Chapter 16: Aria

Summer break ended, and fall crept in. The mornings grew cooler, the skies sharper, the breeze tinged with salt and smoke. But the rhythm remained. Every morning before school, Aiko met Izuku at the beach—training, collecting scrap, cheering him on as he pushed through another round of exercises. In the afternoons, they returned together, side by side in the waning light, clearing debris until the shoreline looked less like a dump and more like a beach again.

The routine grounded them. Izuku grew stronger—steadier. His arms now carried definition, and he moved with more confidence. His steps were firmer, his breath no longer short after each round. His body was catching up to his spirit, slowly becoming the kind of vessel that could shoulder the weight of his dreams. And Aiko, without meaning to, got stronger too—her grip steadier, her muscles more responsive, her presence wasn’t just quiet support anymore—it had become a quiet strength of its own.

“You look exhausted,” Aiko said, one hand on her hip as she stepped onto the sand. “Maybe you should take a day off.”

Izuku didn’t pause his reps. “I’m fine.”

“You say that every day,” she muttered, crouching near his bag. She pulled out a folded paper—creased and slightly smudged. “It literally says here that you’re meant to take rest days.”

He glanced over, breathing hard. His eyes landed on the paper in her hand, and he sighed.

“It’s already November,” he said, brushing sand from his palms. “I’ve only got, what… three months left? Before the entrance exams?”

Aiko raised an eyebrow, holding up the crumpled workout schedule All Might had given him. “And this schedule you’re ignoring? Pretty sure the guy who wrote it knows a thing or two about training.”

He dropped down for another set of push-ups. “That’s more like… a suggestion.”

She scoffed. “That is the complete opposite of what a schedule is.”

He didn’t reply—just kept moving, muscles tight, expression focused.

Aiko stepped closer, her voice softening. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know. I already see how hard you’re working.”

Still nothing. He shifted into a new position, starting another round.

“At least take a proper break between sets,” she said gently. “Walk it off. Breathe. You’ll last longer that way.”

This time, Izuku did pause—just for a second. He sat back on his heels, catching his breath, sweat clinging to the edge of his hairline. Then he glanced up at her with a small smile.

“I know,” he said. “I just… I feel like if I stop, I’ll lose momentum.”

Aiko’s gaze softened. “Or maybe if you keep pushing like this, you’ll burn out.”

He didn’t respond right away.

She crouched beside him and nudged the water bottle toward his hands. “I’m not saying stop. Just… slow down enough that you actually make it to the goal.”

Izuku looked at the bottle, then at her—and gave a small nod, reaching for it. He took a long sip, the cool water a small relief against the heat lingering in his chest.

Aiko stayed crouched beside him, elbows resting on her knees. She tilted her head slightly, watching him.

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly.

He glanced at her, caught off guard by the softness in her voice.

“You’re amazing, Izuku,” she continued, steady now. “Any other person probably would have given up by now, but you don’t even know how, do you?” Her voice dipped. “You’re the most dedicated, disciplined person I’ve ever met. It’s kind of… hard not to admire that.”

Izuku blinked, eyes shining faintly. He looked down, then back at her—like he wasn’t sure what to do with the weight of her words.

“Thank you,” he said, voice soft. He rubbed quickly at his eye, trying to pass it off like something in the air. “I… I really needed to hear that.”

A small, fragile smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his gaze stayed steady on hers, quietly full of gratitude.

Aiko tilted her head again, her smile quiet and sincere. “And you’ve come so far. I can barely keep up with you now.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” she said, nudging his arm with her shoulder. “You used to struggle with those busted TVs. Now you’re out here catching vending machines like it’s nothing.”

He glanced sideways at her, a grin tugging at his lips. “You were impressed, huh?”

Her cheeks warmed, and she glanced down at the sand before admitting, “…Mmm. A little.”

“Just a little?” he teased.

She bit her lip, then laughed softly. “Well… it was… hot.”

Color shot up his cheeks. He froze for half a second, like the word alone had short-circuited him. “A-Aiko!”

Her own blush deepened, she looked away quickly.

“I wasn’t trying to look… hot,” he mumbled, still flustered. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Her smile softened into something gentler. “I know. That’s what made it even better.”

He glanced sideways at her, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’ve gotten stronger too, y’know.”

Aiko tilted her head, mock suspicious. “Was that a compliment?”

Izuku blinked. “Uh—yeah? Technically.”

