#pro hero reader

Unfiltered, playful, mischievous—with a penchant for getting into trouble just for the fun of it.

An orange cat in human form.

And it drove him insane.

But what was worse?

It also fascinated him.

From the very first week, you had made it your personal mission to test his limits.

You frequently showed up late to meetings, claiming you got “distracted by something shiny.”

You napped in the most inconvenient places—on top of file cabinets, across the teachers’ lounge couch, even once on top of Aizawa’s desk (which had earned you the deadliest glare of his life).

You stole his coffee. Regularly.

You pounced onto his shoulders from above, just to “see if his reaction time was as fast as everyone said.”

(It was. But he still nearly had a heart attack that day.)

And yet—

Despite your absolute disregard for personal space and normal social conventions, you were a damn good teacher.

Your students adored you, your battle tactics were sharp and effective, and you had a natural talent for handling even the most rowdy kids (cough Bakugo cough).

And somehow—despite all your antics—Aizawa found himself growing used to your presence.

To the way your ears twitched when you were listening intently. To the way your tail flicked when you were irritated. To the way you always tried to get a reaction out of him, even when he refused to give you the satisfaction.

And then, one day—

He realized he had a problem.

Because he liked it.

It was late one evening, long after most of the staff had gone home.

Aizawa had been grading papers, exhaustion creeping into his bones, when he heard the softest footfalls outside his office.

No one else would have noticed them.

But Aizawa knew exactly who it was before you even poked your head inside.

“Still working?” you mused, stepping in without an invitation, tail swaying lazily behind you.

Aizawa sighed. “Obviously.”

You hummed, moving closer, perching yourself on the edge of his desk—a habit he had long given up trying to correct.

“You know,” you mused, eyes glinting in the dim light, “you’re always telling me I should take my job more seriously. But when was the last time you actually took a break?”

Aizawa didn’t respond.

Because the answer was too damn long ago.

Your lips curled slightly, as if you could read his thoughts.

Then—before he could react—you reached out, plucked his red pen from his hand, and tossed it across the room.

Aizawa stared at you.

“…Did you just—”

“Yep.”

“…Why?”

“Because you’re done for the night.”

His eye twitched. “I still have work to do.”

“Nope.” You grinned, tail flicking playfully. “Work is done. I have officially declared it.”

Aizawa exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have time for your games, Y/N.”

But you weren’t backing down.

Instead, you tilted your head, ears twitching slightly, and for the first time since you had met, your voice was softer.

“I mean it, Shota,” you murmured. “You do too much. Just… take a break. Just this once.”

Something in his chest tightened.

Because no one ever told him to slow down.

No one ever took the time to worry about him.

But you?

You had been paying attention this whole time.

And that was the moment he knew.

That he was completely and utterly doomed.

Ko-fi / Masterlist

It had been a long time since this particular feeling of isolation had forced its way into your life. So long, in fact, that you'd nearly forgotten how awful it could be. You had a press conference this afternoon to address the success of your most recent mission as well as to acknowledge your new ranking of 12th on the Hero Billboard Charts. You'd been away on said mission when the ranks were announced and your agency insisted that you needed to acknowledge it.

That sounded atrocious, frankly. You'd only been home for two days and there was already a swarm of media outside your neighborhood and agency. The thought of what it was going to be like once you returned to patrols had a pit of dread forming in your gut. Mount Lady and Mirko warned you, once you got your cell phone back and checked your messages, that it was going to be a disaster when you returned.

They hadn't been wrong.

From the moment you walked out of the HPSC main office, covered in cuts and bruises and sore to your very bones, you'd been hounded by the media. Paparazzi had staked out the gates to your neighborhood and emails hadn't stopped flooding in with interview and photo op requests. You were certain that your PR team was thrilled with the attention while also being a nervous wreck.

There were two heroes in the top 50 who required an army of PR agents - Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight... and you.

In your defense, you didn't have the explosive attitude and anger that Bakugo did. Your problem, according to your agency, was your fierce protective nature and disgust with the media in general. Unlike most of the male Pros, for some reason the media thought it was appropriate to ask invasive questions about the private lives of yourself and other female Pros - to a degree that more than once, you'd been unable to stop the manifestation of your Quirk during an interview or media barrage outside the agency.

Wicked Wolf could sense your nervous energy and immediately sprang to your defense - never once hurting anyone, but certainly reminding the paparazzi exactly why you were in the profession you were in.

Another chime from your phone drew your attention to the screen. Relief flooded you as you read through messages in the group chat.

Tsu: Heard Pack Leaders back in town? Raka: Oooooo really?! Does that mean it's finally time for a night out?! Inasa: I WOULD LOVE TO GO OUT WITH YOU ALL Deku: Inasa, your capslock is stuck again.       But a night out sounds great here! Tsu: What do you say Pack leader? Wanna grab drinks after your press conference? You: I'll certainly need it after the mess I came home to lol Shadow Master: Pretender and I will arrive after patrol is complete. Inasa: I WILL BE THERE! REGULAR PLACE?? F&I: Once I finish this paperwork I can join you. Raka: Let's do it! You: See you guys then!

A fluffy head nudged your hand when you finally set your phone down. The somewhat-translucent visage of Wicked Wolf stood beside you in the kitchen, her massive head level with your chest as it bumped you for attention. Dragging your fingers through its fur absentmindedly, at least you had something to look forward to after the press conference.

You were practically vibrating with rage as you stormed out of the agency press room. Reporters and photographers still shouted questions behind you as the doors slammed shut. How could those god damned parasites think any of that was okay??

The press conference started as expected. Most of the respected news networks and hero journals asked insightful, careful questions about the mission and its aftermath. The follow-ups were just as respectful and began to slowly lull you into a false sense of security.

You'd provided as much information as you were allowed regarding the search-and-rescue efforts and the mission itself. The relevant inquiries had wound down and then someone started the ball rolling. Initially, everything seemed normal - they asked about your feelings on making the Top 15, wondering what it meant for your career moving forward. Responding with an even tone, you expressed your gratitude for the public's support and respect - noting specifically how none of it would have been possible without their trust. At the edge of the room you saw Ikeda Machi, the head of your PR department, give a nod with a proud smile on her face.

Then it finally happened. Some beady-eyed reporter with a too-thin mustache stood with a smirk on his face.

"Tell us Pack Leader, don't you think now that you've made the Top 15 it's time to think about settling down?"

Another person stood, hollering their own question, "Is it true that you and Nightmare's Pretender are romantically involved?!"

The bullshit just kept coming; "You're not getting any younger, shouldn't you start thinking about a family?" "What about the rumors of a sexual relationship with Red Riot?" "Do you have any comments on the marriage of Mount Lady and Kamui Woods?" 

On and on the questions flew. Mortification and rage burned at the back of your neck, heating your face as each intrusive inquiry was launched - until you finally turned on your heel and walked out, not having answered a single one.

"Pack Leader! You can't just walk out like that!"

Hurrying toward you in her neat suit, put together and flawless as ever, was Ikeda Machi. You glanced over your shoulder just once before continuing your march, slowing enough for her to just catch up.

"I'm serious. You can't keep doing this! It's going to tank your rating again! Do you have any idea how hard it is to convince anyone to work with you when you pull stunts like this?!"

Letting out a scoff, you finally whirled to face her, pleased when she shrank back as you towered nearly a full head above her.

"If you want me to play nice, then stop allowing those asinine questions," your voice came out with a low growl that seemed to almost echo down the hall. "My personal life is none of their damn business. I thought half of your job was supposed to make sure the media behaved too. Instead, you spend all your time bitching at me!"

Her face flushed red as you threw her own mistakes back at her. She opened her mouth to speak, a frown pulling at her lips, but you didn't let her.

"Ya know, how 'bout since you can't seem to do your job, you find a new one? How's that sound?"

Without another word, you turned and stormed out of the building.

Laughter filled the bar as the group of Pros lounged back into the cozy booth you'd managed to snag. Music thrummed in the background, preventing your conversations from drifting any further than the tables beside you. It was comfortable, a breath of fresh air after the disaster of a press conference you'd come from.

"...I'm telling you!" Uraraka had her fruity drink raised up to emphasize her words, "You don't see the press asking those kinds of questions to Deku! Or even Bakugo! Why do we have to put up with it?"

"It's true. During my last interview I got asked whether the mucus I secrete is better than a normal skincare routine," Tsu nodded along with the brunette, her own glass resting on the table in front of her.

"But we get asked questions about our relationships too!" Midoriya spoke up as he tried to defend himself, "They asked all kinds'a stuff after my last break up."

"Oh really?" You leaned forward, ice clinking in the dark amber liquid of your drink, "Did they ask you who was better in bed, Red Riot or Nightmare's Pretender?"

Okabe Yoritoki flushed next to you as he choked.

Midoriya looked at you with wide, startled eyes, "Wait, they actually asked that?!"

"Deku, we regularly get asked those kinds of questions. Do you just... not watch our interviews?"

You hid a chuckle behind your glass at Ochaco's question. Across from you, Inasa looked mortified at the whole idea. In fact, this might be the longest you'd ever heard the massive hero silent before - and considering you graduated with him, that was saying a lot. At the end of the table, Todoroki and Tokoyami both had expressions of confused anger creasing their brows.

Just as you were about to look away, Shoto's eyes flicked up to meet yours, as if he could feel your gaze on him. A light flush touched his cheeks before he shifted his eyes to Yoritoki as the man beside you spoke.

"In Midoriya's defense, I don't think most of us have time to watch each other's interviews," there was a soft murmur of agreement around the table. "I do agree though, that the media has gone too far with their questions recently. We don't get quite as many of the intrusive ones you guys do. But it has gotten worse the last couple years."

"For real! I feel like they only ever back off if we're in a relationship! And even then, they only kinda behave if our partner is around!"

Nodding along with Ochaco, you took another sip of your drink, feeling the liquor burn on the way down.

"Maybe I need to get a fake boyfriend just to shut the idiots up."

Your sarcastic remark had another round of soft laughter spread across the table, until eventually falling into comfortable silence. Chatter drifted to you from other tables, filling the air as you relaxed back against the cushion behind you.

"I'll do it."

Your breath caught in your chest. Across from you, Uraraka sputtered into her drink, coughing enough that Inasa looked at her with concern and began rubbing her back. Deku froze mid-sip, his eyes going wide as they flicked to the end of the table.

Varying expressions of shock morphed across your friends faces as you all turned to glance over to the person who spoke.

Blue and grey eyes looked back at you with a slight crease between his brows. Shoto didn't seem to notice, or care, that the rest of the table was staring too - his serious gaze never left yours.

"Sho- Todoroki, I was just kidding..."

He frowned at your words, his face shifting into an expression of mild confusion.

"But if you think it would help, why not try it?"

This was a side of the two-toned hero you often forgot about. It was far more common when you were younger for him to misunderstand social situations. He'd gotten much more adept as you'd all matured - but this straight-forward willingness to help had always been one of his most endearing qualities.

In the days following the press conference and drinks with your friends, you'd returned to your agency with a silent prayer for life to return to normal. For the most part, things had. The agency was interviewing for a new Chief Public Relations Officer, with several of the most promising already employed by you. Most news networks had moved on to other stories - but that didn't stop the paparazzi who flocked the main entrance to your building.

It was exhausting. Even out on patrol with Nightmare's Pretender or a sidekick didn't stop them from trying to get a response of some kind from you. Thankfully, all it took was a cease-and-desist letter for most of the unwanted attention to back off. Though it still felt like the only place you could actually find some peace and quiet was the sanctuary of your home.

A soft knock at the door had Wicked Wolf's head snapping up in the direction of the entry, a low rumble echoing out of her chest. You laughed, patting the massive head between the ears before rising from the couch. The best part of your Quirk was never having to be alone - between the size of a single manifestation and the fact that you could summon as many as six, you made sure to buy a home with a yard. They weren't real animals in a traditional sense, but Wicked Wolf had been your best friend and protector ever since she'd manifested.

Standing outside was someone you'd never expected to have in your home before today - Todoroki Shoto.

"Hey," you gave him a soft smile.

"Hello," if you hadn't known him for years, you would have missed the faint upturn at the corners of his mouth.

"C'mon in."

Stepping aside, you gestured for him to enter. Your home was spacious, grander probably than you really needed - but you liked having the extra space. Plus, it was a comfort knowing that if your friends or family needed somewhere to stay or wanted to visit there would be enough room to remain comfortable.

Leading him into the dining space, you turned before speaking, "Do you want anything to drink? Tea, coffee, booze?"

The last option was intended to be funny - it was hardly past 10 in the morning. But the way his face shifted subtly into confusion made you realize he didn't pick up on the humor.

"Todoroki... it was a joke."

He let out a breath, shoulders relaxing as he did, "Oh. Right. Tea would be great, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." Turning to head for the kitchen, you spoke over your shoulder, "The living room is to the right, feel free to make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a minute."

By the time the tea was done and you rounded the corner to head for the living room, you caught sight of the two-toned hero standing frozen in the middle of the room - his gaze locked on something in the corner.

With a sigh, you walked in to find Wicked Wolf still lounging on the couch, its baleful gaze locked on the large man.

"Oi. Knock it off you overgrown stuffy."

The wolf huffed as it rose from the cushioned seat and padded out the open slider to the yard where she stretched and began sniffing at the ground.

"Sorry, she sometimes has an attitude. Come sit down."

He took one more look at the wolf outside before sitting down a respectful distance from you.

"It's alright." Extending his hand to accept the tea, his heterochromatic eyes darted to you for a moment before looking away. "Thank you."

You gave him a hum, taking a small sip as you looked him over. He was handsome, there was no denying that. Shoto had been in relationships in the past, the most public of which was with Yaoyorozu shortly after graduation. They dated for just under a year and split amicably, after that he'd been with a few others - some more public than the rest. The career he'd built for himself spoke volumes of the growth he'd made since your school days. Especially now as the No 2 Pro, there was no way someone could suggest he was skating by on his father’s reputation the way they had when he first made Pro.

"You know you don't have to do this right? I know you offered, but there's no shame in backing out. The girls and I were just bitching about the double standard, that's all."

He gave you a long look, his expression giving nothing away.

When he finally spoke his voice was quiet, "I know. But you're right. If I hadn't noticed it from your interviews, there was no ignoring it when I had to get through the crowd outside the gate."

There were always at least a few vultures lingering at the entrance to your neighborhood. Thankfully many of the residents were heroes or worked in the industry, which meant the security here was just as good as it was deeper into the city where many Pros resided in apartments.

"If you think a fake relationship will help with the invasive questions, then I am happy to lend a hand."

A huff from your right drew your attention to the wolf padding back into the room. From where you sat on the couch, the creature was now eye level with you - the broad expanse of its muscular shoulders would be an intimidating sight, were she not your Quirk to control. You reached out absentmindedly to scratch behind her ears while you considered what he said.

Shoto's eyes darted once again to where your hand met the form of your Quirks manifestation. The two of you had worked together a bit in the past, but not enough for him to be familiar, or fully comfortable around the hulking mass now beginning to lean into your touch. You watched his head tip slightly to one side, almost like that of a puppy when they are trying to figure something out - the thought brought a smile to your face as you refocused on the conversation at hand.

"Alright," you returned your gaze to him. "Then we should probably talk out the logistics."

For the next 30 minutes or so, the two of you fell into easy discussion of boundaries and behaviors for this public relationship. In order to truly sell the idea that you were in a relationship, you'd be attending any public events either of you were invited as a couple, so long as the other wasn't working. Touch was allowed, hand-holding, hugs, a hand at your back, kisses on the cheek - simple gestures to help sell the illusion without being too intimate. 

You also agreed to an outing next week when both of you had the afternoon off. It was Shoto's idea, actually - the idea being to plant the seed of a possible relationship without it being too over the top yet.

By the time the lines were drawn you were both chuckling lightly as the silliness of what you were doing. A soft smile tugged Shoto's lips upward in a rare expression of joy.

"Last question then," he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Are we going to the Hero Awards together?"

"You mean the one next month?"

He gave you a nod in response.

"Hmm. I suppose we could. But I've already ordered my dress, so I won't have time to get another to match whatever you're wearing."

"Of course not," the way he said it made it seem so simple, so matter-of-fact. Yet Darkleaf had always insisted you match his attire, not the other way around. "It's a simple matter to change the color of my tie. I've been to enough of these to know your dress was probably custom."

A flicker of warmth fluttered in your chest at the gesture.

