Chapter 12: Aiko Midor—

Aiko kicked off her boots before Izuku had even stepped fully through the door. She darted down the hallway, calling out brightly, “Tadaima, Midoriya-san!”

Izuku smiled faintly as he bent to straighten her boots—left haphazardly in the entryway—lining them up neatly beside his own shoes before following after her.

By the time he reached the kitchen, Aiko was already at the counter, laughing as she finished washing her hands and started helping his mom rinse vegetables.

“Yeah, you should’ve seen his face! He almost fell straight into the water!”

Inko covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with amusement as she sliced. “My goodness, Izuku, you really are quite skittish.”

Izuku flushed, pouting slightly. “H-hey, those seagulls are terrifying when they swoop down like that!”

Both Aiko and Inko laughed, the sound mingling so easily it made the house feel warmer than usual.

Inko turned toward him with a fond smile. “Izuku, will you set the table, please? Lunch will be ready soon.”

“Yes, Mom.”

As he moved to fetch the chopsticks and bowls, he glanced over at Aiko beside his mother, chatting like she belonged there. The sight made him smile.

“Here, Aiko-chan, taste this for me,” Inko said, holding out a small spoonful of broth.

Aiko leaned in obediently, blew gently, and took a sip. Her eyes lit. “Mm—delicious!”

Inko beamed. “Ah, I thought so.” She gave her an approving little nod, like they’d been cooking together for years.

Behind them, Izuku shifted the bowls in his hands. “C-can I try—” he started, voice trailing off.

Neither of them looked his way, already leaning closer over the pot, Aiko suggesting just a pinch more salt while Inko hummed in agreement.

Izuku wilted slightly, lips twitching into a helpless smile. He balanced the bowls against his chest and muttered under his breath, “Guess not…”

Then Inko’s expression softened. “Izuku’s been training so hard lately,” she said, glancing at Aiko with a touch of concern. “I hope he hasn’t been pushing you to keep up with him.”

Aiko gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, Midoriya-san. If anything, I’m the one pushing him.”

Inko smiled, then she turned her gaze on her son. “Still,” she said, voice warm but firm, “Aiko-chan’s much smaller than you. You’d better not be overworking her.”

Izuku straightened, nearly fumbling the chopsticks. “Of course not! I’d never—!”

“And,” Inko added, her brow lifting, “you are making sure you both drink plenty of water, right? It’s been sweltering lately.”

Izuku flinched like he’d been caught. “I—I do! I always carry water!”

Aiko smirked faintly, glancing his way. “Except when you forget.”

“M-Most of the time,” he amended quickly, ears burning.

Aiko leaned toward Inko, dropping her voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. “Don’t worry, I always bring enough for both of us.”

That earned an easy laugh from Inko, and Aiko joined in a moment later. Izuku sat back slightly, watching them with a quiet warmth he couldn’t quite put into words.

By the time they sat down to eat, that feeling only grew stronger.

“Aiko-chan,” Inko said brightly as she passed the vegetables across the table, “does Izuku ever stop mumbling when you’re training?”

Aiko lifted her chopsticks. “No,” she laughed. “He never stops mumbling. Sometimes I don’t know if he’s talking to me or just… to the air.”

Inko chuckled, delighted. “That sounds about right. He used to do it as a toddler too. I once found him giving a whole speech to a pair of socks.”

Aiko’s chuckle slipped out before she could stop it. “Were they All Might socks?”

“Of course they were,” Inko said with a laugh.

Both she and Aiko burst into giggles, their amusement tumbling over each other until Izuku dropped his face into his hands.

He peeked at them through his fingers, cheeks burning, but despite his embarrassment, something deep in his chest swelled—warm, full, steady. They looked so at ease together. So natural. And even if they were laughing at his expense… he wouldn’t have traded the moment for anything.

✧ ✧ ✧

Izuku gritted his teeth and pulled.

The rusted bed frame groaned against the sand, caught on something beneath the surface. His hands burned. His legs shook. Every breath tasted like heat and salt. His arms ached from hours of repetition, muscles trembling with the effort. The sun beat down on the back of his neck, sweat sticking his shirt to his skin.