She gave a little snort, brushing sand off her sweatpants as she stood. “Well, thank you. I guess.”

“I’m serious,” he said, standing with her. “You’re, like… deceptively jacked.”

Before she could retort, he reached out and pinched her bicep playfully. “Seriously—feel that. Is that steel? Is this why the vending machines are scared of you now?”

She struck a dramatic pose, pulling up the sleeve of her hoodie and flexing. “I should start charging you to feel these guns.”

He laughed. “Right, and I’ll start carrying around protein bars just to keep up.”

“Smart move,” she said, elbowing him gently. “You’ll need them when I start benching you for warm-ups.”

“Oh no,” he groaned, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Humiliated on the beach and outlifted by my tiny girlfriend. My pride!”

“Don’t worry,” she teased, grinning. “I’ll let you pretend you’re still the strong one.”

They laughed for a moment, the warmth between them lingering in the air like sunlight on the sand.

“Alright,” he said, still smiling. “One more round. Then I’ll head to school.”

Aiko gave a mock sigh. “Fine. But only one. And you better have breakfast today.”

Izuku rolled his eyes, teasing. “Yeah, yeah…”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I’ll check with your mom this weekend if you don’t.”

Before she could turn, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, tugging her down beside him.

“Then you’re doing this set with me,” he said, grinning. “No take-backs.”

Aiko let out a surprised squeak as she stumbled into the sand.

He laughed, eyes bright. “Fair’s fair.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “Well, I’m in a generous mood today.”

“Always so generous,” he teased, dropping back to start his set.

“Mmhm,” she said, dropping beside him with a dramatic sigh. “You better not collapse mid-pushup.”

He laughed, glancing her way. “I don’t collapse.”

She peeked sideways at him as he started his set, a soft warmth blooming in her chest. Somehow, even the sand didn’t feel uncomfortable when he was around.

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning, Aiko arrived early—backpack slung over one shoulder, cap low over her brow. The tide was low, the sea quiet. A few gulls floated overhead, their cries distant.

Izuku wasn’t training.

He was sitting on a half-buried chest of drawers, elbows resting on his knees, water bottle dangling from one hand. His hair looked a little messier than usual. He was already in his school uniform—neat, but slightly rumpled. No sweat. No movement. Just… still.

She slowed her steps. “You’re not working out?”

He looked up, caught off guard. “Oh. Morning.”

She gave him a curious look, dropping her bag beside her. “Everything okay?”

He looked up at her, sheepish. “Uh. Yeah. About that…”

A pause.

“You were right,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I… might’ve collapsed yesterday. When I was with All Might.”

Aiko blinked. Her expression shifted instantly—eyes wide, posture tightening. “What?!”

She stepped closer without thinking, searching his face like she was checking for injuries he hadn’t mentioned. Her voice wavered just slightly, the worry sharp and sudden. “You collapsed?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said quickly, hands up. “Just—y’know—fainted for a second. Maybe two. Tops.”

Her shoulders stayed tense. “You fainted for two whole seconds?!”

He sank lower onto the drawers. “Okay, maybe a little longer.”

“Izuku!”

“I-I’m resting now!” he said, gesturing at himself. “See? Sitting. Hydrated. Definitely not doing push-ups.”

Aiko let out a slow breath, the tension leaving her all at once as she eased down beside him. “Good.”

She sighed. “So. Officially grounded by All Might?”

“Basically,” he said, nodding. “He made me promise I’d take today off. And at least one day over the weekend.”

“Good,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. “Because I was gonna tie you to that rusted shopping cart if you didn’t take a break.”

He smiled, looking a little more at ease. “Feels kinda weird not moving.”

“You’ll survive,” Aiko muttered. “Barely.”

He laughed under his breath and nudged her knee with his. “Guess I’m lucky you’re so caring.”

“Mmhm,” she said, eyes on the waves. “Don’t forget it.”

They spent the next half hour gathering scrap metal, letting the rhythm of the work fill the silence. Aiko dragged a half-bent pipe from under a pile of rusted cans, while Izuku kicked aside a tangle of wires.

Now and then, he’d call out something like, “This look usable?” and she’d give a thumbs-up or shake her head without looking up. The moments passed quickly, marked only by the shifting sun and the gentle clang of metal meeting metal.

Eventually, they settled back on the drawers again, the sky starting to warm, the air carrying that faint metallic scent of ocean mist and rust. Aiko sat carefully, the heavy bag at her feet, feeling the quiet satisfaction that always followed a productive morning.

