in a jealous fit, you have no excuse. Let's work on that noodle guard of yours."
Yu's heart stopped. Oh, no. No, please, no. Anything but that.
"Now?" Izuku asked, his voice sounding a little higher than usual.
"Of course now!" Mirko exclaimed, her smile turning predatory again. "If you're going to be the problem boyfriend of a top ten pro hero, you at least have to know how to not die in the first five seconds of a fight. Consider this part of your marital duty. Your training starts now."
And so began Yu Takeyama's new personal hell.
From the warm, claustrophobic, and swaying darkness of a zippered pocket, she experienced Izuku's first combat lesson. The world was an earthquake of fabric and motion. She heard Mirko's instructions, her voice a muffled thunder right next to her head, vibrating through Izuku's chest.
"Your stance is a disaster, kid! You're completely off balance! Widen your legs, lower your center of gravity! More! I want you to look like you're glued to the ground!"
Yu felt immense pressure as Mirko shoved Izuku to correct his stance, tipping her at a precarious angle inside the pocket. She clung to a fold of fabric to keep from rolling around, feeling every one of Izuku's muscles tense up.
"Now, the guard! Arms up! Elbows tucked in! No, not like that, you idiot! You want your ribs broken? Tuck them against your body! Your life depends on it!"
She felt a series of jolts as Mirko began to roughly reposition Izuku's arms. The experience was sensory chaos. The constant rub of the fabric, the smell of Izuku and his effort, the sound of his ragged breathing right above her, the vibrations of his body as he moved. It was unbearably intimate and absolutely terrifying.
"You have to learn to absorb the impact with your whole body!" Mirko yelled, her voice full of frustration. "The power doesn't come from your shoulders, it comes from your hips! You have to rotate! Like this!"
Yu felt a firm, strong hand grab Izuku's hip. It was inches from her, separated only by a thin layer of fabric. A small cry of panic escaped her but was muffled by the tracksuit. Mirko was manhandling Izuku, and she was... right there! Trapped! It was the most intimate collateral damage in the history of heroism.
"Better," Mirko said, satisfied, letting him go. "Now, a block. You need to feel an impact to understand how force is distributed. Get ready. I'm going to give you a little tap."
No, no, no, please, not an impact. Not a little tap from Mirko, Yu pleaded silently to any deity who might be listening.
But it was too late. Mirko delivered a blow that was gentle by her standards but incredibly firm against the forearm Izuku had raised to block. The impact shot through Izuku's body like a shockwave and felt like an explosion inside Yu's tiny world. She bounced off the walls of her pocket prison, completely disoriented.
The lesson continued for what felt like several lifetimes. Yu lost all track of time. Her existence was reduced to a series of violent shakes, muffled sounds, Mirko's commands, Izuku's grunts of pain, and the constant, humiliating proximity of the situation.
"Faster!"
Wham! Another jolt.
"Rotate your hip!"
A violent pull.
"Anticipate the move, don't react!"
Finally, the climax of her torture arrived.
"Okay, you've improved a little," Mirko conceded, her breathing slightly heavy. Izuku was completely out of breath. "But you're stiff as a board. You need to learn how to fall. In a real fight, you're going to get knocked down. If you get knocked down, you have to roll to dissipate the energy. It's the most basic of basics."
Oh, no. Not rolling. Please, anything but rolling, Yu thought, feeling a new wave of nausea.
"Roll?" Izuku panted.
"Yeah, roll. I'm going to sweep your feet. You're going to fall and roll. If you don't roll, you crash. If you crash, it hurts. Got it?" Mirko explained with brutal logic.
"Got it," Izuku said with little conviction.
"Get ready!" Mirko yelled.
Yu didn't even have time to mentally prepare. She felt a sudden, overwhelming force at Izuku's ankles. The world tilted violently; the ground vanished from beneath him. There was a sensation of freefall that lasted a split second, and then the impact.
Izuku hit the ground and, following Mirko's instructions, he rolled.
For Yu, the experience was a whirlwind of darkness, fabric, and chaotic movement. She was thrown from side to side, slamming against the pocket's seams, her small body completely at the mercy of physics. She couldn't tell up from down, left from right. There was only chaos.
When the motion finally stopped, she was dizzy, bruised, and terribly nauseous. The world was still spinning around her, even though she was no longer moving. Izuku was on the ground, breathless, with Mirko standing over him, wearing a satisfied smile.
"Not bad for a start, kid," she said, panting slightly as she wiped sweat from her brow. "You've got potential. You're tough. Tomorrow, same time. If your girlfriend hasn't forgiven you by then, we'll work on counterattacks. It'll be fun!"
With one last savage grin, Mirko took a ground shaking leap and disappeared over the horizon with another sonic boom.
Izuku lay on the ground for a long minute, just breathing. Finally, with a groan, he sat up. With trembling fingers, he reached for the zipper on his pocket.
"Yu?" he whispered. "Are you still alive in there?"
The zipper opened a crack, letting in a sliver of the sunset's light.
From the total darkness, dizzy and having reached a new, profound level of resignation, Yu could only form a weak, pathetic response.
"I just want my clothes," she whispered. "And maybe a little of my dignity back. Is that really too much to ask?"
Notes:
Author's Note:
And there you have it, the chapter where Yu Takeyama's dignity was officially declared dead and buried under several feet of asphalt!You've got to give Izuku credit. When the pressure's on, his brain doesn't look for the best solution, or the most logical one... it goes for the most chaotically brilliant one.
But let's be honest, this chapter was a rollercoaster of humiliation for our favorite heroine. So, it's time for you to participate. Let's call it the "Yu-miliation Meter!"
On a scale from 1 to "I'm going to use your spine as a toothpick," what do you think was the worst moment for Yu?
A) The Pocket Kidnapping. (Claustrophobia and the indignity of being carried around like a keychain).
B) The Forensic Underwear Analysis. (When Izuku decided it was a good time to become a fashion critic).
C) The Couple's Quarrel™. (Starring in the world's worst lie and being powerless to stop it).
D) The "Washing Machine" Experience, courtesy of Mirko. (Experiencing combat training from inside a human blender).
Poor Yu. Trapped, dizzy, and with her pride in tatters. How will she get out of this? Will Izuku manage to keep the lie going? And what will happen when she finally gets back to her normal size? The answers (and probably more misfortune) await.
Don't miss the next chapter at: Patreon.com/ItsDevil
Chapter 20: Chapter 20: The Measure of Trust
Chapter Text
The afternoon sun filtered through the large window of Yu's apartment, casting long shadows and tinting the room a melancholy orange. Hours had passed since they returned from Campo Beta. Hours in which silence had replaced Mirko's chaotic energy, leaving a quiet that was part relief and part a new, strange tension.
In the center of the elegant coffee table, where fashion magazines and the TV remote usually sat, a small fortress now stood. Izuku had built it with three hardcover novels and used a paper napkin as a roof. Inside, wrapped in another napkin as if it were a makeshift toga, was a tiny and profoundly miserable Yu Takeyama.
They had tried everything. Or, rather, she had. She had concentrated until her head ached, meditated as she had once been taught in a stress management course, gotten angry, pleaded. Nothing. It was like trying to start a car with a dead battery. She could feel her power somewhere deep inside, a distant and depleted reserve, but she didn't have the spark to activate it.
"It's not working," she said for the fifth time. Her voice was a whisper so small it was almost lost in the vastness of her own living room. "I'm telling you, nothing is happening, Izuku. I can't… I'm stuck."
Panic, which had been circling the edges of her mind like a predator, began to seep in. She was trapped. Small. Helpless. Vulnerable.
Izuku was kneeling on the floor next to the table so he could speak to her face-to-face. Unlike her, he didn't seem remotely alarmed. His expression was calm, focused. He hadn't pulled out his notebook or started muttering about variables and possible causes. He was simply watching her, processing the situation.
"I don't think you're stuck," he said in a soft voice that somehow cut through the buzz of anxiety in Yu's mind. "Think about it logically. You did something completely new today. You pushed your Quirk beyond its known limits. It's like you used a muscle you didn't even know you had to run a marathon. It's normal for it to be exhausted."
He leaned in a little closer, resting his elbows on the table carefully so as not to knock over the book fortress.
"And it's not just the physical effort. Your mind went through a lot, too. It was an intense experience, wasn't it? Disorienting. Maybe… a little traumatic."
The word seemed so insufficient that a dry, humorless laugh escaped Yu.
"A little? Seriously, 'a little'? Izuku, I was left naked and the size of a bug in the middle of a training ground in front of two people. I assure you, 'a little traumatic' is a massive understatement!"
"Right, you're right. It was very traumatic," he conceded, unfazed by her outburst. His calm was infuriating and, at the same time, the only thing keeping her grounded. "My point is, your body and your Quirk need time. They need to rest, recover, and process this new ability. You're not broken. You just need to recharge the battery."
His logic was impeccable, reassuring in its simplicity, but it didn't solve the most immediate and humiliating problem of all.
"But I can't stay like this!" she whispered, and this time her voice truly broke. "I'm naked, Izuku. Naked and wrapped in a piece of paper towel on my own coffee table. I can't sleep like this. I can't… what am I supposed to do?"