He yanked again, harder this time. It didn’t budge.

Aiko crouched beside him, already covered in sweat and dirt, her hands gripping the opposite end. Her hair was pulled back haphazardly, a few strands clinging to her forehead. “Wait,” she said quietly. “On three.”

He nodded, barely catching his breath. The air between them shimmered with heat. Tiny grains of sand clung to their arms and cheeks like freckles.

“One… two…”

They moved together on the third count. Sand gave way with a lurch, the frame dragging free in a sudden, scraping jolt. Metal shrieked as it slid loose. They stumbled back, both panting.

Izuku dropped to a knee, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his chin. His vision blurred slightly around the edges, the world pulsing in and out of focus.

Aiko rested her hands on her thighs, bent forward. “You okay?” she asked, brushing her forehead with the back of her arm.

He gave a shallow nod. “Just… tired.”

She straightened slowly. “You can take a break. I’ll move some of the smaller stuff.”

He shook his head, almost to himself. “No, I can’t take a break. I’m not getting strong fast enough.”

Aiko looked over at him, lips pressing into a small line.

“I keep thinking,” he continued, still facing the ground, “What if I’m not ready? What if someone else could’ve handled it better? Someone who already has a quirk… someone who doesn’t need to play catch-up every second of the day.”

His shoulders curled in, like he was folding inward. He dropped his head, hands limp in the sand.

“You’d be amazing with One For All. On top of Reverberate…” he said quietly.

Aiko’s brow furrowed slightly. “How does that even work? How can he just… pass it down to you?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku admitted, shaking his head. “I trust him, though.”

He looked up at her, eyes steady. “But if he gave it to you, you’d be unstoppable.”

Aiko’s face shifted. Her gaze softened. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You know I don’t want to be a hero.”

He sighed. “Yeah… I know.”

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the waves and the cries of gulls overhead. A plastic bottle tumbled along the sand near their feet.

He stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the ground like it might hold an answer. Then: “But I do. More than anything.”

His voice was quiet. Raw.

“Not just for me.” He looked up at her, green eyes steady despite the strain in his voice. “I want to be able to protect you.”

Aiko’s lips curved faintly, something warm and a little sad flickering in her gaze. “I would never expect you to fight my fight, Izuku.”

He didn’t answer, just gave a small nod, eyes dropping back to the sand. What he wanted to say pressed hard against his ribs—that her fight was already his fight, whether she let him in or not. That the thought of standing back while she faced something alone felt impossible now. But the words stayed caught in his throat, unspoken. Instead, he continued…

“So that means I have to be ready for whatever comes next. But no matter how hard I train, I still feel… behind. I look at Kacchan, and he’s already so far ahead. And I’m just—”

He broke off, shaking his head, jaw tight.

“I’m small. Weak. Quirkless. Even if All Might thinks I can do this, I keep wondering… what if I mess it all up? What if I get someone hurt because I wasn’t strong enough?”

His fingers curled into the sand, jaw clenching until it ached. The tension sat heavy in his chest, raw and unsteady, like holding himself together took more effort than lifting the bed frame.

“I want to help people. I want to be worthy of this power. But what if I’m not?”

Aiko sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Her tone was steady.

“You’re already stronger than most people I’ve met. And it has nothing to do with your body.”

Her voice was quiet, but firm. Grounded. Like it came from somewhere deep inside her.

She glanced at him. “You want to help people? You want to be better? That’s not weakness. That’s exactly what makes you a hero.”

He looked at her, eyes wide and uncertain—like he was still waiting for her to take it back. Still wondering if she meant it.

But she didn’t flinch. She held his gaze, unwavering.

“You’ve got more drive in you than half the heroes on TV. You don’t quit, even when it hurts. You were literally bleeding the other day and you kept going for hours. You care so much it shows in everything you do. But you’ve got this ridiculous habit of thinking everyone else is more deserving than you—when the truth is, no one deserves this more.”

Tears started to form in his eyes.

