Camie

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

For now, he just had to stay in the moment. Ride the wave of light conversation without thinking to much about how deep the water went. "Yeah, we can't have that. I don't keep up the whole broody exterior for nothing."

And then came The Question. The one he always dreads, one he was hoping they could skip over. His perfectly terrible quirk. It always pushed people away or drew in the wrong kind of crowd.

He hesitated to answer, and Utsushimi was quick to reassure him. You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary. She said it simply, like it had to be true. Maybe it could be.

When she explained what people thought of her own quirk, he did find himself relating to it. How others are so quick to see the evil side of things, as if their assumptions don't say more about them. It felt nice to not have to be on the defensive about his quirk for once.

"Yeah, most see it as this scary, all-controlling, but it's pretty limited." His hands moved to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. Pulling at it as if to cover himself up a little more, but not needing to go through with it yet. "I can only get people to do basic actions. Nothing that requires actual thought or memory. It's biggest use is just in stopping a fight, sometimes even before it starts."

When he finished, she smiled softly, a mix of admiration and something gentler that she didn’t bother hiding. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. People assume the worst, but really, it’s not about the quirk itself—it’s about who you are using it,” she said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate again before she pushed it aside.

“I, uh… actually want to show you something,” she said suddenly, shifting slightly in her seat. “Give me just a minute?”

Before he could respond, she rose and made her way to the counter. There was a quick exchange with the cashier, the faint clinking of coins and the rustle of receipts. Then she returned, a little sparkle in her eyes, and extended her hand toward him. “Come on,” she said, voice light, playful, but carrying the same undertone of trust she’d been building all afternoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

He took her hand, hoping the gesture conveys the amount of trust he is allowing her in this moment. It was a little worrying ,how quickly he was catching feelings for her, but he barely cared. This could be worth it. He really wanted it to be. At the very least he could be happy, just for today, just for a little while longer, and whatever happens next will just happen.

“You’ll like it,” she said, quiet but confident, like she was promising him something without fully knowing how to explain it.

She led him out of the café and down the street. The noise of the city shifted as they moved, busy to quieter, crowded to open. She didn’t rush him. Just guided him, like she was letting him walk beside her instead of following. That felt important, even if she never put words to it.

After a couple of turns, she stopped. Let go of his hand for just a second, just long enough to step in front of him.

“Close your eyes,” she said, softer now, almost shy. “Just trust me for like… ten seconds.”

There was a pause, a breath. Then, when the moment felt right, she lifted her hands and let her quirk hum gently under her skin.

The world shifted. Not loudly. Softly. Lights blurred into warm ribbons of color. The dull gray of the alley behind them melted into something calmer, gentler. Like the air itself was cooling down around them. Like the city was letting them borrow a quiet pocket of space that didn’t belong to anyone else.

When she spoke again, her voice was closer. “Okay. You can open them now.”

The space around them wasn’t a normal street anymore. It looked like a small rooftop garden that didn’t exist a second ago. Soft lantern light, faint drifting petals that weren’t really there, the sound of distant windchimes that didn’t belong to any building. A calm, breathing illusion wrapped around them instead of loud chaos.

“It’s not real,” she admitted, a little embarrassed now, shifting her weight. “Not… physically real, I guess. But I like to make places like this when my head gets too loud. Just… peaceful corners. Places people don’t yell or stare or expect stuff.”

She gazed off to the side for a moment.

“I’ve been training to make them last longer. Used to be they’d flicker out fast. Couldn’t hold a whole space like this. Now I can keep it going if I focus.”

Utsushimi then glanced at him, waiting, careful not to assume.

“I thought maybe you’d like a place like this. Just for a minute.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow when she asked him to close his eyes, but quickly gave in to the soft look on her face. "Alright. Ten seconds."

Hitoshi could feel the slight shift in the alleyway, like a breeze blowing in the wrong direction. When he opened his eyes, he could only marvel at the pocket world that Utsushimi created. The warm lights and calm atmosphere wrapped him up like a cozy blanket.

"It's beautiful." He spun around to get a better look at everything. "It's so detailed. Like, it feels real."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something gentler.

“Yeah… I’m glad you like it.”

Part of her wanted to joke, make it light, but the look on his face stopped her. He wasn’t impressed in a flashy way. He was seeing it. Really seeing it. And seeing her.

“That’s the goal, anyway. Making things feel real enough that you forget what’s outside.” She let out a small breath and laughed under it. “Took forever to get the lighting right. And don’t even get me started on sound! I used to get headaches doing this.”

The girl’s gaze drifted over the hanging lights for a moment before returning to him. She nudged her shoulder into his, a soft touch meant to ground her more than him.

“You’re sweet for saying that.”

Her expression gentled, falling into something more sincere than her usual sparkle.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me. I don’t show this to just anyone.”

Two soft shapes flickered into existence overhead. At first it was just the flutter of wings, the kind of motion that blended naturally into the warm illusion-light she’d built, but then the birds drifted down into view. Small, soft, delicate things. And they perched on the wire above them… and immediately leaned in toward one another.

A gentle tap of beaks. Another. Then they tucked close together like they’d always belonged there.

Camie’s entire face went pink.

She hadn’t meant to make them. It wasn’t part of the setup. They just slipped out of her, the way her illusions sometimes did when her emotions were too strong to stay quiet. A thought she didn’t say out loud, taking shape right in front of him.

“Oh. Uh. That’s… new,” she muttered, waving her hand like that would make them disperse. They didn’t. They only nestled closer. “Sometimes my quirk gets ahead of me. It’s not… it’s not on purpose.”

Utsushimi’s eyes darted away from Hitoshi’s face, which only made the embarrassment worse. She lifted a hand to her cheek, trying to hide the warmth there.

“It’s nothing weird. Just… a mood thing. Illusions pop out when I feel too much. And apparently my brain thinks I’m on a date in a romance movie.” She gave a tiny laugh, soft and so clearly flustered, like someone caught daydreaming with the lights on.

The birds chirped once, harmonizing with each other, which absolutely did not help.

She finally dragged her gaze back to him, the shyness still visible around the edges.

He looked up, drawn to the movement of the birds above them. Fondly watching as they leaned into each other, wanting to do the same.

He felt Utsushimi stiffen beside him, and turned to see her blushing from embarrassment. He listened as she explained the strange facet of her quirk, no judgement in his gaze, but hope blooming in his chest.

A soft chuckle escaped him as she looked away, finding the flustered action rather adorable. From the birdsong, the proximity, the warmth, he was definitely reading into it.

"Lovebirds, huh? I think they've got the right idea," he spoke in a low voice, a hesitant whisper.

“Yeah,” she repeated, quieter this time.

The illusion answered her before she could stop it.

The birds fluttered, wings brushing as they circled once overhead, feathers scattering into soft points of light that drifted lazily around them. The glow deepened, not brighter, just warmer, like the world was leaning in with her. The air felt thicker, heavy with everything she was holding back.

Camie tilted her head up, eyes flicking to his lips and then back to his gaze, cheeks warm but steady. She did not rush it. She closed the distance slowly, giving him time, giving herself time.

Inside, her thoughts were a mess of color and motion, nerves sparking, hope blooming too fast to contain. Outside, she was gentle. Grounded. Honest.

The illusion shifted above them, but he paid little mind to the glittering world around them. His only focus was how it reflected in her eyes, as open and alluring as ever.

The gap between them closed slowly, giving them both time to breath in the thick air of desire between them. Their own little pocket of the world, chock full of something lovely. Something he never wants to let go of. His hand moved to better cup her jaw, a steady and gentle hold.

His heartbeat under her palm was the first thing that anchored her, a steady thrum that contrasted sharply with the way her own pulse seemed to scatter. Fast. Warm. Alive. She pressed there without thinking, fingers splayed against his chest like she needed the confirmation that this was really happening and not something her quirk had dreamed up ahead of time.