Izuku was silent for a moment. His gaze drifted to the opposite wall as his brain worked at full speed. Yu watched him, expecting some strange and probably terrible solution, like building her a dollhouse out of cardboard boxes or feeding her breadcrumbs. Suddenly, his green eyes lit up. It was the kind of look that precedes an idea that is either brilliant or absolutely catastrophic.
Yu knew instinctively she was going to hate it.
"You need clothes," he said, as if he had just discovered the cure for the common cold. "Clothes that fit you."
She stared at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"And where exactly do you plan on getting clothes my size, genius?"
He looked at her, his face completely serious.
"…We need to go to a toy store."
Yu's reaction was visceral, immediate, and loud.
"No!"
"Yu, think about it, it's the only logical and quick option…"
"I refuse! Absolutely not! I am not going to dress like one of those dolls with an empty head and a permanent smile! I'd rather you make me a dress out of dental floss and lettuce leaves!"
"I don't have any dental floss," he replied with a crushing logic that disarmed her for a second. "But the napkin and tape idea is still on the table. The choice is yours, but honestly, I think the pre-made doll clothes will offer greater durability and comfort."
Yu stared at the rough texture of her paper toga. She thought about the humiliation of wearing a makeshift dress of tape that would stick to her everywhere. Then she thought again about the humiliation of wearing doll clothes. Her life had been reduced to choosing which option was marginally less humiliating.
With a long, pitiful groan, the sound of her last ounce of dignity surrendering, she plopped down on her makeshift seat.
"I hate you so much right now."
Izuku smiled faintly.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'."
The trip to the toy store was a silent torture. Yu was back in the inside pocket of Izuku's jacket, which he had put on despite the afternoon heat.
"Walk smoother, you're making me dizzy," she whispered from the darkness of the fabric.
"Sorry," he whispered back, drawing a puzzled look from an elderly woman passing by.
"And stop talking to yourself. People are going to think you're crazy."
"But you're the one talking to me."
"Then don't answer me! Use your brain!"
They arrived at the entrance of "Uncle Toppo's Toys and Wonders." The place was a bright, noisy cavern of childhood happiness and a parent's nightmare.
"Welcome to Toys and Wonders, where the fun never ends," a robotic, squeaky voice said from a speaker.
"This is hell," Yu lamented from the pocket. "Officially, this is hell."
Izuku, looking as out of place as a penguin in the desert, navigated the aisles filled with screaming, running children and parents with vacant stares. Following a giant sign with a smiling princess, he found his target: the doll aisle.
It was an overwhelming sight. A wall several meters high of a pink so intense it hurt the eyes. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of boxes, each with a doll staring out with glassy eyes and an inert smile. And next to it, a rotating display full of tiny, absurd outfits hanging on miniature hangers.
Izuku just stood there, a teenage boy alone in the epicenter of the pre-teen female universe, feeling the curious glances of a couple of mothers.
"Okay," he whispered toward his chest, unzipping his jacket a little. "I'm here. What am I supposed to do?"
"I have no idea," came Yu's panicked little voice. "I've never bought doll clothes! Find something… normal! Is there anything that isn't pink?"
Izuku approached the display and awkwardly picked up a small plastic package. He held it to his chest so Yu could see it.
"How about this one?" he whispered. "It's a 'Galactic Pop Star' set. It comes with a silver top, an iridescent miniskirt, and thigh-high boots."
"Absolutely not! I'll look like a miniature space prostitute! Find some jeans! Something normal, please!"
He sighed and put the package back in its place. He picked up another.
"This one? It's called 'Luxury Spa Day.' It's… a pink bathrobe and bunny-shaped slippers."
"Do I look like I want to go to a spa? Izuku, for the love of God, I just want pants and a shirt!"
"It's a lot harder than it looks!" he whispered back, frustration growing in his voice. He was starting to sweat under the jacket. "Almost everything is pink, or has glitter, or comes with a ridiculous accessory like a miniature pony!"
"We don't need a pony, Izuku."
"I know, but it's tempting."
Just then, a cheerful, professional voice sounded beside him.
"Hi, can I help you with anything? Looking for a gift for your little sister?"
Izuku froze. He turned slowly and found a young store employee with a vest full of pins and a friendly smile.
"Uh… no. Not exactly," he stammered. "It's for… a project. For school."
The employee blinked, her smile not wavering.
"A school project? How interesting. For art?"
"No, science," Izuku continued, his lie becoming more elaborate with every word. "It's about… comparative anatomy. We need… scale models to study the biomechanics of fashion on different body morphologies. It's a university-level project, pretty advanced."
The employee's smile finally faltered. She looked at him, then at the wall of smiling dolls, then back at him.
"Oh? Fashion… biomechanics. Right. Sounds… fascinating. Well, if you need any help, I'm here."
She backed away slowly, not quite turning her back, as if she feared he might start dissecting a doll right there in the middle of the aisle.
From the pocket, a furious whisper reached Izuku's ears.
"'Fashion biomechanics.' You are a complete and total idiot."
"I panicked!" he hissed back just as tensely. "I couldn't think of anything else!"
"You could have said it was for your cousin! Anything normal!"
Finally, after several minutes of a whispered negotiation that probably landed him on some store watch list, they found something acceptable. It was hidden in the back of the display, as if the store itself was ashamed of something so mundane. It was a pair of small, dark blue stretch jeans, a tiny red hoodie, and a pair of miniature sneakers. No accessories. No glitter. No ponies.
Izuku grabbed it like it was a treasure. He paid in cash at the register, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the gum-chewing teenage cashier, and walked out of the store at a pace that was almost a run.
Back in the safety of the apartment, the atmosphere changed. The frenzy and humiliation from outside gave way to an almost solemn stillness. Carefully, Izuku emptied the small plastic bag onto the coffee table. The tiny garments looked both ridiculous and incredibly important.
"You need to… uhm… change," he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned around, facing one of the walls as if it were the most fascinating piece of art he had ever seen.
"I won't look. Take your time."
He heard a small rustle of fabric behind him as Yu climbed out of the jacket pocket he had left on the sofa. Then, silence.
"Everything okay?" he asked, not daring to move.
"This is harder than it looks," came her little voice, full of effort. "The zipper on these pants is… ugh… almost got it!"
A few more seconds of silence.
"Okay, done," she finally said.
He turned around slowly.
She was standing in the middle of the coffee table, now fully dressed. The little red hoodie was a bit big, its sleeves completely covering her hands. The stretch jeans, however, fit her surprisingly well. She tried to maintain a dignified posture, her arms crossed, but the effect was undermined by the fact that she was barely taller than a coffee mug.
Izuku looked at her, and a genuine, warm smile spread across his face. She wasn't the colossal and stunning Mt. Lady. She wasn't his boss, the confident and sometimes intimidating pro hero. She was just… Yu. Small, vulnerable, frowning, and dressed in doll clothes. And she was, without a doubt, the most adorable thing he had ever seen.
Seeing his expression, Yu felt an unexpected heat rise to her cheeks. She looked away, suddenly incredibly embarrassed, and adjusted her hood.
"What? I look ridiculous, right? Just say it."
"No," he replied. "Not at all. You look… good."
To escape the tension, Izuku searched for a distraction. His eyes landed on the television.
"We should watch a movie. To pass the time. Until… you know. You get back to normal."
"Yeah. A movie sounds good," she said, grateful for the change of subject.
He put on an old All Might classic, "Dawn of the Symbol," a predictable but comforting choice. He settled onto the sofa, leaving the coffee table between him and the screen. Yu was still in the center of the table. From her perspective, the TV was like a theater screen.
A few minutes of the movie passed, with heroic music filling the room.
"You can't see well from there," he said suddenly. "And the table must be hard and uncomfortable."
"I'm fine," she lied, though her neck was already starting to feel stiff.
Izuku looked at her, then at his own lap. He hesitated for a second, but the image of her, so small and alone on the vast expanse of the table, overcame his awkwardness. He patted his thigh, covered by the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
"Come up," he said in a low voice, not looking at her directly. "Here. On my leg. You'll be able to see better and you'll be more comfortable. And I won't accidentally crush you if I move."
She looked at him, her small face full of hesitation. The offer was absurd. The final surrender of her autonomy. But the alternative was to stay alone on her wooden island. With a sigh so small only she could hear it, she made a decision.
She leaped from the table to the sofa cushion, a surprisingly long jump for her size. The landing was soft. Then, with a hesitation that betrayed her nerves, she approached Izuku's leg. She paused for a second before starting to climb up the fabric of his pants. Upon reaching his thigh, she sat down carefully, using the top of his leg as a backrest.
The movie continued. The heroic music filled the room.
Chapter 21: Chapter 21: A Complicated Awakening
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"No… Mrs. Tanaka, I swear… they had Quirks… the dogs flew away and disappeared over the horizon…"
Izuku's voice was a sleepy mumble, an echo of a recurring nightmare mixing with the comfort of a deep sleep. He felt an unusual warmth, a pleasant weight on his leg that kept him in a state of near perfect comfort. He shifted slightly, looking for an even more comfortable position, and his hand brushed against something soft and warm.
"Mmm, such a comfortable pillow…" he muttered to himself, his eyes still closed. "I always sleep better on Yu's couch…"
A moment of clarity cut through the fog of sleep.