The whole point of bringing you had been to make a public appearance - even so, Shoto couldn't ignore the subtle twist of nerves in his stomach. He didn't understand, it wasn't as if the two of you were actually dating. But since offering to be your fake boyfriend, he'd been talking to you a lot more than in the past. He was used to seeing you at friendly gatherings, or working together during different missions and community events as heroes - not like this.

Not this... close.

He'd reached out to the aquarium before suggesting it as a destination, hoping they would be able to accommodate his request to enter through a different door than the public. The staff had been more than willing to work with him, even offering private tours and behind the scenes experiences that he'd politely declined. It was better if the two of you could enter separately, but he'd wanted to try and keep the outing public in an effort to ease both of you into the chaos that was sure to follow the pair attending the Hero Awards together.

When you'd arrived at his apartment dressed comfortably in jeans and a crop-top, layered with a slightly oversized cardigan - your bright smile pushed soft creases into the skin around your eyes - he felt a tightness seize his chest for a moment before it disappeared. You'd clearly dressed for comfort, but there was an easy beauty to how you held yourself that immediately made Shoto feel under-dressed.

"Hey! Thanks again for the invitation!" Your smile didn't falter when you stepped into his apartment, keen eyes darting through the space as you catalogued everything you saw. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late. Damn paparazzi outside the gate at home swarmed the car when I tried to leave."

He gave a soft hum before speaking, "I would have thought they would have backed off a bit by now."

With a scoff, your eyes returned to him, "I wish. I think they know Bakugo and I are easy to get reactions from so they don't let up."

A little flash of anger on your behalf brought a frown to his face, pulling the corners of his mouth down into a severe expression.

By the time he'd parked in the employee lot at the aquarium, the tension from earlier was forgotten. In all the time he'd known you, he'd never realized how easy you were to talk to. It wasn't even that you were trying to fill the silence either - the conversation just seemed to flow with an organic simplicity that he found himself thoroughly absorbed in what you had to say.

Before either of them stepped from the car, Shoto made sure his ballcap and mask were secure while you put on your own mask. He'd offered you another ballcap he owned, but you declined with a little shake of your head and a smile.

The staff greeted him at the door with a friendliness he expected but still appreciated. They weren't over the top, still treating the pair like people rather than a commodity. He walked a half-step behind you, his hand instinctively hovering at your lower back - not pushing or touching, more like he was reassuring himself you were still there.

When they finally reached the door into the aquarium itself, the staff member gave each of them a card with their name, title, and direct line should they need anything or have any problems while trying to enjoy the facility. He gave them a quick smile - forgetting they couldn't see it behind his mask - when he thanked them before following you into the first exhibition room.

The entirety of the facility was softly illuminated to add an almost fantastical atmosphere. Faint music played, barely audible over the quiet chatter of other patrons and occasional delighted squeal of a child. Despite the immense size of the building the layout was easy to follow.

His attention was on a paddling duck in the first proper exhibit that showed some of the native flora and fauna of Japan's forests when he heard you suck in a breath. Following your eyeline, he saw what had captured your attention across the room. 

Sleek, fur-covered otters dove elegantly through the water as they played. Their tiny bodies and little webbed feet pulled them effortlessly along as they wove and circled each other in tight patterns. 

Drawn by the precious creatures, Shoto was forced to take a few long strides just to catch-up when you took off across the room.

"Oh my gosh," your voice came out in a reverent whisper that Shoto could barely make out over the din in the room. "They're so cute! Look at their little feet!"

He couldn't stop the chuckle that rumbled from his chest at your enthusiasm.

Tipping your head to look up at him, your hand instinctively reached up to catch your sunglasses before they fell, "What? Are you trying to tell me these aren't the cutest things you've ever seen?"

The look on your face had him biting back a laugh, one eyebrow raised with a judgmental scowl that made creases form between your brows.

"They are very cute," keeping his tone even, he watched you roll your eyes before refocusing on the little creatures.

For the rest of the visit, he only briefly scanned the tanks; instead, focusing on you. Taking note of the way your eyes lit up when something cute or exciting happened to move past you. His gaze would follow yours when you stopped to read one of the placards talking about the animals within each tank and exhibit - skimming it over quickly before his eyes fell back on you.

A strange warmth began to bloom in his chest every time he saw your eyes crinkle with delight.

Occasionally one or both of them would get stopped by a patron who recognized them. It wasn't unusual, they were Pro Heroes after all, and you can only hide so much with a mask and hat. Still, for the most part, they were all respectful of the pair's time and didn't bother them more than to say thank you or have their child ask a question or two. You handled it all with surprising grace.

It wasn't that he'd ever doubted you, but he didn't know you, at least not like that. He knew of your reputation with the media, and subconsciously lumped you in with Bakugo - a mistake he now regretted.

The pair were nearly done, almost to the final exhibit, when you stopped beside the massive central exhibit that housed the creatures that usually reside in the deep waters of the Pacific.

Your face was upturned, eyes bright while you watched a pair of rays glide passed. Stepping up beside you, Shoto turned his head to watch a small group of sharks swim by - the stark black tip of their dorsal fins catching his attention. Beside him, you shifted a little closer, your hand brushing against the back of his, forcing his eyes away from the tank and down to meet yours.

There was a mischievous twinkle in your eyes that gave him pause but before he could ask, you spoke.

"Ya know... a group of sharks is called a shiver." You gave yourself an intentional subtle shake, barely holding back the laugh that was evident in your tone.

A heartbeat passed while Shoto stared down, his mind finally registering what you said before a laugh burst out from deep in his chest.

As expected, you hadn't even made it back to Shoto's apartment before pictures of the two of you were making the rounds across various social media platforms. Your phone was buzzing nonstop with messages from friends and your agency staff asking what was going on between the two of you. For a moment you considered throwing your phone out the window before ultimately deciding against it - though the thought was still tempting.

It wasn't until the group chat started to explode that Shoto finally noticed what was happening.

Raka: WAIT!! You guys ACTUALLY decided to do it??? Demon: For real! You should have said something! We coulda helped you guys work out a story or whatever! Inasa: WHAT AM I MISSING???? WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Deku: The caps lo- oh nevermind. So you're gonna try the whole fake dating thing then? Shadow Master: I think they make a cute couple Raka: Oh my god! Tokoyami you can't just say that! Shadow Master: Why? It is not a lie Inasa: THEY'RE A COUPLE NOW?!?! Me: First of all. Calm down lol We're a pretend couple Inasa And we talked it out. It's all good guys, we got this Tsu: Good luck… And Tokoyami's not wrong You do make a cute couple

You let out a long sigh, rolling your eyes before setting your phone aside. It was only once you looked out the window that you realized you were almost back to Todoroki's. Your heart stuttered a little at the realization that such a fun day was coming to an end - you shook your head a little, trying to remind yourself that this was fake. If anything, this had been a friendly day out and nothing more.

The media frenzy that Shoto's outing with you kicked up far more trouble for you than it had for him. There were more reporters and paparazzi outside his apartment and agency than usual, but it was still manageable. Fortunately for him, he'd already developed a reputation of maintaining a certain level of privacy with the media.

He didn't understand why they seemed to swarm you so much though. Ever since he'd agreed to be your fake boyfriend, he made a point to pay more attention to your public appearances. You handled yourself well, answered respectful direct questions, and for the most part, ignored everything else. Only once in that time did he see you react poorly and it was a few days after the aquarium "date."

The camera jumped as whoever was holding it seemed to be running to try and catch up with the woman ahead of them. Your back was facing them and you were speaking calmly with someone who looked like they worked at your agency.

"Pack Leader! Pack Leader, we have questions for you!"

The tension in your shoulders was instant as soon as the journalist's voice reached you. The person you were speaking to looked past you with wide eyes as they looked directly into the lens of the camera. You said something, too quiet for the microphone to pick up, that made them nod before they hurried through the main doors of the building.

"Pack Leader!"

The woman shouted again, causing you to turn around with a wince. A frown immediately formed when you saw the woman - your eyes dropping to the logo on her microphone before you visibly clenched your jaw.

"I heard you the first time. What do you need?"

Shoto remembered thinking how impressed he was that you didn't snap at the tone of entitlement the journalist used.

"Morikawa Sako from Heroes Observer. Any comment on the recent rumors about yourself and No 2 Pro Shoto dating?" 

She'd barely finished speaking before shoving the microphone in your face so aggressively you'd had to quickly lean back to avoid getting hit.

"Yes, Shoto and I are seeing one another." Despite the rude gesture, your voice was even and firm, leaving no room for doubt.

"What do you have to say for those people wondering what happened between yourself and Darkleaf? The public was rooting for you and was heartbroken to hear that the two of you had split up."

"My response is the same as it has been every time you’ve asked. Our reasons for separating are our own and not the business of the public or media."

If looks could kill, the reporter would have melted into the sidewalk. But instead of taking the clear hint and leaving, she pushed again.

"But you made such a cute pair! What could possibly have happened to break up such a happy couple? Surely you have regrets?"

The camera moved slightly to catch the profile of Morikawa in frame while she spoke. There was a somewhat sinister smirk on the journalist's face, her eyes shone like she'd somehow caught you in a lie or thought she'd won.

Something about her questions must have hit a nerve, because in the span of two heartbeats two massive wolves suddenly appeared at your sides. They were a bit smaller than the one Shoto had encountered in your living room, but no less intimidating as their hackles rose and lips pulled back to reveal the lethal canines housed behind them. The growls rumbling from Wicked Wolf were loud enough that the microphone picked it up from where it now lay on the ground.

Upon seeing your reaction, Shoto sent a private message to Okabe, hoping your longtime friend would be able to enlighten him on the situation. Their response hadn't been as helpful as he'd hoped. He did tell Shoto that it had been a nasty break-up that you had fought tooth and nail to keep out of the public's attention. When he tried to ask for more information, Okabe just told him he would need to ask you if he wanted the whole story.

After that, anytime he thought about you, it felt like his heart was constricting with worry. He'd counted you amongst his friends for some time now. Yet these last few weeks had him feeling more protective than before.

A week after Shoto took you to the aquarium, you'd invited him to attend a cooking class with you in Tokyo. When you were booking the event, there was a moment where you considered whether to reserve a private session or not - ultimately you decided against it. You'd wanted it to be a surprise, making sure you didn't tell him exactly where you were going or what you would be making - only assuring him that he was going to like it.

The train was quiet as you rode, soft music just loud enough to be heard over the subtle sounds of wind and the cars shifting weight. Thankfully it wasn't a terribly long ride, only about 45 minutes from Shizuoka to Tokyo. Conversation flowed easily between you, the two-toned hero even granting a few rare smiles. It was surprisingly easy - even though you'd only been spending time alone together recently, there was a sense of familiarity and comfort his presence seemed to offer.

By the time you stood outside the building the class was held at, you could see a bit of tension in Shoto's shoulders. Just as you had when you were out at the aquarium, the two of you had worn face-masks and he'd worn a hat, which made trying to read his mood more difficult than usual. But you'd like to think you were getting better at it.

So, instead of entering right away, you started walking down the sidewalk. There was still plenty of time before the class started and you didn't want to force him into something he wasn't comfortable with.

His long strides kept up with ease, his voice even and curious when he spoke, "Are we not going inside?"

"We will," you made sure to keep your tone light, hoping to reassure whatever worry had settled over him. "You just seemed a little hesitant. Is everything okay?"

The sole of his sneaker scuffed across the sidewalk when his steps faltered slightly, like your question caught him off-guard.

"My apologies. I hadn't meant to make you feel as though I'm not grateful. Cooking has just never been something I thought too much about."

You couldn't help the smile that spread beneath your mask, "That's ok. We don't have to go in if you don't want to."

Coming to a stop in a quieter part of the street, you turned to face him - tipping your head back slightly to be able to meet his eyes. You always forgot how tall he was.

"I was hoping to surprise you. You mentioned that soba is your favorite food, and that you'd started taking classes to make your own bowls and chopsticks." His eyes widened slightly beneath the bill of his hat. "So, I reached out to a friend and was able to get us into a class taught by the chairman of the Soba Preservation Association of Japan." (A/N: Yes, this is a real thing and an actual class you can book in Tokyo lol)

Shoto seemed frozen where he stood in front of you, even his breath seemed to stop when you told him what you'd be making.

When he didn't say anything, you continued, "He's gonna teach us a bit about the history of soba and then we will get to make our own noodles before making the rest of the dish."

The continued silence was making you nervous and you began to wonder if you overstepped. His love for soba was well-known - it was always his response when asked what his favorite food was. Before your thoughts could spiral too far, the sudden pressure of a hand wrapped around yours pulled you back.

"You booked this just because soba's my favorite?"

With the hat pulled low and mask covering half of his face, his expression was impossible to read. Even his voice was still his usual smooth monotone.

You gave him a little shrug - your hand still wrapped in his. "Yeah. I thought it would be fun and the fact that it's your favorite just seemed to make it better... I'm sorry if it’s too much though. We don't-"

"This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me," he cut you off before you could finish. Barely there, peeking just above the line of his mask, was the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

The two of you returned to the building you’d initially approached - only this time, his hand was still holding yours.

You knew this was all part of the act. Hand holding had been one of the many 'allowed' physical touches you'd discussed when he visited your home. Yet, despite that, your heart refused to slow - hammering away against your ribs as if trying to leap from your chest. There was a warmth in his grip that you reminded yourself was certainly just from his Quirk.

The class was delightful. There were only a handful of other people present, which seemed to ease the remaining tension that lingered in Shoto's posture. The instructor was kind and informative, his enthusiasm and dedication to the history and creation of the dish was obvious and added a pleasant atmosphere to the otherwise fairly quiet room.

Conversation drifted from the other participants - the pair of you earning a few stares when you removed your covers after stepping inside. Outside of that though, you were largely left on your own, treated as any other attendee would be. It was refreshing, and so much fun.

By the time the class was ended and your stomachs were full of the food you'd prepared yourselves, there was no hiding the grin lighting up Shoto's face. 

You leaned against the doorway after the others participants left with a soft smile on your face while you watched the instructor and Shoto chat enthusiastically. This was the most excitement you'd ever seen from him before. Throughout the class he'd been attentive, asking questions and ensuring he did each step perfectly. It was endearing, being able to watch him devote so much attention to something that wasn't hero work. 

The two-toned hero's head fell forward as he chuckled softly at something the chef said. There was something about the unguarded openness of his expression that sent a little flutter of butterflies through you.

Shoto sat across from you on the train back, close enough he had to resist the urge to lean forward and reach across to where your hands rested atop the table. The event was wonderful. He'd enjoyed every moment of the soba class, still shocked to his core that you had done something so thoughtful - especially for what was supposed to be a fake date.

There was an unpleasant twist in his stomach at the reminder. 

He held your hand again on the walk back to the station. It was a fairly warm night for mid-autumn so the pair decided to wander for a while, not really in a hurry for the evening to end. They chatted for a while about work, eventually falling into discussions of the various heroes either of them had worked with before.

It was refreshing, the ease with which conversation flowed with you. Shoto was used to being a bit awkward, not always knowing what to say or how to say something the 'right' way. But you never laughed at him, never corrected him unless he asked. Talking to you was simple.

The pair had almost made it back to the station when you decided to stop for something to drink. He paid, refusing to let you since you'd paid for the class. After getting your drinks, he led you to a little park across the street - finding a bench further from the street to sit down. 

A soft quiet settled between them; the glow of the park light lit your face with a gentle warmth that made it impossible for him to look away. You were in the middle of a story about when you went on a hike with some friends as teenagers and how you used Wicked Wolf to scare them a little. 

It was just as you finished, still chuckling to yourself when he reached forward - unable to stop himself. He felt your breath catch when his palm met your cheek, your skin smooth against his calloused hand. He didn't know what possessed him to do it, only that he wanted to touch. So lost in his own head, he didn't realize you were staring up at him until you spoke.

"Shoto? 'S everything okay?"

The sound of your voice snapped him back to reality. Clearing his throat to try and hide the embarrassment he was sure was evident on his face, he gently wiped his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

"Sorry. You- uh, you just had some flour there."

You'd laughed then, the sound making his heart race.

Now you were sitting across from him, masks set aside while they sat in comfortable silence. Thoughts raced through his mind so fast he could barely keep up. He wanted to ask about the interview he'd seen, but he was afraid if he did, it would ruin the evening you'd so carefully planned. Round and around his thoughts flew until you took pity on him and spoke.

