Chapter 7: Attempted Apologies
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Toshinori hunched his shoulders, his gaunt, skeletal frame swallowed by a loose coat, and stood frozen near the edge of the police tape, which blended seamlessly with the onlookers. His sunken blue eyes—usually blazing with a hero's indomitable spirit—were hidden behind a pair of oversized sunglasses.
Another villain attack? Dammit! I already used up my time for the day!
He had been en route to a meeting with Principal Nezu to discuss the terms of becoming a new teacher at U.A. when the explosions drew him in. Despite being unable to transform his muscular glory, curiosity and duty drew him to the scene like a moth to flame, slipping into the throng to observe without revealing himself.
Toshinori hovered among the crowd, trying to gather information as a familiar foe made a grotesque reappearance.
Isn't that the villain from a few days ago? He must've reformed and escaped while I was attending to Young Midoriya.
He watched helplessly as the sludge villain rampaged, as the inadequate Pro Heroes dithered in the middle of a crowded shopping district while a civilian with an explosive Quirk was in peril.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Then came the blue-haired girl.
Ryukyu's sidekick?
He knew of Nejire-Chan—bright, talented, fiercely kind. One of U.A.'s rising stars who was bound to make it into the Top Ten after graduating. She was blasting the villain with spiral energy.
But she wasn't what left him breathless.
He saw him again.
Toshinori's hollow eyes widened as his sharp gaze zeroed in on a mop of green curls that belonged to a boy in a middle school uniform charging into the fray.
Young Midoriya?
It was indeed Young Midoriya, the Quirkless kid he'd pulled from a similar slime villain's clutches. The one hitched a ride with him to that rooftop, where he asked a desperate question that had pierced him.
"Can a Quirkless person become a hero like you?"
"Young Midoriya… a Quirkless person… can't become a hero. Pros are constantly risking their lives. I cannot simply say, 'You can become a hero even without power.' I appreciate your spirit. But it's too dangerous. Without a Quirk, you can't become a hero. You'd just get yourself killed—or worse, drag others down with you. I'm sorry."
Toshinori's fists clenched in his pockets as memories struck him sharply, like salt in a wound. He tried to be kind in his honesty, only to be too blunt, too harsh, too absolute for a boy whose eyes held the same burning determination Toshinori had once carried.
He had watched Young Midoriya crumble at those words. He had watched hope drain from him like water through broken hands. He had suggested to him that police work was a good job and that it was okay to dream, but he had to be realistic. The words had come out in a rush, shaped by his own burdens. He did not want to see another young life ruined by this world's harsh realities.
And yet, watching here and now… that very boy, with no Quirk, with no plan, was rushing headfirst into overwhelming danger to save a life the Pros had given up on. The fear was etched into the boy's every frantic movement, yet his legs had carried him forward anyway. Analyzing the battlefield and risking everything—even without power. It was heroism, pure and unfiltered.
Toshinori watched the quick, desperate exchange. He couldn't hear the specifics, but he saw a quick flash of understanding in Nejire-Chan's eyes and the surgical precision of her subsequent blast at the villain's weak point that gave Midoriya the opening he needed to yank the explosive civilian free... a boy around his age.
That boy... he somehow found the villain's weakness faster than a street full of experienced Pros, and he used his courage to create the diversion.
Nejire-Chan stood between the sludge villain and the two boys.
"Output: Fifty Percent! NEJIRE WAVE: Surge!"
A colossal shockwave of spiraling energy erupted from the blue-haired girl's palms. The spiraling energy slammed into the villain's core with a force on par with a Detroit Smash, tearing through the villain's midsection instantly, scattering the villain into thousands of droplets that rained down over the entire city block, inert and harmless. The air pressure alone extinguished the fires in the immediate vicinity.
Holy… Stinkin'… SUPER CRAP!
The cheers rose for Nejire-Chan; he could feel the tremor of adrenaline humming through the bystanders. The fear. The hope. The relief. As the paramedics and paparazzi entered the scene, he stayed to watch and listen as the sidekick stood in defiant defense of Young Midoriya to the Pro Heroes, telling them he was a new member of Ryukyu's agency before lifting off with the tired-looking boy.
Toshinori did not know when agencies began hiring middle school students, but Young Midoriya hadn't saved the day with brute strength; he had saved it with his mind and his heart.
The crowd began to disperse, but Toshinori lingered, pressing a trembling, skeletal hand to his mouth.
COUGH! COUGH!
A ragged cough tore through his chest as he looked down at the sidewalk. He had told a passionate, brilliant child that his dreams were impossible. He had shattered a beautiful conviction.
I was wrong.
He felt a deep, profound ache that had nothing to do with his wound. A pang of regret twisted in his chest; painful pressure swelled beneath his ribs—not the usual warning of time running short, but something far heavier.
Guilt.
And awe.
But mostly guilt.
The truth was stark—Young Midoriya had been a truly heroic person on that street beside Nejire-Chan, who had the power to finish the job. The Pros had faltered, bound by their limitations, but those two had acted. Young Midoriya and Nejire-Chan had done what All Might himself, constrained by his secret, couldn't.
