Chapter 15: I'm Yours

Tetsurō sat quietly at his workbench, the lamp casting a soft glow across his tools. He sighed, eyes briefly glancing toward the back room, where Aiko was asleep. She was changing.

He’d noticed the way her eyes softened lately, how her laugh—so rare for months—had begun to bloom again. Midoriya, he thought fondly.

He reached over, fingers brushing a folded newspaper beside him. He unfolded it slowly, eyes narrowing at a small headline tucked into the bottom corner:

Sightings of Dangerous Villain Group Increase near Kanegawa

A familiar chill settled in his chest. His eyes darkened.

He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that the trail had gone cold. That the passage of time might be enough. But deep down, he knew better. Men like that didn’t stop looking. Not when blood was involved. Not when power was at stake.

He folded the newspaper and set it aside, then reached for the gear she’d asked for—partially assembled knee pads, knuckle guards, scraps of carbon weave and reinforced leather spread neatly on the workbench. She hadn’t offered an explanation. Just handed him a sketch and asked if he could make them.

Tetsurō only hoped it was for self-defense. Something simple. Something safe. But deep down, he feared it wasn’t.

She was training now. She was planning something.

But he was in no position to stop her. He wasn’t her real grandfather. Just the man who found her, who took her in, who tried to build a quiet life around her grief. He’d never demanded answers. It was enough just to know she was alive.

Now… he could only hope that whatever she had in mind, she knew what she was doing.

His fingers moved with quiet focus, shaping and sanding the pads with steady precision. Reinforcing each edge. Doubling the lining. If she was going to step into danger, then he’d make damn sure she wasn’t going in unprotected.

Even if it scared him more than he could ever say.

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning, Aiko rose early and padded toward the workshop. Inside, the soft scent of warm metal and soot hung in the air. Tools were neatly arranged on the bench, a few specks of iron dust catching the light.

Tetsurō had already been up.

In all the time she’d lived with him, Aiko had rarely seen him sleep. Sometimes she wondered if he even needed to. He’d sleep late and wake early. Once, he’d joked that maybe that was his quirk—not strength or speed or fire, but something subtler. The ability to function on only a couple hours of rest. To keep going, long after anyone else would’ve burned out.

But he was registered quirkless.

Never sought a second opinion. Never cared much for the label.

“There’s more to life than quirks,” he’d told her once, voice low and steady over the hum of the forge. “And more to a man than what some registry says he is.”

Aiko hadn’t forgotten that.

“Aiko,” Tetsurō called from across the room, his voice low but firm. “Come here for a moment.”

She paused mid-step, the casual ease in her posture slipping ever so slightly as she made her way over.

Tetsurō didn’t look up right away. His hand hovered over something on the bench—then, slowly, he turned to face her. His expression was heavy.

“Take a seat,” he said gently, nodding toward the nearby stool.

Aiko sat, her backpack sliding off her shoulder with a soft thud. Her hands folded in her lap, fingers curling slightly. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed—deep and quiet—the kind that came from deep in the chest. “They’re still sending people to look for you,” he said, reaching for a folded newspaper beside him. “I’ve heard from some neighbors back home. But also…”

He turned the paper toward her, tapping a narrow headline at the bottom of the page. Sightings of Dangerous Villain Group Increase near Kanegawa.

“It’s even in the newspapers now.”

Aiko’s expression didn’t shift, but her eyes moved to meet his. Calm. Steady. “They think we’ll return.”

Tetsurō gave a solemn nod. “You understand why we can’t, right?”

“Yes. I know.”

Then, more quietly, she added, “But they can’t find us because that tracker with the detection quirk… he was sent to Tartarus before we moved here.”

“That’s true,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we stop being careful.”

She nodded once, jaw tight. “Mm.”

“You’ve done well staying out of sight. But there’s something else,” he added, leaning forward slightly. “Your hair.”

Aiko blinked. “My hair?”

He tapped the side of his head. “The blue. It’s… memorable. If anyone’s still hunting for you—and we both know someone is—it’s a detail they won’t forget.”

She stiffened, her fingers brushing the streak loosely as if just remembering it was there. “It’s just hair.”

“It’s a flag, Aiko.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but firm. “In a crowd, at the beach, in a photo—it’s something they’ll latch onto.”

A pause. Then:

“I’m not telling you to erase yourself. But maybe… dull the shine. Just until it’s safer.”

Aiko went quiet for a moment, eyes on the newspaper but thoughts elsewhere. Then softly, she asked, “What should I do?”

Tetsurō didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood and wiped his hands on a cloth. “Come.”

She hesitated, then stepped forward, her shoulders a little tense.