"You look like there's something on your mind."

His eyes slid up to meet yours, the warmth in your gaze soothing some of his worry.

"I saw..." What did he even want to call it? It wasn't an interview; it was closer to an ambush honestly. "I saw the video. Of the journalist who stopped you outside your agency."

A heavy sigh escaped as you leaned back in your seat. His heart gave a painful squeeze when your shoulders drooped.

"Yeah. Heroes Observer, truly the trashiest media outlet I know of." He watched your hand lift to pinch the bridge of your nose, "They've been hounding me about Darkleaf ever since our break-up was made public."

"I don't mean to push, but can I ask what happened?" He paused, debating on whether to tell you he'd asked Okabe before deciding it was best to be honest from the start. "I did ask Okabe, but they only said it ended poorly."

With a groan, you let out a humorless laugh, "Poorly is one way to put it."

Leaning back as he listened, the concerned curiosity he'd initially held morphed into molten rage the more you spoke.

It turned out that Darkleaf wasn't just a lousy hero, but he was also a terrible person. How you'd managed to last two years with a serial cheater was a feat in itself. Yet somehow, the general populace and trash media outlets seem to be obsessed with him. Even though it's been over a year since you'd broken up, the gossip columns still hounded you for information.

Never him though.

When you finally finished, taking a shaky breath to steady yourself, Shoto reached out to grasp your hands. It was instinct this time, he could see how upset the whole situation made you and all he wanted to do was help.

Unsurprisingly, your second outing with Shoto was a trending topic by the next morning. Several people had taken pictures of the two of you walking through the city hand in hand and posted them to social media. One particularly lucky person managed to get a somewhat blurry photo of you and Shoto in the park, when he'd so gently touched your cheek.

'Flour.' The memory still made you laugh. Your PR team has been begging you to do an interview to address the relationship, but you've turned them down every time. Rather than give a firm reason, you told them "maybe after the Hero Awards." Thankfully that seemed to placate them for the time being.

Hero Observer had attempted to corner you again a few days after your soba dinner with Shoto. Fortunately, Okabe was with you at the time and his presence seemed to keep them at a distance for once.

Tonight would be the last time either of you would have a chance to go out together before the Hero Awards next weekend. So, you decided to ask Uraraka and Tsu if they would be interested in a 'double date.' The pair rarely got an opportunity to go out together when they didn't intentionally take the time off for it, so it was a happy coincidence that it lined up with Shoto and your nights off.

The restaurant the four of you were going to wasn't terribly fancy, but it was still nice enough to require a bit of effort. You made sure to dress nice, subtle make-up and quick style for your hair. It felt good, to get out of the house and see friends again, you hadn't been able to since the night of the awful press conference.

It had been a difficult task to peel your eyes away from the way Shoto's shirt hugged his thick chest. He'd dressed simply, black dress slacks and a deep blue button-down that seemed to make the dueling colors of his eyes pop. The jacket he'd worn was draped across the back of his chair, and as the evening had progressed, he'd cuffed his sleeves back until they rested just below his elbow - exposing the strong muscle of his forearms.

Tsu's laugh pulled you back to the present, Ochaco was leaning against her gently as they giggled. Movement from the corner of your eye brought your attention to the windows at the front of the building. A frown immediately formed when you noticed the handful of paparazzi who appeared to be waiting outside for the four of you to leave.

"You ever wonder if Eraserhead had the right idea in avoiding the media?"

Turning your gaze back to your friends, you saw Ochaco frown in the direction of the windows now too.

"It would be nice to be able to have a day where we didn't have to feel like our lives were on full display."

You nodded in agreement with Tsu, "I love the work we do, I just wish it didn't come with all of that."

The atmosphere was somber for a few minutes until Uraraka broke it, leaning forward conspiratorially with a grin on her face.

"Sooooo, how's the whole fake dating thing going?"

Beside you, Shoto huffed a small laugh but otherwise let you respond.

"Seems to be going okay so far," there was a brightness to your voice you hadn't expected. "My agency keeps trying to get me to agree to an interview. I told them to wait until after the Hero Awards."

"That's good though! You guys are going together, right? Hopefully once it's official," the brunette held her hands up to put air quotes around 'official'. "Then they might back off a little?"

"That's the hope!" 

There was a strange simultaneous warmth in your chest as your stomach dropped. You weren't entirely sure why, only that the reminder of the relationship being fake didn't feel right. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, with conversation over dinner returning to brighter topics. Shoto seemed relaxed, a soft smile touching his lips for a majority of the night.

When it was time to leave the restaurant, Shoto offered you his jacket before stepping out the door. The garment swallowed you, almost feeling more like a child dressed in their parents’ clothes. However, the warm scent of his cologne and him that lingered had you relaxing into the welcome warmth.

The four of you were crowded as soon as you left the building, the flash of camera’s nearly blinding in the evening’s darkness.

Ochaco and Tsu had thankfully ordered a car before leaving, so they didn’t have to endure the paparazzi for long before freeing themselves.

Shoto had offered to drive you, though. Which meant you’d have a short walk before getting to the parking garage. He kept his hand at your back the whole time, keeping himself between you and the crowd as much as he could. They still tried asking questions, though the tone of them was different than when you were on your own.

“Shoto, how long have you been dating?” “Pack Leader, what did the two of you do in Tokyo? Do you have a favorite place in the city to visit?” “Will you be going to the Hero Awards together?” “What made you decide to date?”

Still personal, but not the invasive uncomfortable questions they usually tried to pressure you into answering.

Shoto had sent his driver to pick you up before stopping at his apartment. It was more economical that way since they would need to pass his place anyway on the way to the awards event. When the car pulled up to the front, he straightened his jacket - an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness fluttered in his stomach before he approached the dark sedan.

Shock flooded his system when he opened the door and caught sight of you within.

Deep teal fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, a slit up one leg revealed the smooth skin beneath and strappy black heel adorning your foot. Even seated you stole his breath in a way no one had before.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself for even a second before sliding in to sit beside you.

"Everything alright? Do you need water or something?"

There was worry in your tone, enough that it drew his gaze away from where his hands rested in his lap.

Beautiful wasn't the right word for the sight he beheld. Your makeup was done to perfection, hair upswept with a few small pieces down to frame your face. Delicate jewelry decorated your neck and ears adding to the vision without distracting from the rest of your ensemble.

Perfection was closer.

"Todoroki?"

It was only once you said his family name that he remembered you'd asked him a question.

"Hmm, yes. I'm fine. Thank you."

You gave him a soft smile, "Alright."

Silence settled over the two of them, heavy in the space between, but not uncomfortable. The car pulled smoothly into the line leading to the venue entry. Already he could see the flash of cameras and make out the muffled wave of voices. He didn't used to hate the attention. Now though, after seeing and fully comprehending everything you and his other friends had to endure from because of it – he was starting to hate it.

Finally, his car was next, rolling smoothly to a stop - Shoto waited for the driver to open the door before stepping out.

The roar of interviewers and paparazzi flooded the previously quiet interior.

"Shoto! Shoto! How's life as the No 2 Hero?" "Any news on your father?! How's Endeavor handling retirement?!" "Shoto! What's it like working with Dynamight?!" “Can you give us any insight into your relationship with-“

On and on their voices droned, overlapping with one another until they became a dull buzz at the back of his head. It was only once he stepped fully out and turned around, blocking their view of you within, that he extended his hand to help you out.

There was a power in your grip that spoke to years of dedication and unwavering passion.

Instead of the crowd falling to silence as they should have when confronted with the pair of powerful pro heroes, their voices rose. Questions shot through the air faster than he could register them - not that he was listening. His attention was solely focused on you.

You'd been at the Hero Awards for just over an hour - the actual award ceremony wasn't going to happen for at least another hour after that and you were already tired of being here. Of course, the media had been a nightmare from the moment you stepped out of Shoto's car, but that was expected. He offered his arm to you immediately, and his solid strength beside you was far more reassuring than you expected it to be. You stopped only once for pictures on the way in, where you took the opportunity to place a soft kiss on Shoto's cheek.

The roar that followed was almost deafening with the number of people trying to shout over each other to get either of your attention.

Through it all, Shoto was a steady presence at your side. Even once you'd made it into the venue and out of the media's view, he remained beside you. Occasionally you'd feel the warm press of his hand at your lower back when someone got a little too close as they walked past. He never commented, never said a word, making the action seem almost instinctual.

Tsu and Uraraka were the first of your group to find you, the two heroes' dresses complimenting each other perfectly.

Inasa was the next to join, his loud voice and boisterous laugh drawing eyes from around the room every time he spoke. Thankfully, you were used to his volume - after three years of school together and remaining close friends even after graduation, his presence was more of a comfort than an irritation anymore.

You were in the middle of reminiscing over your school days when movement caught your attention.

A familiar pair of dark yellow eyes met your own when you glanced up. Nausea turned your stomach as your heart began to pound. Quickly returning your attention to the people in front of you, you threw on a pleasant smile trying to forget about the eyes you still felt watching you.

Eventually, Ochaco was pulled away by Midoriya to catch up with another friend they hadn't seen in a while. Tsu followed a few minutes later with a fond laugh when she saw her partner excitedly waving her over. Okabe wandered over at one point to chat before pulling Yoarashi away to speak with a commission officer.

Taking a sip from the drink you'd snagged from one of the many servers dotting the hall, you carefully scanned the room.

"IcyHot!"

Beside you, you felt Todoroki turn in the direction of Bakugo's voice. The explosive hero was hard to miss, even when he wasn't blowing something up.

"I'll be back in a moment."

"Go, see your friends. I'm fine," you gave his shoulder a friendly pat as he stepped away.

Rather than stand around waiting, you decided to head for the bar near the back of the spacious room. Various friends and acquaintances stopped you along the way, congratulating you on the new rank or asking about life and missions. It was nice to have the opportunity to catch up with people you didn't get to see often. As Pros, your schedules were always so busy, it was hard to make the time when you worked so much.

You'd just gotten a drink from the bar, the glass cool in your fingers when a voice you'd been dreading spoke beside you.

"What? Not even gonna say hi now?"

Pro Hero Darkleaf, your ex-boyfriend stood not too far away, the dark yellow of his eyes looking almost like molten gold in the light.

"I have nothing to say to you. Excuse me," you tried to push past him, intent on heading to where you'd last seen your friends, when he grabbed your elbow.

"Aww, c'mon baby. You can't tell me that two-toned refrigerator takes better care of you than I did."

His fingers dug into the flesh of your arm, almost enough to hurt, but not quite.

"Let go. Before I remind you why I have the rank I do," he'd always been too big for his britches. After over a year apart, you wondered what you'd ever seen in him.

At your words he began pulling you off to the side, away from the more crowded areas of the room.

"Are you fuckin' serious right now?!" Once he had you off to one side, he practically threw your arm away from him. "I made a mistake, okay? Why can't you just move on and let things go back to the way they were."

It was always the same excuses. I made a mistake. It won't happen again. She came onto me, what was I supposed to do?

When you didn't respond, he tried again. "Please baby. I miss you. I still love you. Let's just... try again."

His hand reached forward to touch your face. Immediately taking a step back, you shook your head, "No. Let it go. Let me go. I'm done. If you loved me so much you wouldn't have cheated."

Turning to leave, you only took one stop before his hand was on you again, pulling you back.

"I'm not done, bitch!" He hissed the words out through clench teeth, "You don't get to walk away until I-"

"Until you what?"

Shoto wasn't worried at first, you're a grown woman who knows how to take care of herself. But when you'd hadn't come back after several minutes, and he couldn't see you in the mass of smart suits and elegant gowns, his mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. Despite his size, he easily worked his way through the crowd to the various members of the friend group - hoping someone had seen you.

Kirishima last saw you talking to Tokoyami, who had last seen you laughing beside Midoriya, who swore he saw you chatting with Okabe and Utsushimi. When he finally tracked down Okabe, your longtime friend looked concerned when Shoto informed him he couldn't find you.

Breaking off from his conversation with Camie, Okabe told him that you'd gone to the bar for a drink.

With a nod, Shoto headed that direction while Okabe gathered a couple of others to hopefully find you. You aren't the kind of person to disappear without telling anyone.

Worry gnawed at his belly the longer it took to find you. He was about ready to recruit a few more people when he caught two shadows tucked into a dark alcove near the back of the room. Normally, he would have ignored it - a lot of people sneak off during events like these, when emotions and booze are flowing freely.

But this was different, the light just caught the way the man held someone's arm a bit too tight. His shadow looming over the other person in a menacing gesture.

He'd just rounded the corner when voices finally reached his ear - low, aggressive, and clearly trying not to draw attention.

"-it go. Let me go. I'm done. If you loved me so much you wouldn't have cheated."

Your voice registered immediately - frustration, indignation, and a trace of fear colored your tone ignited a fire in his own blood.

"I'm not done, bitch! You don't get to walk away until I-"

"Until you what?"

Shoto interrupted as he emerged from the shadow behind you, his large frame coming into view just as Darkleaf was about to dig himself deeper into a grave the two-toned hero was more than happy to help him into.

He saw your shoulders drop in relief - noted the ever-so-faint light at the tips of your fingers that indicated you were seconds from unleashing your Quirk.

"This is a private conversation, Todoroki. Move along."

A dangerous smirk formed on Shoto's lips as he looked down at the man harassing you. He knew he was big, knew there was a level of intimidation from his size alone. He also knew that he wasn't the No 2 Pro for no reason - a fact Darkleaf seemed to understand based on the slight tremble in his hands as he glared up at him.

"I believe she said no. I would suggest you listen when a lady makes it abundantly clear how uninterested she is."

He was fighting to keep control of his Quirk too, the anger burning in his chest threatening to burst free as smoke drifted from his clenched fist.

Stepping to the side, you turned to look up at him with wide eyes full of gratitude.

"Tch. Whatever. Bitch isn't worth the effort anyway."

Just as he turned to walk away, three more figures stepped out from the shadows near where they'd come in at.

"Darkleaf! So good to see you!" Sarcasm dripped from Midoriya like venom as he threw one arm over Darkleaf's shoulders. Shifting to fall in behind the pair, Okabe and Tokoyami followed as the green-haired hero led him away, "Ya know, Dynamight and Gale Force were looking for you..."

When the four men disappeared into the crowd, Shoto gently gripped your upper arms, ducking slightly to be able to meet your eyes.

"Are you alright?" He couldn't wouldn't acknowledge why his heart was racing as he looked you over for injuries.

"I'm okay Shoto, thank you."

His movements stilled when you rested your hand against his chest. Warmth bloomed beneath your touch, slowly rising to touch his cheeks.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. He's a prick but he wouldn't have won that fight, even if you hadn't stepped in," you gave a half-hearted laugh, the humor not quite reaching your eyes.

Shoto huffed a laugh, "No, he certainly would not have."

Extending his elbow once more, you looped your arm through his, leaning into him just a bit more than you had earlier. He tried desperately to ignore the way his stomach fluttered at the realization.

"How did you ever date someone who couldn't even break the top 100?"

You laughed at his poor attempt to lighten the mood - a flush rising to his cheeks again. It was a sound he’d never get tired of hearing.

Three days later, your PR team somehow convinced you to agree to an interview. The internet had been in an uproar after you and Shoto attended the Hero Awards together - a majority of which were incredibly supportive, with a very vocal minority expressing their displeasure. You hadn't wanted to do this interview, it was a bad idea and you knew it. Even if your team assured you that the host would behave, you knew that would only last so long - especially considering this was the same network that hosted Hero Observer.

Before you agreed, you reached out to Shoto, wanting to make sure he was alright with you agreeing. You both knew that regardless of what the station claimed the reason for the request was, there would inevitably be questions surrounding your relationship.

"I don't mind," his smooth monotone came through the speaker with ease, no hesitation whatsoever. "This is part of the reason we agreed to do this, so do what you need to."

A shaky breath left you - the microphone must have picked it up better than you expected because before you could reply he spoke again.

“You don't have to do it though. You don't owe anyone anything, you know?"

"I know. Thank you, Sho." The nickname slipped out before you realized what you said. From the other end of the line, you heard a sharp intake of breath but he otherwise didn't acknowledge it.

"Let me know how it goes. Hopefully they're respectful."

The brief conversation kept replaying in your head as you anxiously waited for your cue to join the host on set. You'd been trying to ignore the way his breath made your heart stutter - tried to forget the way his calm presence during the spat with Darkleaf had soothed your nerves so easily. It was getting harder and harder to pretend.