"Wait a second," his voice cleared a bit. "Yu's couch?"
He slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the beams of light filtering through the blinds. The static menu of a movie glowed on the television screen, and an empty popcorn bowl lay on the floor next to two glasses. He remembered starting the movie. He didn't remember finishing it.
"I must have fallen asleep," he said quietly, his brain beginning to catalog the situation. He turned his head to stretch his neck, and that was when his thought process came to a complete halt.
Next to him, snuggled against his side, was not a pillow.
It was Yu.
And it wasn't the small, doll sized figure who had fallen asleep on his thigh. Sometime during the night, she had returned to her full size. Her blonde hair was splayed over his shoulder and part of her face, and her breathing was a rhythmic, deep whisper. She looked peaceful. Completely at peace.
Izuku's first thought was a spark of pure analytical satisfaction.
"It worked," he whispered, almost reverently. He watched the rise and fall of her back. "She returned to normal in her sleep. The hypothesis was correct. A state of total relaxation and emotional security seems to be the trigger to reverse the shrinking. Stress shrinks her, calm expands her. Fascinating."
His scientific gaze swept over her sleeping form. That's when he noticed the absence of the doll clothes they had bought for her. Tiny shreds of pink fabric lay scattered in the folds of the blanket, completely insufficient to cover anything. She was, to be precise, completely naked. One of her legs was bent over his thigh, and her side was pressed against his, an undeniable and overwhelming source of body heat.
"Ah," he said simply, his tone neutral, as if he had just noticed a minor detail in an experiment. "The clothes didn't withstand the change in mass. To be expected. The material lacked the necessary elasticity. We'll have to design a suit with molecular memory or some adaptable polymer. Allowing a hero of her caliber to be exposed by a wardrobe malfunction is a disastrous logistical failure."
His internal monologue continued, serene and methodical.
"She looks… peaceful sleeping. Not like Mrs. Tanaka's dogs, those ones snored with incredible force. I wonder if they've been found yet. Probably. I've been ignoring her calls. She's going to kill me. Well, one problem at a time."
He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. Or, rather, at his side. He saw her as his responsibility, a project that was finally showing signs of success. With a naturalness that would have given anyone else in his situation a heart attack, he raised a hand and, with a gentle, almost paternal motion, gave her bare butt a pat. It wasn't a lewd act, but rather one of confirmation. A silent "good job, you did it."
Satisfied with his analysis, and considering phase one of the problem solved, he simply closed his eyes. The warmth and weight beside him were comfortable. There was no reason to alter such an efficient state of affairs. He was going to go back to sleep.
But a few minutes later, the warmth beside him shifted.
Yu Takeyama emerged from sleep slowly, swimming in a sense of warmth and security she hadn't remembered feeling in years. She was comfortable. Too comfortable. She lazily opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the green fabric of a t shirt inches from her nose.
"Izuku…?" she mumbled, her voice hoarse with sleep.
Her brain, still drowsy, began to fit the pieces of the puzzle together with excruciating slowness.
First piece: She was snuggled up against her assistant. It was nice.
Second piece: Her leg was over his. In fact, if she shifted a little, she realized she was practically straddling his thigh. A little weird, but still comfortable.
Third piece: She felt a slight breeze on her back. Had they left a window open? She didn't remember doing that.
Fourth piece: She felt no fabric on her skin. None at all.
Suddenly, reality hit her with brutal force.
She looked down in slow motion, like in a horror movie. She saw her own bare hand resting on Izuku's chest. She saw her bare torso. She saw her bare hip pressed against his side. And she saw, with a horror that chilled her to the bone, her naked crotch resting directly on her young assistant's thigh.
She couldn't breathe. Time stopped. And then, the peaceful morning silence was brutally shattered.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
It was a sharp, piercing scream, loaded with the purest, most primal panic a human being could generate. A scream that spoke of absolute humiliation.
The shriek jolted Izuku from his lethargy with a sudden shock. He shot upright, his heart hammering against his ribs, completely disoriented.
"Mrs. Tanaka, I swear your dogs were eaten by a guy with mutant Quirks! It wasn't my fault!" he yelled into the air, his wild eyes searching for a nonexistent threat.
It was then that his brain finally processed the source of the noise. Yu was beside him, though "beside him" wasn't entirely accurate. She was more like trying to merge with the other end of the couch, scrambling backward with the blanket tangled around her legs, in a useless attempt to cover a dignity already lost. Her face was such a deep red it seemed to be burning.
"Yu? What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, completely confused. His mind was still processing. She was back to her normal size. Wasn't that a reason to celebrate? Why was she screaming?
"Don't look at me!" she shrieked, her voice at least an octave higher than usual. "Turn around! Get away! What… what happened?!"
"You're back to normal," he explained calmly, as if he were giving a weather forecast. "My hypothesis was correct. Relaxation…"
"I don't care about your stupid hypothesis!" she yelled, her panic escalating. In her clumsy attempt to untangle herself from him and the blanket, she moved too abruptly. Her hand flailed through the air, searching for a handhold, and landed directly on Izuku's, which he had raised in a placating gesture.
Skin against skin.
A spark of green energy, subtle but unmistakable, jumped between them. A nearly inaudible hum vibrated in the air for a fraction of a second. The intense mix of emotions of the moment, her panic and humiliation, his confusion and surprise, acted as a perfect catalyst. Izuku's Quirk, that strange and temperamental power, activated without permission.
Yu felt a violent, nauseating pull from the core of her being. It wasn't the controlled growth she used for her job. It was an unstable, dizzying, horrible stretch. She didn't reach her full twenty meters, but she grew irregularly and awkwardly. Her arms and legs lengthened disproportionately, her torso expanded. She went from her normal size to a lanky height of about two and a half meters in less than a second.
"No, no, not again, please!" she whimpered, feeling the apartment suddenly seem too small.
The couch, a quality piece of furniture but one designed to support the weight of standard sized humans, let out a creak that foretold its imminent destruction. It was already off balance from their combined weight on one end. Yu's sudden increase in mass, concentrated in a single spot, was the final blow.
In a chaotic and humiliating slow motion sequence, the couch began to tip backward.
"Wait, the center of gravity…!" Izuku managed to say, his brain working until the very last second.
The front legs of the couch lifted off the floor. Izuku, still sitting, could only watch wide eyed as physics took over. Yu, half grown and half standing, let out another choked scream as she fell with him, an almost identical repetition of their first disastrous encounter. A giant butt, once again, was headed directly for his face.
The only terrifying difference was that, this time, there was no spandex in the way.
CRACK.
The couch landed on its back on the floor with the sound of splintering wood, sending cushions, a blanket, and Yu's dignity flying.
The silence that followed was much, much more awkward than the first time.
For Izuku, the darkness was total. And soft. And damp. And alarmingly warm.
He was trapped in an almost identical, yet infinitely more intimate, repetition of the incident that had started this whole mess. She, now two and a half meters tall and completely naked, had landed sitting directly on his face. Her weight, magnified by her size, pinned him against the back of the overturned couch.
His brain, instead of panicking about potential suffocation or overwhelming humiliation, did the only thing it knew how to do: process data.
Sensory data number one: The scent. It wasn't the artificial strawberry scent of her hero costume. It was something much more subtle, organic, and complex. A floral, clean, and overwhelmingly feminine aroma.
Sensory data number two: The texture. Soft. Incredibly soft. And warm. A damp, vital warmth that completely enveloped his nose and mouth.
Sensory data number three: Zero visibility. However, his mind constructed a precise image from the tactile information he was receiving.
His voice, muffled by the exact location of his mouth, broke the tense silence with a comment that, in all likelihood, no man in the history of the universe had ever uttered in a similar situation.
"Pink…" he muttered, his tone not one of arousal, but of pure curiosity. "It smells like flowers. And it's extremely warm… and surprisingly comfortable. Yu, you never mentioned you were hairless. Or is that a side effect of your Quirk? We could investigate it."
If Yu Takeyama's brain had short circuited before, at that moment it simply stopped working, overwhelmed by shame.
The comment. So clinical. So descriptive. So incredibly intimate and devoid of any hint of embarrassment. Spoken from… there.
It was too much. An involuntary spasm shot through her entire body. A slight clenching of her muscles as her mind shut down and rebooted, trying to process the auditory and physical violation she was experiencing. That tiny, involuntary movement caused friction. A direct, skin on skin friction, in the most sensitive part of her body and against his face.
A sound escaped her throat. A choked, guttural gasp.
"Ngh!"
It was a moan. An unmistakable and treacherous mix of pleasure and humiliation that horrified her completely. The sound vibrated through her body and, due to proximity, directly into Izuku's skull.
In that instant, the true magnitude of her situation crushed her with more force than her own weight. She was trapped in the most impossible dilemma she had ever faced.
If she stayed still, her absolute most private self, her sex, was literally pressed against her assistant's face. Every calm breath he took was an unwanted caress. Every second that passed was an eternity of mortification.
If she tried to get up, if she moved to escape, not only would she cause more of that horrible, confusing friction, but the moment she managed to stand, she would be completely exposed to his gaze. Naked. Giant. Absolutely vulnerable.