She laughed to herself quietly, but the sound died in her throat when she realized how little distance remained between them.

Hitoshi was right there. Close enough that she could see the way his lashes cast faint shadows, close enough to feel his breath shift when hers did. Close enough that the world narrowed, the edges blurring until it was just him and the warmth between them.

Her arms moved before her thoughts caught up.

Camie slid them around his neck, fingers threading lightly into the fabric at his collar, holding on in a way that felt instinctive rather than planned. She rose onto her toes without realizing it, one foot lifting behind her in a way that would have made her laugh at herself later. Right now, it just felt natural, like her body was leaning into something it had wanted longer than she was ready to admit.

The kiss came slowly. No rush. No collision.

When their lips met, Camie felt it all the way through her. The softness surprised her. The patience. He kissed like he was paying attention, like he was giving her space even as he closed it, and that alone made her heart stutter. She responded in kind, lips moving against his with a gentleness that felt almost reverent.

Oh my God. Oh my God, Hitoshi Shinso is an amazing kisser.

The thought hit her fully formed, absurd and dizzy and impossible to ignore. She leaned into him a little more, trusting the hand at her jaw, trusting the way he held her like she was something fragile and wanted all at once. The world she had built shimmered around them, alive but unobtrusive, as if even her illusions knew to stay quiet now.

His hand at her waist grounded her, firm without being possessive, like he was choosing her space rather than claiming it. The touch sent a quiet shiver through her, not sharp, not overwhelming, just warm and steady. She let herself lean into it, trusting the way he held her, trusting the way he stayed present instead of pulling back.

The illusion answered again, softer this time. The lights dimmed to a mellow glow, colors melting into something gentler, less showy. Even her quirk seemed to understand that this was not a moment for spectacle. This was something close. Something real.

Utsushimi smiled into the kiss without meaning to.

She could feel how he changed as it went on, how the tension she had noticed earlier finally eased. He was no longer hovering on the edge of retreat. He was here, fully, meeting her with a confidence that felt earned rather than forced. That alone made her chest feel too full, like her heart had decided to grow three sizes at once.

The girl’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested at the back of his neck, thumbs brushing warm skin. She liked that he felt solid beneath her hands. Liked that he stayed. Liked that he did not disappear when things got tender.

When they finally parted, it was slow, reluctant, like neither of them wanted to be the first to step back. Camie rested her forehead against his, eyes half-lidded, breath still uneven. For a moment, she just stayed there, absorbing the quiet, the closeness, the way the world felt smaller and kinder than it had any right to.

She laughed softly, a little breathless, a little shy now that the moment had settled.

He easily fell into a casual smile at her remark. Was it worth it? If this was worth anything, he wouldn't ever be able to repay it. But he's not one for such sappy ideas, so he simply says, "Yeah. I think it is."

His hand on her jaw moved to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. Moving slowly, mesmerized by her in this moment. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be under the effects of his quirk. To only be able to focus on one thing, one task, everything else be damned. Her allure was distracting enough before it filled his vision and sank deep in his chest.

His words lingered, warm and dangerous in the best way. The way he said it so simply made her chest tighten far more than any bold flirt ever could. She had spent so much of her life being seen as surface level charm, a pretty trick, something fun to look at and not much else. This felt different. This felt like being noticed.

She let out a slow breath she did not realize she had been holding. The light around them dimmed first, like a sunset deciding it had lingered long enough. The petals dissolved into nothing, the warmth easing away until the alley returned to what it had been before. Brick, pavement, distant city noise. Ordinary. Real.

Her hands loosened at his neck, not pulling away completely, just enough to ground herself. For a split second she worried the moment might shatter without the illusion holding it together. That he might look different now. That she might.

But he was still there.

The girl laughed quietly, a little breathless, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. “Okay,” she said, voice softer but steadier. “That part always gets me.”

She glanced around, relieved. “I am working on making them last longer, by the way. The illusions, I mean. But I am also trying to learn when to let them go.” Her eyes flicked back to him. “Feels important.”

There was a pause. Almost as if she was thinking of something.

“So,” she continued, tilting her head, a small smile returning, “no magic tricks this time.” She gestured lightly between them, as if drawing a line from his chest to hers. “Just me. Just you.”

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

For now, he just had to stay in the moment. Ride the wave of light conversation without thinking to much about how deep the water went. "Yeah, we can't have that. I don't keep up the whole broody exterior for nothing."

And then came The Question. The one he always dreads, one he was hoping they could skip over. His perfectly terrible quirk. It always pushed people away or drew in the wrong kind of crowd.

He hesitated to answer, and Utsushimi was quick to reassure him. You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary. She said it simply, like it had to be true. Maybe it could be.

When she explained what people thought of her own quirk, he did find himself relating to it. How others are so quick to see the evil side of things, as if their assumptions don't say more about them. It felt nice to not have to be on the defensive about his quirk for once.

"Yeah, most see it as this scary, all-controlling, but it's pretty limited." His hands moved to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. Pulling at it as if to cover himself up a little more, but not needing to go through with it yet. "I can only get people to do basic actions. Nothing that requires actual thought or memory. It's biggest use is just in stopping a fight, sometimes even before it starts."

When he finished, she smiled softly, a mix of admiration and something gentler that she didn’t bother hiding. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. People assume the worst, but really, it’s not about the quirk itself—it’s about who you are using it,” she said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate again before she pushed it aside.

“I, uh… actually want to show you something,” she said suddenly, shifting slightly in her seat. “Give me just a minute?”

Before he could respond, she rose and made her way to the counter. There was a quick exchange with the cashier, the faint clinking of coins and the rustle of receipts. Then she returned, a little sparkle in her eyes, and extended her hand toward him. “Come on,” she said, voice light, playful, but carrying the same undertone of trust she’d been building all afternoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

He took her hand, hoping the gesture conveys the amount of trust he is allowing her in this moment. It was a little worrying ,how quickly he was catching feelings for her, but he barely cared. This could be worth it. He really wanted it to be. At the very least he could be happy, just for today, just for a little while longer, and whatever happens next will just happen.

“You’ll like it,” she said, quiet but confident, like she was promising him something without fully knowing how to explain it.

She led him out of the café and down the street. The noise of the city shifted as they moved, busy to quieter, crowded to open. She didn’t rush him. Just guided him, like she was letting him walk beside her instead of following. That felt important, even if she never put words to it.

After a couple of turns, she stopped. Let go of his hand for just a second, just long enough to step in front of him.

“Close your eyes,” she said, softer now, almost shy. “Just trust me for like… ten seconds.”

There was a pause, a breath. Then, when the moment felt right, she lifted her hands and let her quirk hum gently under her skin.

The world shifted. Not loudly. Softly. Lights blurred into warm ribbons of color. The dull gray of the alley behind them melted into something calmer, gentler. Like the air itself was cooling down around them. Like the city was letting them borrow a quiet pocket of space that didn’t belong to anyone else.

When she spoke again, her voice was closer. “Okay. You can open them now.”

The space around them wasn’t a normal street anymore. It looked like a small rooftop garden that didn’t exist a second ago. Soft lantern light, faint drifting petals that weren’t really there, the sound of distant windchimes that didn’t belong to any building. A calm, breathing illusion wrapped around them instead of loud chaos.

“It’s not real,” she admitted, a little embarrassed now, shifting her weight. “Not… physically real, I guess. But I like to make places like this when my head gets too loud. Just… peaceful corners. Places people don’t yell or stare or expect stuff.”

She gazed off to the side for a moment.

“I’ve been training to make them last longer. Used to be they’d flicker out fast. Couldn’t hold a whole space like this. Now I can keep it going if I focus.”

Utsushimi then glanced at him, waiting, careful not to assume.

“I thought maybe you’d like a place like this. Just for a minute.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow when she asked him to close his eyes, but quickly gave in to the soft look on her face. "Alright. Ten seconds."