Young Midoriya... he didn't hesitate… he moved… without thinking. Just like I did… All those years ago. And I told him he couldn't be a hero?
Toshinori swallowed hard as he pulled his loose coat tighter around him and started to walk away, keeping his head down as he melted back into the streets, the embers of a new resolve kindling within him. His mind was made up.
I have to find him. Apologize for my tactlessness.
The weight of his past cruel, dismissive words settled heavily in his soul. He had to apologize. He had to tell Young Midoriya that he had gone out and proved him wrong.
I'm sorry… for not believing in you.
But he couldn't—not here, not surrounded by civilians, not in his weakened form with blood threatening to rise in his throat if he spoke too loudly. The crowd slowly dispersed. Heroes wrapped up the scene, trying to salvage their reputation of being one-upped by a sidekick. But Toshinori remained a moment longer, staring in the direction Young Midoriya had gone. He resolved to find the boy and, more importantly, to find the words to fix the terrible mistake he had made. God knows this world needed heroes like that boy—Quirk or no Quirk.
Izuku loved this part of the job. Yes, sitting at a desk and writing notes on villain Quirks, as well as helping Swift, Brock, Lady Ghostblade, Aquawoman, and other members of the agency predict their next move, was what he was hired to do. But when he wasn't doing that, he got to be in the gym with Nejire, his notebook open as he helped her develop her Wave Motion to its highest potential.
It helped take his mind off what happened yesterday at his school… or, his former school, if the staff get their way.
They might as well have.
Next to him was a digital stopwatch and a tablet with two monitors side by side. One screen was monitoring her vitals in real time to prevent her from crashing into a biometric sensor on her costume. The other screen was a live feed from the room's cameras, allowing Izuku to review Nejire from different angles.
Izuku devised the drills—timing outputs, making notes of her evasive skills synced to her waves—while Nejire executed it with bubbly flair.
"NEJIRE WAVE: Blast!"
A spiraling shockwave of golden light erupted from her hands, disintegrating a heavy-duty punching bag designed to withstand the strength-enhancing Quirks. The outer leather shredded instantly, and the sand filling exploded outward like a miniature dust storm, vaporized by the sheer force of the raw energy.
The glowing attack reflected in Izuku's wide, green eyes as he scribbled rapidly. Nejire's Quirk fascinated him.
It transmuted her vitality—raw life force—into kinetic shockwaves, manifesting as golden spirals that could propel her into flight or devastate foes. I have never seen a Quirk like it before. Was it a rare mutation of a shockwave Quirk? Or perhaps the result of her parents' Quirks being passed down genetically?
Whatever the truth was, Izuku was excited and wanted to know more, too excited, some might say. Then he stopped.
Wait… could it be possible that I have a kink for Quirks? No, stop it Izuku! You're supposed to be professional about this!
Still, efficiency was key. Wave Motion's vitality conversion ratio was inefficient, especially in prolonged fights, as high-output blasts siphoned stamina at an exponential rate, like a battery discharging too quickly. Writing notes on how to fix it was one thing; putting it into practice was another.
Since yesterday, her rate of converting vitality into kinetic energy has increased by 3%. Her spirals are tighter, and she's cutting down on rotational bleed. She still needs to pay more attention to the first twist and not the mid-flight correction. Her body will naturally adapt; she doesn't need to go overboard. She could recycle leftover energy and reduce the drain by 20%, maybe even 30%, if she masters changing the wavelength.
"Try again!" Izuku's voice broke through the ringing silence. He was staring at the tablet screen, following the heat signature and energy flow. "But be careful with how much you put out! You went up to 80% on that last one, but the impact force only went up 15%!"
Nejire landed gracefully, though she skidded slightly on the concrete. Sweat glistened on her forehead, plastering strands of periwinkle hair to her cheeks. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving with the effort. Her arms trembled slightly—the tell-tale sign of vitality overuse.
"But... if I don't hit it hard... it won't break…"
"It will if you change the shape, not just the power." Izuku walked over to her and tapped the tablet—a complicated graph with jagged peaks and valleys appeared. "Check this out. Your Quirk is basically like a combustion engine. But when you get tired, the conversion rate drops a lot. You're trying to make up for your lower stamina by pushing more raw power, which makes you tire out faster. It's a return that gets smaller."
Nejire blinked and wiped her face with a towel. "Hey, Izuku! That's like, really science-y." She looked at the graph, her blue eyes full of interest but also confusion because of the technical language. She still believed what Izuku was saying. "So... I should hit less hard?"
"No," Izuku's voice took on that familiar, fast-paced rhythm when he slipped into 'analysis mode'. That's when he noticed Nejire leaning close to his face. "Ah!" Izuku jumped back as a blush crept up his face.
"Sorry, I noticed you were going into 'analysis mode,'" Nejire explained. "Mirio tells me you get this little wrinkle in your nose right here when you do." She gently tapped the spot. "But I don't see it."
Huh, I didn't know that. Or was he just joking? It's kinda tricky to tell with him sometimes.