Aiko looked down, brushing a bit of grit from her knee, giving him a moment. “Most people don’t achieve great things—not because they lack talent, but because they lack the conviction to see things through.”

She reached down, plucked a bottle cap from the sand, and flicked it into the nearby trash pile with a quiet clink.

Then she looked back up.

Her voice softened. “You have both, Izuku.”

She smiled, then stood, brushing the sand from her legs. “Take a little break. I’m gonna sort through some of the smaller stuff—see if there’s any good metal I can salvage.”

Izuku blinked, then nodded, wiping his face on the back of his wrist. “You got any water?” he asked, voice still a bit rough.

“Yeah. In my bag.”

He nodded and reached for it. Nestled between a spare shirt and a metal flask was the pink notebook he’d given her weeks ago. Aiko’s quirk analysis notebook.

He hesitated, fingers brushing the cover. Then smiled faintly, pulling it out, curiosity tugging at him. He flipped it open.

Page after page was packed—just like his. Quirks, diagrams, weak points, theory trees. She’d filled it. Thoroughly. Obsessively.

He turned a few more pages, lips twitching in awe. She analyzed the same way he did—like every quirk was a puzzle begging to be understood.

Then suddenly, he paused.

There, between dense notes was a rough sketch—a quick, messy portrait. His eyes widened, heart skipping slightly.

It was him.

His messy hair sticking out in all directions, eyes big and bright, smile sheepish but unmistakably genuine. It was rough but undeniably affectionate. Warmth spread across his chest, tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a thumb gently over the sketch, his heart doing something funny in his chest.

He turned the page carefully, smile lingering, impressed… until—

Villain #1 - Cleaver
Real name: Søren Vael
Quirk: not sure - some sort of blade arm (possibly generates poison?)
About 6’2”, Lean but muscular
Blonde, hair tied back in a rough bun
Deep voice, older (mid-to-late 50s?)
Tattoo on neck, right side — skull wrapped in ivy
Believed to be nomadic. (Scandinavian origin)
Last seen near Kanegawa industrial sector, July 7

Villain #2 - Hound
Real name: Ren Kurobane
Quirk: Zeroing (tracking)
A little shorter. 5’10”?
Early 40’s
Curly hair, dark brown, shoulder length
Arrested after a botched ambush in early spring (March 5) and imprisoned in Tartarus

Villain #3 – Bind
Real name: Osamu Araki
Quirk: Restraint (touch-based, can paralyze target instantly)
~ 6’0”, mid-to-late 40s
Average build, black hair, already streaked with grey
Scar on left eyebrow (vertical, thin)
Cold eyes — doesn’t talk much, lets the others do the noise
**Definitely the one who kept dad from fighting back
Status: unknown / never confirmed arrest

His fingers tightened around the edge of the notebook.

She was… tracking them.

His stomach twisted, that strange blend of awe and dread tangling in his chest. He barely heard the approaching footsteps before Aiko’s voice cut the air.

“Hey, look at this. It’s like some kind of—”

She froze mid-step.

Her eyes dropped to the notebook in his hands.

“…What are you doing?”

Izuku startled, face flushing instantly. “I-I wasn’t—! I just saw the notebook and—and I thought—I mean, you said I could get the water, and I just—!”

He slammed it shut, clutching it between his hands like it was burning him. His voice tripped over itself, spilling out in pieces.

“I wasn’t trying to snoop—I swear. It’s just—y-you saw mine… and—I…”

Aiko didn’t say anything at first. She just stood there, staring at him.

Then, slowly, she stepped forward and held out her hand.

“…Can I have it back?”

He placed the notebook in her palm, avoiding her gaze.

“I just… I didn’t know you were… looking for them.”

Aiko’s expression was blank.

“Did you think I was going to wait around for them to find me first?”

Her voice wasn’t raised. But there was steel beneath it. “They murdered my parents, Izuku… they stole everything from me.”

Izuku swallowed, the wind drying the sweat on his neck.

“But… it’s dangerous,” he said, quieter now. “And they’re not just villains—they’re after you.”