A PA off to your left stepped forward, giving you a quick smile as they gestured for you to step out.

The cheer from the studio audience was nearly deafening, bright smiles lighting up their faces as you walked out with a soft wave. Rising from her chair, the host Usami Rin, stepped forward to shake your hand as she thanked you for coming. You gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying desperately to calm your racing heart – thankful for the media training all heroes underwent during school.

It wasn't the public speaking aspect that had you nervous. Rather, it was the knowledge that you could count on one hand the number of times these interviews hadn't turned into an opportunity to corner you for personal information.

"Welcome to Hero Talk Zone, Pro Hero Pack Leader!" The host's voice boomed through the air of the studio, drawing another cheer from the audience as the two of you found your seats.

"Thank you for having me, Usami-san."

The older woman let out a quick laugh as she raised her hand as if to wave away your words, "Please, Rin is just fine!"

You gave her a polite nod in response, trying to relax into the couch beneath you. 

"You are notoriously hard to get ahold of Pack Leader," the host gave another half-hearted chuckle. "But now that you're here, we have sooo much we'd love to chat with you about."

A pit had already formed in your stomach when you nodded to her, "I'm happy to be here."

"Glad to hear it! How about we start with the easy stuff, hmm?"

True to her word, Rin began by asking you about your early life: had you always wanted to be a hero, what made you decide, did you apply to UA as well as Shiketsu? You answered her honestly, telling her about the heroes who inspired you as a child, and what made you realize that your Quirk in particular could be incredibly useful.

The deciding moment had been when you were still fairly young, around 11. A boy in your class had gone missing, you and Wicked Wolf ignored the warnings from teachers and Pros, and followed the boys’ scent deep into the forest behind the school. Had you not been there, it would have been hours or even days before he'd been found - if at all. He'd fallen and broken his leg, unable to get himself to safety.

When it seemed like her inquiries were finally coming to a close, you were feeling a bit more relaxed. She had been respectful so far, though it wasn't enough to lull you into feeling safe.

"Pack Leader, I can't thank you enough for taking the time to talk with us about all of this. We have just a few questions left," reaching to the table beside her, Rin picked up a small stack of what looked like slightly oversized flash cards. "We were able to have some of our viewers submit questions in preparation for your appearance!"

Another excited cheer from the audience sent a chill down your spine.

"We'll finish up with a few of those!"

You took a deep breath, bracing for what was to come. This wasn't the first time a host had tried to cover up their own digging by framing invasive questions as 'from the audience.'

"First up! Do you follow a specific diet and workout routine to maintain your figure, despite working such a physically demanding job?"

It took every ounce of self-control not to roll your eyes. You hated these kinds of questions.

"No. As they stated, my profession is very physically demanding. I ensure to eat nutritiously when I am able, and any workouts are almost always in service to maintaining my ability to perform my job to the best of my ability."

You tried so hard to keep the irritation out of your tone - it wasn't what the person was actually asking. They wanted to know how you 'kept such an attractive' figure, rather than how your diet and exercise actually helped in being a hero.

"Fair enough," Rin laughed, flipping to the next card. "Oooo, here's a good one! Pack Leader and Pro Hero Shoto attended the Hero Awards together. Did they go home together? Did he give her an 'award' of his own after??"

The studio fell silent as the host finished her question. Her previously pleasant smile slipped just a bit to let a pleased smirk show.

"Shoto and I did attend the Hero Awards together, as a couple. What we choose or do not choose to do in our free time is our own business," it was close to the same response you tried to give anytime people pushed for more.

"Oh, please Pack Leader! Surely you can give us something? It wasn’t that long ago you were insisting the two of you were nothing more than friends. What changed?" Rin leaned forward, the faux-plead in her voice grated against your nerves.

"Shoto is a kind and compassionate person, something I learned when we first became friends as young heroes just out of high school. Those qualities are also what make him a good partner."

A quiet 'aww' made its way through the audience at your response - a smattering of applause following.

You waited for the noise to die down before continuing, “We simply realized what we felt for one another went beyond that of mere friendship and decided to see if there was more there. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

It hit you, in that moment, that you weren’t exactly lying. What had started as a friend trying to help another had shifted - at least it had for you.

"Of course, we would expect nothing less from the No 2 Pro."

Usami paused, her eyes narrowing just enough for you to notice as her face shifted to a sinister smile she didn't try to hide this time.

"Last question then. Most of us are aware of your break-up with Darkleaf last year," her eyes seemed to gleam with dark intent. She didn't even bother to look at the cards in her hands to keep up the pretense, "Rumor has it that the two of you had a little 'reunion' of your own at the Hero Awards."

The screen behind the two of you changed from the background it usually displayed to show a somewhat fuzzy, blown-up image of the confrontation with your ex. Given the angle the picture was taken from, and the way Darkleaf seemed to lean over you with one hand extended toward your face, it was no surprise this was the picture they would use to spark some kind of controversy.

The thrum of your heart seemed to echo in your chest as the argument replayed in your head: the way he'd tried to control you through force, the names he'd called you, and the way his half-assed apology was just like every pathetic excuse he'd given during your relationship.

"You two are looking pretty cozy here, Pack Leader. What would Shoto think? Does he know you were having a rather intimate conversation with an ex-partner at the same event he brought you to?"

Before you had a chance to respond, a sharp voice cut through the studio, "That's enough!"

Relief flooded you when Nanba Aritoki, your new head of PR stepped out from behind the camera crew. He was dressed in a simple, well-tailored suit, with a severe expression on his face.

"You were expressly told any questions regarding previous relationships were off-limits. You have violated the contract you signed. This interview is over!"

Smoke was still rising in thick clouds from the smoldering remains of the building behind him. Shoto was exhausted, covered in soot and sweat - ash clung to his costume so thickly that he wasn't sure the suit was actually going to be salvageable this time.

The attack had been brutal, a small group of villains decided to attack a business situated on the first level of a multi-story building. The main floor was mostly a handful of small businesses, but the seven or eight floors above that were all residential. Fortunately, the attack hadn't happened in the middle of the night, but it was still late enough for most of the residents to be home.

Numerous Pros had been called in from the surrounding areas to help contain the fighting and evacuate the burning building.

They got lucky. That's all there was to it. If even a single hero that showed hadn't - there would have been casualties and the villains might have escaped.

Mt. Lady was speaking to one of the reporters who had been let in now that the worst was finished and only clean up remained. Shoto reached up to wipe at the sweat dripping down his forehead, only to leave behind another dark smear of the grime still thick on his hands.

"Shoto!" 

The unfamiliar voice pulled his attention away from the medic who was wrapping a bandage around his forearm. Walking calmly in his direction was another reporter, the camera operator followed close behind.

"That's enough. Thank you."

The soft dismissal made the healer nod before she moved on to the next person.

"Sanjo Yukisue, Shizuoka Evening News," the man bowed when Shoto met him halfway. "Do you have time for a few questions regarding the attack and rescue effort?"

With a nod, Shoto relaxed his stance some. Over the years he'd gotten more comfortable with these interviews. He still wasn't entirely at ease, but his friends told him he was doing better.

"Shoto, you did incredible work out there tonight. Can you tell us what happened?"

"I just did my job," Shoto gave a slight nod of thanks as he replied. "I don't have all the details since I came in from a different zone to assist. However, we were able to evacuate the building and all of the villains have been apprehended."

He answered a couple more questions with what information he was able to. Though he was tired to his bones, Shoto had not originally intended to cut the interview short until he caught sight of a familiar gossip channel journalist.

Shoto sat down that afternoon, fresh out of the shower and ready to sleep after his early patrol shift. He was reaching for his phone to ask you how it went when your name lit up his screen. A little smile played on his lips, and he tried to ignore the way his heart beat just a little faster knowing you were the one to reach out first today. The brief moment of excitement quickly turned to worry at the tone of your texts.

Your messages were shorter than usual; they didn't have the same light cadence you usually had when texting him. The frown on his face deepened when you explained how the interview went and the awkward atmosphere the final few questions brought to the studio. He was about to reply when your final messages came through.

Pack Leader <3: That's not even the worst part though. I don't know where they got it from. But they had a picture from the awards event, Sho. One of Darkleaf and I. It looks so bad. Nanba-san stepped in and cut the interview short. But I have a feeling the network will air the whole thing anyway. Gives them more drama and still makes me look unstable 😪 Me: I'm coming over.

Barely taking enough time to throw on a clean shirt and jacket, Shoto made it to your house in less than 30 minutes. He'd only just knocked when you opened the door and ushered him in.

Once inside, he immediately noticed that rather than the one Wicked Wolf manifestation you usually had, all six were present. Each about the size of a large shepherd dog, Shoto would guess they'd be somewhere around 80-100 pounds each. They all looked just a bit different from each other, whether it was their coloring or coat pattern.

Only one looked the same as he'd seen before, just barely larger than the others with familiar intelligent eyes, Wicked Wolf gazed at him with an understanding that far surpassed that of a normal animal. Standing here now, he understood why you and Tokoyami had become so close. Both of your Quirks were entities all their own that just happened to be connected to you.

When he finally peeled his gaze away from the cuddle puddle of your Quirks manifestations, he directed his attention completely to you.

You looked exhausted - red lined your eyes, a barely-there puffiness gave away the fact that'd you'd been crying. That knowledge made his chest ache. He desperately wanted to pull you close and hold you, reassure you that everything would be alright.

Instead, you took a step back and wrapped your arms around yourself, like you were trying desperately to hold yourself together.

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess, Todoroki."

The use of his family name hurt more than he cared to think about.

"You have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner. If I had been then they wouldn't have had anything to try to use against you."

He watched you shake your head; defeat lined every muscle in your body - as if you'd finally given up. Without thinking, Shoto stepped forward, slow and with enough tenderness that you could have easily stopped him if you wanted to, and pulled you into his arms. The sound of his heart hammering in his ears drowned out almost everything else when you finally relaxed and wrapped your arms around him - burying your face in his chest.

One thought flashed through his mind before he pushed it away: how long was he going to be able to keep pretending?

"...oto? Shoto, is everything alright?"

The reporter was looking at him with concern, the camera operator behind him had the lens angled toward the ground in an effort to give the hero a bit of privacy.

"Actually, no." 

His response in combination with the unusual intensity of his tone must have caught them off-guard. Without explaining himself, Shoto gave them a quick bow before he marched across the debris littered street in the direction of Morikawa Sako. If she was so intent on springing unexpected interviews on people, then he had an exclusive he didn't want her to miss.

As he approached, many of the journalists still stuck behind the police line began calling out to him, shouting questions over top of each other in an effort to get him to respond.

Morikawa noticed his approach and smirked when she realized he was heading in her direction. He saw and let her arrogance fan the rage burning behind his ribs.

"Pro Hero Shoto! Can you comment on the situation here? What happened?" 

She held the microphone across the barrier when he stopped in front of her.

"Listen close, I'll only tell you this once."

Pulling the mic from her grip, her eyes went wide at the intensity in his eyes. Several others nearby held their own microphones and recording devices forward, hoping to catch whatever he was about to say.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves." The growl in his voice had the crowd falling silent in shock and perhaps a bit of fear. "We are out here every day risking our lives to protect you. Yet for some reason, you think that allows you to ask for answers you have no right to."

He watched Morikawa swallow - the movement was slow, as if something was lodged in her throat.

"Next time you decide to dig a little too deep just to satisfy some twisted need for scandal, remember how we secured the rankings we have, and reflect."

Three days since your interview that had been cut short, and two days since Shoto's very public call-out, and your mind was still reeling. You hadn't expected him to show up at your home after you told him what happened, and you certainly didn't have the heart to push him away when his arms had held you so close. He hadn't stayed very long, insisting he only stopped by to make sure you were alright.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, sending butterflies to your stomach that you were hard-pressed to ignore. There had been a change over the last few weeks - you'd grown closer and finally let yourself acknowledge how much you enjoyed his company. 

That night, you'd watched the interview as it aired, bundled up on the couch with Wicked Wolf's head in your lap. The other manifestations were huddled around you too, their weight and presence offering that familiar reassurance it always had. Surprisingly, the network had left in the part of the recording where your PR manager stepped in and revealed how they'd broken their contract.

Because of that, it wasn't too much of a surprise when you woke up the next morning to see Usami Rin had been fired. More stories of the former host began to flood social media of her poor treatment and ambush tactics. It was more satisfying than you expected it to be. 

What had been a surprise was after you returned home late from patrol and flipped on the news, only to see Shoto's anger on full display as he laid into Morikawa Sako.

Even now, in the middle of combat, you kept seeing his face.

"On your right!"

On instinct you rolled out of the way, springing to your feet as soon as the dodge was complete. Further to your left, a copy of Wicked Wolf was fighting alongside Red Riot against a villain who seemed to have mental control over the mech-suit he hid within. 

Redirecting your attention to the fight in front of you, the rumbling growl of your Quirk echoed from beside you - ready to pounce on your command.

To your right, Pro Hero Emily had a number of objects hovering around her to act as a shield against the onslaught of attacks sent her way. Directing Wicked Wolf to flank the villain, you spoke quickly into your earpiece.

"Thanks for the warning."

A spear of concrete slammed into your arm as you raised it to block the attack, shards of it biting into your skin with enough force to make you grit your teeth against the pain.

"On my signal, send out your attacks."

The silver haired hero gave you a nod, her attention focused on guarding as she readied her attacks.

An image flashed through your mind for less than a heartbeat, the view from where Wicked Wolf now lurked, waiting for her chance to strike.

"Now!"

With a grunt of effort, Yanagi launched a majority of the hovering objects toward the villain at the same moment Wicked Wolf leapt in from the other side. 

Forcing the enemy to go on the defensive - his attention was now split between the incoming projectiles and Wicked Wolf.

Using his distraction to your advantage, you raced forward, dropping to your knees in a slide to dodge a wide swing. Springing up quickly, barely losing momentum - you couldn't stop the grin as the villain let out a shout of pain when Wicked Wolf clamped her jaws around one of his arms. 

"Drop it!"

A harsh snarl ripped from the wolf's broad chest as she released his dripping arm. The villain didn't have time to dodge before you were on him, heart hammering when you ducked a wild swing, only to have your fist connect just below his sternum.

Air rushed from his lungs as he dropped to one knee. 

Just before you had a chance to deliver the final blow and knock him out, the ground beneath you erupted as another spear of stone shot upward - slicing through the meat of your calf.

Gritting your teeth against the pain, you let out a hiss before striking just below his ear at the jawline.

His eyes rolled back as he collapsed in a heap.

Your heart was pounding, the throb of it echoed in the pulsing of your injuries.

"Are you okay?!"

Emily ran toward you, Quirk-cancelling cuffs in hand. Gritting your teeth, you gave her a sharp nod before you pulled bandages from the pouch on your belt.

The wounds were serious, they would definitely need stitches, but you couldn't stop now. There were too many villains still up and fighting.

You tied off the bandage on your leg, the pressure already easing the pain - though you knew that would wear off once the adrenaline was out of your system.

After securing the villain, Yanagi rushed to you, taking the bandage from your bloody hand to wrap your arm.

"Are you good to keep an eye on him? Get him to the police?" You nodded toward the unconscious villain.

"Of course. But you should find a medic, those injuries are bad."

You stretched your neck, the bones popping as some of the tension was released.

"Can't stop now, still too much work to do."

Just then, your earpieces crackled to life.

"This is Nejire Chan, we need back-up!"

With a grim smile you looked back to the silver-haired pro beside you, "Gotta go."

You took off at a sprint, heading in the direction you could still hear combat echoing from. As you were nearing Red Riot's location you heard his shout cut through the din.

"He's down!"

Thanking whatever higher powers there might be, you summoned Wicked Wolf back to you - channeling the split energy back into the primary manifestation loping easily at your side. From the corner of your eye, you could see her return to her full size. Her head now level with your chest, tongue hanging out the side of her bloodstained muzzle. The joy in her eyes mirrored the determination in yours.

You grinned as you spoke, "Ready for more?"

Shoto was exhausted. Somehow a group of fairly powerful villains had managed to elude the Commission’s radar until they showed up in the middle of the city just a couple hours ago. The moment their attack began, buildings started to collapse. He didn't know who they were, but they had some very powerful Quirk users amongst them. 