Izuku began pacing slightly, his hands moving as he spoke. "Try hitting sharper. Right now, your waves are expanding like a cone—think of a shotgun blast. It covers a wide area, which is great for crowd control. But the energy dissipates as it travels farther due to atmospheric drag. You're wasting about 30% of your vitality just heating the air molecules around the target instead of hitting the target itself."
He pulled out Hero Analysis for The Future No. 14, opening on Nejire's page—showing her his additional drawings of a cone of energy hitting a wall versus a tight, spinning cylinder. "I want you to try something different. Instead of pushing the energy out in a flare, try to twist it tightly before it leaves your palms."
Nejire tilted her head, her blue hair swaying with the movement. "Like my Pike?"
"While you've shown that you can concentrate the energy into a beam, the shots aren't as powerful unless you're aiming for a weak spot." Izuku held his hand out to mimic the shape. "Currently, your waves spiral loosely. If you rotate the frequency of your output—tightening the wavelength into a dense helix—you can maintain the same kinetic impact with half the raw power. It's about penetration, not just concussion. Think of the difference between being hit by a sledgehammer and being hit by a bullet. The bullet uses less mass, but it goes through."
He looked up at her, his hands hovering near her wrists to demonstrate the rotation, suddenly realizing how close he was standing. He stepped back quickly, blushing furiously. "U-uh, theoretically. I mean. According to the math. It should work."
Nejire stared at the drawings and then at her own hands, eyes narrowed in concentration. "A spiral... like a spring being compressed?"
"Exactly! Like a compressed spring releasing all its tension in a single point."
Nejire tossed her towel aside. She floated up a few feet, crossing her legs in mid-air and closing her eyes. The golden energy around her wrists began to hum as she focused, visualizing the helix tightening. The sound changed. It became higher, tighter—a resonant, piercing whine like a tuning fork being struck.
She extended her hand toward a fresh target—a three-foot-thick block of reinforced concrete used for testing heavy-hitters. She didn't just blast. She twisted her wrist, visualizing the energy coiling like a snake, folding over itself, becoming dense and heavy.
"NEJIRE WAVE: Spiral Lance!"
The beam that shot from her hand wasn't the usual wide, dazzling cone of destruction. It was a focused, rifled spear of light, no wider than a baseball. It screamed through the air, distorting the light around it.
CRACK!
It hit the concrete block with a sharp echo like a high-caliber gunshot. There was no explosion. No massive dust cloud. No flying debris. Nejire landed, looking disappointed. "There was no boom." She tilted her head.
"Look closer," Izuku said, a grin spreading across his face as he pointed at the block.
Nejire floated over, hovering inches off the ground. In the center of the concrete slab, there was a hole. It was perfectly circular, about the size of a dinner plate, punched clean through the reinforced material. The edges were smooth, glowing dull red, cauterized by the friction of the passing energy. The wall behind the block had a similar hole, burrowed deep into the impact tiles.
"Whoa," Nejire breathed, running a gloved finger over the vitrified edge of the hole. "I went right through it like it was butter."
"And look at your vitals," Izuku said, turning the tablet to face her, practically vibrating with excitement. "Stamina usage: 12%. Impact force: equivalent to your 40% output blast. By concentrating the surface area, you exponentially increased the pressure per square inch. You just tripled your efficiency."
Nejire looked from the smoking hole to the tablet and then to Izuku. Her eyes sparkled as her smile lit up so brightly it rivaled her Quirk. "You're a wizard, Izuku!" She cheered, launching herself at him, tackling him into a hug that lifted him off the ground. "An amazing math wizard!" She spun him around in the air. "I didn't even feel tired! I could do that all day! Ryukyu is going to flip! Oh, what if I added a flip? What about evasions? Or combos? Ooh, what if I combined it with Ryukyu's Dragoon Punish?"
"Nejire! Can't breathe! Ribs! Ribs!" Izuku squeaked, his face turning the color of a ripe tomato as he dangled in her surprisingly strong arms.
She dropped him, laughing as he stumbled to regain his footing. "Oops! Sorry! I got excited. But seriously, Izuku... this changes everything. My biggest weakness has always been running out of gas. I have the power, but not the tank. If I can fight longer..."
"You can save more people," Izuku finished for her, adjusting his rumpled shirt. "You can stay in the fight when others have to fall back. Maybe you can be the last one standing."
Nejire's expression softened, the adrenaline fading into a warm glow of gratitude. She sat down on the metal bench, patting the spot next to her. Izuku sat, keeping a respectful distance.
"You know," she said, taking a long sip from her water bottle. "You know everything about my Quirk now. You know how I fight, how I move, and even how my metabolism works. You've been inside my head." She looked at him sideways, her blue eyes piercing. "But I don't know much about you. Except that you like heroes, you're a genius with Quirks, you like katsudon, and you have a mean right hook."
Izuku stiffened, staring at his knees.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought up the last part. I—"
"No, it's fine. It's just… there's... not much to know. I'm pretty boring compared to—"
Compared to you.