Hitoshi could feel the slight shift in the alleyway, like a breeze blowing in the wrong direction. When he opened his eyes, he could only marvel at the pocket world that Utsushimi created. The warm lights and calm atmosphere wrapped him up like a cozy blanket.

"It's beautiful." He spun around to get a better look at everything. "It's so detailed. Like, it feels real."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something gentler.

“Yeah… I’m glad you like it.”

Part of her wanted to joke, make it light, but the look on his face stopped her. He wasn’t impressed in a flashy way. He was seeing it. Really seeing it. And seeing her.

“That’s the goal, anyway. Making things feel real enough that you forget what’s outside.” She let out a small breath and laughed under it. “Took forever to get the lighting right. And don’t even get me started on sound! I used to get headaches doing this.”

The girl’s gaze drifted over the hanging lights for a moment before returning to him. She nudged her shoulder into his, a soft touch meant to ground her more than him.

“You’re sweet for saying that.”

Her expression gentled, falling into something more sincere than her usual sparkle.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me. I don’t show this to just anyone.”

Two soft shapes flickered into existence overhead. At first it was just the flutter of wings, the kind of motion that blended naturally into the warm illusion-light she’d built, but then the birds drifted down into view. Small, soft, delicate things. And they perched on the wire above them… and immediately leaned in toward one another.

A gentle tap of beaks. Another. Then they tucked close together like they’d always belonged there.

Camie’s entire face went pink.

She hadn’t meant to make them. It wasn’t part of the setup. They just slipped out of her, the way her illusions sometimes did when her emotions were too strong to stay quiet. A thought she didn’t say out loud, taking shape right in front of him.

“Oh. Uh. That’s… new,” she muttered, waving her hand like that would make them disperse. They didn’t. They only nestled closer. “Sometimes my quirk gets ahead of me. It’s not… it’s not on purpose.”

Utsushimi’s eyes darted away from Hitoshi’s face, which only made the embarrassment worse. She lifted a hand to her cheek, trying to hide the warmth there.

“It’s nothing weird. Just… a mood thing. Illusions pop out when I feel too much. And apparently my brain thinks I’m on a date in a romance movie.” She gave a tiny laugh, soft and so clearly flustered, like someone caught daydreaming with the lights on.

The birds chirped once, harmonizing with each other, which absolutely did not help.

She finally dragged her gaze back to him, the shyness still visible around the edges.

He looked up, drawn to the movement of the birds above them. Fondly watching as they leaned into each other, wanting to do the same.

He felt Utsushimi stiffen beside him, and turned to see her blushing from embarrassment. He listened as she explained the strange facet of her quirk, no judgement in his gaze, but hope blooming in his chest.

A soft chuckle escaped him as she looked away, finding the flustered action rather adorable. From the birdsong, the proximity, the warmth, he was definitely reading into it.

"Lovebirds, huh? I think they've got the right idea," he spoke in a low voice, a hesitant whisper.

“Yeah,” she repeated, quieter this time.

The illusion answered her before she could stop it.

The birds fluttered, wings brushing as they circled once overhead, feathers scattering into soft points of light that drifted lazily around them. The glow deepened, not brighter, just warmer, like the world was leaning in with her. The air felt thicker, heavy with everything she was holding back.

Camie tilted her head up, eyes flicking to his lips and then back to his gaze, cheeks warm but steady. She did not rush it. She closed the distance slowly, giving him time, giving herself time.

Inside, her thoughts were a mess of color and motion, nerves sparking, hope blooming too fast to contain. Outside, she was gentle. Grounded. Honest.

The illusion shifted above them, but he paid little mind to the glittering world around them. His only focus was how it reflected in her eyes, as open and alluring as ever.

The gap between them closed slowly, giving them both time to breath in the thick air of desire between them. Their own little pocket of the world, chock full of something lovely. Something he never wants to let go of. His hand moved to better cup her jaw, a steady and gentle hold.

His heartbeat under her palm was the first thing that anchored her, a steady thrum that contrasted sharply with the way her own pulse seemed to scatter. Fast. Warm. Alive. She pressed there without thinking, fingers splayed against his chest like she needed the confirmation that this was really happening and not something her quirk had dreamed up ahead of time.

She laughed to herself quietly, but the sound died in her throat when she realized how little distance remained between them.

Hitoshi was right there. Close enough that she could see the way his lashes cast faint shadows, close enough to feel his breath shift when hers did. Close enough that the world narrowed, the edges blurring until it was just him and the warmth between them.

Her arms moved before her thoughts caught up.

Camie slid them around his neck, fingers threading lightly into the fabric at his collar, holding on in a way that felt instinctive rather than planned. She rose onto her toes without realizing it, one foot lifting behind her in a way that would have made her laugh at herself later. Right now, it just felt natural, like her body was leaning into something it had wanted longer than she was ready to admit.

The kiss came slowly. No rush. No collision.

When their lips met, Camie felt it all the way through her. The softness surprised her. The patience. He kissed like he was paying attention, like he was giving her space even as he closed it, and that alone made her heart stutter. She responded in kind, lips moving against his with a gentleness that felt almost reverent.

Oh my God. Oh my God, Hitoshi Shinso is an amazing kisser.

The thought hit her fully formed, absurd and dizzy and impossible to ignore. She leaned into him a little more, trusting the hand at her jaw, trusting the way he held her like she was something fragile and wanted all at once. The world she had built shimmered around them, alive but unobtrusive, as if even her illusions knew to stay quiet now.

His hand at her waist grounded her, firm without being possessive, like he was choosing her space rather than claiming it. The touch sent a quiet shiver through her, not sharp, not overwhelming, just warm and steady. She let herself lean into it, trusting the way he held her, trusting the way he stayed present instead of pulling back.

The illusion answered again, softer this time. The lights dimmed to a mellow glow, colors melting into something gentler, less showy. Even her quirk seemed to understand that this was not a moment for spectacle. This was something close. Something real.

Utsushimi smiled into the kiss without meaning to.

She could feel how he changed as it went on, how the tension she had noticed earlier finally eased. He was no longer hovering on the edge of retreat. He was here, fully, meeting her with a confidence that felt earned rather than forced. That alone made her chest feel too full, like her heart had decided to grow three sizes at once.

The girl’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested at the back of his neck, thumbs brushing warm skin. She liked that he felt solid beneath her hands. Liked that he stayed. Liked that he did not disappear when things got tender.

When they finally parted, it was slow, reluctant, like neither of them wanted to be the first to step back. Camie rested her forehead against his, eyes half-lidded, breath still uneven. For a moment, she just stayed there, absorbing the quiet, the closeness, the way the world felt smaller and kinder than it had any right to.

She laughed softly, a little breathless, a little shy now that the moment had settled.

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

For now, he just had to stay in the moment. Ride the wave of light conversation without thinking to much about how deep the water went. "Yeah, we can't have that. I don't keep up the whole broody exterior for nothing."

And then came The Question. The one he always dreads, one he was hoping they could skip over. His perfectly terrible quirk. It always pushed people away or drew in the wrong kind of crowd.

He hesitated to answer, and Utsushimi was quick to reassure him. You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary. She said it simply, like it had to be true. Maybe it could be.

When she explained what people thought of her own quirk, he did find himself relating to it. How others are so quick to see the evil side of things, as if their assumptions don't say more about them. It felt nice to not have to be on the defensive about his quirk for once.

"Yeah, most see it as this scary, all-controlling, but it's pretty limited." His hands moved to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. Pulling at it as if to cover himself up a little more, but not needing to go through with it yet. "I can only get people to do basic actions. Nothing that requires actual thought or memory. It's biggest use is just in stopping a fight, sometimes even before it starts."

When he finished, she smiled softly, a mix of admiration and something gentler that she didn’t bother hiding. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. People assume the worst, but really, it’s not about the quirk itself—it’s about who you are using it,” she said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate again before she pushed it aside.