He'd been on patrol with Nejire Chan when the heroes in this zone called for help. Fortunately, they were close enough to be the second team to arrive on scene. Unfortunately, there hadn't been a lot of time to try and get the area evacuated. 

Loss was something every hero had to accept; it was part of the job - but that didn't make it easier.

Now, in the middle of combat, their hands were tied while they protected civilians as they tried to apprehend the villains.

The group had split up before Shoto arrived on scene, so he had no idea how many of them there were. But the three in front of him were enough of a problem that he didn't have time to worry about it.

A wall to Shoto's right exploded outward as the shadow form of a massive ram crashed through it, raining debris across the battlefield. If he wasn't so familiar with Tokoyami and your Quirks, the beast might have unsettled him. Instead, he saw something he doubted many others would notice.

The creature had no mind of its own. It could only do as directed, which meant the user would be forced to split their attention between the Quirk and their own surroundings.

Before he could act on that knowledge, dark energy flashed through the ground at his feet sending a flash of pain through him - sharp enough it nearly brought him to his knees.

That one was starting to get on his nerves.

Throwing up a quick shield of ice between himself and the charging ram, Shoto managed to get his body back under control in time to hear Nejire let out a sharp cry of pain.

To his left, the bubbly hero plummeted to the ground, a thin spike of ice impaling her abdomen.

A ramp of his own frozen power instantly formed beneath her, catching her in a slide to deposit her more gently to the ground.

"Thanks!" Her word of gratitude was laced with pain, blood slowly seeping from the wound.

"You need to get off the field."

It wasn't a command, Shoto would never dream of giving someone an order. But if she continued to fight like that there was no telling the long-term damage that could be done.

Instead of responding, his earpiece crackled to life, "This is Nejire Chan, we need back-up!"

Less than 30 seconds later, as Shoto was unleashing a gout of flame at the villain with an ice Quirk similar to his own, he heard it.

Cutting through the crackle of flame and low groan of structures collapsing under their own weight, a howl split the air.

Still distant, still far enough that they would need a few more minutes before you got here - but close enough that he didn't stop the dark smile that split his lips.

"What's with the smile, hero? Did you finally realize it was time to give up?!"

A shield of ice formed around his arm as Shoto sidestepped the charging ram. The shield did its job, protecting him from the worst of the glancing blow. 

Rather than respond, he quickly looked to Nejire Chan, "Think you can hold on for another minute?"

She was a bit pale, sweat shone across her forehead, but a determined scowl furrowed her brow as she let out another attack toward the villain with the dark electrical Quirk.

"Of course!"

For the next minute, the pair fought hard. They were outnumbered, but evenly matched. When they could get in the air, it was harder for the electrical attacks to hit them. But it also left them vulnerable to the glacial spikes that could be launched in massive waves, as well as the shadow ram that didn't seem to need solid ground to move about.

Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention - a flash of soft grey-blue, the nearly imperceptible crunch of running feet.

Then you appeared.

Throwing yourself over the crumpled remains of a wall, you moved with smooth efficiency, not a single motion wasted. Before your feet touched the ground, the massive form of Wicked Wolf easily cleared the debris with a lazy leap. He saw you turn your head slightly toward your Quirk, your mouth moving with an order he couldn't hear.

Just like that the powerful form of Wicked Wolf quickly outpaced you, her long stride eating away the distance between her and her target. A terrified shout echoed from the direction the wolf disappeared in.

Your voice came through the ear piece, breathless but steady, "Red Riot's not far behind!"

Another flash of dark energy through the ground in your direction forced Shoto's attention back to the assailant in front of him.

Blows were traded with almost blinding speed. Fire and ice clashed against glacial shields and the shadowed ram. The occasional jolt of dark lightning would race through the ground, immobilizing at least one of the heroes every time it did – though the pulses were less frequent now.

At least, he assumed it was immobilizing someone - but he hadn't seen you since you first appeared on the battlefield. Worry made his chest tight. He knew you could handle yourself, but he also knew you were like the rest of them - ready to sacrifice yourself to protect someone else.

A sudden snarl ripped through the air behind him as Wicked Wolf leapt by him, her heavy paws hitting the earth with a thundering rhythm. 

What he hadn't been able to see passed the blood dripping into his eye, was the electricity wielding villain that had managed to sneak up to flank him. Shoto could just make out a handful of what appeared to be bite marks scattered across his body before the enormous form of Wicked Wolf blocked most of his view.

The enemy had no time to react as the wolf's jaws clamped down on his upper arm, the resounding crack of bone echoed through the air just as a scream tore from his lips.

One down.

It didn't take long once the electrical villain was out of the picture, for the other two to falter. The pain in your arm and leg screamed with every movement, but you pushed it down - focusing on the task at hand.

Nejire Chan had finally retreated when Red Riot showed up - his sharp toothed grin spread wide as he blocked an attack aimed at the vulnerable hero.

Another barrage of glacial spikes rained down in your direction, forcing you to duck behind a wall for cover - you weren't keen on getting stabbed again.

The familiar thud of heavy paws greeted you when you reemerged, Wicked Wolf's presence immediately easing some of the tension in your chest. You were strong, and so was she, but the fighting had been going for so long that even the two of you were starting to struggle. A slight tremble in your fingers had you clenching your fists as you rounded on the shadow wielder.

He'd managed to stay mostly off the main battlefield, which meant it had been a pain to find him. Thanks to your Quirks keen nose though, you tracked him down. You allowed him one attempted attack with his mindless creature - cocking your head in mock sympathy when he realized just how out-matched he was by you and Wicked Wolf.

15 minutes later, you were sitting propped up against a partially collapsed wall, breathing heavy as you tried to recover enough strength to walk to the medical tents. Wicked Wolf lounged on the ground beside you, her own breaths ragged.

The crunch of boots had your eyes flicking open to behold a familiar heterochromatic gaze.

Shoto had blood dripping past his right eye and down his cheek, scrapes and bruises showed through the tears in his uniform - but what held your focus was the look on his face.

His eyes shone with an emotion you couldn't place while a frown pulled the corners of his mouth down.

"What's wrong?"

You noticed the way his eyes dropped to your blood-soaked bandages.

"You're hurt."

There was no point in lying, he could see the damage.

"Yeah. But I'll be fine, just resting for a minute before I go to the medics," you tried to keep your tone light. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off though, the pain was starting to take over again.

"Can you stand?"

You huffed a tired laugh, "Probably?" You hadn't tried since you sat down.

Before you knew what was happening, Shoto stooped, one arm sliding beneath your knees while the other wrapped around your back. A surprised squeak escaped you as he stood, the strong warmth of his arms held you with care.

He carried you in silence for a few minutes, carefully making his way across the debris strewn battlefield.

"You worried me," his voice was so soft you almost missed it.

"What?" The quiet admission had your heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

"I saw Wicked Wolf, so at least I knew you were alive. But when I couldn't find you..."

He trailed off, bicolored eyes meeting yours for a heartbeat before they looked away, a flush coloring his cheeks.

"I didn't mean to worry you," a touch of humor colored your tone.

A comfortable silence fell over you again. Every once in a while, his pace would stumble on the uneven ground, inadvertently sending a flash of pain through your injuries. His eyes would immediately drop to you when you winced, assessing your injuries with a practiced gaze.

The medical tents came into view, as well as the police line packed with media and civilians alike. 

His steps slowed, you looked up to find him already gazing down at you. There was a seriousness in his eyes you couldn't place.

"Sho? What's wrong?"

The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips just before his throat bobbed as he swallowed. You tried to be patient, but his silence had your heartrate picking back up.

"I don't want it to be fake."

If you'd been standing on your own, your knees would have given out at his quiet confession. The thundering of your heart ticked up a notch, nearly drowning out the worried questions from the medical staff now rushing toward you.

He didn't leave your side while they worked to stitch your wounds - offering his hand when he noticed how hard you were clenching your jaw with every pass of the needle. Heavy silence hung between you as the healers worked to clean and bandage the worst of both of your wounds.

Until finally, you were cleared to leave.

Standing outside the medical tent, you caught Shoto's wrist before he could walk away. Swallowing passed the lump in your throat; you spoke before you could talk yourself out of it.

"I don't want it to be fake either."

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, a faint flush rising to color his cheeks again.

"Can I kiss you?"

You were both exhausted, covered in sweat and dirt - yet he looked at you like you were the most beautiful person in the world.

"I'd like that."

He quickly closed the distance, one hand finding its home firmly at the small of your back. While the other came up to gently hold the back of your head - strong fingers threading through the hair at your nape.

Your mouth met his in a desperately tender kiss. His lips were firm and warm, pressing against yours with so much passion it took your breath away.

Distantly, you could hear the sound of camera shutters and the indistinct murmur of voices. But you didn't care.

Your hands drifted up to loop around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. Heat and ardent joy coursed through you as your lips moved against his.

Eventually you were forced to break apart simply to catch your breath. He didn't let you go far though, pressing his forehead to yours as the heat of your breaths mingled between you. Every part of your body seemed to tingle under his touch.

He pressed one more soft kiss to your lips, untangling his fingers from your hair to let his hand drift down your back and hold you close.

You rested your head against his chest, the solid beat of his heart soothing after the chaos of the battle you'd come from.

Dipping to kiss the top of your head, you felt him clear his throat before he spoke softly against your hair, "Can I take you on a real date now?"

A/N: Thank you for being patient as I got this out! I actually started writing this, got like halfway through my original idea and then started over because I hated it. I like this one way more... and it ended up being MUCH longer than I originally intended. Thanks for making it all the way to the end!

Taglist: @lanai2

Asks/Requests are open!

So you pack your bags and move to Japan, only to find the students at U.A. High School traumatized by the Hero War. Aizawa is struggling to help them, and Nezu is overwhelmed trying to find therapists while managing international scrutiny over the students' involvement in the war. Aizawa panics when Nezu informs him of your arrival, as your hero profile is so blank he can't find decent information about you, despite your international headlines.

Your start is rocky, worsened by your initial deception of pretending to be his new student. The students are unsure what to make of you, but they’re drawn to their new pretty art teacher and soon so is their handsome grump of a teacher.

With the media down his neck, Nezu offers you a deal: Get the kids to seek therapy, you to graduate with your psychology doctorate. Aizawa’s catch: If you fail or harm them, you walk away from being a therapist and hero altogether.

All while facing your own trauma, and the affections of those strange cats...

Tw: PTSD and mentions of violence and mental distress.

Song: SZA - Good Days

----------------------Chapter 1: Who are you?------------------------

The day had been a rare opportunity for the new Class 2-A to unwind and explore the vibrant shopping district surrounding U.A. Academy. With a Saturday all to themselves, students scattered across the mall, relishing the chance to indulge in personal interests and bond outside the confines of their classrooms.

In the heart of the bustling mall, the comic store beckoned with its colorful displays and eager customers. The windows were adorned with colorful posters of heroes in dynamic poses, and the entrance was flanked by life-sized statues of popular heroes. The air inside was thick with the scent of new books and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.

Izuku Midoriya, his face lit up with joy, led a group consisting of Ochaco Uraraka, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, and himself towards the store's entrance. They were drawn by the promise of hero memorabilia and the back to school discounted prices plastered all over the building.

Hey, kids gotta ball on a budget!

As they entered, the store buzzed with energy. Fans of all ages flipped through graphic novels, their fingers brushing the glossy pages, while others scrutinized shelves stocked with hero-themed merchandise—action figures, posters, and keychains, all meticulously arranged to catch the eye. The walls were lined with shelves, each packed to the brim with comics, some new, others worn and well-loved. A few children darted between the aisles, their laughter mingling with the murmur of conversations.

Izuku gravitated towards the section dedicated toToshinori, his eyes wide and scanning for any rare collectibles he might have missed. The rows of action figures stood proudly, their detailed designs catching the overhead light. Posters of All Might in his prime covered the walls, Izuku's gaze lingered on each one, and his eyes softened.

"Hey, Izuku, check this out!" Ochaco's voice rang out, pulling him from his reverie. She held up a keychain featuring a miniature All Might in his signature hero pose, the small figure almost glowing in her hand. "Isn't this adorable?" She smiled brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy.

Izuku's face brightened, his eyes widening as he stepped closer to examine the keychain. "That's awesome, Ochaco! I wonder if they have any figurines or posters I haven't seen before." He began to peruse the shelves again, his fingers trailing lightly over the edges of the boxes as he searched for something new. His gaze darted from one item to another, his excitement slowly giving way to disappointment as he realized there were no new All Might items to add to his collection.

Izuku sighed softly, the sound almost lost in the ambient noise of the store. His rewards points burned a hole in his pocket, the card resting in his hand as he glanced around the store, hoping for a hidden gem.

The sweet old lady store clerk noticed his dilemma and smiled warmly at him. "Can't find what you're looking for, young man?" She had allowed the Izu-crew to browse before offering her assistance. 

Izuku shook his head, feeling a bit crestfallen. "Not this time, Mrs. Sakamaki. All Might stuff tends to sell out quickly." He shuffled slightly, one hand slipping into his pocket as he spoke, the other still clutching the rewards card.

Mrs. Sakamaki, was a sweet old lady store clerk with a kind smile and gentle demeanor. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, and she wore a cozy cardigan that seemed to match the warmth in her eyes. 

Mrs. Sakamaki's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, how about considering something new? Have you heard about Charge Bomb? She's quite the rising star, you know." She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Izuku's head tilted slightly, curiosity evident in his tone, and interest piqued, " Charge Bomb? "

Mrs. Sakamaki nodded enthusiastically, her smile widening as she reached behind the counter. With a practiced hand, she retrieved a medium-sized figurine of Charge Bomb, complete with her signature explosive star emblem and perching pose. 

The figure was expertly crafted, capturing the details of the hero’s ebony mask and cloak. "She's gaining quite a fanbase lately. People say she's as electrifying as her powers!"

Izuku hesitated for a moment, his eyes tracing the details of the figurine in his hand. The weight of it was reassuring, and he could feel the craftsmanship in every groove. "I've heard a bit about her. She seems really strong." He turned the figure over, examining it closely, the gears in his mind turning as he considered adding it to his collection.

Ochaco teased him lightly, nudging Izuku with a playful grin. "Come on, Izuku. Even if All Might isn't here, you can expand your horizons a bit!"

Tsuyu ribbited in agreement, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "Ribbit. Midoriya, you might discover a new hero to admire." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched Izuku's inner debate unfold.

Izuku chuckled sheepishly, feeling the support of his friends. "Alright, alright. Charge Bomb it is. Thank you, ma'am." He offered Mrs. Sakamaki a grateful smile as he handed over his rewards card, the anticipation building within him as he added the figurine to his growing collection.

"This Charge Bomb figure is incredible," Izuku exclaimed, his eyes wide as he examined the action figure in his hands. He was doing that mumbling thing and they were happy to see him geek over something other than All Might. It was good to see him like this. 

He needed this. 

"Yeah, but she seems so distant, like she's always avoiding questions in her interviews," Ochaco remarked, her gaze shifting to a nearby display of hero-themed posters. She reached out to adjust one that had slipped slightly out of place, her fingers brushing the paper lightly.

"She's probably just focused on hero work," Shoto chimed in quietly, his eyes scanning the shelves with detached interest. He reached out to pick up a comic, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "I've seen her in action in some civilian videos. She doesn't waste time or energy." He placed the comic back, his expression thoughtful.

Tsuyu, standing beside Shoto, nodded in agreement. "Ribbit. Maybe she prefers a direct approach, focusing on getting the job done without unnecessary risks." She leaned over to pick up a comic featuring a leapfrog character, holding it up with a teasing smile before lightly punching Shoto in the arm for showing it to her.

Iida, who had been diligently scanning through hero strategy books, joined the conversation with his trademark earnestness. "Indeed. Charge Bomb's reputation stems from her precise tactics and adherence to hero regulations. She's a model of efficiency." His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was a spark of admiration in his eyes.

Ochaco nodded knowingly, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's part of her appeal. Charge Bomb is known for her no-nonsense attitude and her skill in taking down villains efficiently. But when it comes to interviews, she's a bit elusive. Always dodging personal questions with a touch of humor. I would love to get away with that! Those interview questions always make me so nervous." She glanced over at Izuku, her expression softening as she saw the thoughtful look on his face.

Izuku's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of disappointment and fascination crossing his features. "It's amazing how she manages to stay mysterious even with all the attention she's getting." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still holding the Charge Bomb figurine as he contemplated the enigma that was this new hero.