"I doubt that," Nejire countered, swinging her legs. "So, Twenty Questions! Go! Favorite color?"
"Green," Izuku answered automatically.
"Predictable. Favorite hero besides… He Who Shall Not Be Named?"
I feel like that's another pop culture reference. And she can call him All Might.
"Crimson Riot," Izuku said without hesitation. "He's old school, and his Quirk wasn't flashy—just hardening—but his chivalry was unmatched. He believed a hero's spirit mattered more than their power. I also like Endeavor, though he can be intimidating; I respect his drive to stop villains. But I think I like Crimson more."
"A man of culture," Nejire hummed, impressed. "Okay, harder one. Why do you wear those red shoes? They look kinda... vintage. I haven't seen that style in stores since I was a kid."
Izuku looked down at his scuffed, high-top sneakers. He traced the rubber toe with his eyes, the familiar shame bubbling up in his chest. "The doctor said I have an extra joint in my pinky toe. It's a vestigial trait. The definitive biological sign of being Quirkless."
He gripped his knees. "Most modern shoes don't fit right because they're designed for 'evolved' feet—people who lost the joint to make room for Quirk factors. These... these are practically the only brand that makes them comfortable for people like me. They're basically a billboard that says 'I haven't evolved.'"
Izuku waited for the awkward silence that usually followed that explanation.
"They're cool," Nejire said.
Izuku looked up, blinking. "What?"
"They're bright red," she grinned, kicking her own white boots out. "They make you easy to spot in a crowd, like a signature look. Every hero needs a signature look. Yours is just... retro."
Izuku looked at her, surprised. "You think?"
What I see as a defect, she sees as a design choice.
"Totally. Hey, hey, maybe Red Shoes could be your code name? Nejire-Chan and Red Shoes."
Izuku rubbed the back of his head at her adorable sincerity. "We'll… we'll workshop it."
Nejire leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Okay, my turn to share. Ask away."
"Okay, um…" Izuku was at a loss for what to ask; he didn't want to go into anything too personal inadvertently. "Do you… have a least favorite food?"
"I hate carrots," Nejire answered. "They taste like dirt, no matter how you cook them."
"Okay. Is there anything you're afraid of?"
Nejire blushed. "I'm… scared of ghosts."
Izuku blinked. "Ghosts?"
"I saw this scary film once when I was a kid, and I still haven't gotten over it." Nejire threw her hands up, looking genuinely distressed.
This is the same girl whose job is to go out looking for villains and who fought a sludge monster almost a month ago.
"And my math teacher, Ectoplasm… don't get me wrong, he's a good teacher, but his Quirk creeps me out. I'm getting the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it."
Izuku looked at her for a moment before laughing. At first, it was just a snort, but then it turned into a real laugh that made his chest feel light. "I'll write down that the supernatural is one of the weaknesses and start looking into vacuum cleaners? Or maybe salt barriers? Maybe some crosses?"
"See? This is exactly why I keep you around," Nejire grinned, nudging his shoulder with hers. "You're my ghostbuster."
I should ask her where she gets these pop culture references from. Maybe they're from the Pre-Quirk Era? Oh, there is a question I wanted to ask her…
"When we first met, and I learned that your hero name was your real name, you said it was a funny story. Your hero name, it's so… you. But how did you decide on it? I would assume most people pick something that sounds powerful or cool, like Lemillion or Suneater. Do… do you mind sharing?"
"No, not at all," Nejire said, her voice losing some of its usual bubbly cadence as she twirled a strand of her periwinkle hair around her finger.
She says she doesn't mind, but the tone of her voice says otherwise.
"People always think I picked my hero name because I'm just... like this. But it actually came from a place that wasn't very bright at all."
Izuku tilted his head, listening to Nejire as she took a breath, steadying herself.
"During my third year of middle school, my parents' jobs forced us to move to a new city, which meant a new school and… everything. I was excited! Yeah, I missed my friends and was nervous about being the 'new girl,' but I wanted to know everyone. So, on my first day, I started asking them questions like 'What's your Quirk?' 'How does it work?' 'Can you show me?' I thought it was the fastest way to make friends. But…" Nejire's fingers curled against her sleeves, her smile turned bittersweet. "They didn't take it that way."
"What do you mean?"
"Because my Quirk's so powerful, my curiosity was mistaken for arrogance. My classmates accused me of 'looking down on them' or 'showing off.'" Nejire's voice grew quieter. "Some even straight-up called me a bully."
WHAT?
Izuku's eyes widened. "T-That's not—"
"I… I didn't know how to stop. Asking questions was just how I showed I cared. But the more I tried, the worse it got."
Izuku's eyes widened. "That's awful… They misunderstood you completely."
Nejire nodded, staring at her hands. "I started thinking maybe something was wrong with me. I felt like I was going to get in trouble for just being myself, so I stopped being myself. It really hurt a lot. I basically shut down for the rest of the year. Even when I got into U.A., those first few weeks… I was still kind of… I was just sad all the time."
Nejire's vulnerabilities became clearer; her voice shook quietly.