He reached for a shallow dish near the forge, fingers dipping into a small mound of dark soot—the same fine powder he used to finish blades, dense and clinging.

Aiko watched silently as he reached up. His fingers brushed her hair gently, carefully coating the blue streaks with the blackened dust. The bright color dulled instantly, melting into the rest of her dark hair until the difference was almost invisible.

“There,” he said, brushing his palms together. “It’ll wash out, but it should do for today.”

Aiko stepped back and glanced at the mirror on the wall, pulling her hair forward over her shoulders. The blue was gone. Just black now. Safer. Plainer.

She studied her reflection for a long moment. “I look so different,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Tetsurō’s voice came quietly from behind her. “That’s the point.”

She picked up her backpack from where she’d left it and slung it over one shoulder. “Thanks,” she murmured, quiet but sincere.

As she moved toward the door, his voice stopped her—low, steady.

“Hold on.”

She turned, and he gently tossed something her way. She caught it without needing to look.

Her cap.

“Don’t forget it,” he said, softer now. “It’s not just your hair. Your face, your eyes… they stand out. People remember you, Aiko.”

Aiko blinked, surprised for half a second—then smiled.

“Thank you granddad,” she said quietly. She pulled it on, adjusting it just enough to shadow her eyes, and gave a short nod before stepping out into the light.

Behind her, Tetsurō returned to his workbench, settling back into his seat. But his eyes lingered on the door a moment longer, thoughtful and tense. Then, with a quiet sigh, he picked up one of the knee guards and resumed polishing, the steady motion of his hands betraying a deeper worry he didn’t voice.

Aiko walked quickly, feet crunching the gravel path as the morning sun climbed higher. By the time she reached the beach, Izuku was already deep into his workout—palms pressed to the sand, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt.

She broke into a jog, one hand gripping the strap of her backpack, the other adjusting the black cap low over her brow. Her heart was still beating fast—less from the walk, more from the thing she’d been dying to tell him since last night.

“Izuku!” she called out, barely able to contain herself. “You’re not going to believe what—”

He turned his head mid-pushup—and froze.

His arms gave out. He hit the sand with a soft thud, blinking up at her like he was seeing a ghost.

“W-what happened to your hair?!”

Aiko blinked. “Huh?”

He sat up quickly, wiping his hands on his shorts, green eyes wide. “It’s all—black.”

She reached up, fingers brushing the ends near her shoulder. “Oh. Right. The streaks are gone.”

“Gone?” he echoed, still staring.

Aiko gave a small, sheepish laugh. “Granddad said the blue was too recognizable. He smeared soot through it this morning. Just temporary.”

Izuku tilted his head. “You look… different.”

“Safer,” she said softly, slipping off her cap and smoothing her hair down with one hand. She gave a small, uncertain smile. “Not quite as cute though, huh?”

Izuku blinked fast. “N-no! I didn’t mean—! I mean—you look—!”

Aiko gave a quiet laugh, glancing down. “Emo?”

He turned red instantly. “N-no! Not like that! I mean—kinda—but in a cool way! Like… cool-emo. Mysterious. Not sad or anything—just, like—”

She looked back up at him with a small smile. “Mysterious, huh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered. “You actually look really… striking. I mean it.”

Aiko paused, then laughed. “It’s supposed to make me stand out less, not more.”

He looked at her, eyes soft, then mumbled quietly, “Right… yeah. Sorry. Just… nothing could really make you stand out less.”

Aiko blinked, her cheeks warming. She brushed her hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”

Then her expression shifted, her posture tightening slightly. “Anyway,” she said, lowering her voice, “listen. Something happened last night.”

Izuku’s smile faded in an instant. “What is it?”

She glanced around out of instinct, then stepped closer.

“Kacchan showed up. Outside my home.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “What?! Did he hurt you?”

Aiko shook her head. “No. Just… cornered me.”

His jaw tensed. “How does he even know where you live?!”

“He was probably following us.” Her arms folded loosely. “I’m more baffled about how he knows my name.”

Izuku paused, trying to rewind through the memory. “I… I think I said it. When he tried blasting you. I yelled it.”

Aiko gave him a look. “No way he remembered it just from that one time.”

He nodded. “Kacchan’s… sharp. He pretends not to listen, but he catches everything. He’s always been like that.”

“That’s what worries me,” she muttered. “He didn’t just show up to posture. He was digging for answers. About my quirk.”

Izuku’s brows knit. “Did you tell him anything?”

“Of course not. But I think he’s gonna keep pressing. He’s suspicious now.”

Her eyes flicked to the sand, brows tightening. “And if he’s already that suspicious… it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?”

Izuku didn’t answer right away.

