The warmth of the café wrapped around them the moment they stepped inside.
Soft yellow lights hung from the ceiling, casting a cozy glow over polished wooden tables and glass displays filled with pastries. The air smelled like freshly brewed coffee, vanilla, and sugar—comforting in a way that made the outside world feel very far away.
Nejire immediately let go of Izuku's hand and pressed her face close to the display case, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.
"Okay, okay, this place is even better than I imagined," she said, hands clasped behind her back as she leaned forward. "Do I want something sweet? Or something sweet and warm? Or—oh! Do they have seasonal stuff?"
Izuku watched her for a second, amused. She radiated energy without even trying, like the room itself had gotten brighter just because she was in it.
"You're really excited," he said.
She glanced back at him, smiling sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
She laughed, a light, melodic sound. "I don't get to do stuff like this often. Between classes, patrols, and internships… most days just blur together. So when I see something cute, I kind of go all in."
They ordered at the counter—Nejire talking the poor barista's ear off with questions about ingredients and recommendations, while Izuku quietly ordered something simple.
In the end, she walked away with a colorful parfait and a latte topped with foam art, while he carried a black coffee and a slice of cheesecake.
They chose a small table near the window.
Nejire sat down and immediately leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands.
"So," she said, eyes shining with curiosity, "you really are the Sports Festival guy. That's so cool. "
She paused. "…Is it okay if I call you Izuku?"
He nodded. "Yeah. That's fine."
"Yay!" she said softly, clearly pleased. "Then you can call me Nejire."
They ate for a bit, the clink of utensils and soft café music filling the space between them. After a few bites, Nejire tilted her head again, studying him openly.
"You're… calmer than I expected," she said.
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No, no!" she said quickly, waving her hands. "Just—people kept talking about how overwhelming you were. Like you were this unstoppable force. But you're actually really… normal. In a good way."
He smiled faintly. "I get that a lot."
She hummed thoughtfully. "Does it bother you? Being talked about like that?"
He considered the question for a moment. "Not really. I just don't like being treated like something untouchable. I'm still just… me."
Nejire's expression softened. "I get that."
For a moment, they just sat there, the silence comfortable rather than awkward.
Outside, the streetlights glowed, and the occasional passerby walked past the window, unaware that two future top heroes were sharing cake and coffee inside a quiet café.
Nejire broke the silence first.
"So," she said, stirring her drink absently, "you were on a date earlier, right?"
Izuku nodded. "Yeah. With a friend from the Support Course."
"Ohhh," she said, smiling but not teasing. "That sounds nice."
"It was," he admitted. "This is… nice too."
She looked at him for a second longer than necessary, then smiled warmly. "I'm glad."
When they eventually left the café, the night air was cool and calm. They walked side by side down the street, not in a hurry, footsteps naturally falling into sync.
Nejire stretched her arms above her head. "Man… I didn't expect tonight to turn out like this."
"Neither did I," Izuku said.
She laughed softly. "Guess that makes it a good night, then."
They stopped at a crosswalk where their paths split. Nejire rocked back on her heels, hands behind her back, looking up at him.
"Hey, Izuku?"
"Yeah?"
"Next time you're free," she said, smiling brightly, "let's do this again. Maybe someplace new. I still have, like… a hundred cafés I want to try."
He chuckled. "I'll keep up as best I can."
"That's all I ask."
The light changed. Nejire took a step back, waved enthusiastically, and turned down her street.
Izuku watched her go for a moment before heading home himself, a small smile still on his face.
'…Yeah,' he thought.
'Tonight was definitely a good one.'
....
He landed in his backyard with a heavy thud, the impact sending a small spray of dirt and grass outward as his shoes skidded a short distance.
He bent his knees instinctively, rolling his shoulders once to bleed off the remaining momentum before straightening.
The house stood quiet, lights dimmed.
Without thinking, he jogged toward the back door and slipped inside, calling out softly out of habit,
"Mom, I'm home!"
No answer.
He paused, listening. From upstairs came the faint, steady rhythm of breathing—slow, peaceful.
'She's asleep,' he realized.
'Better not wake her.'
His steps grew lighter as he headed upstairs, careful not to let the floorboards creak. He nudged his bedroom door open and stepped inside, closing it gently behind him.
The room felt familiar and grounding—the desk by the window, the faint glow of the city lights slipping through the curtains, the quiet hum of everything being normal for once.
And then his eyes landed on it.
The suitcase.
It sat open at the foot of his bed, empty, waiting.bIzuku exhaled slowly and got to work.
He folded his U.A. uniforms neatly, stacking them with care. Workout clothes followed—compression shirts, spare gloves, training shorts.
He added notebooks filled with observations and half-finished thoughts, spare pens, a charger, and a few basic essentials. Everything had its place. Everything had a purpose.
He wasn't about to go in unprepared. His choice for an internship had never really been a debate.
Mirko. The Rabbit Hero.
Fast. Brutal. Relentless. More importantly, her patrol routes brushed dangerously close to the area where Stain was destined to make his move.
Izuku paused mid-pack, a folded shirt resting loosely in his hands.
"Stain…" he murmured.
His mind painted the image effortlessly—the blood-stained blades, the fanatic glare, the warped sense of justice that drove him to murder heroes in the name of some twisted ideal.
"He's not invincible," Izuku continued quietly. "Just years of combat experience… and conviction taken too far."
He thought for a moment longer, then smirked faintly.
"That won't be enough to stop me. But…" his eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful, "…facing someone like him might teach me something."
He tossed the shirt into the suitcase and zipped it shut a few moments later. The sound felt final—like drawing a line between what he was and what he was about to become.
Izuku flopped back onto his bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His phone was already in his hands as he opened a game out of habit, thumbs moving on muscle memory alone.
But his mind refused to stay present.
■Training camp.
■Shigaraki and his crew.
■That wild, knife-obsessed girl—Toga.
And far beyond that…
■All For One.
His chest tightened—not with fear, but anticipation.
The road ahead was crowded with monsters, ideologies, and wars waiting to happen. Bigger the obstacles and bigger stakes, the more he'd push his limits.
For now, though, his path was clear.
The Mirko internship.
"She'll probably be fun," he muttered, a tired grin tugging at his lips. "Heard she spars like a maniac and doesn't go easy on anyone."
He let out a quiet chuckle. "Perfect."
His eyelids grew heavier with each passing second. The game blurred. His grip loosened.
The phone slipped from his hand and landed softly on the blanket.
Sleep claimed him easily.
Tomorrow, he would meet the great Rabbit Hero.
And tomorrow—
everything would begin.
TO BE CONTINUED