The panic, the shame, and that new, treacherous feeling of pleasure paralyzed her completely. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. She could only exist in that soft, warm darkness, a prisoner of her own Quirk and the unfathomable, terrifying strangeness of the boy beneath her.
Five seconds passed. Ten. Fifteen. Each felt like a century of pure suffering for Yu. She could feel Izuku's calm, regular breathing against her. He was calm! How the hell could he be so calm?! Wasn't he suffocating? Didn't he feel the weight?
His passivity was almost worse than if he were screaming or fighting. It was like he was… taking mental notes.
Rage, finally, gave her the strength that paralysis had stolen. She needed to take control. Any shred of control she could find in this personal hell.
"CLOSE YOUR EYES, IZUKU!" she screamed desperately, her voice distorted by her position. "CLOSE THEM RIGHT NOW AND DON'T OPEN THEM UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES UNTIL I TELL YOU TO!"
A muffled mumble came from below, so full of logic it made her want to scream again. "How will you know I've closed them if you can't see me? And if I don't open them until you order me to, how are you going to give me the order if I can't see you to know it's safe? The logic of your request is flawed. We need to establish a clear verbal communication system."
"JUST DO IT, DAMN IT!!"
Mustering all her willpower, ignoring the protest of every fiber of her being, Yu placed her hands on the back of the couch and pushed herself up. The movement was clumsy, accompanied by a wet, embarrassing sound that made her want to disintegrate on the spot. She got to her knees on the overturned couch, her back to him, panting, her heart hammering with wild force. She was free.
Or so she thought.
She turned her head slowly, terror icing her blood, to check if he had obeyed her order.
Izuku was leaning back against the cushions, his head tilted slightly with an expression of pure concentration. And his green eyes, impossibly large and bright, were wide open.
He wasn't looking at her with lust. He wasn't looking at her with mockery or amusement. He was looking at her with the same focused intensity he used to study the joints of an All Might action figure. It was a look of evaluation. Of appreciation. Of study. And in that moment, that clinical, dispassionate gaze was a thousand times more invasive and humiliating than any lecherous stare.
"What… what are you looking at?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried uselessly to cover herself with her hands.
"The effect of the light," he replied, his voice perfectly level, as if they were in a laboratory. "The way the morning sunlight comes through the window behind you. It creates a silhouette, a golden outline. It highlights your… muscular structure. It's fascinating from an anatomical point of view."
A final scream, sharp and filled with the purest, most absolute shame, escaped her lips.
Izuku didn't flinch. His internal monologue continued, unperturbed and clear, as he observed her in all her naked, giant magnificence.
I'm not surprised, he thought, and it was the truth. In a way, I feel like I've been waiting for this moment. I've been studying her since day one. Her proportions, her muscle structure, the way her body handles the stress of resizing… I've analyzed every curve and every angle through the spandex. But seeing it like this… directly…
It was then that something in his brain, something that wasn't the Quirk analyst, clicked. He saw the undeniable strength in her shoulders, the elegant curve of her waist widening to her hips, the latent power in her thighs. He saw the immense power in her body and, at the same time, the human vulnerability in her face. He saw the desperate way she tried to cover herself.
It's a perfect combination, his mind concluded, reaching a final verdict that had absolutely nothing to do with science or logistics. A combination of power and beauty that I find… completely attractive.
It was the first time. The first time he had admitted, even to himself in the sanctuary of his own thoughts, that his interest in Yu Takeyama transcended professional curiosity. She wasn't just the hero he was training. She wasn't just his boss. She wasn't a "product" to be optimized or a problem to be solved.
She was a woman, and she was, without a doubt, the most incredible and sexy woman he had ever seen in his entire life.
They remained like that, frozen. He, on the floor, looking at her with a new and dangerous understanding in his eyes. She, on her knees on the broken couch, naked, giant, and trapped under the weight of his gaze.
Silence fell over the apartment again, but this time it was different.
How could they ever return to a semblance of "normal" after this?
Finally, it was Yu who broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper.
"Say something."
Izuku blinked, as if coming out of a trance. His gaze shifted from her for a second, scanned the wrecked piece of furniture she was kneeling on, and then returned to her eyes.
"The couch," he said with absolute seriousness. "It's definitely broken."
Notes:
Don't miss the next chapter at: Patreon.com/ItsDevil
Patreon.com/shurazero
Chapter 22: Chapter 22: A Therapeutic Fantasy
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"The couch," Izuku said, with a seriousness so out of place it was almost comical. His gaze was fixed on the splintered wood and torn upholstery. "It's definitely broken. And I think it was pine. A poor choice for a piece of furniture meant to bear weight."
Yu's voice was a high-pitched shriek, a mix of disbelief and a hysteria that was rising like the tide. She was on her knees in the middle of what used to be her living room, a naked giantess shrouded in the shadow of her own humiliation. The destroyed cushions were like small islands around her.
"The couch?! You're talking to me about the type of wood?!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the apartment. "I'm naked, Izuku! I'm nearly ten feet tall and I've just gone through the most mortifying experience of my entire life! And you're performing an autopsy on my furniture!"
"They're interconnected problems," he replied, his tone so calm it was absolutely infuriating. He crouched down to examine a broken leg, completely ignoring her panic. "The couch's structural failure was the trigger. If it had been oak, maybe it would have just sagged a little. But don't worry. I'm working on a solution to the main problem."
"The main problem is the couch?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"No," he said, finally looking up. "The main problem is you. The couch is secondary."
Instead of showing panic, embarrassment, or even the slightest hint of discomfort, Izuku's expression was one of pure, sincere appreciation. He had stood up, and his green eyes scanned Yu's body without the slightest attempt to be discreet. It wasn't the crude lust of a teenager, but the reverent intensity of a scholar who had just found a perfect specimen. His gaze traced the line of her wide shoulders, descended along the curve of her back, and lingered on the way her waist flared out to her hips and thighs. It was a look that stripped her bare more thoroughly than her own lack of clothing.
"What… what are you looking at?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to cover herself with her hands. The gesture was useless, pathetic. Her hands barely covered a fraction of her torso.
"Perfection," he answered, his voice soft, without a hint of irony. He took a step closer, his expression completely serious. "I've studied hero anatomy for years. I've seen hundreds of heroes, with all kinds of physical Quirks. All Might, Endeavor, Mirko… But this…"
He made a vague gesture toward her.
"The way your body adapts, the tension in your musculature even at rest, the sheer presence you project… It's a work of art. The mass distribution is incredibly efficient. Are you feeling any joint pain from the change in scale?"
"What?" she stammered, completely thrown by the question. "I… I don't know. I'm too busy panicking to check on my knees!"
"You should. It could be an important data point," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Biomechanics are fascinating."
With a calm that defied all logic, he turned, walked to the hall closet, and pulled out a white sheet. Yu watched him, paralyzed by that strange mix of clinical analysis and audacity. He approached her again, never taking his eyes off her for a second. He stopped right in front of her, still kneeling and vulnerable, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he placed the sheet over her shoulders. It was a strangely dual act: at once chivalrous in its intent, and dominant in its execution, taking complete control of the situation.
The fabric was cool against her hot, flushed skin. She clung to it as if it were a life raft, pulling at the edges to cover as much of herself as possible.
"Thank you…" she mumbled, not daring to look him in the eye.
"No problem," he said, his voice dangerously close. "Now, about the solution. I need you to focus."
She looked up. He was standing before her with an expression of absolute scientific seriousness, like a doctor about to explain a complex procedure.
"I have a theory to return you to your normal size," he began. "Listen to me carefully, Yu. This isn't a simple Quirk malfunction. If it were, you would have gotten stuck at one size, and that would be it. But your body is still… fluctuating. I can feel it."
"Fluctuating?" she repeated, confused.
"Yes. Your body is trapped in a state of high tension brought on by panic and embarrassment."
He spoke with such conviction that, despite the absurdity of the situation, a part of her couldn't help but listen. It sounded… logical. Too logical.
"An… imbalance?" she repeated, the word sounding stupid from her own mouth.
"Exactly. Think about it. The initial discharge of your Quirk, the shrinking, happened in a state of calm and safety. You were relaxed, almost asleep. To reverse this state of unstable growth, we need to recreate the initial condition of trust and proximity. We have to return your system to its base state."
"And how… how are we supposed to do that?" she asked, a knot of apprehension beginning to form in her stomach.
"By recreating the scenario," he continued, not missing a beat. "But that's not enough. The negative energy from the panic is too strong now. We need to counteract it. We need to introduce a positive and stabilizing emotional stimulus. Something potent. Something that will flood your system and force a reset."
He paused, staring at her intently. Yu found herself holding her breath, caught in the intensity of his gaze.
"And… what is that stimulus?" she asked, fearing the answer more than anything in the world.
Izuku looked her directly in the eyes, his expression so serious, so devoid of any deception, that it left no room for doubt.
"A kiss."
The silence that followed was so profound that Yu could hear the hum of the refrigerator and the frantic beating of her own heart. She blinked once, twice, waiting for him to laugh, to pat her on the shoulder and say it was a bad joke. But his face remained impassive, a mask of professional seriousness.
"A… kiss?" she finally managed to say, her voice barely a choked whisper.