Tsuyu, always the voice of reason, chimed in to lighten the mood. "Maybe she just wants to keep her private life private. It adds to her mystique, kero. Don't you think?" She tilted her head slightly, her wide eyes filled with understanding.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Izuku agreed with a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as he let go of his earlier disappointment. ‘ She's definitely someone I want to learn more about.’ He glanced around at his friends, grateful for their perspectives.

Their conversation was interrupted by Iida, who had found a stack of hero biographies nearby. He straightened up, holding one out to Izuku with a determined look. "Have any of you seen this? It's a comprehensive guide on hero rankings and strategies. We should study this for our next training session." His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the group was huddled around the book, discussing its contents with renewed excitement.

Meanwhile, nearby, Eijiro Kirishima trailed after Katsuki Bakugo through the bustling mall, his grin wide and infectious. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food and perfume, and the cacophony of shoppers' chatter created a lively atmosphere. Kirishima's energy was palpable as he practically bounced on his heels, his excitement barely contained.

"C'mon, bro, let's hurry up! I wanna check out those romance novels you were talking about," Kirishima urged, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. His red hair caught the overhead lights, giving it an almost fiery glow, and his broad smile seemed to brighten the entire aisle.

Bakugo grunted in response, his usual scowl softened slightly by Kirishima's persistent cheer. He had a reputation to maintain, but Kirishima's unwavering smile always managed to crack through his tough exterior.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if resisting a smile, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. They navigated through the maze of aisles, their footsteps echoing against the polished tiles. The aisles were lined with displays of books and manga, with colorful covers vying for attention. Bakugo’s eyes darted toward a stand of novels, his expression turning contemplative as he contemplated a particular title.

Nearby, Mina and Aoyama were in their element, quoting vines and hunting for discounted products, their vibrant personalities on full display. Mina's laughter rang out as she twisted open a bottle of lotion, the fruity scent wafting into the air. 

Her pink skin seemed to shimmer under the store's lights, matching the lively energy she exuded. Aoyama, ever the picture of elegance, carefully examined a row of lip glosses, each one sparkling under the lights like miniature jewels. He held one up to the light, admiring its glittering hue with a flourish of his hand.

Being a crusty bitch is a crime in their book. 

"This one captures my essence perfectly," Aoyama declared with a dramatic flair, his voice lilting with confidence as he made his selection. Mina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as they made their way toward the counter.

Denki and Sero, not far behind, were engrossed in a lively debate over their favorite music band. Their voices rose above the ambient noise of the mall, attracting a few curious glances. Denki gesticulated animatedly, his eyes bright with passion as he defended his choice. "I'm telling you, their new album is fire! The beats are insane!"

Sero countered with equal enthusiasm, a mischievous grin on his face. "Si, pero like , the lyrics in their older stuff hit harder. You can't just overlook that!" His arms crossed over his chest, a challenge in his posture as he awaited Denki's rebuttal. Their exchange was playful, filled with an easy camaraderie.

Not far off, Jirou sat quietly with Momo. Jirou’s earbuds were plugged in, the faint sound of music just audible as she perused a rack of graphic tees. Her expression was thoughtful, her fingers brushing over the fabric as she considered her options. 

Occasionally, she glanced over at Momo, who was absorbed in selecting art supplies from a nearby shelf. Momo's concentration was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pursed in determination as she compared different shades of sketch pencils.

Near the food court, Sato and Koda were in their element, sampling soft pretzels from a nearby vendor. The aroma of freshly baked dough filled the air, mingling with the scent of warm butter and salt. Their faces lit up with delight as they bit into the savory snacks, the crunch of the pretzel giving way to soft, chewy perfection.

"I’m gonna make this back at the dorm!" Sato declared, his eyes wide with pleasure as he took another bite. Koda nodded in agreement, his usually shy demeanor momentarily forgotten as he enjoyed the treat.

In the midst of the mall's eclectic offerings, Toru and Ojiro found themselves browsing through racks of matching T-shirts and pajamas. Toru's laughter was infectious, her voice light and bubbly as she held up a pair of pajama pants covered in cartoonish animal prints. 

"These are so cute! Ojiro, you should totally get a pair to match!" she teased, her invisible form barely discernible except for the clothing she held.

Ojiro chuckled, his tail swaying behind him as he examined the T-shirt in his hands. "Sure thing, these tees would look pretty cool on you," he said, holding up a shirt with a simple yet striking heart design. His expression was relaxed, content in the easy banter they shared.

Further down the mall, the Hot Topic store exuded a darker, edgier vibe. The walls were adorned with posters of alternative bands, horror movie memorabilia, and gothic accessories that attracted a certain crowd. 

Fumikage Tokoyami and Mezo Shoji were drawn to the store's unique collection, their interest piqued by the array of darkly themed merchandise. Tokoyami's eyes gleamed with approval as he browsed through the selection of black hoodies and band T-shirts, Dark Shadow flickering in and out of view as it reacted to the ambient darkness.

Shoji, towering beside him, was more methodical in his approach, carefully examining each item before making a decision. His multiple arms moved with practiced efficiency, picking up and setting down items as he weighed his options. There was a quiet intensity to his movements, his nature calm but intensive.

Hitoshi Shinso, the newest addition to Class 2-A, stood nearby, quietly observing the array of mystery novels lining the shelves. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as he reached out to pull a book from the shelf. The cover was dark and foreboding, promising a tale of intrigue and suspense. Shinso flipped through the pages, his mind already piecing together the story within.

As the afternoon unfolded, the tranquil atmosphere of their shopping expedition was abruptly shattered by a sudden commotion echoing from the mall's main atrium. The cheerful chatter and the hum of activity were quickly drowned out by a chorus of panicked voices. 

Shoppers and storekeepers alike scrambled to escape the center of the chaos, their hurried footsteps reverberating through the marble floors.

"What's going on?" Shoto asked, his voice low as his eyes narrowed, instinctively sensing something was amiss. The cool air around him seemed to grow colder as he prepared for the worst.

Izuku's gaze darted towards the source of the disturbance, his expression sharpening with determination. "Something's happening. We need to check it out!"

With a unified nod, they abandoned their purchases and hurried towards the scene, their training as future heroes kicking in instinctively. They weaved through the bustling crowd, the throngs of people parting in their wake as they sprinted toward the mall's open space. The vibrant colors of store signs and displays blurred around them as they closed in on the source of the disturbance.

When they emerged into the atrium, the sight that greeted them was one of utter chaos. A villain stood at the center, their body crackling with electricity, causing nearby electrical appliances and lights to flicker and malfunction dangerously. 

Sparks flew as lights exploded overhead, sending shards of glass raining down. The air buzzed with the raw, uncontrolled energy that pulsed from the villain.

Ochaco's eyes widened in alarm. "We need to stop him before he causes a blackout!"

Before any of them could spring into action, a brilliant flash of light erupted from the villain's direction. The intensity of the glow momentarily blinded them, but when their vision cleared, they saw a figure stepping forward from the crowd—a woman dressed in unassuming civilian attire. 

Despite her inconspicuous appearance, her presence commanded attention. There was a quiet power in the way she carried herself, her gaze steely and focused as she assessed the situation.

"Everyone, stand back!" she called out, her voice firm and authoritative. 

Izuku and his classmates exchanged surprised glances but held their ground. watching in awe as the woman unleashed a burst of energy from her hands. Their initial confusion gave way to awe as the woman raised her hands, now crackling with energy that mirrored the villain's. 

She moved with a fluid grace, her actions deliberate and controlled. In one swift motion, she unleashed a concentrated burst of energy that shot through the air with blinding speed.

The energy blast struck the villain with pinpoint accuracy, the force of it sending them stumbling backward. The villain's powers sputtered out, the crackling electricity around them fizzling as they crumpled to the ground, unconscious and harmless. The once rampant chaos that had filled the atrium dissipated almost immediately, leaving behind a stunned silence.

The woman lowered her hands, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. She remained poised, her eyes sweeping over the now-subdued scene before landing on the group of young heroes-in-training. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, the sheer power she had displayed lingering in the air.

"Thank you for the backup, but I've got it from here," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she acknowledged their readiness to jump into action. She quickly restrained the villain before pulling out her phone and called for backup, her voice calm and authoritative. 

"This one's neutralized. Send a team to secure the area."

Within moments, the sounds of sirens filled the air as police and other pro heroes arrived to handle the situation. Relieved, the woman now turned to the students, her eyes locking onto Izuku's for a moment longer than the others. Her gaze was intense, as if she recognized something in him.

"You're all heroes in training, right?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind. It was weird how her presence was both commanding and serene. The way she carried herself exuded a quiet confidence that spoke volumes about her experience.

They nodded, still processing the sudden turn of events and the display of power they had just witnessed.

"Good," she continued. "Stay out of the way and let me handle this. Head back the way you came."

Reluctantly, they complied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Some of them were eager to jump in themselves, but the recent war had left a few of them wary of rushing into unknown danger.

Her eyes lingered on Izuku for a moment longer than the others, a fleeting exchange that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way yet to be understood.

There was something about that look that he couldn't quite shake, a feeling that would stay with him long after they left the mall.

---

As they regrouped outside, Kirishima was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "That was so cool to see in person! The way that off-duty pro handled it without anything getting damaged was so manly!" 

"Yeah, but it's kind of a bummer our trip got cut short," Mina added, pouting a little as she remembered the bags they had left behind.

Some of the students remained quiet, their minds replaying the events that had just unfolded. The atmosphere was a mix of lingering adrenaline and reflective silence. Izuku and Bakugou, in particular, seemed more shaken than the others. The encounter had stirred memories of past battles, memories that were still too fresh to ignore.

Ochaco noticed Izuku's distant expression and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Izuku, are you okay?"

Izuku blinked, snapping back to reality and forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how strong that lady is. It was incredible." His mind was still replaying the moment when her eyes had locked onto his, trying to decipher what it meant.

The group made their way back to U.A., the towering building a comforting sight after the unexpected events of the day. As they entered the common room, they were greeted by the sight of other classes returning to their dorms, their faces reflecting the mixed emotions of a day interrupted by the unexpected.

In the common room, Aizawa was waiting for them, his usual stern expression softened slightly by their safe return. The class brightened upon seeing their teacher, and they quickly crowded around him with excitement, eager to share their experiences.

"Dadzawa, look what I got!" Kaminari exclaimed, holding up a new band poster with a wide grin..

"Check out my new lip gloss!" Mina chimed in, showing off the shiny tube she had managed to purchase before the chaos erupted.

"I got some new hair dye!" Kirishima announced proudly, holding up the box with a toothy grin.

"One at a time," Aizawa said, raising his hands to quiet the enthusiastic students. "I'm glad to see you're all safe. Now, tell me about your ‘mall adventures’ ."

As the students eagerly recounted their shopping trip, showing off their new trinkets and purchases, Aizawa listened patiently, occasionally nodding and responding to their stories. The atmosphere was lively, the students' spirits lifted despite the earlier interruption.

Finally, Aizawa raised his hands again, silencing the room. "Alright, listen up. A new teacher will be joining U.A. while completing her Doctorate. Treat her with respect and learn from her."

Mina and Kaminari immediately perked up at the news. "More details, please!" they chorused, their curiosity piqued.

Aizawa's stern look silenced their pleas. "She will be your new art and history teacher. That's all you need to know for now."

“Ugh, lame!”

Some of the students, especially Mina and Kaminari, let out groans of disappointment. "But, Mr. Aizawa, can't you tell us a little more?" Denki pleaded, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I understand you all have questions about the new teacher joining us," he began, “But she has asked to remain anonymous at this time. She is to arrive there in three weeks time and I expect you all to give her the same respect you give me.” 

After looking around the room he sighed through his nose, “Hell, make it more respectful. Remember that you represent U.A.”

“But—” Kaminari started to protest, but the stern look Aizawa gave him made him quickly back down.

"That's all for now," Aizawa said, his tone final. "I expect you all to welcome her respectfully. Now, it's time to get ready for tomorrow."

With that, he dismissed them, and the students broke off for the evening, the lively atmosphere gradually returning as they scattered to their respective rooms. Izuku, however, was still deep in thought. As he entered his room, he carefully set up his new Charge Bomb figure on his desk, placing it alongside his other hero memorabilia.

Sitting down, he opened his hero notebook and flipped to a fresh page. His mind raced as he began sketching the mysterious woman, trying to capture the essence of her stance and the way her eyes had locked onto his. Each line he drew was careful and deliberate, his concentration intense as he tried to understand what had transpired.

As he sketched, he jotted down a few notes:

Name: Mall stopper

Quirk: Unknown, but likely related to energy manipulation.

Appearance: Mysterious, not in costume during the encounter.

Personality: Commanding presence, but not rude. 

Additional Notes: Encountered at the mall while stopping a villain. Avoids citizens getting harmed. 

Seemed to recognize me?

Izuku stared at the page for a long moment, his pencil hovering over the paper as he pondered the day's events.

He still had many questions, but he knew obsessing over it would disrupt his sleep schedule again.

But he knew he couldn’t sleep. 

Grabbing his phone, Izuku dialed his mother's number. The dorm room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional distant laughter of his classmates the only sounds breaking the silence. His fingers tapped nervously on the phone case as he waited. It didn't take long for her cheerful voice to come through the receiver.

"Hi baby! How was your day?"

"It was good, Mom. We went to the mall and... something interesting happened," Izuku began, recounting the day's events and the encounter. As he spoke, he could hear the concern in his mother's voice.

"Just be careful, Izuku. I'm glad you're safe," she said, her tone gentle and loving.

“I promise, Mom. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m in love with that hospital bed.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Inko giggled into the receiver before her tone took a softer approach. “You know, sweetie, you can still come home when you can’t sleep. I’ll handle your teacher.”

Now the idea of his adorable mom dealing with the physical embodiment of a grumpy cat that was his teacher was tempting but he really didn’t want to put her through that. 

"I know, Mom. But I’m fine, really!” Izuku replied, a small smile playing on his lips. The thought of his mother's comforting presence was tempting, but he was determined to manage on his own.

“Okay, if you say so. Make sure to get good rest tonight.”

“Goodnight, Mom," Izuku replied, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she said before blowing a kiss into the phone and hanging up.

As he lay back in bed, his mind raced with thoughts of the new teacher and the mysterious pro hero. The encounter at the mall had been brief, but it left a lasting impression, fueling his curiosity and excitement.

“Who are you?” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. 

The moonlight cast shadows across his room, giving it an almost ethereal quality. The day's events replayed in his mind, the adrenaline and wonder still lingering. 

The gentle hum of the air conditioner became a lullaby, blending with the distant murmurs of his classmates as Izuku's thoughts gradually began to quiet. He could still feel the intensity of that woman's gaze,  the warmth of her presence as vivid in his memory as if she were still standing before him. The encounter had left him with more questions than answers, but those questions could wait for tomorrow.

As he lay there, his thoughts slowly settled, and the comforting warmth of his conversation with his mother began to soothe the last remnants of his restlessness. The image of her familiar smile and the sound of her voice reminded him of the safety of home, a place where he was always welcome.

He shifted under the covers, finding a comfortable position as the day's events continued to fade into the recesses of his mind. His eyelids grew heavier, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. Izuku's last conscious thought was a whispered promise to himself to uncover the mystery behind the pro hero who had left such a strong impression on him.

In the stillness of the night, the world outside his window continued to turn, but within the quiet of his dorm room, Izuku finally surrendered to sleep. Dreams of heroes, battles, and new beginnings filled his mind,

---

As the dorms settled into a quieter atmosphere, Bakugou lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The buzz of late-night conversations and the distant sound of someone playing music softly on their phone faded into the background. His room was dimly lit, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, casting a faint glow across his tidy desk and the posters on the wall. 

Bakugou could hear the rhythmic breathing of his classmates through the thin walls, and while that used to annoy him and still kinda did, it was a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone, even in the stillness of the night.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Glancing at the screen, he saw his mother's photo flash across it. With a resigned sigh, he answered, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Oi, Katsuki! I saw you on the news at the mall today,” Mitsuki's voice boomed through the phone, as loud and commanding as ever. Apparently some people had taken videos of the villain attack and he was spotted in the background. 

“You need to take it easy. Remember your heart? And your arm?”

Bakugou grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little leave-"

“Fine, my ass! Have you picked a therapist yet?” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"I don't need one," Bakugou retorted, irritation evident in his tone. His free hand clenched into a fist, the tension palpable.