"Truth is, I hide behind the questions and smiles because... what if they see I'm scared? Scared I'll burn out. Or that one day, my 'fun' energy won't be enough against real darkness."
Her confession hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability. Looking at her, one wouldn't think that Nejre had a depressing experience, then Izuku remembered what she told him.
"I have days when I can't get out of bed. I have days when I feel like I'm not strong enough."
Izuku felt a spark of connection—two souls misunderstood, finding each other.
Stop being sappy, Izuku!
"I'm sorry."
Then Nejire's expression softened with a small, genuine smile.
"Don't be. I mean, it got better after meeting Tamaki, Yuyu, and Mirio. They didn't care that I talked too much or asked a million things. Mirio just laughed and answered everything with that big grin. Yuyu teased me, but not in a mean way. And Tamaki… he listened. They encouraged me, and I started feeling like myself again."
Izuku nodded, understanding flickering in his green eyes.
"Then the day finally came to choose our future hero names. I was still so out of it back then, so I completely misunderstood the assignment and just went with the first thing that popped into my brain."
Nejire giggled weakly, covering her mouth.
Izuku blinked. "Wait… you misunderstood the assignment?"
"Completely!" Nejire laughed. "I thought we were supposed to pick something, anything, so I went with 'Nejire-Chan.' Everyone just stared at me. I could feel my face burning. I thought, 'Oh no, they're going to think I'm an airhead. They're going to think I'm not taking being a hero seriously.' I wanted to sink through the floor. Then, Tamaki spoke up, telling everyone 'It fits.' He was blushing so hard his ears turned red, but he said it anyway. For me."
I can almost picture it.
Nejire smiled fondly at the memory.
"He said that heroes need to be approachable. If people are scared or hurt, a name like 'Nejire-Chan' makes them feel like you're a friend coming to help. After that, I just rolled with it. 'I want people to feel like they can talk to me! Like they can ask me anything!' And my teacher and the class seemed to like the response. After class, I thanked Tamaki for saving me from total embarrassment. Do you know what he said?"
Izuku shook his head, mesmerized.
"He just ducked his head even lower and said, 'I didn't say anything that wasn't true.' And that was the moment I truly realized I didn't have to hide who I am to be a hero."
Izuku smiled warmly. "That sounds just like Tamaki."
"So that's why I'm Nejire-Chan. Because even if my Quirk is loud and flashy, I want people to know that, 'Hey, you can talk to me.'"
Izuku stared at her for a long moment, eyes shining.
"That's… that's really amazing, Nejire."
She tilted her head. "You think so?"
"I know so."
She grew quiet for a moment, the playful atmosphere settling into something more companionable. "Hey, Izuku?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you," she said softly. "Not just for helping me today. But for... joining the agency. For listening to me, standing up for me, letting me be your friend, letting me be… well, me. I know it's not been easy."
Izuku looked at her, their eyes locked. The girl who could fly, the girl who shone like the sun, treating a Quirkless nobody like an equal.
"I wouldn't be here if not for you," he whispered back, flushing a little bit, but welcomed the warmth. "You're more than living up to your name, Nejire-Chan."
From that response, Izuku could see a slight pink blush on her cheeks.
After a little more training, Izuku and Nejire took the elevator up to the café to refuel. Izuku would need to return to his duties of poring over reports and analyzing Quirks. Nejire would have to head back to patrolling the streets. Overall, Izuku would say he and Nejire made some progress regarding her Quirk and their friendship.
"YOUNG MIDORIYA!" A familiar, boisterous voice announced, causing both Izuku and Nejire to stop and turn to the source. "I AM HERE… TO SEE YOU!"
Izuku's eyes and ears were not deceiving him. All Might, in his muscular form, wearing his recognizable costume and bearing that great grin of his, was standing before him in the Ryukyu Agency.
He wants to see me.
"W-what are you doing here, All Might?" Izuku asked his former idol.
"FORGIVE MY SUDDEN AND UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL, BUT I NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOU, YOUNG MIDORIYA."
Even as the words reached Izuku's ears, his mind felt like a whirlwind of thoughts as the man who'd shattered his dreams was now seeking him out. His mind flashed back to the rooftop, where the Symbol of Peace, unintentionally, revealed his actual form, his words echoing.
"Young Midoriya… a Quirkless person… can't become a hero."
The very words that pushed him to the edge
Do I face him? Or hide, like always?
"No." The hurt in Izuku's voice made itself known, taking both All Might and Nejire aback.
"NO?" All Might asked, surprised, as if he were not expecting that answer to come from the boy's mouth.
Izuku turned around and headed for the elevator before introspection could crash in.
"YOUNG MIDORIYA, PLEASE—" All Might began as he approached Izuku, stepping into the elevator fully.
"I don't want to see you!" Izuku said, louder than he may have intended, if the break in his voice was anything to go by. He pressed the up button repeatedly until the doors finally closed.
Hurt had won.
As the elevator slowly ascended, Izuku let out a long breath he felt like he'd been holding. He realized his hands were still trembling slightly—not from fear, exactly, but from the sheer emotional exhaustion of saying "no" to the person who had once meant everything to him.