"Yes," he confirmed, nodding slowly as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world. "Think about it from a purely biological standpoint. It's the most direct and efficient transfer of positive emotional energy I know of. Trust, affection, intimacy… all concentrated at a single point of contact. It will override the panic on a neurochemical level, rebalance your system, and should allow your Quirk to stabilize and return you to your normal size. It's the only logical solution."
Yu stared at him, her mind racing, trying to find a flaw in the armor of his insane logic. A kiss! He wanted her to kiss him! Now! Like this! The proposal was so outrageous, so incredibly bold, that it left her breathless. But beneath the horror, a cold current of desperation began to flow.
What other choice did she have? Call the agency? Explain that her Quirk had gone haywire and she was now a naked giantess in her apartment? The humiliation would be professional, public. Call the police? The fire department? The situation was too strange, too personal.
She was trapped. Giant and naked in her own wrecked apartment. Her only hope of returning to normal was this strange, unsettling teenager who was looking at her as if she were a physics problem he was about to solve.
"You're crazy," she whispered, but the words sounded hollow, lacking conviction. It was a weak protest against a tide that was already dragging her under.
"I'm practical," he corrected, unfazed. His calm was his most powerful weapon. "Do you have a better theory? An alternative plan that doesn't involve demolishing a wall to get you out of here and becoming front-page news?"
She didn't. The mental image of a rescue team trying to lift her out with a crane made her shudder. She fell silent, clutching the sheet to her chest, her mind at war with itself. Shame fought against necessity. Logic fought against instinct. And desperation, cold, hard desperation, was winning.
She bowed her head, defeated. "Okay," she finally said, the word coming out like a bitter surrender, the sound of her own dignity shattering. "I'll do it."
An almost imperceptible shadow of triumph crossed Izuku's face before it was once again replaced by his professional seriousness.
"Excellent decision. Cooperation is vital for the experiment's success."
He crouched down and, with surprising effort, managed to right the remains of the couch, leaning it precariously against the wall. The frame groaned in protest. It wasn't stable, but it would have to do. Then, he sat on the least damaged edge and patted the space next to him, or rather, his own thighs.
"Let's proceed," he said, as if they were about to start a chess match. "Time is a factor. The longer you spend in this unstable state, the harder it might be to reverse."
For Yu, every movement was torture. She had to get up, dragging the sheet with her, feeling like a clumsy giant trying to navigate a doll's world. The process of getting back onto his leg was a work of tragic comedy that unfolded in tense silence.
"Wait, wait," she said, stumbling over the shattered coffee table. "I can't… my knees are too big."
"Bend your legs at a forty-five-degree angle and then rotate your hips," he instructed, with the patience of a yoga teacher. "Your center of gravity is key."
"Don't talk to me about my center of gravity!" she hissed, as the sheet slipped dangerously off one shoulder. "This is ridiculous."
She was too big. The sheet was slipping. Her bare knees bumped against his with a dull thud. The size difference made the position even more absurd and intimate than before. He was a normal-sized throne, and she was a giant, embarrassed queen.
Finally, after an eternity of clumsy readjustments, frustrated grunts from her, and infuriatingly calm instructions from him, she managed it. She was sitting astride his right thigh, precariously wrapped in the sheet, her immense body completely dwarfing his. Their faces were almost at the same height. She could feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his jeans, a sensation that was too intimate, too real. Her own heart hammered against her ribs.
"Are you… comfortable?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. His breath brushed against her lips.
"Shut up," she growled, feeling a furious blush creep up her neck. "Just… get it over with."
"Right. Relax. Clear your mind," he said, his voice becoming soft, almost hypnotic. "Now, let's begin."
And without another word, he leaned his head forward.
The kiss began. It was clumsy, an inexperienced clash of lips and teeth. Yu's mind screamed in protest, a cacophony of humiliation and panic. But her body, exhausted by adrenaline and tension, simply gave in. She had no more strength to fight.
But then, something changed. The pressure of Izuku's lips softened, became more confident, more deliberate. One of his hands, which had been resting on her hip, slid up her back to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her blonde hair, guiding her, tilting her head to the perfect angle. The kiss, which had started as a desperate clinical experiment, deepened. It grew longer and more sustained than either of them had expected. The outside world, the wrecked apartment, the humiliation, it all faded away. There was only the contact, the warmth, the strange, overwhelming sensation of his lips moving against hers.
And that's when he made his move.
While he was kissing her, distracting the conscious part of her brain with sensory overload, Izuku, with total and absolute audacity, slipped his other hand under the sheet. She felt the movement, a cool brush of his fingers against the hot skin of her lower back, but she was too lost in the strange, hypnotic sensation of the kiss to process or protest. His hand continued its journey south, firm and sure, without a hint of hesitation, until it rested on the curve of her bare buttock. He grabbed her with a possessive familiarity, his fingers gently squeezing the flesh, claiming the territory.
The combination was electric, a short circuit in her nervous system. The deep, unending kiss on her mouth, the brazen, forbidden caress on her rear. A surge of hot, crackling energy shot through her body from head to toe. She felt the familiar tingle of her Quirk activating, but this time it wasn't a violent, uncontrolled pull. It was a smooth contraction, a controlled return.
She began to shrink.
She felt her limbs shorten, her body return to its normal proportions, all while still in his arms, in the middle of that seemingly endless kiss. When she finally returned to her normal size, she landed softly in his lap, a normal-sized woman sitting on a normal-sized boy, the sheet now wrapped loosely around her.
Izuku broke the kiss. He looked at her, his green eyes shining with a triumphant light, and a smile of pure, absolute satisfaction spread across his face.
"See?" he said, his voice a victorious whisper, panting slightly. "It worked."
Yu stared at him, dazed. The world had stopped spinning. She was back. She was herself. She could feel her own familiar proportions, the normal weight of her body. A wave of euphoria so powerful washed over her that it swept away everything else: the shame, the anger, the panic. She barely processed his words. She only knew the nightmare was over.
She started to laugh. First it was a nervous giggle, then a full-blown laugh, a sound that was a little hysterical, filled with pure, absolute relief.
"It worked!" she repeated, her voice high with joy, almost crying. "Oh my god, I can't believe it worked! You… your crazy theory worked!"
Izuku smiled, a genuine smile, enjoying his victory and her unbridled joy. And taking advantage of her state of happy confusion, her guard completely down, he leaned in and kissed her again.
This time, there was no clumsiness. No hesitation. It was a deliberate, possessive kiss, the kiss of a victor. And Yu, flooded with euphoria and gratitude, responded instinctively. Her arms, which had been limp at her sides, wrapped around his neck, and she returned the kiss with a gratitude and relief that felt dangerously close to passion.
When the second kiss ended, she pulled back, panting slightly. Reality, slowly, with the same slowness that fog dissipates, began to settle back into her confused brain. She looked at him, the remnants of euphoria still shining in her eyes, but a new doubt, a practical question, was beginning to form.
"Wait a minute…" she said, frowning as logic began to reassert itself over emotion. "So… what does this mean? Are we going to have to do… that… every time I want to change size? Or if something goes wrong again?"
The idea was both terrifying and, to a very small, treacherous part of her that refused to be silenced, strangely exciting. Was this her new Quirk protocol? Therapeutic kissing and groping with her assistant? The idea was so professionally irresponsible it made her dizzy.
Izuku watched her, and the smile on his face changed. It lost its air of scientific triumph and became something much more cunning. Much more shameless. He leaned back slightly, savoring the moment.
"Honestly…" he said, his voice laced with an amusement she hadn't detected before, "…no, that probably wasn't necessary."
Yu's expression froze. The euphoric glow in her eyes was extinguished like a candle blown out in a single puff. It was replaced by total and utter confusion.
"What?"
He leaned a little closer, his warm breath on her cheek, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, amused whisper.
"Come on, Yu. It's not every day you get an incredibly sexy, blonde, nearly ten-foot-tall, and completely naked professional heroine sitting in your lap, willing to kiss you," he explained, each word a small jab. "It was a little fantasy. A once-in-a-lifetime situation. And thanks to you, and a little scientific improvisation, it came true."
The world of Yu Takeyama, which had already been turned upside down twice that morning, stopped for a third time. It stopped, and then it shattered.
She was speechless, staring at him, processing the enormity of what he had just said. Everything. Every word. It had been a lie. An elaborate, detailed, and scientifically absurd manipulation to fulfill a… a fantasy! His fantasy!
An epic blush, a tsunami of hot blood, rose from her chest to the roots of her hair. She had been played. Totally, completely, and utterly played. And the worst part, the thing that made her feel even more stupid, was that a part of her wasn't even angry. She was too shocked, too impressed by the sheer audacity of the deception.
Yu's shock shattered, replaced by a supernova of indignation, humiliation, and fury. The air that had seemed to have been knocked out of her lungs came rushing back in with the force of a hurricane.
"IZUKUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!"
Notes:
Don't miss the next chapter at: Patreon.com/ItsDevil
patreon.com/shurazero
Chapter 23: Chapter 23: The Trust Equation
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Hello? Still on this planet?"
Yu Takeyama's voice cut through the kitchen's silence. Izuku blinked, snapping out of a trance. He had been staring intently at his coffee cup for what felt like an eternity, but it had probably only been ten minutes. He looked up.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I was thinking."