She looked up at him, voice low again, almost breathless. “What if he finds out? What if he exposes me? What if he tells a teacher, or worse—tells the Commission?”

Izuku let out a shaky breath. “If Kacchan really wants to get to the bottom of things…” He hesitated, then gave a grim nod. “It’s not far-fetched. He’s relentless when something’s under his skin.”

He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “But he wouldn’t tell anyone. Not a teacher, and definitely not the Commission. He’s not like that.”

Aiko folded her arms, suddenly cold despite the sun. “So what do we do?”

Izuku looked away, thinking.

Aiko’s arms tightened around herself. “Maybe I should just… talk to him. Explain something. Anything.”

Izuku’s eyes snapped to hers. “No—don’t do that.”

She blinked. “Why not?”

“Because it’ll make things worse,” he said quickly. “Kacchan… he doesn’t talk. He pushes. Presses. If he smells blood, he doesn’t stop until—” His words trailed off, jaw tight. “He won’t let it go.”

Aiko frowned. “So we just do nothing?”

“I didn’t say that,” Izuku murmured. “We just… we lay low. We keep things normal. The more attention you draw, the more curious he’ll get.”

Aiko looked down, biting the inside of her cheek. “You’re really scared of him, huh?”

He didn’t deny it. He hesitated, then admitted quietly, “He’s bullied me for years. Ever since we were kids. He… really hates me.”

Aiko studied him for a moment. “No. He doesn’t.”

Izuku blinked, startled. “What do you mean? Of course he does—he’s spent my whole life proving it.”

She tilted her head slightly, voice soft but certain. “If you truly hated someone, would you really waste your time and energy on them? Every word, every fight… it’s attention. He notices you, Izuku. More than anyone.”

Izuku’s eyes flicked up, confusion, and something more vulnerable, swimming in his gaze.

Aiko’s tone gentled. “Hate is easy. What he feels for you… it’s more complicated than that.”

For a moment, Izuku didn’t know what to say. His throat worked, but no words came out.

Aiko looked away, almost sheepish, as though she’d said too much. “Doesn’t mean he isn’t awful,” she added quickly. “But I don’t think hate is the right word.”

Silence lingered between them, the wind tugging faintly at their sleeves.

“But alright,” she sighed. “I won’t go near him. I don’t like this, though.”

“Mm. I don’t either,” Izuku said, his voice softer now.

He stepped closer, hesitating only a second before reaching out. His hand found hers, fingers curling gently around her knuckles.

She flinched—barely. Just a tiny hitch in her grip, like she was trying not to let it show.

His eyes lifted to hers, concern flickering in his gaze. “Did I hurt you?”

Aiko shook her head, too fast. “No—just sore. I… scraped it a little, the other day.”

He didn’t press, but the crease between his brows deepened faintly.

Still, her shoulders eased, and after a moment, a small, genuine smile pulled at her lips. She gave his hand a soft squeeze.

“If anything happens…” he murmured, thumb brushing lightly across her fingers, “we’ll handle it. Together.”

For a beat, they just held each other’s gaze, the world quiet around them.

Izuku swallowed, his cheeks pink as he searched her eyes. “I might be… a little… scared of him,” he admitted softly. “But I won’t let him hurt my…” His voice faltered, words catching. “…my girlfriend.”

Aiko’s eyes widened, a blush rising fast to her cheeks. She ducked her head, but her gaze flicked up shyly through her lashes.

Izuku’s own face was crimson now. He fumbled, stammering, “Is… is that… I mean… you are… aren’t you?”

Heat flared across her cheeks, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes right away.

For a moment she only looked down, her lashes low, but her fingers curled more firmly around his, holding on as if she didn’t want to let go.

“P-please…” he whispered, voice small but earnest, the word trembling between them.

Her heart fluttered so hard it almost hurt. Her pulse skipped, chest tightening as her eyes fluttered closed for half a second—because he was too much. Too impossibly sweet, too painfully earnest, it made her ache in the best way.

“…Mmhmm,” she breathed, the softest sound slipping out, shaky but certain.

Then—very slowly—she nodded, a small, bashful smile tugging at her lips. Her cheeks flushed deeper as her eyes flicked up to his.

Izuku exhaled, almost a laugh, shaky and disbelieving. His eyes shone, the faintest sheen catching in the corners, like the happiness was too much to hold without spilling over. Her chest clenched at the sight, tender and aching. His thumb brushed gently over her knuckles, anchoring the fragile new truth between them.

And then, so slight it might have been imagined, Aiko gave the faintest tug at his hand, pulling him a fraction closer.

His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around hers just a little—and her heart leapt, because even without words, she knew what he was saying: I’m yours.