I… I can't face him. Not yet.
As the elevator rose, Nejire remained in the lobby. Her bubbly demeanor didn't just fade; it evaporated. A faint, aggressive hum of golden energy began to crackle around her wrists, her blue eyes flashing with a protective fire that made even the nearby sidekicks back away.
"YOUNG MIDORIYA?" All Might called out again, approaching the elevator, but Nejire moved to block him off.
"He said he doesn't want to see you," Nejire said, her demeanor hardened, blue eyes flashing with protective fire.
"NEJIRE-CHAN, PLEASE, I NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO HIM."
Nejire crossed her arms, her voice sharp, unyielding. "Apologize? You crushed him. Told him he couldn't be a hero without a Quirk. He almost..." She trailed off, pain etching her features as she stepped closer, actually standing her ground against the top-ranked hero himself. "Just leave him alone."
"All Might," Ryukyu's voice spoke evenly as she approached him from behind. "This is unexpected."
"RYUKYU." All Might turned around and bowed slightly. "I APOLOGIZE FOR ARRIVING UNANNOUNCED, BUT I NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOUNG MIDORIYA."
"What's this about my intern?" Ryukyu folded her arms.
"Izuku doesn't want to see him," Nejire interrupted.
"Nejire, I'll handle this," Ryukyu told her. "You have a patrol you need to get ready for."
"But…" Nejire wanted to protest, but Ryukyu gave her a look that brooked no arguments. "Alright." Nejire stood aside and headed for the café.
"We'll continue this in my office." Nejire heard Ryukyu tell All Might as they entered the elevator, heading up.
If we have any, I'll drop some mochi off at Izuku's desk before leaving.
Toshinori followed Ryukyu into her office, closing the door behind them. She gestured to the chair across from her desk. He sat, and there was a long silence that followed.
"Why are you here, All Might?" Ryukyu questioned him, her tone bordering on interrogation.
"IT IS AS I SAID, I NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOUNG MIDORIYA."
"And how did you know that he was here, working as an intern?" Ryukyu narrowed her eyes.
"I… SAW IT ON THE NEWS!"
Technically, Toshinori was not entirely lying, as the sludge villain incident did make the news, as well as Nejire-Chan standing up to the Pros on the scene and declaring that Young Midoriya was an intern for the agency. It was also a topic of heated debate on Chitose Kizuki's late-night talk show, and he is aware of her narrow-minded views toward Quirkless people.
"YOUNG MIDORIYA MUST BE DOING WELL UNDER YOUR WING, PARDON MY PUN, BUT I NEED TO SEE HIM."
"You told him he couldn't be a hero," Ryukyu said, not bothering to mask the venom in her tone. "Midoriya told me everything."
What? Does that mean she knows about… no, if she did, she would've told me to drop this form by now. Still, I should've come in expecting this.
"You crushed a child's dream," she said calmly. "And then you walked away."
His shoulders slumped.
"WHAT I SAID… WE BOTH KNOW HOW HARSH THIS WORLD IS. ESPECIALLY TO THE QUIRKLESS. I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOUNG MIDORIYA FROM FUTURE PAIN. BUT WHAT I SAW, HOW HE HELPED YOUR SIDEKICK SAVE THAT BOY, IT MADE ME REALIZE I WAS WRONG."
"Do you want to know how Midoriya came to be my intern?" Ryukyu asked as she leaned against her desk, her expression a mix of empathy and steel. "Nejire found him on a rooftop, ready to jump."
Toshinori's eyes widened, a cough escaping as guilt crashed over him.
What? He… He was going to… My God, I just left him there.
"Your words... drove him to despair. But Nejire pulled him back, showed him that his life has value." Ryukyu's voice softened, laced with emotion. "He's brilliant. But the trauma? It's still there, and I haven't found a solution for it yet. He refuses to see you, and I don't blame him."
"I DIDN'T KNOW. I THOUGHT I WAS—I NEVER INTENDED—"
"I know," Ryukyu interrupted. "That's the problem. You didn't intend to hurt him. But you did. And you didn't stay to see the damage. What if Nejire failed to talk him down? Then he would have been dead, and she would have been scarred for life." She leaned forward. "Izuku Midoriya nearly died because he believed he had no value unless he could punch like you."
Toshinori flinched as if struck and stared at his hands.
And no one would have been to blame except for me…
"If you want to make things right with Midoriya," Ryukyu began. "Then let him heal. Give him time. Then, when he is ready to see you, you may properly apologize."
Toshinori bowed his head.
"I UNDERSTAND. I WILL NOT BOTHER YOUNG MIDORIYA UNTIL HE IS READY TO TALK."
Ryukyu nodded. "Good. Because I won't allow anyone to take that boy's future from him. Not villains. Not the system. And not the Symbol of Peace."
With that, Toshinori left Ryukyu's office, took the elevator down, and left the agency. Once he was far enough away, he changed out of his muscular form.
COUGH! COUGH!