“I, uh… actually want to show you something,” she said suddenly, shifting slightly in her seat. “Give me just a minute?”

Before he could respond, she rose and made her way to the counter. There was a quick exchange with the cashier, the faint clinking of coins and the rustle of receipts. Then she returned, a little sparkle in her eyes, and extended her hand toward him. “Come on,” she said, voice light, playful, but carrying the same undertone of trust she’d been building all afternoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

He took her hand, hoping the gesture conveys the amount of trust he is allowing her in this moment. It was a little worrying ,how quickly he was catching feelings for her, but he barely cared. This could be worth it. He really wanted it to be. At the very least he could be happy, just for today, just for a little while longer, and whatever happens next will just happen.

“You’ll like it,” she said, quiet but confident, like she was promising him something without fully knowing how to explain it.

She led him out of the café and down the street. The noise of the city shifted as they moved, busy to quieter, crowded to open. She didn’t rush him. Just guided him, like she was letting him walk beside her instead of following. That felt important, even if she never put words to it.

After a couple of turns, she stopped. Let go of his hand for just a second, just long enough to step in front of him.

“Close your eyes,” she said, softer now, almost shy. “Just trust me for like… ten seconds.”

There was a pause, a breath. Then, when the moment felt right, she lifted her hands and let her quirk hum gently under her skin.

The world shifted. Not loudly. Softly. Lights blurred into warm ribbons of color. The dull gray of the alley behind them melted into something calmer, gentler. Like the air itself was cooling down around them. Like the city was letting them borrow a quiet pocket of space that didn’t belong to anyone else.

When she spoke again, her voice was closer. “Okay. You can open them now.”

The space around them wasn’t a normal street anymore. It looked like a small rooftop garden that didn’t exist a second ago. Soft lantern light, faint drifting petals that weren’t really there, the sound of distant windchimes that didn’t belong to any building. A calm, breathing illusion wrapped around them instead of loud chaos.

“It’s not real,” she admitted, a little embarrassed now, shifting her weight. “Not… physically real, I guess. But I like to make places like this when my head gets too loud. Just… peaceful corners. Places people don’t yell or stare or expect stuff.”

She gazed off to the side for a moment.

“I’ve been training to make them last longer. Used to be they’d flicker out fast. Couldn’t hold a whole space like this. Now I can keep it going if I focus.”

Utsushimi then glanced at him, waiting, careful not to assume.

“I thought maybe you’d like a place like this. Just for a minute.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow when she asked him to close his eyes, but quickly gave in to the soft look on her face. "Alright. Ten seconds."

Hitoshi could feel the slight shift in the alleyway, like a breeze blowing in the wrong direction. When he opened his eyes, he could only marvel at the pocket world that Utsushimi created. The warm lights and calm atmosphere wrapped him up like a cozy blanket.

"It's beautiful." He spun around to get a better look at everything. "It's so detailed. Like, it feels real."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something gentler.

“Yeah… I’m glad you like it.”

Part of her wanted to joke, make it light, but the look on his face stopped her. He wasn’t impressed in a flashy way. He was seeing it. Really seeing it. And seeing her.

“That’s the goal, anyway. Making things feel real enough that you forget what’s outside.” She let out a small breath and laughed under it. “Took forever to get the lighting right. And don’t even get me started on sound! I used to get headaches doing this.”

The girl’s gaze drifted over the hanging lights for a moment before returning to him. She nudged her shoulder into his, a soft touch meant to ground her more than him.

“You’re sweet for saying that.”

Her expression gentled, falling into something more sincere than her usual sparkle.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me. I don’t show this to just anyone.”

Two soft shapes flickered into existence overhead. At first it was just the flutter of wings, the kind of motion that blended naturally into the warm illusion-light she’d built, but then the birds drifted down into view. Small, soft, delicate things. And they perched on the wire above them… and immediately leaned in toward one another.

A gentle tap of beaks. Another. Then they tucked close together like they’d always belonged there.

Camie’s entire face went pink.

She hadn’t meant to make them. It wasn’t part of the setup. They just slipped out of her, the way her illusions sometimes did when her emotions were too strong to stay quiet. A thought she didn’t say out loud, taking shape right in front of him.

“Oh. Uh. That’s… new,” she muttered, waving her hand like that would make them disperse. They didn’t. They only nestled closer. “Sometimes my quirk gets ahead of me. It’s not… it’s not on purpose.”

Utsushimi’s eyes darted away from Hitoshi’s face, which only made the embarrassment worse. She lifted a hand to her cheek, trying to hide the warmth there.

“It’s nothing weird. Just… a mood thing. Illusions pop out when I feel too much. And apparently my brain thinks I’m on a date in a romance movie.” She gave a tiny laugh, soft and so clearly flustered, like someone caught daydreaming with the lights on.

The birds chirped once, harmonizing with each other, which absolutely did not help.

She finally dragged her gaze back to him, the shyness still visible around the edges.

He looked up, drawn to the movement of the birds above them. Fondly watching as they leaned into each other, wanting to do the same.

He felt Utsushimi stiffen beside him, and turned to see her blushing from embarrassment. He listened as she explained the strange facet of her quirk, no judgement in his gaze, but hope blooming in his chest.

A soft chuckle escaped him as she looked away, finding the flustered action rather adorable. From the birdsong, the proximity, the warmth, he was definitely reading into it.

"Lovebirds, huh? I think they've got the right idea," he spoke in a low voice, a hesitant whisper.

“Yeah,” she repeated, quieter this time.

The illusion answered her before she could stop it.

The birds fluttered, wings brushing as they circled once overhead, feathers scattering into soft points of light that drifted lazily around them. The glow deepened, not brighter, just warmer, like the world was leaning in with her. The air felt thicker, heavy with everything she was holding back.

Camie tilted her head up, eyes flicking to his lips and then back to his gaze, cheeks warm but steady. She did not rush it. She closed the distance slowly, giving him time, giving herself time.

Inside, her thoughts were a mess of color and motion, nerves sparking, hope blooming too fast to contain. Outside, she was gentle. Grounded. Honest.

The illusion shifted above them, but he paid little mind to the glittering world around them. His only focus was how it reflected in her eyes, as open and alluring as ever.

The gap between them closed slowly, giving them both time to breath in the thick air of desire between them. Their own little pocket of the world, chock full of something lovely. Something he never wants to let go of. His hand moved to better cup her jaw, a steady and gentle hold.

His heartbeat under her palm was the first thing that anchored her, a steady thrum that contrasted sharply with the way her own pulse seemed to scatter. Fast. Warm. Alive. She pressed there without thinking, fingers splayed against his chest like she needed the confirmation that this was really happening and not something her quirk had dreamed up ahead of time.

She laughed to herself quietly, but the sound died in her throat when she realized how little distance remained between them.

Hitoshi was right there. Close enough that she could see the way his lashes cast faint shadows, close enough to feel his breath shift when hers did. Close enough that the world narrowed, the edges blurring until it was just him and the warmth between them.

Her arms moved before her thoughts caught up.

Camie slid them around his neck, fingers threading lightly into the fabric at his collar, holding on in a way that felt instinctive rather than planned. She rose onto her toes without realizing it, one foot lifting behind her in a way that would have made her laugh at herself later. Right now, it just felt natural, like her body was leaning into something it had wanted longer than she was ready to admit.

The kiss came slowly. No rush. No collision.

When their lips met, Camie felt it all the way through her. The softness surprised her. The patience. He kissed like he was paying attention, like he was giving her space even as he closed it, and that alone made her heart stutter. She responded in kind, lips moving against his with a gentleness that felt almost reverent.

Oh my God. Oh my God, Hitoshi Shinso is an amazing kisser.