“Exactly.” She looked down at the notebook. “So I can't just do nothing.”

Her eyes flicked up, locking onto his.

“If they find me first, I'm dead. Or worse. And I can't even imagine what they'll do to my granddad. We can't keep living like this.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the word granddad, but she recovered quickly.

Izuku let out a long breath. He couldn’t deny her logic, but the thought of her actually facing those men who killed her parents…

He looked down, his fingers curling into the sand, his throat tight.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Aiko sat beside him again, her energy softening. She gave a sideways glance, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“By someone’s quirk? How?” She gave a soft laugh. “I’m the final boss.”

He let out a breathy laugh despite himself, nodding. Then reached out without thinking, giving her thigh a light, absent-minded rub. “Yeah, yeah… your quirk’s amazing.”

Then he froze—realizing what he’d just done—and yanked his hand back like he’d just touched a hot stove.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean—! That was—I wasn’t—”

His words tripped over themselves, falling into a frantic mess of vowels. His face was already burning.

Aiko pressed her lips together, fighting a grin. “Someone’s getting comfortable,” she murmured, eyes still on him, amused.

Izuku practically combusted. “N-no! I mean—yes? I mean—I didn’t mean to—”

She laughed under her breath and looked away just long enough to give him a little mercy. Her shoulders shook slightly with the effort of keeping it down.

Aiko then pushed herself to her feet, brushing sand off the back of her legs. She glanced down at him, shifting the strap of her cap, and gave a small nod toward the pile of junk further up the beach.

“Drink up,” she said. “Then come help me move that old bicycle. It’s practically fused to the sand.”

Izuku blinked, still red, but nodded quickly. “R-right! Be right there.”

She turned and walked ahead while he grabbed the bottle and took a long sip, hoping it would cool more than just his throat.

Then he stood, wiped his palms on his shorts, and jogged after her.

“Hey…” he said, catching up, voice a little tentative. “Are you really… what are you gonna do when you find them?”

Aiko didn’t look at him at first. Her hands were already reaching for the rusted bicycle frame, fingers testing where it was stuck.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually, eyes fixed on the metal. “I haven’t decided.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t it be better to let the heroes or authorities handle it?”

She gave a short, dry laugh. “It’s been almost eight months. They’re not even looking anymore.”

Izuku hesitated, then crouched down beside her, hands brushing against hers as he helped shift the bike. The metal groaned faintly as they moved it, sun catching on the rusted handlebars.

“I just… I’m worried about you.”

That made her pause.

“I know,” she said, but offered nothing else.

She shifted the bike with a grunt, the frame groaning as it gave way a little. “But they’re not gonna stop. Granddad says they still have people poking around our old town looking for me. They know I'm still alive. I don't want to live my life on edge like this, always having to look over my shoulder. So if no one’s coming for them… I have to.”

Izuku was quiet, his brow furrowing. Then: “You don’t have to do it alone…”

Aiko looked at him for a moment, trying to get a read.

“Don‘t you dare,” she said. “You’ve got your own hero stuff to worry about.”

She paused.

“You weren’t even supposed to see that anyway.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy again. “Oh—I-I just… I wanted to see if… you—um—You know how I… when you saw my… I thought—maybe you—”

His face flushed deep red.

Aiko smirked, leaning in just slightly—teasing. “What? You thought I was scribbling hearts and writing Aiko Midor—”

She cut herself off, color rushing into her cheeks. The words seemed to catch in her throat, as if her brain had just realized where her mouth was headed.

In the same breath, she spun away, hands gripping the bicycle handles with far more force than necessary. “Man, this thing is heavy,” she blurted, voice pitched a little too high—like the moment had never happened.

Izuku made a strangled sound—somewhere between a gasp and a squeak—and nearly dropped the water bottle.

“W-what?! I didn’t—! I mean—! That’s not—!”

Aiko didn’t answer, head ducked, dragging the bike like it was the most fascinating object in the world.

He scrambled after her, still red. “I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t think you—!”

Another beat.

“…Wait, did you?!”