A/N: Sorry for the lack of uploads. Work and school have been kicking my ass recently but thanks for reading this story!
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Izuku stared at his phone, watching the call disconnect yet again. So much for explaining himself. His thumb hovered over the screen, contemplating a third attempt, but he knew better. When girls like Jiro and Toru stormed off like that, no amount of calls would make them pick up.
"Their loss," he muttered, pocketing his phone.
He stood in the empty hallway, weighing his options. He could chase after them, corner them somewhere and force an explanation. That would be the gentlemanly thing to do. The heroic thing.
He turned on his heel and walked back toward the support workshop.
The gentlemanly approach could wait. He had gauntlets to calibrate.
When he pushed the door open, Mei was already packing away the sensors, her movements quick and jerky like a wind-up toy running down. She looked up when he entered, her crosshair pupils widening in surprise.
"You came back!" She said it like he'd returned from the dead rather than a three-minute absence.
"Calls went to voicemail," Izuku said with a shrug. "They'll cool off eventually."
"So we can finish the calibration?" Mei bounced up and down like a kid promised ice cream.
"Why not? It's not like I did anything wrong. If they want to jump to conclusions, that's their problem."
Mei grinned so wide it threatened to split her face. "YES! Back to science! Back to my babies!"
Izuku returned to the testing bay, shutting the door behind them. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles from the earlier session. These new gauntlets needed to be perfect. After his fight with Bakugo, he couldn't afford equipment that would fall apart under pressure.
"To achieve optimal calibration, I really do need direct skin contact," Mei said, tapping her tablet. "The interface readings through fabric are—"
"Fine," Izuku said, already unbuttoning his shirt. "If it means getting this done faster, I'll play along."
Mei's eyes lit up. "Finally!"
Izuku unbuttoned his shirt fully and removed it, feeling the workshop's cool air against his skin.
Mei, true to form, didn't even blink at his exposed torso. Her eyes focused entirely on the gauntlets in her hands, her mind already calculating adjustments.
"Hold out your arms, please!"
Izuku complied, and Mei began attaching the gauntlets directly to his skin, placing sensors at strategic points along his arms and shoulders.
"These readings are SO much clearer!" she exclaimed, eyes glued to her tablet. "Look at the neural response patterns! Your muscles have excellent symmetrical development."
"Ten years of getting thrown into trees will do that to you."
"Trees? An unusual training device but clearly effective!" She poked his deltoid with scientific interest. "The tissue density is remarkable. I should compare readings with other hero course students."
"Please don't go around asking to touch people's muscles."
"Why not? It's for science!"
"Trust me on this one."
Mei shrugged and returned to her calibrations, muttering numbers and equations under her breath. The gauntlets hummed softly against Izuku's skin, their internal mechanisms adjusting to his unique muscle patterns.
An hour into the calibration, Izuku noticed Mei's hands trembling slightly as she adjusted one of the sensors. Her movements, usually quick and sharp, had grown sluggish. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to focus on readings that kept blurring.
"When's the last time you ate?" he asked.
Mei looked up, confusion crossing her face. "Ate?"
"Food, Mei. The stuff that keeps humans alive. When did you last consume some?"
She tilted her head, processing the question like it was in a foreign language. "What day is it?"
"Tuesday."
"Then... Sunday? Maybe?"
Izuku sighed. "We're taking a break."
"But the calibration sequence—"
"Will still be there after you've eaten." He reached for his shirt. "Come on. There's a vending machine down the hall."
"But my babies—"
"Your babies need a functioning creator." Izuku stood up, towering over her. "Food. Now."
Mei pouted but didn't resist as Izuku led her out of the testing bay. The hallway was empty, most students having gone home for the day. The vending machine hummed in the corner, its fluorescent glow illuminating their path.
Izuku fed some coins into the machine and selected an array of items: two protein bars, a sandwich, and a bottle of orange juice. He handed the haul to Mei, who stared at it like she'd never seen food before.
"Eat," he commanded. "All of it."
"But I need to—"
"Eat first, then calibrate."