A ragged cough tore through Toshinori's chest as blood trickled from his mouth. He needed to reserve his strength just in case All Might was needed to stop another villain attack, like the one he had to do earlier. Still, Toshinori found himself shaking, and not from his injury.
Because of my words, Young Midoriya's blood was almost on my hands. I shouldn't have left him on the rooftop. I should've walked down with him. I should've… I should've done more.
Even if Young Midoriya did not want anything to do with him right now, Toshinori still felt a need to make things right with him. But he didn't know what to do. He let out a sigh.
I guess I'll return to Might Tower until I am needed. My meeting with Principal Nezu was rescheduled after he got a call from Naomasa. Whatever he needed from him, Nezu seemed all too excited to do it.
Toshinori could still hear his high-pitched cackle—the one the self-proclaimed "Rat God" makes when he knows that he is three dozen steps ahead of everyone else, which was always the case.
Right as Toshinori was about to leave, a new thought popped into his mind.
Wait, I think I know how I can make it up to Young Midoriya.
"Yo, kid," Swift spoke up, snapping Izuku out of his research. "Aquawoman wanted me to remind you that your shift has been over for the last ten minutes."
"Huh?" Izuku looked at the leopard man, then saw the sun dip below the horizon through a window. He then looked over at the wall clock and realized he had lost track of time while diving deep into the data. "Sorry, got caught up in my work. Thank you, Swift."
"No worries, kid. Happens to the best of us," Swift said with a lazy wave of his tail. "Just don't make it a habit, I don't get paid to keep you in check."
"R-Right! Won't happen again." Izuku respectfully bowed his head and hurriedly gathered his things into his backpack before clocking out.
The lobby was quieter now, the hum of the day's activity settling into a drowsy evening rhythm. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Izuku made for the exit.
"You're not sneaking out without saying goodbye, are you?"
Izuku jumped, spinning around to see Nejire floating a few inches off the ground near the hallway entrance, her hair cascading in loose waves. She had changed out of her hero costume for something more casual—a loose, striped shirt that hung off one shoulder and a flowy skirt that danced around her legs as she gracefully touched down.
"N-Nejire! I didn't think you were back yet," Izuku stammered, gripping the strap of his backpack tighter.
"Patrol was quiet, thankfully," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "No big villains stirring up trouble, just a few petty thefts and a lost kid I helped find his parents." She sauntered over to him, her blue eyes scanning his face with an intensity that made his heart do a funny little stutter. "I saw you were heading out. How are you doing? After... you know, everything with All Might? Did the mochi help?"
"I... I don't know," Izuku admitted, looking down at his red shoes. "I feel kinda... bad. He's the Number One Hero, the Symbol of Peace, and I just... shut him out. It felt disrespectful. Like I was turning my back on everything he's done for the world."
Nejire frowned, her brows knitting together as she stepped into his personal space—something she did often, though tonight, for some reason, it made Izuku's freckled face heat up faster than usual. "It wasn't disrespectful, Izuku. It was brave," she said firmly. "You stood up for yourself. And there's nothing wrong with that. All Might's amazing, sure, but he's not infallible. Even symbols need to listen sometimes."
Then why did it feel like I was avoiding the problem?
Izuku looked up, meeting her gaze. The orange sunlight filtering through the glass doors caught in her periwinkle hair, making it look like a shimmering halo. For a split second, time seemed to slow—her eyes, so full of empathy, locked onto his. His breath hitched, caught in his throat.
"I heard you stood up for me," Izuku whispered, the realization hitting him fully for the first time. "Against All Might. You… you literally blocked his path. I mean, he wasn't gonna hurt you, but… he's All Might!"
Nejire blinked, then looked away, a faint dusting of pink coloring her cheeks. She rocked back on her heels, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Well, yeah. Of course I did. You're my... partner. My analyst. My ghostbuster." She laughed nervously. "Nobody gets to make my friends feel small. Not even him."
Izuku felt an indescribable warmth flood his chest.
"Thank you, Nejire. Really," Izuku said, his voice steadying, and mustered a small smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Anytime, Red Shoes," she grinned, the playfulness returning. She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "Come on, I'll walk you to the station."
They stepped out of the agency together, the cooling evening air wrapping around them. For the first block, silence stretched between them—but it wasn't the awkward, heavy silence of strangers. It was comfortable, though charged with a weird electricity that made Izuku hyper-aware of every little thing—the swing of her skirt, the way her hair bounced with each step, how close their arms were to brushing.
Why am I so nervous? We're co-workers. We see each other all the time. But... today feels different.
Nejire, usually the one to fill every silence with a dozen questions, was strangely quiet too. Save for the soft, upbeat tune she hummed under her breath.
"So!" Nejire blurted out, a little too loudly, causing a passing businessman to startle. She cleared her throat, lowering her volume. "So... tomorrow! We work on mobility, right? I want to see if I can use the spirals to change direction in mid-air without losing momentum. Like, zip-zap, mid-flight turns! What do you think?"
Izuku blinked, his brain shifting gears back to analysis mode, though the blush lingered on his ears. "R-Right! Yes. If you pulse the energy from your feet in short bursts instead of a continuous stream, you should be able to... um... pivot better. Like adjusting the thrust vectors on a rocket. We could test it with some low-altitude drills first, maybe incorporate a spin to build centrifugal force for sharper angles."