The thought hit her fully formed, absurd and dizzy and impossible to ignore. She leaned into him a little more, trusting the hand at her jaw, trusting the way he held her like she was something fragile and wanted all at once. The world she had built shimmered around them, alive but unobtrusive, as if even her illusions knew to stay quiet now.

Don’t compare yourself to others, we all shine in our own unique way

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

For now, he just had to stay in the moment. Ride the wave of light conversation without thinking to much about how deep the water went. "Yeah, we can't have that. I don't keep up the whole broody exterior for nothing."

And then came The Question. The one he always dreads, one he was hoping they could skip over. His perfectly terrible quirk. It always pushed people away or drew in the wrong kind of crowd.

He hesitated to answer, and Utsushimi was quick to reassure him. You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary. She said it simply, like it had to be true. Maybe it could be.

When she explained what people thought of her own quirk, he did find himself relating to it. How others are so quick to see the evil side of things, as if their assumptions don't say more about them. It felt nice to not have to be on the defensive about his quirk for once.

"Yeah, most see it as this scary, all-controlling, but it's pretty limited." His hands moved to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. Pulling at it as if to cover himself up a little more, but not needing to go through with it yet. "I can only get people to do basic actions. Nothing that requires actual thought or memory. It's biggest use is just in stopping a fight, sometimes even before it starts."

When he finished, she smiled softly, a mix of admiration and something gentler that she didn’t bother hiding. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. People assume the worst, but really, it’s not about the quirk itself—it’s about who you are using it,” she said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate again before she pushed it aside.

“I, uh… actually want to show you something,” she said suddenly, shifting slightly in her seat. “Give me just a minute?”

Before he could respond, she rose and made her way to the counter. There was a quick exchange with the cashier, the faint clinking of coins and the rustle of receipts. Then she returned, a little sparkle in her eyes, and extended her hand toward him. “Come on,” she said, voice light, playful, but carrying the same undertone of trust she’d been building all afternoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

He took her hand, hoping the gesture conveys the amount of trust he is allowing her in this moment. It was a little worrying ,how quickly he was catching feelings for her, but he barely cared. This could be worth it. He really wanted it to be. At the very least he could be happy, just for today, just for a little while longer, and whatever happens next will just happen.

“You’ll like it,” she said, quiet but confident, like she was promising him something without fully knowing how to explain it.

She led him out of the café and down the street. The noise of the city shifted as they moved, busy to quieter, crowded to open. She didn’t rush him. Just guided him, like she was letting him walk beside her instead of following. That felt important, even if she never put words to it.

After a couple of turns, she stopped. Let go of his hand for just a second, just long enough to step in front of him.

“Close your eyes,” she said, softer now, almost shy. “Just trust me for like… ten seconds.”

There was a pause, a breath. Then, when the moment felt right, she lifted her hands and let her quirk hum gently under her skin.

The world shifted. Not loudly. Softly. Lights blurred into warm ribbons of color. The dull gray of the alley behind them melted into something calmer, gentler. Like the air itself was cooling down around them. Like the city was letting them borrow a quiet pocket of space that didn’t belong to anyone else.

When she spoke again, her voice was closer. “Okay. You can open them now.”

The space around them wasn’t a normal street anymore. It looked like a small rooftop garden that didn’t exist a second ago. Soft lantern light, faint drifting petals that weren’t really there, the sound of distant windchimes that didn’t belong to any building. A calm, breathing illusion wrapped around them instead of loud chaos.

“It’s not real,” she admitted, a little embarrassed now, shifting her weight. “Not… physically real, I guess. But I like to make places like this when my head gets too loud. Just… peaceful corners. Places people don’t yell or stare or expect stuff.”

She gazed off to the side for a moment.

“I’ve been training to make them last longer. Used to be they’d flicker out fast. Couldn’t hold a whole space like this. Now I can keep it going if I focus.”

Utsushimi then glanced at him, waiting, careful not to assume.

“I thought maybe you’d like a place like this. Just for a minute.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow when she asked him to close his eyes, but quickly gave in to the soft look on her face. "Alright. Ten seconds."

Hitoshi could feel the slight shift in the alleyway, like a breeze blowing in the wrong direction. When he opened his eyes, he could only marvel at the pocket world that Utsushimi created. The warm lights and calm atmosphere wrapped him up like a cozy blanket.

"It's beautiful." He spun around to get a better look at everything. "It's so detailed. Like, it feels real."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something gentler.

“Yeah… I’m glad you like it.”

Part of her wanted to joke, make it light, but the look on his face stopped her. He wasn’t impressed in a flashy way. He was seeing it. Really seeing it. And seeing her.

“That’s the goal, anyway. Making things feel real enough that you forget what’s outside.” She let out a small breath and laughed under it. “Took forever to get the lighting right. And don’t even get me started on sound! I used to get headaches doing this.”

The girl’s gaze drifted over the hanging lights for a moment before returning to him. She nudged her shoulder into his, a soft touch meant to ground her more than him.

“You’re sweet for saying that.”

Her expression gentled, falling into something more sincere than her usual sparkle.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me. I don’t show this to just anyone.”

Two soft shapes flickered into existence overhead. At first it was just the flutter of wings, the kind of motion that blended naturally into the warm illusion-light she’d built, but then the birds drifted down into view. Small, soft, delicate things. And they perched on the wire above them… and immediately leaned in toward one another.

A gentle tap of beaks. Another. Then they tucked close together like they’d always belonged there.

Camie’s entire face went pink.

She hadn’t meant to make them. It wasn’t part of the setup. They just slipped out of her, the way her illusions sometimes did when her emotions were too strong to stay quiet. A thought she didn’t say out loud, taking shape right in front of him.

“Oh. Uh. That’s… new,” she muttered, waving her hand like that would make them disperse. They didn’t. They only nestled closer. “Sometimes my quirk gets ahead of me. It’s not… it’s not on purpose.”

Utsushimi’s eyes darted away from Hitoshi’s face, which only made the embarrassment worse. She lifted a hand to her cheek, trying to hide the warmth there.

“It’s nothing weird. Just… a mood thing. Illusions pop out when I feel too much. And apparently my brain thinks I’m on a date in a romance movie.” She gave a tiny laugh, soft and so clearly flustered, like someone caught daydreaming with the lights on.

The birds chirped once, harmonizing with each other, which absolutely did not help.

She finally dragged her gaze back to him, the shyness still visible around the edges.

He looked up, drawn to the movement of the birds above them. Fondly watching as they leaned into each other, wanting to do the same.

He felt Utsushimi stiffen beside him, and turned to see her blushing from embarrassment. He listened as she explained the strange facet of her quirk, no judgement in his gaze, but hope blooming in his chest.

A soft chuckle escaped him as she looked away, finding the flustered action rather adorable. From the birdsong, the proximity, the warmth, he was definitely reading into it.

"Lovebirds, huh? I think they've got the right idea," he spoke in a low voice, a hesitant whisper.

“Yeah,” she repeated, quieter this time.

The illusion answered her before she could stop it.

The birds fluttered, wings brushing as they circled once overhead, feathers scattering into soft points of light that drifted lazily around them. The glow deepened, not brighter, just warmer, like the world was leaning in with her. The air felt thicker, heavy with everything she was holding back.

Camie tilted her head up, eyes flicking to his lips and then back to his gaze, cheeks warm but steady. She did not rush it. She closed the distance slowly, giving him time, giving herself time.

Inside, her thoughts were a mess of color and motion, nerves sparking, hope blooming too fast to contain. Outside, she was gentle. Grounded. Honest.

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

For now, he just had to stay in the moment. Ride the wave of light conversation without thinking to much about how deep the water went. "Yeah, we can't have that. I don't keep up the whole broody exterior for nothing."

And then came The Question. The one he always dreads, one he was hoping they could skip over. His perfectly terrible quirk. It always pushed people away or drew in the wrong kind of crowd.

