Mei Hatsume asked Izuku to remove his shirt for the sixth time in twelve minutes.
"Please! Just this once! I need proper measurements and the fabric is interfering with my readings!" She waved a device that looked like a combination of a scanner and something that belonged in a hospital. "My babies deserve accurate data!"
"No."
"But your torso dimensions are CRUCIAL for optimal fit! The current measurements I'm extrapolating could be off by entire centimeters!"
"Still no."
"Centimeters, test subject! CENTIMETERS!"
Izuku leaned against a workbench covered in mechanical components, his arms crossed over his chest in what he hoped was a clear statement of boundaries. Toru's floating uniform hovered nearby, her body language suggesting she was watching this exchange with intense interest.
"You've asked me six times now," Izuku said. "The answer hasn't changed."
"But it MIGHT! Human decision-making is inherently variable! Statistically, repeated exposure to a request increases compliance rates by approximately—"
"Hatsume."
"Yes?"
"No."
Mei's lower lip jutted out in a pout that probably would have been adorable if she wasn't simultaneously holding a device that sparked and crackled with questionable safety protocols. Her crosshair pupils contracted as she studied him, processing his refusal like a mechanical problem that needed solving.
"What if I promised not to touch anything inappropriate?"
"Define inappropriate."
"Areas covered by standard undergarments!"
"That's a very lawyer-like answer."
"I've been sued four times! You learn to be specific!"
Power Loader's voice echoed from somewhere deeper in the workshop. "Hatsume, if he doesn't want to take his shirt off, stop asking!"
"But SENSEI! Science requires SACRIFICE!"
"Not of other people's dignity!"
Mei huffed, her pink hair bouncing with the motion. She turned back to her workbench and muttered something about interference patterns and suboptimal data collection. Her hands continued working on the ruined costume, pulling apart seams and examining damaged components with intense focus.
Toru's glove tugged at Izuku's sleeve. When he glanced toward her invisible face, the glove made a motion that suggested she wanted to whisper something.
Izuku leaned closer.
"You should do it."
He blinked. "What?"
"Take off your shirt." Toru's voice came out strangled. "For. For science."
"I thought you were mad at her for landing on me."
"I AM mad. I'm FURIOUS. But also." The floating uniform shifted uncomfortably. "Also she has a point about measurements. And. And if you're going to be shirtless anyway. I might as well. Watch. To make sure she doesn't do anything weird."
Izuku's brain took a moment to translate what Toru was actually saying beneath the layers of justification.
Oh.
OH.
Toru Hagakure wanted to see him shirtless.
Toru Hagakure was using the pink-haired chaos gremlin as an excuse to see him shirtless.
Toru Hagakure was currently vibrating in a way that suggested she was blushing so hard her internal organs might be affected.
"For science," Izuku repeated.
"Purely! Scientific! Purposes!"
"Uh huh."
"Don't 'uh huh' me! I'm just saying that if she needs the data then maybe you should just. Just. Do it. Quickly. While I watch. To supervise."
Izuku rubbed his jaw, considering the situation. On one hand, he'd spent years training his body and had zero shame about it. The results of Hano's torture were objectively impressive, and he knew it. On the other hand, giving in to Hatsume's demands felt like opening a door he might not be able to close.
On the third hand, which didn't exist but his brain was inventing anyway, Toru's stuttering attempt at manipulation was possibly the cutest thing he'd ever witnessed.
"Fine."
Both girls reacted at the same time.
Mei spun around so fast her goggles flew off her face. "REALLY?"
Toru's uniform went completely rigid. "REALLY?"
Izuku sighed, the sound carrying the weight of a man accepting his fate. He reached for the bottom of his blazer and pulled it off, draping it over a nearby workbench. Then his fingers found the buttons of his white dress shirt.
One.
Two.
Three.
He could feel both of them watching. Mei had abandoned all pretense of working, her crosshair pupils locked onto his hands with the intensity of a targeting system. Toru's floating uniform hadn't moved a centimeter, frozen in place like someone had hit pause on reality.
Four.
Five.
The shirt fell open.
Izuku pulled it off his shoulders and set it aside, leaving him in just his undershirt. He reached for that too, figuring he might as well commit to the process.
The white fabric rose over his head.
The workshop's industrial lighting cast harsh shadows across his torso. Ten years of Hano's training had sculpted his body into something that belonged in an anatomy textbook, if that textbook was published by a company that specialized in making people feel bad about their own physical conditioning. His abs were visible without flexing. His obliques cut diagonal lines toward his hips. His chest and shoulders showed clear definition that came from actual combat training rather than vanity exercises.
Scars marked his skin in various places. Old injuries from Hano's lessons. Burns that hadn't quite faded. The road map of someone who'd spent a decade learning how to take punishment and keep moving.
Mei made a sound that wasn't quite human.
"MAGNIFICENT!"
She rushed forward, scanner in hand, and began circling him like a shark that had found prey. The device beeped and clicked as she waved it around his body, taking readings from angles that seemed physically improbable.
"The muscle density! The skeletal structure! The ratio of fast-twitch to slow-twitch fiber! This is INCREDIBLE! How did you achieve this without enhancement Quirks?"
"Training."
"What KIND of training? I need specifics! Duration! Intensity! Methodology!"
"The painful kind."
Mei didn't seem satisfied with this answer, but her attention had already moved on. She set down the scanner and produced a measuring tape from somewhere in her utility belt. Before Izuku could react, she'd looped it around his chest and pulled it tight.
"One hundred and four centimeters! Exactly as I predicted!"
Her hands moved to his shoulders. The tape stretched across the width of his frame.
"Forty-eight centimeters! Optimal for the gauntlet attachment points!"
Then her hands moved to his abdomen.
Mei Hatsume was not a subtle person. She pressed her palms flat against his stomach, fingers splayed, apparently feeling the muscle groups beneath his skin. Her face held an expression of pure scientific fascination, completely unaware that what she was doing might be considered inappropriate by anyone with normal social awareness.
"The core stability is REMARKABLE! I can feel the interconnected muscle chains! This explains how you survived the door impact!"
Her hands moved lower.
Toward his hips.
Toward the waistband of his pants.
Izuku's body, which had been cooperating up to this point, suddenly decided to remind him that he was a fifteen-year-old boy being touched by an attractive girl with pink hair and a complete absence of personal boundaries.
Heat pooled in his lower abdomen.
Blood flow redirected itself with alarming speed.
His eighteen centimeters of completely normal masculine anatomy began staging a revolt against his carefully maintained composure.
Abort. ABORT.
"I need to use the bathroom."
Mei looked up from her examination, confusion written across her features. "Now? But I haven't finished the hip measurements yet!"
"Right now."
Izuku grabbed his shirt from the workbench and held it strategically in front of his midsection as he backed toward the workshop door. His face remained completely neutral because Hano had trained him to maintain composure under any circumstances, but his internal monologue was screaming in approximately seventeen different languages.
"But the DATA!" Mei wailed.
"Later!"
He turned and walked, not ran, toward the workshop's bathroom facilities. Walking was important. Running would draw attention. Running would suggest panic. Running would make people wonder WHY he was running.
The bathroom door closed behind him.
Izuku leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths, willing his body to calm down through sheer force of will. Cold thoughts. Cold water. The mental image of Hano's in a speedo.
That last one worked instantaneously.