"I noticed," she retorted, taking a sip from her own cup. "Looked like you were trying to bend the spoon with your mind. Any progress?"
Izuku didn't answer. The morning after the "incident" felt strange. The apartment was too tidy. Together, in an almost mechanical silence, they had cleaned up the mess from the night before. The broken couch, the main witness to the chaos, was now shoved against a wall, a silent reminder of the humiliation. An uncomfortable calm hung in the air, the kind of stillness that follows a storm, where neither of them knew what to say.
"Look," Yu began, unable to bear the silence any longer. "About last night..."
"It was a success," Izuku interrupted, his tone completely serious.
Yu gaped at him. "A success? Izuku, I destroyed my couch. And my dignity. I almost went through my downstairs neighbor's ceiling. What part of that seems like a success to you?"
"The part where my theory was proven correct," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. For the first time in her life, she felt genuinely shy around a guy. Every time her eyes met Izuku's, a heat rose up her neck. A part of her brain, a treacherous, stupid part, was screaming at her to hug him.
What the hell is wrong with me? she thought, clinging to her mug. Yesterday he used me to fulfill his weird coach fantasy and, instead of wanting to break his teeth, I want to... make him breakfast? This is bad. Very, very bad.
Izuku, completely oblivious to her internal crisis, set his cup down on the table with a soft click. His green eyes shone with the feverish light of someone who had just solved an impossible problem.
"I've been thinking about it all night," he said in a whisper charged with energy. "I haven't slept at all. Something crucial happened yesterday when I kissed you, right at the moment you shrank. It gave me a new understanding of my Quirk. I don't fully get it yet, but... it's important."
He leaned forward, energy vibrating from him. In spite of herself, Yu found herself leaning in too, caught by his intensity.
"When I've touched you before, like during training with Mirko or the first time I gave you the boost, my power was just clumsy," he explained, gesturing with his hands. "I had no real control. I couldn't decide how much power to give you, or what specific effect to produce. It just... happened."
His explanation was passionate, his language direct. Yu could see the pieces clicking into place in his mind as he spoke.
"And last night wasn't like that?" she asked, genuinely curious now.
"No, not at all. Last night was different," he stated, his gaze locked on hers. "You were in an incredibly vulnerable position. Your Quirk was out of control, you were desperate. But even so, you trusted me. You accepted my crazy theory without hesitation, you put yourself completely in my hands."
He paused, as if searching for the exact words.
"The instant I kissed you, I felt a change in our... connection. Not just as friends, or as coach and student. I had more access to you, to your Quirk."
He stopped again, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her feel completely exposed.
"I don't think my Quirk is measured by the energy I put in," he continued, his voice lowering. "It's measured by the trust the other person places in me. The more you trust my intentions... the deeper I can reach into your Quirk. The more control I have to help you. It's more like... a trust equation."
The phrase hung in the air between them. A trust equation.
The idea was, at the same time, strangely logical and incredibly intimate. It made perfect sense. A power designed to "coach" others couldn't be a simple transfer of raw energy. It required something more, a sort of pact. It meant that their relationship, their strange and chaotic dynamic, was the key to everything.
Oh, no, Yu thought. The blush she had been fighting back finally won the battle and set her cheeks on fire. The implications hit her full force. For him to make her stronger, for him to have more control, she had to... trust him. And what did trusting him mean after last night? Trusting his insane theories? Trusting his hands on her body? Trusting his kisses? The line between professional training and something much more profound had just been completely erased.
Izuku's enthusiasm was uncontainable. His only reaction was the need to share his results, to submit his theory for peer review.
"We have to tell Nemuri and Mirko!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He began to pace back and forth in the small kitchen, almost vibrating with excitement. "This changes everything! It's not just about touch, it's about the relationship! About the...!"
"Don't you dare say synergy," Yu warned him, pointing a spoon at him.
"About the connection!" he corrected without missing a beat. "We could help them reach levels they can't even imagine! We could condense Nemuri's gas into a solid state if she trusts the process enough. And Mirko's speed could break the sound barrier without her breaking a single bone! The applications are...!"
Yu almost choked on her coffee. The mental image that formed in her head—Izuku explaining the "context" of his discovery to her two friends—was so vivid and so horrifying that it sent her into a panic.
"No!" she yelled, her voice coming out much higher than she intended. "Wait a minute! Hold it right there, Einstein!"
Izuku stopped in his tracks, looking at her with an expression of pure, genuine confusion. "What's wrong? It's a monumental breakthrough. They have a right to know."
"Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on presenting it to them?" Yu asked, getting up too, her hands on her hips. Her stance was pure confrontation. "Are you going to call them and say, ‘Hey, girls, I've discovered my power works better with trust, and I know this because I had a revelation while kissing and groping Yu after she went giant and naked on her couch during a Quirk crisis’? Is that your plan? Are you going to put it in a PowerPoint presentation with charts and everything?"
Izuku's expression didn't change. He blinked slowly, processing the information. "Are the contextual details relevant to the theory's empirical validity?"
"Yes, Izuku, the contextual details are incredibly relevant to my DIGNITY!" she shouted, exasperated to her limit. "And to not ending up in every tabloid in Japan!"
A tense and almost comical negotiation ensued in the middle of the kitchen. Izuku, with his relentless logic, didn't understand why the "experimental" details were a problem. To him, they were data. Crucial reference points in a scientific discovery.
"But the state of vulnerability is a key factor," he argued, completely serious. "It indicates that trust becomes more potent under stress. And the kiss as the trigger is the most solid proof of concept we have. Omitting that data would be scientifically dishonest. It would be like publishing a study without the methodology."
"I'd rather be scientifically dishonest than be the laughingstock of the hero world!" she retorted. "Izuku, there are things called privacy. Dignity. Secrets you take to the grave. What happened yesterday is one of those things! It stays in this room!"
He looked at her, tilting his head, processing her words.
"I see," he finally said, though Yu was fairly certain he didn't understand the emotional part at all. "The preservation of your social status and psychological comfort is an important variable for maintaining a high baseline of trust in our working relationship. If you feel publicly humiliated, your trust in me could decrease, negatively affecting future experiments. Understood. It's a valid logistical concern."
Yu rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. Direct confrontation was useless. She needed to set clear terms and conditions, as if it were a contract.
"Alright," she said, her voice heavy with infinite resignation. "Listen to me carefully. You can share your ‘Trust Equation.’ You can talk about the theory. But the origin story, the specific details of yesterday's... ‘experimental context’... are classified."
She pointed a finger at him, and her look was a lethal warning.
"Omega-level top secret. Do you hear me? If you let a single word, a single syllable about giants, nudity, kisses, or broken couches slip, I swear on All Might I will use you as my personal punching bag for a whole month. No Quirk. No mercy. Do we have an agreement?"
Izuku looked at her, assessed the seriousness in her voice, the absolute conviction in her eyes, and nodded solemnly, completely oblivious to the true depth of the humiliation she was trying to contain.
"Terms accepted," he said with the formality of a diplomat. "I will proceed with the redacted version of the findings."
Ten minutes later, Yu's TV screen split into two flickering boxes. On the left, Rumi Usagiyama, Mirko, appeared sweaty, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. The background was an industrial gym, and the metallic clang of weights could be heard from time to time. On the right, Nemuri Kayama, Midnight, was reclining elegantly in a leather armchair in what looked like a luxurious office, a cup of tea in her hand and an amused smile on her lips.
"Well, well," Nemuri said, her voice smooth and seductive. "An emergency meeting of the Izuku-kun fan club. To what do we owe the pleasure at this hour of the morning?"
"This better be good, kid," Mirko grunted, bouncing a medicine ball against a wall off-camera. "I was about to break my jump squat record. If you interrupted me for nothing..."
"It's not for nothing, I promise," Izuku said, sitting in a chair in front of the TV. He cleared his throat nervously. Yu sat on the floor beside him, arms crossed, watching him closely.
"I have news!" Izuku began, his enthusiasm palpable through the screen. "I've made a revolutionary discovery about the nature of my Quirk."
He began to fervently explain his new theory, using the exact words he had used with Yu. He spoke of the connection, of control, of the idea that trust was the key variable that determined the effectiveness of his power.
Yu watched, wound as tight as a spring. So far, so good. The speech was clinical, professional. But she knew he was approaching the minefield.
"The breakthrough occurred yesterday, after a period of extreme emotional stress and physical vulnerability on the part of..."
AHEM, AHEM, AHEM!
Yu coughed loudly, exaggeratedly, giving him a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs. Izuku paused, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and corrected his course.
"...on the part of a test subject. Anonymous. Very anonymous."
Mirko and Nemuri exchanged a look across the split screen. Mirko's eyebrow arched.
"And this breakthrough manifested through a very specific application of contact at a moment of..." Izuku continued, wading back into the mud.
STOMP!
Yu stomped on his foot with all her strength under the coffee table they were using.
"...at a moment of... very intense mutual collaboration," he finished, with a slight wince of pain that did not go unnoticed.
Of course, the heroines weren't stupid. They could smell a censored story from a mile away.