Mei bit into the protein bar reluctantly, then paused, her eyes widening as her body remembered it needed sustenance. She devoured the first bar in three bites and tore into the second without pausing.
"When you're focused on a project, do you just... forget to take care of yourself?" Izuku asked, watching her demolish the sandwich next.
Mei shrugged, her mouth full. "Mmf—bodies are inefficient! Food, sleep, bathroom breaks—all distractions from creation!"
"Those 'distractions' keep you alive."
"A necessary inconvenience." She gulped down half the orange juice in one go. "Time spent eating is time not spent inventing!"
"And time spent passed out from hunger is also time not spent inventing."
Mei paused, considering this logic. "You make a compelling point, Test Subject."
"Izuku."
"What?"
"My name. It's Izuku, not 'Test Subject.'"
Mei blinked at him, her crosshair pupils contracting slightly. "But you are a test subject. My test subject. For my babies."
"I can be Izuku and your test subject at the same time. The concepts aren't mutually exclusive."
She tilted her head, processing this information like a computer running new code. "Izuku... Test Subject?"
"Just Izuku is fine."
"Izuku." She tested the name, rolling it around her mouth like she was tasting it. "Odd. It feels different than saying 'Test Subject.'"
"That's because names mean something. They're personal."
"Names are just arbitrary sound patterns assigned to humans for identification purposes."
"And yet, you name all your inventions 'babies.'"
Mei's mouth opened, then closed. For perhaps the first time since Izuku had met her, she seemed genuinely stumped.
"That's... different," she finally said.
"Is it?"
She finished her food in thoughtful silence, crumpling the wrappers and stuffing them into the nearby trash can with surprising force.
"Ready to get back to work?" Izuku asked.
Mei nodded, her energy visibly restored. "Yes! And... thank you. For the food."
"Can't have my equipment designer passing out from hunger."
They returned to the testing bay, and Izuku removed his shirt again, allowing Mei to reattach the sensors and gauntlets. Her movements seemed sharper now, more focused, as she ran through a series of calibration tests.
For the next two hours, they worked through the remaining test parameters. Izuku moved through fighting stances and attack patterns while Mei adjusted the gauntlets' response time and force distribution. The escrima rods received similar treatment, their electrical output fine-tuned to Izuku's grip strength and strike velocity.
By the time they finished, the sun had long since set, and the workshop was bathed in artificial light. Izuku flexed his hands inside the gauntlets, feeling their perfect sync with his movements. Every twitch of his fingers, every rotation of his wrist was amplified and enhanced by the technology.
"These are amazing, Mei," he said honestly. "They feel like they're part of me."
Mei beamed, her face flushed with pride. "That's the goal! The interface should be seamless! No lag between thought and action!"
She carefully removed the gauntlets and placed them in a specially designed case, along with the escrima rods. Each component nestled into custom-fitted foam inserts, protected and secure.
"When can I pick them up?" Izuku asked, pulling his shirt back on.
"Tomorrow morning! I need to make some final adjustments based on today's data, but they'll be ready before your class trip to USJ!"
Izuku paused midway through buttoning his shirt. "Great I'll pick it up during lunch."
Izuku finished dressing, tucking his shirt in and straightening his tie. Despite the misunderstanding with Jiro and Toru, he couldn't regret staying. These gauntlets could mean the difference between victory and defeat in a real fight.
"Thanks, Mei."
"Thank YOU for being such a good test subject!"
As he headed for the door, Izuku paused. "Hey, Mei?"
"Yes, Test—I mean, Izuku?"
"Make sure you eat dinner tonight. And breakfast tomorrow."
Mei's expression softened into something almost human. "I will. It's... an optimal maintenance schedule."
"Exactly. Can't have sub-optimal babies because their creator is running on fumes."
Her face lit up at his use of her terminology. "You understand! My babies need me at full capacity!"
"And I need your babies at full capacity. So take care of yourself."
With a final wave, Izuku left the workshop, stepping into the quiet hallway. His phone had several missed messages: two from Toru, one from Jiro, and one from his mother asking when he'd be home for dinner.
Izuku text his mom and left the other messages unread.