He hesitated to answer, and Utsushimi was quick to reassure him. You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary. She said it simply, like it had to be true. Maybe it could be.

When she explained what people thought of her own quirk, he did find himself relating to it. How others are so quick to see the evil side of things, as if their assumptions don't say more about them. It felt nice to not have to be on the defensive about his quirk for once.

"Yeah, most see it as this scary, all-controlling, but it's pretty limited." His hands moved to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. Pulling at it as if to cover himself up a little more, but not needing to go through with it yet. "I can only get people to do basic actions. Nothing that requires actual thought or memory. It's biggest use is just in stopping a fight, sometimes even before it starts."

When he finished, she smiled softly, a mix of admiration and something gentler that she didn’t bother hiding. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. People assume the worst, but really, it’s not about the quirk itself—it’s about who you are using it,” she said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate again before she pushed it aside.

“I, uh… actually want to show you something,” she said suddenly, shifting slightly in her seat. “Give me just a minute?”

Before he could respond, she rose and made her way to the counter. There was a quick exchange with the cashier, the faint clinking of coins and the rustle of receipts. Then she returned, a little sparkle in her eyes, and extended her hand toward him. “Come on,” she said, voice light, playful, but carrying the same undertone of trust she’d been building all afternoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

He took her hand, hoping the gesture conveys the amount of trust he is allowing her in this moment. It was a little worrying ,how quickly he was catching feelings for her, but he barely cared. This could be worth it. He really wanted it to be. At the very least he could be happy, just for today, just for a little while longer, and whatever happens next will just happen.

“You’ll like it,” she said, quiet but confident, like she was promising him something without fully knowing how to explain it.

She led him out of the café and down the street. The noise of the city shifted as they moved, busy to quieter, crowded to open. She didn’t rush him. Just guided him, like she was letting him walk beside her instead of following. That felt important, even if she never put words to it.

After a couple of turns, she stopped. Let go of his hand for just a second, just long enough to step in front of him.

“Close your eyes,” she said, softer now, almost shy. “Just trust me for like… ten seconds.”

There was a pause, a breath. Then, when the moment felt right, she lifted her hands and let her quirk hum gently under her skin.

The world shifted. Not loudly. Softly. Lights blurred into warm ribbons of color. The dull gray of the alley behind them melted into something calmer, gentler. Like the air itself was cooling down around them. Like the city was letting them borrow a quiet pocket of space that didn’t belong to anyone else.

When she spoke again, her voice was closer. “Okay. You can open them now.”

The space around them wasn’t a normal street anymore. It looked like a small rooftop garden that didn’t exist a second ago. Soft lantern light, faint drifting petals that weren’t really there, the sound of distant windchimes that didn’t belong to any building. A calm, breathing illusion wrapped around them instead of loud chaos.

“It’s not real,” she admitted, a little embarrassed now, shifting her weight. “Not… physically real, I guess. But I like to make places like this when my head gets too loud. Just… peaceful corners. Places people don’t yell or stare or expect stuff.”

She gazed off to the side for a moment.

“I’ve been training to make them last longer. Used to be they’d flicker out fast. Couldn’t hold a whole space like this. Now I can keep it going if I focus.”

Utsushimi then glanced at him, waiting, careful not to assume.

“I thought maybe you’d like a place like this. Just for a minute.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow when she asked him to close his eyes, but quickly gave in to the soft look on her face. "Alright. Ten seconds."

Hitoshi could feel the slight shift in the alleyway, like a breeze blowing in the wrong direction. When he opened his eyes, he could only marvel at the pocket world that Utsushimi created. The warm lights and calm atmosphere wrapped him up like a cozy blanket.

"It's beautiful." He spun around to get a better look at everything. "It's so detailed. Like, it feels real."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something gentler.

“Yeah… I’m glad you like it.”

Part of her wanted to joke, make it light, but the look on his face stopped her. He wasn’t impressed in a flashy way. He was seeing it. Really seeing it. And seeing her.

“That’s the goal, anyway. Making things feel real enough that you forget what’s outside.” She let out a small breath and laughed under it. “Took forever to get the lighting right. And don’t even get me started on sound! I used to get headaches doing this.”

The girl’s gaze drifted over the hanging lights for a moment before returning to him. She nudged her shoulder into his, a soft touch meant to ground her more than him.

“You’re sweet for saying that.”

Her expression gentled, falling into something more sincere than her usual sparkle.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me. I don’t show this to just anyone.”

Two soft shapes flickered into existence overhead. At first it was just the flutter of wings, the kind of motion that blended naturally into the warm illusion-light she’d built, but then the birds drifted down into view. Small, soft, delicate things. And they perched on the wire above them… and immediately leaned in toward one another.

A gentle tap of beaks. Another. Then they tucked close together like they’d always belonged there.

Camie’s entire face went pink.

She hadn’t meant to make them. It wasn’t part of the setup. They just slipped out of her, the way her illusions sometimes did when her emotions were too strong to stay quiet. A thought she didn’t say out loud, taking shape right in front of him.

“Oh. Uh. That’s… new,” she muttered, waving her hand like that would make them disperse. They didn’t. They only nestled closer. “Sometimes my quirk gets ahead of me. It’s not… it’s not on purpose.”

Utsushimi’s eyes darted away from Hitoshi’s face, which only made the embarrassment worse. She lifted a hand to her cheek, trying to hide the warmth there.

“It’s nothing weird. Just… a mood thing. Illusions pop out when I feel too much. And apparently my brain thinks I’m on a date in a romance movie.” She gave a tiny laugh, soft and so clearly flustered, like someone caught daydreaming with the lights on.

The birds chirped once, harmonizing with each other, which absolutely did not help.

She finally dragged her gaze back to him, the shyness still visible around the edges.

Dress pretty for YOU

Celebrate for YOU

Wake up for YOU

Bloom for YOU

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

For now, he just had to stay in the moment. Ride the wave of light conversation without thinking to much about how deep the water went. "Yeah, we can't have that. I don't keep up the whole broody exterior for nothing."

And then came The Question. The one he always dreads, one he was hoping they could skip over. His perfectly terrible quirk. It always pushed people away or drew in the wrong kind of crowd.

He hesitated to answer, and Utsushimi was quick to reassure him. You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary. She said it simply, like it had to be true. Maybe it could be.

When she explained what people thought of her own quirk, he did find himself relating to it. How others are so quick to see the evil side of things, as if their assumptions don't say more about them. It felt nice to not have to be on the defensive about his quirk for once.

"Yeah, most see it as this scary, all-controlling, but it's pretty limited." His hands moved to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. Pulling at it as if to cover himself up a little more, but not needing to go through with it yet. "I can only get people to do basic actions. Nothing that requires actual thought or memory. It's biggest use is just in stopping a fight, sometimes even before it starts."

When he finished, she smiled softly, a mix of admiration and something gentler that she didn’t bother hiding. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. People assume the worst, but really, it’s not about the quirk itself—it’s about who you are using it,” she said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate again before she pushed it aside.

“I, uh… actually want to show you something,” she said suddenly, shifting slightly in her seat. “Give me just a minute?”

Before he could respond, she rose and made her way to the counter. There was a quick exchange with the cashier, the faint clinking of coins and the rustle of receipts. Then she returned, a little sparkle in her eyes, and extended her hand toward him. “Come on,” she said, voice light, playful, but carrying the same undertone of trust she’d been building all afternoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

He took her hand, hoping the gesture conveys the amount of trust he is allowing her in this moment. It was a little worrying ,how quickly he was catching feelings for her, but he barely cared. This could be worth it. He really wanted it to be. At the very least he could be happy, just for today, just for a little while longer, and whatever happens next will just happen.

“You’ll like it,” she said, quiet but confident, like she was promising him something without fully knowing how to explain it.