"Hold on, hold on, kid," Mirko interrupted, dropping the ball and moving closer to the camera, her eyes narrowed. "Trust? How the hell do you measure that? What exactly did you do? Did you have to touch Takeyama's butt again to reach that conclusion? Because if so, let me know for the next experiment. I'll bring popcorn."
"No!" Yu shrieked, her face turning the color of a ripe tomato. "It had nothing to do with that!"
"Yes, Izuku-kun," Nemuri added, setting down her cup and resting her chin in her hand, her smile laced with malice. "Context is vital for any scientific discovery. You can't publish a paper without describing the methodology. Under what exact conditions did this... ‘peak of trust’ occur? Tell us everything."
Yu's murderous glare was fixed on the back of Izuku's neck. He swallowed, visibly caught between the heroines' scientific curiosity and the very real threat of becoming a human punching bag. He tried to answer as vaguely as possible.
"It was... the result of a very intense and collaborative problem-solving session," he said, his voice sounding incredibly unconvincing. "There was... a realignment of our short-term goals that generated a conducive environment."
"A realignment of goals?" Mirko repeated with a mocking grin. "Sounds like you owed her rent money and she forgave the debt."
Izuku's answers were so clumsy and evasive, and Yu's interruptions so obvious—a throat clear here, a discreet kick there—that it only served to convince Mirko and Nemuri that they had missed something incredibly juicy, embarrassing, and probably illegal.
"I see," Nemuri said, drawing out the words, her smile widening. "A ‘session of mutual collaboration.’ Sounds... fascinating. You'll have to tell me the details in private, Yu-chan. Over a glass of wine. Or two."
Yu could only groan and hide her face in her hands, wishing the earth would swallow her whole.
Nemuri, deciding she had tortured Yu enough for the moment, changed the subject with a professional shrewdness that cut through all the comedic tension.
"Well, speaking of experiments and trust, I have news for you, Izuku-kun. Get your notebook ready, because theory time is about to be over."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The fun and jokes vanished, replaced by the tangible weight of reality. Izuku sat up straight in his chair, his full attention on the screen. Yu lifted her head, her own curiosity overcoming her embarrassment.
"I've been speaking with Principal Nezu," Nemuri announced. "He's impressed with the progress reports for both Rumi and Yu. He says your method, while unorthodox, is yielding undeniable results."
"Stop with the compliments and cut to the chase," Mirko snapped, though a small smile of pride touched her lips.
"The chase is this," Nemuri continued. "The final list of applicants for this year's U.A. entrance exam, along with their complete Quirk, academic, and psychological profiles, will be sent to you via encrypted email early next week."
Izuku's heart leaped. This was it. The real beginning. No more practice runs, no more experiments with pros. This was for real.
"Your test officially begins in a few days," Nemuri said, and her once-playful tone became completely serious. The professional hero had taken over. "You have a limited amount of time, Izuku-kun. You will need to analyze dozens of profiles, select a single candidate, and design an intensive training program to take them from where they are now to a level that will allow them to pass the most competitive entrance exam in the entire country."
On the other screen, even Mirko had grown serious, her arms crossed as she listened intently.
"It's not just about passing the physical test," she added. "The U.A. exam is a beast. It tests judgment, quick thinking, heroism. Your boy or girl will have to be more than just strong."
"Exactly," Nemuri agreed. "It's time for you to choose your champion, Izuku. And you'd better not get it wrong. This is a test for you as much as it is for the student you choose. There are no second chances."
The video call ended shortly after, with a brief goodbye. The TV screen went black, reflecting the silent silhouettes of Izuku and Yu in the now-quiet room.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the echo of Nemuri's words resonating in the air. The game, the comedy, the Quirk accidents... all of that seemed distant now. This was real. A career. A future. The life and dreams of a young applicant were about to be placed in their hands.
Izuku slowly turned to look at Yu. His face was a mask of intense emotion, a mix of stomach-churning nerves and a fierce determination that hardened his jaw. He didn't look scared. He looked... ready.
"So... it's really starting," Yu said softly, breaking the silence.
Izuku nodded, his gaze fixed on their reflection in the dark screen.
"Yeah," he replied. "It's really starting."
The game was about to begin.
Notes:
Don't miss the next chapter at: Patreon.com/ItsDevil
patreon.com/shurazero
Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Purifying Fire and Socialization Protocols
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Yu's apartment had been transformed into a makeshift command center. Izuku's laptop, connected by an HDMI cable to the huge living room television, projected the front page of the applicant database. The U.A. logo shone above a welcome text that, given its formal tone, looked more like a legal warning than an invitation.
What appeared on the screen was overwhelming. A torrent of information. Hundreds of young faces, hundreds of names; each one a file, a summary of a life filled with dreams, hopes, and problems. Izuku scrolled through the list with methodical slowness, his face, illuminated by the screen's glow, reflecting absolute concentration. He read every Quirk analysis, every psychological evaluation, every footnote, absorbing the data with a seriousness that created a dense atmosphere in the room.
Yu, sitting on the floor next to him with her legs crossed on a cushion, was trying to stay sane. They had been submerged in silence for almost an hour, broken only by the soft click of the mouse and the hum of the refrigerator.
"Hey, Izuku," she finally said, her voice cutting through the stillness. She pointed to a profile on the screen. "Look at this one. His Quirk is 'Enhanced Elasticity.' Simple, direct. You could increase his stretching range, his tensile strength… He's a safe, predictable candidate. Not too many variables."
Izuku didn't look away from the screen. His eyes moved from left to right, reading at an inhuman speed. "Hmm," was his only reply, a low, thoughtful sound. He clicked and moved on to the next one.
"Alright, how about this one?" Yu insisted, pointing to a girl with short hair and a defiant look. "'Cat Claws.' Increases hardness, length… You could turn her into a miniature Wolverine. Easy to measure, easy to control. Less risk."
"Hmm."
"This one here," Yu tried one last time, beginning to feel a pang of frustration, "can sweat lubricating oil. You could… I don't know, make him incredibly slippery?" She wrinkled her nose. "Okay, maybe that's not the best example. But you get what I mean, right? Let's start with something simple. Something that's easy to work with for your first time."
Izuku stopped scrolling for a moment. He turned to look at her, and the intensity in his eyes surprised her. "I'm not looking for what's easy, Yu," he answered, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I'm looking for what's right."
He turned back to the screen and continued scrolling, leaving Yu with the distinct feeling that they were searching for a single, specific needle in an immense digital haystack. She sighed and leaned back on the couch. It was going to be a very, very long night.
Just as they had agreed, help, or rather, organized chaos, was not long in coming. With a couple of clicks, Izuku accepted the incoming video call. The television screen split into three, displaying the faces of Mirko and Nemuri in two of the boxes. The "Chaos Selection Committee," as Yu had mentally dubbed it, was officially in session.
"Does this piece of crap work?" Mirko grunted as a greeting. Her image was a bit shaky, as if she were holding her phone while walking. "I hate video calls. Give me a good fistfight any day. At least then you know where to punch."
"Oh, Rumi, don't be so archaic," Nemuri replied from her box, perfectly framed and with soft lighting. She was smiling mischievously. "It's the only way for the three of us to be together without causing an incident. Besides, hello, Yu-chan. I like how you've rearranged the furniture. The overturned couch gave it a certain… post apocalyptic touch."
Yu shot her a death glare. "Very funny, Nemuri."
"Alright, brat, let's get to it," Mirko interrupted, clearly impatient. "What do we have? Have you found any future champions yet or are you just wasting time looking at pictures of teenagers?"
"We are in the initial deliberation phase, Rumi," Nemuri intervened, her tone syrupy sweet, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Izuku-kun's process is methodical. You have to let him analyze all the variables. It's what makes him so good. Let him breathe."
The debate quickly ignited, exactly as Yu had predicted. Mirko, true to her nature, advocated for brute force and mass destruction.
"That one!" she suddenly yelled, making Yu jump. A finger appeared on the screen, pointing to a sturdily built boy with a square jaw whose Quirk was "Rock Skin." "There you go! Power that up! Turn him into someone who can run through buildings! Strength, speed, destruction! That's what wins battles and scares villains!"
"A rather… one dimensional strategy, don't you think, Rumi?" Nemuri replied with an elegant shrug. She gestured as if she were scrolling on her own screen. "I, on the other hand, would lean toward someone like… this girl. Here. Her Quirk is 'Sonic Persuasion.' She can modulate her voice to subtly influence the emotions of those who hear her. Imagine if Izuku-kun could amplify the range and power of that ability. She could stop an army of thugs without throwing a single punch. Subtlety is a much sharper and more elegant weapon than brute force, my dear."
"Subtlety is for people who can't throw a good punch!" Mirko snapped, visibly offended. "While your lullaby singer is trying to calm everyone down, my rock guy has already brought down the building and buried the bad guys under the rubble! Problem solved!"
"And what about the hostages who were inside the building, genius?" Nemuri countered.
"Collateral damage!"
"You can't just say 'collateral damage' as if it's a valid strategy!"
While the two pro heroes argued about battle tactics and hero ethics, Izuku continued to scroll down the list, oblivious to the verbal conflict unfolding around him. He was in his own world of data and potential. Suddenly, he stopped.