Nejire's eyes lit up. "Ooh, rocket analogies? I love it! It's a date! I mean—a plan! It's a plan!" She corrected herself quickly, waving her hands as if to dispel the slip-up, her face turning a shade of red that rivaled Izuku's shoes. She laughed it off, but there was a nervous edge to it, her spirals faintly flickering at her fingertips.
"Y-Yeah. A plan," Izuku squeaked, his own face matching hers in hue. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the sidewalk cracks as they walked. Why did that word make his stomach flip?
It's just training. Professional. Totally normal.
They reached the subway station entrance all too soon, the bustle of commuters flowing around them like a river—salarymen rushing home, students chattering about exams, a few low-level heroes in plainclothes blending into the crowd. Neon signs flickered above, advertising energy drinks and hero merchandise. For a moment, they just stood there, neither making a move to leave, the unspoken tension hanging in the air like charged particles before a storm.
"Well," Izuku said finally, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for walking with me."
"Yep. Tomorrow," Nejire agreed, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. She hesitated, her eyes darting to his face, then impulsively leaned forward and poked him right in the center of his forehead. "Boop."
Izuku went cross-eyed, freezing in place as a jolt of surprise—and something warmer—shot through him. Her finger was cool from the evening air, but the touch lingered like a spark.
"Get some sleep, Izuku. Don't stay up all night working on your notebooks," she teased, though her voice was soft. "We need you sharp for those drills. No sleepy analysts allowed!"
"I... I'll try not to," he managed to say, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the spot as she pulled back.
Nejire flashed him one last, radiant smile—the kind that made his knees feel like jelly—before turning and floating up into the air, waving as she drifted over the heads of the crowd; heading back to the agency, or her home, or wherever her boundless curiosity took her next.
Izuku stood there for a full minute after she was gone, his hand unconsciously drifting up to touch the spot on his forehead where she'd poked him. Commuters brushed past him, but he barely noticed.
Izuku finally forced his feet to move. He found a spot on the platform and leaned against a pillar, clutching his backpack to his chest. The digital sign flickered; the next train would be arriving in three minutes. But more pressingly—in Izuku's mind, anyway—a single thought crossed his mind, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, as Nejire's smile replayed in his head.
Oh no. I think I'm in trouble. Wait, why am I overthinking this? It would never happen. Besides, Nejire deserves so much better than someone like me.
Izuku's smile faltered for just a second before he smoothed it back into place. He shoved the thought down where he kept so many others. Admiration. Gratitude. That was all this was. They were co-workers. Teammates. Anything more was just his imagination running away with him again.
High above the street, Nejire buried her face in her hands as she flew, her spiral waves of blue hair whipping wildly behind her like comet tails, letting out a muffled groan that was lost to the rushing wind.
A date? Did I seriously say 'It's a date'? Get it together, Hado! He's your junior! He's… well, he's Izuku. The same Izuku who's really cute when he's passionate about something. Wait, what? Cute? No, no, Nejire! Focus!
She peeked through her fingers at the city lights below, her heart doing somersaults.
BZZZ! BZZZ!
Her phone vibrated against her thigh. Nejire froze mid-air, nearly wobbling before instinct corrected her balance.
But as she flew toward the horizon, she couldn't stop the goofy smile from spreading across her face.
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
She hovered there, suspended above a quiet stretch of rooftops, then finally pulled the device free. The screen glowed softly against the dark, lighting up her face.
Izuku Midoriya: Um—Nejire? I was thinking about tomorrow. I'll bring my notes on energy conversion and quirk output if that's okay! Also… I really am looking forward to it.
Nejire stared at the message for a full five seconds before her brain caught up, and her cheeks felt hot. She kicked her legs in tiny, excited bursts, like a kid floating in a pool, sending gentle ripples of Wave Motion outward.
Okay, okay, be cool. Be a cool, mature hero.
Nejire Hado/Nejire-Chan: Yup! That sounds fun! I'll bring coffee so you don't overwork yourself, okay? See you tomorrow, Izuku!
She hovered over the send button for a split second longer, then tapped it.
Nejire pressed her phone to her chest, letting out a squeaky noise she would never admit to making. "Why is he so… so Izuku about everything?" she groaned fondly. "All serious and sweet and… prepared."
She knew this feeling. Or at least, she knew enough to recognize its danger. Izuku was kind. Earnest. He trusted her completely—trusted her with his strategies, his ideas, his quiet hope that they'd work.
He admired her. Looked up to her. Of course, he looked up to her—she was a hero, his hero; she saved his life. But… if she acted on this, if she leaned into this feeling, even a little, would it really be mutual? Or would it be… unfair?
He trusts me. He looks at me with such pure admiration because we're a team. Co-workers. If I push for more, am I just taking advantage of that trust? No, I can't be selfish with him.
As Nejire flew home, the unspoken feelings lingered like echoes, waiting for a moment that might never come.