She led him out of the café and down the street. The noise of the city shifted as they moved, busy to quieter, crowded to open. She didn’t rush him. Just guided him, like she was letting him walk beside her instead of following. That felt important, even if she never put words to it.

After a couple of turns, she stopped. Let go of his hand for just a second, just long enough to step in front of him.

“Close your eyes,” she said, softer now, almost shy. “Just trust me for like… ten seconds.”

There was a pause, a breath. Then, when the moment felt right, she lifted her hands and let her quirk hum gently under her skin.

The world shifted. Not loudly. Softly. Lights blurred into warm ribbons of color. The dull gray of the alley behind them melted into something calmer, gentler. Like the air itself was cooling down around them. Like the city was letting them borrow a quiet pocket of space that didn’t belong to anyone else.

When she spoke again, her voice was closer. “Okay. You can open them now.”

The space around them wasn’t a normal street anymore. It looked like a small rooftop garden that didn’t exist a second ago. Soft lantern light, faint drifting petals that weren’t really there, the sound of distant windchimes that didn’t belong to any building. A calm, breathing illusion wrapped around them instead of loud chaos.

“It’s not real,” she admitted, a little embarrassed now, shifting her weight. “Not… physically real, I guess. But I like to make places like this when my head gets too loud. Just… peaceful corners. Places people don’t yell or stare or expect stuff.”

She gazed off to the side for a moment.

“I’ve been training to make them last longer. Used to be they’d flicker out fast. Couldn’t hold a whole space like this. Now I can keep it going if I focus.”

Utsushimi then glanced at him, waiting, careful not to assume.

“I thought maybe you’d like a place like this. Just for a minute.”

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

For now, he just had to stay in the moment. Ride the wave of light conversation without thinking to much about how deep the water went. "Yeah, we can't have that. I don't keep up the whole broody exterior for nothing."

And then came The Question. The one he always dreads, one he was hoping they could skip over. His perfectly terrible quirk. It always pushed people away or drew in the wrong kind of crowd.

He hesitated to answer, and Utsushimi was quick to reassure him. You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary. She said it simply, like it had to be true. Maybe it could be.

When she explained what people thought of her own quirk, he did find himself relating to it. How others are so quick to see the evil side of things, as if their assumptions don't say more about them. It felt nice to not have to be on the defensive about his quirk for once.

"Yeah, most see it as this scary, all-controlling, but it's pretty limited." His hands moved to fidget with the hem of his hoodie. Pulling at it as if to cover himself up a little more, but not needing to go through with it yet. "I can only get people to do basic actions. Nothing that requires actual thought or memory. It's biggest use is just in stopping a fight, sometimes even before it starts."

When he finished, she smiled softly, a mix of admiration and something gentler that she didn’t bother hiding. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. People assume the worst, but really, it’s not about the quirk itself—it’s about who you are using it,” she said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate again before she pushed it aside.

“I, uh… actually want to show you something,” she said suddenly, shifting slightly in her seat. “Give me just a minute?”

Before he could respond, she rose and made her way to the counter. There was a quick exchange with the cashier, the faint clinking of coins and the rustle of receipts. Then she returned, a little sparkle in her eyes, and extended her hand toward him. “Come on,” she said, voice light, playful, but carrying the same undertone of trust she’d been building all afternoon. “I have a surprise for you.”

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.

Slowly, she slid into the chair across from him, letting a playful wink punctuate her words. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her thoughts buzzing a mile a minute. Okay, stay cool. Don’t trip over your own excitement. Play it breezy… but also, wow, he’s really cute in person.

Utsushimi was practically vibrating in her seat from all the energy. Hitoshi was about ready for his third cup of coffee for the day. Before that, remembering his part of their 'deal,' he grabbed the hat from beside him and handed it over.

She propped her elbows on the table, chin in her hands, a grin blooming slow and bright.

“Aww, thanks, Shinso~! You look nice too. Very…” she waved her hand vaguely at his hoodie, “mysterious-guy-who-arrives-early energy. I’m kinda into it.”

When he pulled out the hat, her eyes widened with dramatic delight. She took it gently—as if it were some sacred relic—then held it up between them.

“Oh wow… she lives.” She brushed off a fleck of gold, lips quirking. “Glitter’s definitely from Aoyama. I shed sparkles, but not that brand.”

“Thanks for bringing it back. Seriously.”

And for a brief moment, she wasn’t vibrating with chaos or sparkles—just smiling at him. Warm. Genuine.

Then, because she was Camie, she added with a playful little lean forward.

"Yeah, no problem. And I'm not one to turn down free coffee, anyway. Win-win." She did seem to settle down a bit, though that buzz was still present, powering a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but return the gesture, albeit much smaller, in the awkward silence that followed.

She shifted just a little closer across the small table, leaning in with an earnest tilt of her head. “And hey… you’re underselling yourself. Again.” The smile she gave him was softer this time, lingering. “It’s a good hat. And it smells like you, not a deli.”

She blinked, then quickly looked down at her drink. “Um— I mean— not that I was smelling it on purpose.” A tiny cough. “Anyway.”

“Coffee sounds perfect,” she said, scooting her chair back with a little bounce. She stood in a smooth, eager motion, brushing a thumb along the brim of the returned hat as if it were already precious again. “My treat, remember. You don’t get to argue.”

“Hmm… decisions, decisions. Maybe I’ll get something extra sparkly today—think you can handle a caramel glitter latte, pretty boy? Or do you wanna keep it boring and black?”

She twirled a finger absentmindedly around the returned hat, letting her grin tug at the corner of her lips. “Honestly, I kinda like watching you figure out these caffeine choices. You take your coffee seriously, huh?”

“Mm, hot… yeah, I can certainly see that,” she said, blinking ever so slightly. “Guess I’ll just go with your recommendation then. Black coffee for the mysterious type.”

Okay, calm down, girl, she thought, feeling a faint warmth creep up her neck. Keep it together. He doesn’t need to see you freak out inside… just… act natural. Play it cool.

A subtle blush touched her cheeks at his comment, but her grin remained intact.

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.” She said, her voice smooth, and just a touch mischievous. “But don’t expect me to give away all my secrets right away.”

He’s smirking like that… okay, that’s actually kinda nice. Why is it so attractive!? Her inner thoughts danced with a quiet thrill, the kind she rarely let herself feel in full. Keep it together, Camie.

She gave a subtle wave toward the server, just enough to catch their attention.

“I’ll have a black coffee, please,” she said, pointing at the menu. “And… hmm, a slice of strawberry shortcake too. Something sweet to match my energy, of course.”

He was partially surprised at her order of just a black coffee, but the addition of the shortcake made more sense.

She leaned one elbow gently against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes bright with that quiet spark he’d just encouraged.

“Black coffee buddies, huh?” she murmured, voice soft but teasing at the edges. “Guess we’re both going for the hard stuff. Very edgy of us.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than strictly necessary, taking in the way he almost-but-not-quite kept glancing back over at her. Something in that made her stomach flutter—warm, steady, pleasant.

On the inside, she was a mess of thoughts tangled like ribbon. He looked at her like he was trying not to get caught.

And she liked it. Too much.

Still, her smile stayed composed, tilting just enough to show she was enjoying this dance.

Her cheerful nature was drawing him in, little by little. There was a certain twinkle in her eyes that spoke of many things he had yet to learn about her. He had to glance away every so often to not get mesmerized by it.

And he liked it. Too much.

"Things have been fine. Training's rough, but that's just par for the course." He spoke simply, knowing that being a hero-in-training wasn't all that impressive when he was constantly in the company of other hero students.

What was more interesting was trying to unravel the mystery that was Camie Utsushimi, and why the hell she became interested in him in the first place. (Not that he's complaining).

Only once the server walked off did she look back at Hitoshi, eyes sparkling like she’d merely paused a thought instead of restarting it.

“If this gets back to your parents,” she murmured, leaning in enough for her perfume to drift across the small table, “I’ll tell them you were led astray by a terrible influence.”