On the screen, frozen, was the profile of Katsuki Bakugo.
The photo was exactly as he remembered from the halls of Aldera. The same arrogant sneer, the same defiant red eyes, the same confidence that overflowed into pure hostility. The name of his Quirk, simple and descriptive: "Explosion."
An almost imperceptible shadow crossed Izuku's face. It was a minuscule change, a tightening of his jaw, a slow and deliberate blink. But Yu, who in recent weeks had become an expert at deciphering his micro expressions, noticed it instantly.
She leaned toward him, lowering her voice so the other two couldn't hear her over the microphone. "Izuku? Is something wrong? Do you know him?"
Izuku didn't look away from the screen. His eyes were fixed on Bakugo's photo. When he answered, his voice was completely flat, devoid of emotion.
"We went to the same middle school."
The silence between them was heavy with everything left unsaid. Yu opened her mouth to ask something else, but Izuku's expression stopped her. It was a wall. Without another word, he clicked and moved on to the next profile. The moment was brief, but the mood in the room turned tense. Yu looked at him, a dozen questions swirling in her mind, but her gut told her that this was a minefield she shouldn't step into. Not yet.
A few profiles down, comedy returned to reclaim its throne and break the tension. The face of a remarkably short boy appeared on the screen, with a strange hairstyle that looked like purple grapes piled on his head. Minoru Mineta. The photo was a failed attempt to look cool, with a thumbs up and a smile that was meant to be charming but only managed to be a little slimy.
The committee reacted instantly.
"Quirk: 'Pop Off.' He can pull the spheres from his head, which are super adhesive," Mirko read aloud, her tone full of skepticism. "Meh. Sounds more like an annoyance than a power. What do you do with that? Stick bad guys to the walls?"
"Let's see his motivations," Nemuri said, narrowing her eyes to read the text at the bottom of the profile. Her expression changed from curious to disappointed in a fraction of a second. She sighed. "Stated reason for becoming a hero: 'To be incredibly popular with all the cute girls.'"
Mirko snorted with a disdain that almost shook the microphone. "Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Next."
Nemuri rolled her eyes with a theatrical sigh. "A classic every year. There's always one. Next, please."
Yu, however, said nothing. Her face, which had been animated and engaged, went completely blank. It was a terrifying calm, the same one that had preceded the couch flipping weeks ago. She stood up slowly, each movement so deliberate and precise that it silenced the other two heroines mid call.
"Izuku," she said, and her voice was dead serious.
"Yeah?" he responded, pulled from his analysis by his partner's sudden change in mood.
"Print that file. Just the first page."
Izuku blinked, confused. "Mineta's? But Nemuri and Mirko say he's a weak candidate and his motivation is…"
"Print it," she repeated.
Confused but obedient, Izuku navigated the system menu and sent the file to the printer in the corner. The machine whirred to life and spat out a single sheet of paper. Yu picked it up from the tray. She walked to the kitchen, her face an impassive mask. She opened a drawer, the typical junk drawer every house has, and took out a small silver lighter. Then, she walked over to the metal trash can next to the fridge.
Before the astonished eyes of Izuku and the cameras of the other two, she dropped Minoru Mineta's file into the trash can, flicked the lighter with a metallic click, and, without the slightest hesitation, set the corner of the paper on fire.
The small orange flames sprang to life, eagerly climbing up the sheet, consuming Mineta's smiling face in a trail of black, acrid smoke.
As the last piece of paper turned to fragile gray ash, Yu turned to look first at the television screen and then at Izuku. Her voice was calm, cold, and absolutely final.
"I already have enough to deal with one functional pervert on my team," she declared, nodding her head toward Izuku. "I don't need to add a hopeless amateur to the mix. Next candidate."
Nemuri covered her mouth with her hand, but her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably with suppressed laughter. Mirko, however, had no such self control. She threw her head back and let out a thundering laugh, a howl of pure, absolute delight that echoed throughout the apartment. "HA! THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT, MOUNT LADY! YOU FIGHT BUREAUCRACY WITH FIRE! LITERALLY!"
Izuku just blinked, trying to process the fact that his partner had just committed an act of Human Resources arson in the middle of their first official selection meeting. He looked at the smoking trash can, then at Yu, and back at the trash can.
"That," he muttered to himself, "is not a standard U.A. document disposal protocol."
After the purifying fire incident, the meeting's momentum was completely lost. The atmosphere, which had been tense and then comical, was now simply exhausted. Izuku continued to go through profiles, but the gesture was mechanical. His face showed the strain of an indecision that was solidifying into a real mental block.
Finally, after another twenty minutes of heavy silence, he ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. He looked away from the screen, his shoulders slumped, overwhelmed by the task.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice a tired thread, full of a genuine anguish that silenced even Mirko. "There are so many… so many Quirks, so much potential… but none of them feel right." He looked at Yu, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It's not just an exam, you know? It's someone's future. I can't just make a decision like this lightly. Every change I make will have unforeseen consequences. What if I boost someone with a strength Quirk and their bones can't handle the new strain? Or someone with a speed Quirk and their reaction time doesn't improve at the same rate? I'm not playing around. I'm altering a person's physiology. The margin for error is…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"Stop," Yu said, her tone firm but kind. "This isn't working. We're burned out. Staring at a screen for hours isn't going to give us an epiphany." She stood up and stretched her back. "We're stuck in analysis paralysis."
She looked at Nemuri through the screen, a desperate but brilliant idea forming in her mind.
"Nemuri, I think you and I deserve a break from all this heroic testosterone and existential deliberation. We need a detox."
Nemuri, who had been watching Izuku with a sympathetic expression, smiled instantly, getting the hint.
"A girls' night out," she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I haven't had one in a while. An excellent idea, Yu-chan. We need to recharge our batteries… and maybe complain about our jobs."
In the other box, Mirko groaned with exaggerated drama.
"A 'girls' night out'? What the hell is that? Sounds like torture. I'd rather fight."
There was a pregnant pause. Yu and Nemuri waited, knowing exactly what was coming next. A malicious, slow, predatory smile spread across Mirko's face.
"Alright, I'll go," she declared, her tone shifting from whining to devilish. "But on one condition. If I have to suffer through this social torture, the brat suffers with me. He's coming too."
Mirko's proposal left the room in silence.
Izuku was the first to react, his expression one of pure and utter confusion. "Me? On a… girls' night out?"
"No!" Yu exclaimed, jumping to her feet and gesturing frantically at the screen. "Absolutely not! Rumi, are you crazy!? It's supposed to be for de-stressing, not for adding a social disaster who asks inappropriate questions!"
"Of course he's coming! It's training!" Mirko argued, with a logic so twisted it almost sounded flawless. "It will teach him how to handle unpredictable, high stress social situations! He'll get to see pro heroines in their natural environment! It's a fundamental part of his development as a support analyst! We'll call it… field observation!"
Nemuri, who loved chaos more than almost anything else in the world, clapped softly, delighted by the turn of events.
"Rumi's logic is surprisingly solid," she said with feigned seriousness. "An opportunity for interdisciplinary learning and soft skill development. I approve!"
Yu looked from one screen to the other, her mouth agape, feeling betrayed and outnumbered. The motion had been presented, seconded, and approved by the chaos committee. She had no way out.
Izuku, seeing that the decision was made and likely relieved to have an excuse to postpone the choice, turned to the screen, his tone becoming more professional again.
"Alright, Nemuri-san. I'll take a few days to think carefully about the candidates. As Mirko-san pointed out, the distraction might help me clear my head and approach the problem from a new perspective. When I have a final decision, you'll be the first to know."
The video call ended. Mirko's and Nemuri's faces disappeared, and the screen went black again, plunging the room into a sudden, ominous silence.
Yu dropped to the floor, burying her face in her hands and muttering in a voice full of deep, sincere despair.
"My life is a complete chaos."
Izuku, beside her, looked at her with genuine, serious curiosity, completely oblivious to her existential crisis. He leaned toward her, his face showing total concentration. He even took out a small pocket notebook and a pen, ready to take notes.
"So," he began, the tip of the pen hovering over the paper, "what exactly does one do on a 'girls' night out'? Is there a specific protocol I should study? A dress code? Do I need to prepare conversation topics beforehand to optimize the social interaction?"
Notes:
New heroine unlocked.
Chapter 26: A Fated EncounterIs Now Available.
Thank you all for your support, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Chapter word count: Approximately 3100+ words.
BNHA
Available on: patreon.com/shurazero
Maya22 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Sep 2025 08:30PM UTC
Comment Actions
Freya11 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Sep 2025 08:36PM UTC
Comment Actions
Maya22 (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Sep 2025 08:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
LdSavobi on Chapter 5 Thu 25 Sep 2025 04:49AM UTC
Comment Actions
LdSavobi on Chapter 16 Thu 25 Sep 2025 03:23PM UTC
Comment Actions
CallMeCheshire on Chapter 19 Sun 21 Sep 2025 09:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
Dragonemerald on Chapter 20 Mon 22 Sep 2025 10:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
CallMeCheshire on Chapter 21 Tue 23 Sep 2025 03:45AM UTC
Comment Actions
Vonte95 on Chapter 22 Tue 23 Sep 2025 05:30PM UTC
Comment Actions