"Don't you give me that, Katsuki! You're my son, and I won't let you walk around with your trauma eating you alive," she snapped back, her fierce tone unmistakable. Some shuffling was heard in the background before a muffled “Fine!” Bakugou rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar mix of annoyance.

A gentler voice came on the line. "Katsuki, it's Dad. You know All Might and Aizawa found some really good professionals for you. You don't have to worry about your... verbal constipation with them. We understand you don't want to talk to us about it, but we love you and want you to be okay."

"The little squirt knows that already!" Mitsuki cut in, snatching the phone back. "You already know that we love you. If we didn't, we'd just let you do whatever, and you'd be a bigger asshole than you already act like."

Bakugou grumbled something incomprehensible, but his mother cut him off again. "This isn't up for negotiation. You don't have to talk to us about it, but you are going to heal, and that's final."

There was a pause, and Bakugou finally sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I get it, Mom. I’ll... I’ll think about it."

The line went quiet for a moment, the tension easing. "Good. We love you, Katsuki. Goodnight," Mitsuki said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of tenderness.

"Love you too, Mom. Dad," Bakugou responded, his voice uncharacteristically tender, the words surprising even him.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’

Katsuki watched as the line hung up and he clicked his phone off and stared back up at the ceiling, a sense of warmth washed over him. His parents' concern, though sometimes overbearing, came from a place of deep love. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and allowed himself to relax. The worries and frustrations of the day seemed to melt away, leaving him with a rare sense of peace. 

For the first time in a while, he felt a bit lighter. Bakugou’s mind was quieter than usual, the echoes of his parents’ voices lingering in the back of his thoughts, offering a strange comfort he wasn’t used to acknowledging.

He wasn’t one to lean on anyone, not even his parents, but something about the way they’d insisted, the way his dad had gently nudged him while his mom pushed with her usual force, made him reconsider. It was a rare moment where their concern didn’t feel suffocating, but grounding. It made him think about the things he’d been pushing down, the way he’d been ignoring the nagging feelings that crept up on him in the quiet moments, like now.

The moonlight continued to cast soft shadows across his room, and the distant sounds of his classmates—now more like a comforting white noise—faded further into the background as he focused on his breathing, steady and even. Bakugou wasn’t sure when he’d started to rely on these moments of solitude to sort through his thoughts, but tonight, they didn’t seem as overwhelming as they usually did.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but the idea of talking to someone—a therapist, of all people—wasn’t as off-putting as it had been before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the events of the day had worn him down more than he realized. 

Or maybe, just maybe , the thought of unloading some of the weight he carried didn’t seem so bad. But that was a decision for tomorrow. For now, he let the warmth of his parents' love settle in, something he wasn’t used to acknowledging but found comforting nonetheless.

Bakugou let his eyes close, his breathing slowing as sleep began to take over. For the first time in a long while, the tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a sense of calm that was almost foreign to him. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, he was content with the knowledge that he didn’t have to face it all alone. 

And with that thought, he finally drifted into a deep, undisturbed sleep, his usual scowl replaced by the faintest hint of a relaxed expression.

---

Across the dorms, a restless atmosphere pervaded the night. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken fears and lingering trauma, wrapping around each student like a suffocating blanket. 

In one room, Sero and Denki were engaged in an intense game of Mario Kart, the room illuminated by the flickering screen. Their eyes were dry and heavy with fatigue, yet their determination kept them focused on the game. Sero's fingers flew over the controller, his competitive spirit shining through despite the exhaustion. 

Denki leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally letting out a frustrated groan when he lost a race. The game was a distraction, a desperate attempt to stay awake, to avoid the nightmares waiting on the other side of sleep. They wanted to stay awake, afraid to drift off with the lights off and let the flashbacks creep in.

Down the hall, Jirou sat cross-legged on her bed, her guitar resting gently on her lap. Her fingers trembled as they strummed the strings, testing out the reconstruction of her ear. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. 

She winced from the phantom pains, her breath hitching with each painful cramp that surfaced. The melody she played was soft and mournful, echoing the lingering trauma within her. Each note seemed to resonate with her heartache. She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the music, hoping it would offer some solace.

The music was a refuge, a way to express what words couldn’t—her pain, her fear, the lingering terror that her body was still recovering from. She focused on the vibrations of the strings, trying to drown out the phantom pains and the memories of the screams and explosions. 

Wounds that no melody alone could fully heal.

Kirishima tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. His brow was furrowed in distress, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He fought against the blankets as if they were the villains he’d faced, his body rigid with tension. Kiri was trapped in a nightmare, locked in a never-ending battle with a mysterious figure. 

His hardened skin, usually a source of strength, offered no protection from the terror gnawing at his mind. He clenched his fists physically, his muscles tensing as he fought off the invisible enemy, but the fear remained, a relentless killer.

In another room, Tokoyami paced back and forth, his mind a storm of anxiety. The pacing was erratic, each step driven by a nervous energy that had no outlet. Dark Shadow hovered nearby, mirroring his agitation with restless flutters. 

Sato, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had tried to bake away his stress, but the pile of untouched pastries on the table told a different story. The sweet aroma of cookies and cakes filled the room, a stark contrast to the bitterness of their shared unease. Sato just stared at the pound cake he had made, his eyes unfocused. 

He couldn't bring himself to eat it, the sight of the cake stirring up memories of happier times that now felt distant.

How it mocked him now. 

Shinsou was in Koda's room, perched on the edge of the bed. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced gently with the movements of the little creature. Koda's gentle strokes seemed to calm not only the bunny but also the tension that had been building in Shinsou's chest all night. 

Koda's touch was careful and soothing, a therapeutic distraction from the darkness that loomed over them. The bunny's nose twitched, and Koda smiled faintly, a brief respite from the weight of their worries. He would need to sneak his cat in soon.

In the kitchen, Momo and Mina stood side by side, giggling softly as they made fried egg rice, the gentle sounds offering a momentary escape. 

The familiar routine of cooking offered them a small slice of normalcy, a way to focus their minds on something other than the gnawing anxiety that had settled in their stomachs. The soft clink of utensils, the sizzle of oil in the pan, and the aroma of fried egg rice filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their hushed conversation.

Their laughter wasn’t forced, but the enthusiasm was a mask for their lack of appetite and the anxiety that gnawed at their insides. 

Momo's hands moved with precision as she flipped the eggs, her mind clearly elsewhere, but the rhythm of the task kept her grounded. Beside her, Mina stirred the rice, her usual energy dampened but still present in the jokes she told. 

They had made a pact to eat together, finding comfort in each other's company. Maybe during one of these meals, they would find some semblance of peace, even if just for a little while.

In Tsu's room, the atmosphere was different, heavy with the shared weight of darkness that clung to them like a second skin. Ochako and Tsu had taken to sleeping in Tsu's room, both girls haunted by nightmares. They found comfort in each other's presence, huddled together under the covers like two lost children seeking shelter from a storm. 

Ochako’s hand moved gently through Tsu's hair, her fingers weaving a calming rhythm that seemed to blend with the steady beat of their hearts. Tsu's voice, usually so strong, had softened to a croak as she whispered back reassurances, her words mingling with Ochako's in a comforting lullaby. They clung to each other, finding safety in the closeness.

Todoroki sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to meditate. His mind, however, was a war  zone, haunted by the image of his brother's burnt remains being hauled to prison and the knowledge of his parents' impending divorce. His scar throbbed painfully every time he thought about it, the physical reminder of his family's turmoil adding to his mental anguish. He took deep, measured breaths, trying to calm the storm inside him, but the images persisted, a relentless assault on his peace. 

In another room, Aoyama sat hunched over, clutching a pillow tightly against his chest. He was allowed to stay at the school, but now he used tactical weapons, a constant reminder of the shame he felt. Tears streamed down his face, his muffled sobs filling the quiet room. The guilt of his actions, the sense of betrayal he had inflicted on his friends, weighed heavily on him. He whispered apologies into the night, his voice cracking with each word. The moonlight that spilled through his window bathed the room in a cold, silvery light, but it did nothing to lift the darkness that had settled over his heart. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness. 

Iida scrolled through pictures of him and his brother, his heart aching with every swipe. The blue light from his phone screen cast a lonely glow in the dark room, reflecting off his foggy glasses. He wanted to call his brother, to hear his voice, but hesitated, worried about not appearing strong. He didn't want to burden anyone with his feelings, even though he longed for the comfort of his brother's voice. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.

Elsewhere in the dorms, Toru and Ojiro were connected by a fragile thread of comfort, falling asleep together on the phone. The silence was comforting, but they would panic if they couldn't hear the other breathing. Hatsume had finally made Toru a suit that would protect her and disappear with her during combat, but Toru hadn't wanted to put it on for a long time. They both dreaded the return to classes, haunted by the visions of devastation and innocent lives lost. The phone line crackled softly, their breathing synchronized in a fragile connection that kept their fears at bay. 

Mineta and Shoji sat quietly in Shoji's room, each lost in their thoughts. Shoji's large hands rested on his knees, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. The memories of past battles and the fear of suddenly losing his classmates gnawed at him relentlessly. It was a fear that clung to him, insidious and ever-present, like a persistent bug he couldn't shake off. 

Mineta, usually boisterous, was unusually quiet.  The usual sparkle in his eyes was replaced by a haunted look, the guilt of his past behavior towards Mt. Lady and Midnight, and his female classmates, feeling icky and disgusted for treating them so pervertedly when they almost died weighed heavily on his conscience. The near-death experiences they had all faced brought him a new perspective, making his previous actions feel vile and unforgivable. The shame and regret twisted in his stomach, making it hard to meet Shoji's gaze or anyone else's.

The silence between them was heavy, but their presence provided each other a small measure of comfort.

The dorm was filled with a heavy silence, each student grappling with their own demons. Despite their proximity, they felt isolated in their pain, struggling to find a way to heal from the scars of the war. The evening stretched on, each tick of the clock a reminder that the night was still young. 

And then there was Shouta Aizawa, awake in the stillness of the night with little Eri asleep in his arms. The soft, flickering light from the children's show on the television cast a gentle glow across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. Eri, nestled against his chest, was fast asleep, her breaths coming in gentle, rhythmic intervals. 

Aizawa's fingers moved softly through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his touch as he offered silent reassurance with each stroke. He knew he should tug her into bed, but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. He needed a few more minutes with her warm presence, a reminder of the fragile yet resilient life he was entrusted with.

Aizawa's eyes wandered to his laptop, the screen dark and waiting. He sighed, knowing there were reports to review and emails to answer, but he decided it could stay shut. The digital demands of his work could wait; this moment with Eri was too precious to cut short.

His thoughts drifted to you, the new hire who had been a topic of much discussion. He didn't know much about you other than what Nemuri had mentioned before in passing and now in her lucid moments before slipping back into her coma. 

He was visiting that night when Nemuri awoke and kept screaming your name, an indication of some message he didn't yet understand. You were coming over from somewhere outside Japan, and your media stunt piqued his curiosity. 

Your hero name had made national headlines a few months ago when you openly condemned the world government for letting the villain situation in Japan deteriorate to the point where high school students had to step in as heroes in an interview. This statement had sparked national outrage, the impact of your statements was still reverberating throughout the world.

Parents, politicians, teachers, pro heroes, retired heroes, activists, universities, civilians and students had reshared the clip, their responses ranging from agreement to vehement opposition. Your boldness had shaken the status quo, making waves in a community that was already shaky and possibly past its edge.

Nezu’s decision to bring you on board was a calculated move, but the details of that calculation remained elusive. As the principal of U.A., Nezu was known for his shrewd, strategic thinking. If Nezu saw value in you, it was likely due to some unique qualities or capabilities you possessed that could benefit the school in ways not immediately apparent. There had to be a reason, a calculated move that Aizawa hadn't yet deciphered. 

As he continued to stroke Eri's hair, he felt a mix of skepticism and curiosity about your arrival. What could you bring to U.A. that Nezu found so necessary? What kind of impact would you have on the students?

Eri stirred slightly, her tiny hand clutching his shirt. Aizawa smiled softly, his worries momentarily pushed aside.

He knew you had been spotted in Japan several times, not just as a spectator but actively involved in aiding the capture of remaining villains and providing relief to the heroes. 

Your efforts extended beyond direct action; you had initiated several charities and secured sponsorships to support families devastated by villain attacks and heroes who were affected in the line of duty. These actions had garnered you a significant following and earned you a reputation for being a force for good in times of crisis.

Yet, despite your public persona, you maintained a guarded privacy. You refused to disclose details such as your age, height, or the reasons behind choosing an all-black shroud for your hero costume, apart from its emblem. You seemingly avoided media attention, declining certain magazine features and interviews. 

Instead, you channeled your "celebrity" status towards advocating for societal change and supporting humanitarian causes. It was simple, if they wanted to talk to you, they had to donate. Your reluctance to engage with the press directly and your selective disclosures raised Aizawa's suspicions and defensive instincts, particularly when it came to the well-being of his students.

He was an underground hero himself. Why so worried?

Because he knew they were all suffering. 

Nezu was in the process of trying to find a school therapist team that could be on call. And it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it other than allowing trips to the mall and being there when they got back. So he did not need a 'mysterious' loose cannon of a teacher negatively affecting them in any way. Any additional information he requested was denied under your contract binding the school to not show your image, ever. As far as he knew, only Nezu and Nemuri knew what you looked like.

He valued transparency and reliability in those who interacted with his students, qualities that seemed elusive in your case. The contrast between your public deeds and private secrecy only heightened his wariness.

Eri shifted in his lap, and Aizawa decided he didn't want to think about negative things while holding her. He gently scooped her up, placing her in her own bed and kissing her forehead before tucking the covers around her and turning on her cat night light before shutting the door, but not all the way. He made sure the nightlights in the hallway and bathroom were working before he forced himself to sleep in his bed and not on the couch because it was closer. 

The darkness of his room offered a semblance of peace, but his mind remained active, turning over the complexities of the situation with you. It was his duty to safeguard his students from any potential threats, and that included being cautious about new additions to their environment.

As he closed his eyes, he tried to push aside the anxieties that had plagued him throughout the day. The comfort of his own bed, the familiar surroundings, and the knowledge that Eri was safe in the next room helped to ease the tension in his head. He had seen enough to know that vigilance was necessary, but he also knew that excessive worry would not serve him or his students well.

It didn't matter if you did end up being a bad influence. He would keep a close eye on you and be ready to stop anything that would harm his class.

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Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 2 is here.

That was the first chapter! So far there are 3 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou x Sugar Baby Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

Endeavor could hear nothing but his own boots walking through the halls of his own agency. The place is empty due to the major villain attack that had happened earlier that day, and many of his sidekicks stayed to clean up the fight while Endeavor went to file some important paperwork due that day.

He shuffled inside his office and slowly shuts the door. As he makes his way to his desk his cell phone begins to ring. He quickly fishes it out of his pocket, recognizing the tune to be Fyumi calling. Thinking that there was an emergency he tenses up as he answers it. “Fyumi, what’s going on?” His voice alert. He hears her laugh from the other end of the line, his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Hey dad, I just wanted to know what you wanted for dinner? Shoto just finished his first day of UA and I want us all to eat together to celebrate tonight!” She seems excited as per usual.

Endeavor wraps up the conversation and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. Sighing as he sits down.

*earlier that day, Y/Ns perspective*

I had been hired as a new Heroics and Law teacher at UA high this year. I walked into the building for the first day of school and had passed a few familiar pros along the way. Once I reach my classroom I set down my bag and log into my computer. I had gotten the class environment set up during my orientation with Nezu who had provided me all the safety protocols and instructions. Once my computer is loaded I pull up my seating chart that EraserHead had provided and projected it to the wall, not even bothering to look at it.

I didn’t have a class untill an hour or two later considering I’m not a homeroom teacher, so I had decided to sit in the Faculty Room while I waited and caught up with a few long term friends. Once the bell went off I started walking to my classroom with Present Mic whose class is right next to mine. We stand outside the door chatting while watching the students trickle in one by one.

Eventually I had walked in to begin class. “Hello class my name is (pro hero name) but you can all me miss (last name)” I greet as I stand at the podium in the front of their seats. The class greets me back and I hear a few students talking amongst themselves quietly. “I going to call attendance so when I call your name just say a simple ‘here’. And if I mispronounce your name, please inform me right away. Understood?”