A playful tap of her finger on the mug.

“Me.”

His deadpan earlier had made her smile, but seeing the faint smirk he wore now—that made something flutter under her ribs. She tried not to show it, though her lashes dipped as she settled back into her seat.

She listened as he talked about training, her expression softening, the brightness settling into something calmer, warmer.

“Yeah, I’ve got mine,” she answered when he asked about her provisional license. She nudged the plate of shortcake a little closer to the middle, an invitation he could take or ignore. “Been doing patrols. Lots of field observation. Trying to get a feel for what being a real hero actually means.”

A breath, more thoughtful than anything.

“It’s bigger than I expected. Kinda… heavier. In a good way.”

The girl’s gaze drifted back to him, catching the subtle glances he kept giving her, and—maybe because she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it—her confidence curled back into place.

Her foot brushed his under the table, light as a whisper.

“Training’s rough for you, huh?” she teased gently, warmth threaded through her voice. “Well… you keep showing up. That’s impressive.”

"Well, at least they'll be glad I'm not the bad influence this time."

Hearing about hero work excited him. It was what he was working towards, and working so hard for. When she spoke of it, it seemed real, attainable even. "Yeah, bigger makes sense. You get into all the nitty-gritty stuff that likes to hide under the bravado of heroism."

He pulled his foot back at the touch, mostly out of surprise, but let it rest back after a moment. He could indulge in a little touch, as minuscule as it was.

“Yeah, the nitty-gritty is definitely… something else,” she said lightly, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking to him with a hint of warmth. “All the little bits that make the big heroic gestures actually matter. You start noticing it and… well, it makes you respect the whole process a lot more.”

She let her gaze drift to his smile, tucked behind her composed exterior, savoring how easily it eased the tension of the day.

“Remedial training sounds a little… terrifying. But what you’re working on is half the battle right there. Makes the rest look manageable.”

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth anchor her, her eyes locking on his with quiet sincerity, letting him feel a little of the pull he had on her without breaking her graceful, playful composure.

“Honestly… being here with you? Makes the chaos of hero life feel… a little lighter.”

"'Lighter'? Really?" He asked, a bit disbelieving. "I'm not usually one to lighten things up. But I'm glad I can help you feel comfortable, at least."

“Yeah,” she said, letting her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary. “My friends… well, they’re chaotic. Constantly buzzing, constantly laughing, constantly everything at once.” She gestured vaguely, letting her hand hover in the air like she was painting the scene. “You’re different. Calm, peaceful. I think that’s part of why this feels… nice.”

Utsushimi sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his, letting the warm drink anchor her while the words floated between them. “I don’t get this very often. And yeah… it does feel lighter, even if you don’t notice it yourself. You make it easier to just… exist for a little while without all the noise.”

Her smile deepened, playful and soft at once. “I guess what I’m saying is… you’ve got something special. Don’t let that scare you.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her knee nudge his under the table again — not a flirt this time, just a small, grounding touch. “Quiet’s good,” she murmured. “Most people talk just to hear themselves. You don’t. That’s… refreshing.”

The blonde reached for the plate, sliding the strawberry shortcake a little closer between them as if it were the most natural extension of the moment. The frosting caught the light, glossy and soft, and she carved a small bite free with the edge of her fork.

“Hey,” she said, voice lilting just enough to draw him back to her. “Wanna try some?”

She didn’t wait for him to wrestle with embarrassment or manners. She simply lifted the fork toward him, steady and patient, her elbow resting lightly on the table. Not teasing, not pushing — just offering. The way someone does when they feel comfortable enough to share something sweet.

Her eyes softened as she watched him, the faintest pink blooming across her cheeks from the intimacy of it, though she wore it with a natural confidence.

His eyes tracked the offered bite, looking between it and her in a silent question, clear hesitance on his face. Her openness continued to break down any wall he carefully set up. Maybe out of pure bafflement that someone would be so nice. And nice to him no less. It seemed impossible to not trust this girl.

And that last line? That nearly did her in.

Sweet. Kinda like you. Oh, she’d be replaying that later. Probably with her face buried in a pillow.

But outwardly, she kept her composure. Mostly.

Her lips curved into a slow, pleased smile, the kind that didn’t need theatrics to land. She angled the plate slightly toward him as if giving him permission — an invitation without words — while her other hand drifted to her coffee cup, mostly to keep it from shaking from how ridiculously flattered she was.

"You're right. Can't have people thinking I'm nice or something. I have a reputation to uphold."

And then he said it — reputation to uphold — with that quiet little bite of humor that she was starting to like far too quickly.

A soft laugh escaped her, hushed but genuinely delighted.

“Oh, totally. Wouldn’t want anyone finding out you’re secretly a sweetheart.” The girl’s tone was teasing, but there was that undertone again — the one that said she really did see him, even if she didn’t push it.

Utsushimi’s gaze flickered down his frame for a moment — the way he’d straightened, the way he let himself be there instead of shrinking away. She caught herself appreciating it, appreciating him, and when her eyes met his again there was something undeniably fond in them.

“Hey… can I ask you something?” she said, tone light but attentive.

She tilted her head, studying him the way someone does when they’re genuinely interested, not just making small talk. “I know you said you get sick of your own voice because of training, but…”

Camie let her fingers trail along the edge of the plate before settling her hand back in her lap.

“…what’s it actually like? Your quirk, I mean.”

There was no fear in her eyes, just curiosity. “People talk about brainwashing like it’s this scary mystery, but is it really that bad?”

The blonde paused, catching herself before she stumbled into saying something careless. Her lips curved into a softer smile, one that wasn’t teasing or bubbly — just earnest.

“I mean… people act like quirks like yours are dangerous by default.” She shrugged gently. “But that’s not fair. Or true.”

She gave his knee the lightest nudge with hers, barely there but intentional. “You’re not your quirk, y’know? And you’re definitely not scary.”

Her fingers started toying absently with the fork, tapping it against the plate before she continued.

“And honestly?” She lifted her gaze to him, eyes steady. “I kinda get it. The whole… people misunderstanding what you do.”

She sat back a little, enough to give him breathing room but not enough to feel distant.

“My illusions,” she said, gesturing loosely toward herself, “they’re technically harmless. No physical damage, no lasting side effects. But people hear ‘hallucination’ and suddenly everyone assumes I’m tricking them, lying to them, manipulating them.”

Camie gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “Like I’m this walking deception machine.”

Her tone softened again, warmth brushing over every word. “So… yeah. I get the whole ‘scary quirk’ reputation. Even if neither of us deserves it.”

She tapped her fingers against her desk, her thoughts bouncing between “I’m so calm, totally fine” and “OH MY GOD, I’M SEEING SHINSO IN LIKE AN HOUR.” The idea of meeting him outside school, just the two of them, made her heart do these weird little flips that she tried to disguise with a dramatic hair flip in the mirror.

Finally, satisfied—or at least convinced she looked dazzling enough—Camie grabbed her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out. The café wasn’t too far, but her mind raced: Do I act casual? Play it cool? Or just unleash full sparkle energy and hope he can handle it?

As she approached, she saw him already there, sitting at a corner table, his usual calm expression in place. She paused for just a heartbeat, letting herself take it all in. Then, with a small grin tugging at her lips, Camie stepped inside.

Hitoshi arrived at the café early, not necessarily trusting the train system to get him there on time. He didn't put too much thought into his outfit, prioritizing the comfort of a hoodie and ripped jeans over any strong sense of style. Utsushimi could probably shine enough for the both of them.

He didn't know much about her beyond the ramblings of his classmates. But when she finally waltzed into the café with a cute outfit and a pretty smile, he found he couldn't disgree with their opinions. She had a playful air about her and effortlessly brightened up the room. He let out some tension, relieved that she clearly had enough energy to carry the conversation.