"There you are. Just in time for dinner," her father's voice, warm and familiar, came from the kitchen, accompanied by the sizzle of oil in a pan. "You're a little late, is everything okay?"
Ibara Shiozaki stopped in the doorway, her hand still on the doorknob. Her father, a man with broad shoulders and a permanent smile, turned to look at her while drying his hands on a kitchen towel.
"And... I don't know, you seem... different," he continued, narrowing his eyes with curiosity. "There's something... radiant about you."
The word "radiant" caught her by surprise. Her usual serenity vanished instantly. She felt the heat rise up her neck to her cheeks, certain that her face was completely flushed.
"It's nothing, Father," she replied, and her voice, normally calm and formal, sounded a little higher than usual, almost forced. "I had a... spiritually productive day. That's all."
Her father raised an eyebrow, and his smile widened a bit more.
"Oh, really? A productive day?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pan. "And what do you do on a day like that? A lot of meditation in the park?"
"Yes, exactly. The fresh air was... invigorating for the soul," the sentence sounded hollow even to her own ears. She was getting tangled in her own words. "Very, very invigorating."
"I'm glad, daughter."
He said nothing more, but his gaze said it all. It was that kind of parental scrutiny, kind but incredibly perceptive, that made Ibara feel like her father could see right through her. Unable to bear it for another second, she muttered an excuse about needing to put her things away and practically fled upstairs to the safety of her room.
After closing the door, she leaned against the smooth wood and released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her room, a quiet and tidy space filled with hanging plants and neat stacks of books, was her sanctuary. Here, she could allow herself to let her guard down. She placed a hand on her chest and noticed her heart was beating a little faster than normal, an insistent drumming beneath her ribs.
She closed her eyes. Immediately, the face of a green haired boy with serious, kind eyes appeared in her mind. It wasn't a static image; it was a living memory. She relived the exact moment their eyes met, the sound of her own laughter—a rarity that had surprised even herself—and the strange comfort of their shared silence.
Why did I feel that way? she wondered, walking to the edge of her bed. Her thoughts were a mess. Normally, talking to strangers, especially boys, is a test. A formality I must protect, a barrier I must maintain. But with him…
She sat down, her gaze lost on the wall.
With him, everything seemed… simpler. I didn't have to think about the next word. It just came out. And he listened. He actually listened.
Her hand slid into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Her thumb moved on its own, unlocking the screen and opening her contact list. There was the name she had added just an hour ago with almost ceremonial care: "Midoriya Izuku."
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. An almost uncontrollable urge compelled her to write. She wanted to thank him again for the slushie, an excuse so simple it seemed perfect. Or maybe ask if he had gotten home safely, a basic courtesy. Anything to reopen that small connection that had formed in the park.
She began to type.
«Good evening, Midoriya-san. This is Shiozaki. I hope I'm not bothering you.»
She deleted it. Too formal. It sounded like a business email.
«Hey, Midoriya. Thanks again for today.»
She deleted it again. Too direct? Too casual? They barely knew each other.
Doubt assailed her, paralyzing her fingers.
What if he thinks I'm a desperate girl? Or too pushy? We just met. Maybe I should wait for him to write first… Is that how these things work?
She realized, with a pang of frustration, how unprepared she was for this. The designs of fate and sacred scriptures offered guidance, but teenage social protocols were impossible for her to decipher.
With a sigh that mixed uncertainty and annoyance, she turned off the screen and left the phone on her nightstand. She pushed it a little farther away, as if the object itself were the source of her confusion.
******
The atmosphere in Yu Takeyama's apartment was a world apart. It was late at night, and the only light came from a floor lamp that cast a warm glow over the living room, leaving the corners in shadow. Izuku had been back for an hour, and in all that time, he had barely spoken three words in a row.
He was sitting on the floor, cross legged, in the middle of an island of papers. They were the copies of the U.A. profiles they had been studying. But his attention was no longer divided among them. He was engrossed in a single sheet, a single profile that he held with both hands.
Yu watched him from the sofa. She pretended to watch a variety show on TV, but the sound was just background noise. All her attention was fixed on him. And an instinct, a silent alarm in her mind, warned her that something had changed.
It wasn't obvious. He wasn't colder or more distant. But his concentration, that intense energy he usually directed toward her, their training, or her agency's strategies, now seemed to have a new focal point. It was directed outward, toward a target that was no longer just her.
It was an irrational feeling, an annoying pang in her chest. The territory she had, without realizing it, begun to consider exclusively hers now had a new point of interest.
The Yu from a few weeks ago would have jumped off the sofa. She would have planted her hands on her hips and asked directly, "What's wrong with you? Why are you so quiet?" She would have demanded to know what was going on without any subtlety. But this Yu had learned a new strategy. Instead of confronting him, she decided to attract him.
She rose from the sofa with a fluid, silent movement. She went to the kitchen as the noise from the TV show covered the clinking of ice falling into a glass. She poured iced tea and returned to the living room. Instead of handing it to him from above, she knelt beside him on the floor, gently invading his personal space until their knees almost touched.
"Hey," she said, her voice low and playful. "Mind telling me what has you so absorbed. You look like a scientist about to discover the cure for baldness."
Izuku looked up, blinking as if coming out of a trance.
"Oh, hey, Yu. I didn't hear you come in."