The students mutter words of acknowledgment. Going through the list, I seen a few surnames that are recognizable. “Next is shoto todo…roki…?” My jaw slightly agape as the last name rings in my head like a steel drum. The name Todoroki repeating itself over and over again. “Here” a monotone voice rings from the back of the classroom. I slowly turn my head up to look at the boy with split dyed hair. There’s no way. He looks exactly like him. Like her too. My heart squeezes in my chest. I thought I was over it.

I break myself out of the thought. I’ll just look into it after class. “Katsuki Bakugou?” I continue with roll call despite being shaken. I hear an angry grumble “here” from the opposing side of the classroom. I sigh and continue with class as normal despite me screaming internally.

A few students came to talk to me after class, some of them wanted to know more about my pro hero life *cough midoria cough* while others wanted to know more about the subject I would be teaching them this year. One student in particular left the class without a word to anyone. Yep. That’s his kid alright.

*back to the todoroki household*

“So shoto.. how was your first day?” Endeavor asks before shoving food into his mouth. Shoto sighs “it was fine..” Endeavor looks up to his youngest son. “What about your teachers? What teachers do you have, I want to make sure you have the best of the best so you can reach your goal” endeavor shoves more food into his mouth while waiting for his son’s response.

“My homeroom teacher is Mr. Aizawa. Then I have Miss (L/N) for Heroics and Law. Then I have Present Mic for English.” Shoto muttered quietly but it was loud enough for Endeavor to hear. Endeavor choked on his rice and slammed one hand on the table to stabilize himself while the other beat at his chest to dislodge the food from his throat.

Fyumi panicked and started to pat her father on the back, while asking him if he’s okay. Natsuo held back a very slight smile and kept eating. Endeavor finally cleared his throat and started down at the table in disbelief. ‘…y/n??’

After that incident he had finished his food and left to his room muttering a small ‘thank you’ to Fyumi for the dinner. Endeavor sat on the edge of his bed, looking towards the ground and his hands cupped around his mouth to help calm him down. He sat there for hours, thinking back on memories of you two in your high school days. It had been a long time since he had thought of you, he tried to suppress the memories due to the guilt that ate him alive.

—flashback—

“Enji!” Your voice rang through the halls of UA, he can hear your footsteps grow increasingly louder. He glanced over his shoulder to see you running his way. He smirked slightly and faced away from you, unsurprisingly, you jumped onto his back, like you always did, and wrapped your arms around his neck, and legs around his waist. He chuckled a bit “Hey hun, have a good day?” He asked while pushing you up his back by your thighs and holding you there. You nod into his neck. “It was good, Toshinori helped me push even harder with my quirk today during training” you say smiling. Enji slightly frowned at the name but was still happy for you. The truth is Enji never cared for Toshinori but didn’t absolutely hate him either. “That’s great darling, I’m happy for you” Enji bounced you on his back jokingly. You laugh as he spins you both around. “Thank you beef cake” you tease, and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

—End of flashback—

Enji sighed and sat up a bit more. He looked around his room, seeing pictures of his kids and a few with Rei. He walks to his closet and grabs out a small box. He sits down on his bed again and opens the box that contains photos. Sifting through a few, he finally found what he was searching for. It was a picture of you and him together outside of UA on the first day of your third year. You were wrapped in his arms standing infront of him, both of you smiling widely.

He set the photo on his bedside table and threw the box under his bed. Finally deciding to go to bed since he had to leave early for work tomorrow morning. He lays down and stares at his ceiling. Little did he know, his dreams will be filled with memories of you that night.

A week later

You were sitting in your empty classroom, it was half hour before first period started when you heard a knock on your door. You looked up from your computer, wondering why anyone would be here so early to talk to you. “Come in” you project your voice so they can hear you. Slowly the door opened to reveal Shoto Todoroki himself. “Sorry to bother you so early Miss (L/N)” he gave a small bow to you. “You’re not bothering me at all Todoroki. Is there something I can do for you?” I say turning towards him to give him my undivided attention.

He looks sort of puzzled. “Yeah actually, I wanted to talk to you about something” he says still standing at the door. You pull up a chair next to you and pat it, signaling for him to sit down. “What’s on your mind kid?” You say as he sits down.

“I guess I’m just confused.” He says tilting his head slightly. “How so?” You asked him, slightly mirroring his actions. “I found this in my dad’s room.” He says lifting up the photo of you and Enji together. You sucked in a breath and felt your heart drop, now understanding what this is about.

“What is this about? Clearly you and my father know each other. Very well. So what exactly happened?” He says looking up to you. noticing your shocked face he immediately felt bad. “I apologize if I had made you uncomfortable Miss (L/N).”

Finally, you shake out of your shocked state. “No, no. Don’t worry about it Todoroki. And to answer your question, your father and I.. well.. we used to be together.. but that was a long time ago.” You say quietly. Todoroki nodded.

Todoroki had asked a few more questions to which you were happy to answer them. He then left to go to his first class, leaving you completely alone to think about Enji.

Aizawas class had a field trip today, so the only classes you had to teacher were 1-B and 1-C. Which was relatively easy considering they are both calm classes. For the most part. That was untill you were getting ready for your next class when Mrs. Midnight burst into your room. “(Hero name)!! we need you to help immediately!! Class 1-A has been attacked by villains at one of our training centers! Your class is getting covered by nezu, please hurry!!”

Chills ran cold down your spine. You immediately bolted out the door and ran as fast as you could to your car. Breaking the speeding limit as a hero looked bad, but your students were in danger. You were doing 80 in a 30. The only thing you can think of was how scared your students must be, but you know they can handle themselves.

You were, unsurprisingly, the first hero on scene. Bursting through the doors, you took in the battle before you. Immediately jumping into action, you protect your students with your life. You hold off the villains untill the rest of the pros show up.

—a sort few days later—

(I’m not good at writing fighting scenes sorry)

You thought it was a horrible idea. Anything can go wrong. It was absurd. Hosting the sports festival directly after a villain attack?? That’s just disrespectful to the students who fought hard to stay alive during the attack.

You angrily grumbled to yourself. You were walking around the stadium to ease your mind. The first task just finished, Midoria taking first place which shocked everyone. You huffed and leaned your back against a wall. “Enjoying the festival so far?” You heard a voice ask.

You peak up to see nezu approaching you. “Yeah I guess so” you mumble. “What seems to be on your mind (y/n)?” Nezu asked while sitting on the ledge next to you. “Is this the right thing nezu? Having the festival right after the attack? Won’t it put everyone on edge? What about the villains? Wouldn’t they show up here if they really wanted to?”

Nezus face never changed. “I see why you’re concerned (Y/N), but this festival is supposed to take the students minds off of what happened. And for the safety, we have plenty of pros here incase anything does go wrong. It would be the villains downfall to prey on the kids now”

You relaxed a bit more with that statement. “Yeah you’re right” Nezu nods. “I am, well I do have to go now. If you need anything else you know where to find me” nezu says as he wanders away.

You once again are alone. You stand up and start walking down the hall. “So. You’re a teacher now?” You shiver at the deep voice and you stop in your tracks. “Yeah. What about it?” You snap back. You turn around to see endeavor who had just turned the corner. “You’re teaching my son.” He replied with his casual RBF.

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. “Really? I had no idea.” Your voice dripping with sarcasm. He didn’t seem to appreciate that but he stayed quiet for a moment. “Is that all you wanted? If so, I’ll be on my way.” You turn around to leave once again.

“It wasn’t my choice”

—flashback—

“What the hell enji?!” You screamed at him. His eyes dropping from your face down to the floor. “Did you have this planned the whole time??” You you yelled a bit louder once more, tears brimming your eyes. He, too, teared up. Feeling ashamed of himself.

It was the day before your graduation from UA, and Enji was here before you telling you, after three years, that things won’t work out. “Was I a joke to you?” He didn’t respond..

What was worse. Is he had proposed to Rei, your best friend of thirteen years. “How long were you together for?” Your voice filled with venom and tears. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the truth. Was this even real? Who would propose to your girlfriend’s best friend and not the girlfriend?

Even after all the talks of ‘I can’t wait to marry you’ ‘we should have kids’ ‘I’m gonna grow old with you’. You had foolishly believed it all.

He wanted to say something to soothe you, he wanted to hug you, to kiss you, to tell you everything is gonna be okay. He wanted to make the whole situation go away. He felt a deep hatred for himself, and for his father.

—flashback ends—

“The hell do you mean ‘it wasn’t your choice’” you mock, growing more irritated. He sighs. “I didn’t want to marry her” you scoff “yeah right. Now you’re just wasting my time.”

Enji grows agitated now, but still hurt. “It was my father. He forced me into the marriage. For benefits of the quirks. He threatened to ‘get rid’ of you if I didn’t cooperate. I knew you’d be safer staying away from me, so I left. I did as he said. Because I loved you. And truth is, I believe I still do.” He mumbled the last part. Sure, you’ve seen him several times throughout the years. You kinda had to considering he’s the number two pro hero. He’s at your meetings, on the same patrol route sometimes, on the scene of a crime. He’s everywhere. But this is the first time he’s addressed you since the break up.

Hearing his words though… you wanted to believe him. You had found the piece of yourself that still loved him too. It that didn’t change the fact that he was married with several kids. And you couldn’t do that to them. Especially shoto as you’ve grown fond of the boy.

“I’d love to believe you. Truly. I still care for you Enji, dare I say I love you. If I could, I’d be with you right now. But we can’t be together. Never again. As much as I do love you, you must think of your family first.” You say as you turn away and walk down the hall, heading towards the stands to watch the rest of the festival. Enji watched her walk away for what felt like the hundredth time, and his heart shattered.

~~~

6 Years Ago

I always imagined what my funeral might look like; I just never expected to be watching it from across the street.

The air was sharp and chilly, biting against my skin and leaving a faint sting on the tip of my nose. A gust of wind stirred up a handful of dead leaves, auburn and gold, scattering them like ashes along the quiet road. Early winter was settling in, and with it came a certain lifelessness that matched the scene unfolding before me.

From where I stood, leaning against the cold metal of a black SUV, I watched my parents under the old oak tree, mourning the death of their only child. My mother’s dark coat fluttered around her as she knelt by the coffin, her head bowed. She had planned this funeral well—it was beautiful, graceful, even in its tragedy. Of course, it was. She had a way of making everything beautiful, even something as grim as burying her daughter.

My father, stoic as always, stood rigidly beside her. Not a single tear wet his cheeks, not even as the empty, bodiless coffin was lowered into the ground. As dirt began to pile onto the gleaming steel, he was the first to leave, pressing his lips tightly together, his face angled toward the overcast sky. I knew that look, the look he wore when he was praying without words. I felt his prayer, his silent goodbye, even from across the street.

“Hey,” a voice crackled in my ear, breaking the silence. The earpiece in my ear sputtered, static hissing through the line. “It’s time to go.”

I ignored the voice, lingering in this small, stolen moment a little longer. Turning my head, I spotted the hooded figure across the parking lot, watching me with an impatience I could feel even from this distance. Slowly, I pulled up the hood of my winter coat, cloaking my face in shadows. “Give me a minute,” I muttered into the mic, my voice low and sharp. “Or I’ll be the one standing at your funeral.”

I turned back to the cemetery, eyes fixed on my mother, who was still kneeling in the dirt, her fingers tracing invisible lines on the ground. With trembling hands, she kissed the earth, pressing her lips to the cold soil as if she could feel me through it, as if she could reach out and pull me back from wherever she thought I’d gone.

The urge to throw caution to the wind and run to her, to fall into her arms, gripped me with a fierce, aching intensity. It would be so easy to step out of the shadows, to rush across the street, and let her hold me one last time. But that part of my life was dead now, as dead as the girl they thought they’d lost.

I’d never see her again—the angel who raised me, the one who had loved me beyond measure. She would have been so proud of the woman I’d become, proud of my strength, my resolve. She would’ve told me I was selfless, that I was brave for walking away.

But if she knew the truth, if she knew I was still here, breathing the same air and treading the same streets, she’d curse me as the most selfish person she’d ever known. The monster who tore her child from her own arms, who left her to grieve an empty grave and a memory. I had stolen her greatest creation, and I knew it was a crime she could never forgive.

A fresh wave of cold seeped through my coat, slipping under my skin, and I shivered, feeling the weight of my decision press down on me. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I let them fall, bowing my head in silent mourning.

I love you, Mom, I thought, sending the words into the bitter wind. Please understand that I did this for you. For all of us.

And with that final prayer, I forced myself to turn away. The hooded figure across the parking lot was waiting, his shadowed face showing nothing but impatience. I took one last look at my mother, still kneeling by the grave, and swallowed the ache rising in my chest.

Then, before I could change my mind, I walked away from my past, leaving my heart buried under the dirt along with my former life.

As I walked across the parking lot, every step felt heavier than the last, like each footfall was anchoring me to the ground, begging me to turn back. But the figure waiting for me, draped in dark, weather-worn fabric, held out a gloved hand, ushering me into the next phase of my escape.

"Nice show back there," he murmured as I approached, his voice low and gravelly, barely audible over the hum of the nearby highway. His eyes, the only visible part of his face beneath the hood, glinted with something unreadable. Pity? Amusement? I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for his sympathy.

“I don’t need your commentary,” I snapped, ducking into the passenger seat of the car he led me to. The interior smelled faintly of old leather and rain, comforting in a strange way, though nothing felt comforting anymore.

He slid in behind the wheel, turning the ignition with a flick of his wrist. "Well, too bad," he replied with a smirk. "I’ve been doing this a long time, and you’re the first person I’ve ever seen actually show up to her own funeral."

I wanted to ignore him, but the irony wasn’t lost on me. "Guess I just needed to make sure they bought it," I muttered, casting a glance back at the cemetery as we pulled away. The oak tree, the line of mourners, my mother’s hunched figure—all of it faded into the distance, a ghostly tableau through the tinted windows.

He drove in silence for a while, only the sound of the engine filling the void. The highway stretched on, bleak and empty, and with each passing mile, I could feel pieces of my old life slipping further and further away. I didn’t ask where we were going. I knew the answer: nowhere. At least, nowhere anyone would think to look.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "You did the right thing, you know. Walking away like that… it’s not easy, but it’s the only way to stay alive."

"Easy for you to say," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. "You didn’t have to stand there and watch your family mourn you."

"No," he admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. "But I know what it’s like to lose everything you care about in one choice." His gaze flicked toward me briefly, something haunted in his expression. "I wasn’t always… this."

I looked at him for the first time, really looked at him, noting the faint lines around his eyes, the way his jaw clenched as if he were grinding down old memories. But I didn’t pry. In this line of work, everyone had a past they preferred to leave buried. It was enough to know that, whatever he’d once been, it was long gone now.

We drove through the night, the car slicing through rain that had started to fall, droplets streaming down the windows and blurring the empty road ahead. I tried to rest, closing my eyes and leaning my head against the window, but every time I drifted close to sleep, the image of my mother, broken and grieving by that empty grave, snapped me awake.

Eventually, as the first light of dawn seeped into the sky, he pulled into a rundown motel on the edge of some small town I didn’t recognize. The neon sign flickers in and out, casting a pale red glow over the empty parking lot.

“This is your stop,” he said, shutting off the engine. He turned to face me, holding out a small envelope with a single key inside. “Room twelve. Lay low here for a few days while we set up your next location. Use the time to… adjust.”

“Adjust,” I echoed, the word feeling hollow. Adjust to what? To living as a ghost, to being a stranger to everyone I’d ever known?

But I took the key, knowing I had no other choice. “Thank you,” I murmured, though the words felt foreign in my mouth. He nodded, his expression softening just slightly.

“Get some rest.” he said, his voice gentler than before. “You’re not alone in this, even if it feels that way.”

Without another word, he climbed back into the driver’s seat, and before I could respond, he pulled away, the car’s headlights vanishing into the distance. I stood alone in the parking lot, clutching the key and feeling the first chill of dawn prickling my skin.

Room twelve was small and dim, with faded wallpaper and a musty smell that clung to the air. I dropped my bag on the worn-out armchair, running a hand over my face and taking a deep, shuddering breath. The enormity of it all crashed over me like a wave—my funeral, my family’s grief, the finality of leaving behind everyone I loved.

I collapsed onto the bed, the springs groaning under my weight, and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster. It was strange, how silent everything felt. No phones ringing, no familiar voices in the next room. Just me, alone, in a nameless place, a ghost of the girl I used to be.