"I noticed," she replied with a small smile, placing the glass on the floor next to him. "You're completely in your own world. Good news? Any incredible discoveries in those papers you haven't shared with your boss?"
She leaned in a little closer, resting her chin on his shoulder so she could see the papers. Her blonde hair brushed against his cheek, and the gesture, though it seemed casual, was loaded with intent. She wanted to see what he saw, to be part of the world he had submerged himself in.
"Or have you already found your new, brilliant project to replace me?" she added, her tone light, almost teasing, but with an undercurrent of genuine anxiety.
"It's not a replacement," Izuku said immediately. "She's the candidate. I think I've finally found her."
Yu's eyes fixed on the profile. Ibara Shiozaki. She saw the photo of a serene, beautiful looking girl with peculiar green hair that reached her waist. She read the description of her Quirk: "Vines." And for some reason she couldn't explain, she felt a wave of instant, irrational aversion.
"Her?" she said, struggling to keep her voice indifferent. "The girl with the vines? Isn't she a little… passive? Her Quirk is defensive. I thought you'd be looking for something more dynamic, with more potential for impact."
"Her strength isn't passive," Izuku corrected, not looking away from the paper. "It's different. Her control is absolute. I think… I think she's exactly what I need to test my theories."
Yu slowly pulled away, breaking the physical contact. The pang in her chest returned, sharper this time. She stood up and retreated to the sofa, pulling her legs up under her. She tried to focus on the television again, but she was only aware of the boy sitting on her floor, whose attention, for the first time, was completely and utterly on someone else.
Later that night, the tension had dissipated, or at least, was hidden beneath their routine. The action movie of the week was on the big screen, and a huge bowl of popcorn rested between them on the sofa. It was their ritual, where they didn't have to be the hero Mt. Lady and her assistant, but just Yu and Izuku.
But tonight, for Yu, the comfort wasn't enough. She felt that invisible distance that had formed, and she hated it. She decided, with a sudden resolution, that she was going to eliminate it. Physically.
With a deliberate naturalness, she got comfortable on the sofa. She stretched, letting out a small murmur, and then lifted her legs and placed them directly on Izuku's lap.
She was wearing very short, pink silk pajama shorts that did little to hide the curve of her hips and the length of her thighs. They were paired with a tight tank top that enhanced her cleavage. It was an act of seduction that, after the revelation of Izuku's "fantasy," was perhaps not so subconscious.
Izuku barely reacted. His hand, which had been resting on his own thigh, moved to hers naturally. His fingers began to trace lazy circles on her bare skin, a gesture that had already become familiar between them. But tonight, Yu was hyperaware of every millimeter of contact, of the slight pressure and the warmth of his palm.
Several minutes passed in silence, broken only by the noise from the movie. Izuku's hand kept its gentle, steady rhythm on her thigh. The contact was driving her crazy. She needed more.
"Hey, Izuku…" she said in a casual voice, but her heart was pounding.
"Yeah?" he answered, not taking his eyes off the screen.
"I've been running the numbers."
That got his attention. He turned slightly toward her. "The numbers?"
"Yeah. Figures. Logistics," she said. "Think about your routine. You spend almost all your time here. You cook here, we analyze data here, we train here, we watch movies here… You sleep on this sofa half the time."
He looked at her, processing the information. "Well, yeah."
"You barely go to your own apartment. Just to shower and change your clothes. Sometimes not even that, you use the shower here," she continued. "And you're paying rent for a place you don't use. It's an unnecessary expense."
"I guess so, when you put it that way," he admitted, his mind recognizing the logic.
She took a deep breath. It was time for the proposal.
"I have a guest room," she said, lowering her voice a little to make it more intimate. "Right now it's a mess. A storage room for moving boxes and exercise equipment I never use. It's a waste of space."
He looked at her with genuine curiosity, waiting for the final point.
"Why..." she said, choosing her words carefully, "...don't you move in here?"
The question hung between them, quieter but far more explosive than anything in the movie.
"You'd save money," she added quickly, giving him a logical reason. "And it would be…" she searched for the key word, "…more efficient. For training, for work. We could spend more time analyzing data together."
Izuku was silent. His hand stopped on her thigh. The surprise on his face was total. He looked at her, then looked around the apartment. His brain seemed to go into processing mode, weighing the offer.
Yu held her breath. Maybe she had gone too far. Maybe it was too soon, too intimate. Maybe he would say no, and the invisible distance between them would become a chasm.
Finally, he looked at her again. There was no doubt on his face, no hesitation, no discomfort. Just surprise that was slowly turning into happiness.
"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice was almost a whisper, disbelieving.
"Yes, I'm serious," she confirmed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Thank you so much, Yu," he said, his voice full of sincere gratitude. "It would be a pleasure to live with you. It's a perfect solution. I promise I won't be a bother…"
The moment he accepted, the instant the words "live with you" left his mouth, all the tension and anxiety Yu had been feeling completely vanished.
In its place, a wave of pure relief and joy washed over her.
And a smile blossomed on her face. It wasn't her media smile or her teasing one. It was a smile she didn't even know she was capable of. Genuine, radiant, an expression of victory and happiness so pure it transformed her.
She had secured her territory.
She had closed the distance.
And she had made sure that no matter who Izuku chose to train, no matter what serene, green haired girl entered his orbit, she, Yu Takeyama, would remain the center of Izuku Midoriya's universe.