Then, softly—almost like he was still thinking it through—Izuku said, “I didn’t think I could really do this, y’know. Be strong enough. Until you started showing up.”

Aiko turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden honesty. He wasn’t smiling. Just staring at the sand.

She was quiet for a beat, then said gently, “I didn’t do anything. This is all you… You always had it in you.” A pause. “I’m just the weird girl loitering on the sidelines, watching you like a creep.”

Izuku let out a soft laugh, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and gratitude. He didn’t look at her right away, just kept his eyes on the sand, but a faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Then, after a pause:

“No, honestly… at the start, I—I couldn’t even see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’d look at myself, at where I was, and I just…” He trailed off, fingers curling slightly around the water bottle. “I couldn’t see how I was ever going to get stronger. I thought maybe… maybe I’d been stupid to even try.”

Aiko said nothing. Just watched him.

He hesitated, then added more quietly, “But then… you came into my life. And suddenly… I wasn’t doing it alone anymore. I didn’t feel like I was losing.”

Aiko’s eyes glistened as she watched him.

“You gave me hope,” he said, finally looking up at her. “Made me really believe in myself—like maybe I could actually get into U.A.”

She held his gaze, her heart tightening. Slowly, she reached over and slipped her hand into his.

“Well,” she said softly, “I’m not going anywhere now.”

Izuku’s eyes shimmered as he glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. His fingers curled gently around hers, like it grounded him.

After a beat, he looked up at her. “What was your school like?”

Aiko drew in a slow breath, her gaze drifting toward the waves. “It was… different.”

She looked down at their joined hands. “It was a school for kids with dangerous—” her eyes flicked up to meet his, softening—“strong quirks.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed with focus, his shoulders inching forward as if he couldn’t help but lean closer, hanging on every word.

“Training was intense. We did a lot of quirk analysis, drills, simulations. Stealth techniques.” She held his gaze now. “You know how hero schools want you to be loud and flashy for the crowds? My school was the opposite. We were expected to be invisible.”

His brows shot up.

“They weren’t training heroes there,” she finished quietly. “They were training operatives.”

Izuku froze, eyes widening. His head jerked back slightly, then forward again as if to make sure he’d heard her right. His grip on the water bottle slipped, and he caught it clumsily against his knee.

“Wait—you mean… like… actual operatives?!” His voice cracked a little as he scrambled to catch up, hands moving as if trying to piece the picture together in the air. “I thought you were gonna say, like… I don’t know, strict teachers, or maybe extra PE classes—not secret-agent level training!”

Aiko side-eyed him then, the corner of her mouth tugging upward despite herself. His earnest shock was almost endearing.

He blinked rapidly, the questions piling faster than he could stop them. “Did you—did you have missions? Were you monitored all the time? What kind of drills did they even make you do at that age—?!”

He cut himself off with a flustered wave of his hand. “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to bombard you, I just—wow. That’s…”

Aiko’s lips twitched faintly, but she nodded. “We didn’t go on real missions, not at middle school age. It was all simulations, controlled environments. We’d run surveillance exercises, practice infiltration in mock city blocks, do coded communication drills, even things like tailing and counter-surveillance. By first year of high school, they’d send us into the field for low-risk assignments—observations, information gathering. Second year, you’d be assisting on actual missions.”

Izuku’s jaw all but dropped, eyes wide as he stared at her, drinking in every word like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Discipline was everything,” Aiko continued. “Every quirk use, every spar, every drill was logged. Not to restrict us, but so we could see our progress. Week by week, you could feel yourself getting stronger. The training was exceptional, better than anywhere else, I’m sure of it.”

Izuku swallowed hard, his penless hand twitching like he wanted desperately to be scribbling notes, mind already cataloguing everything.

Her expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “And it wasn’t all rigid. We had tournaments, stealth trials, quirk festivals. Competitive and intense, but it was exhilarating. Everyone wanted to prove themselves, and in the end, it drove us all forward.”

She paused, her gaze distant. “But it was… contained. Everything happened inside the school grounds. Even getting to and from school was controlled. Each student had a car pick them up and drop them off, so no one’s families could be identified. Secrecy was the rule. You never really knew who anyone was outside those gates.”

“The school didn’t even have a website,” she added softly. “No application process, no advertising. Agents just… found you. You’d be invited to take the entrance exam, and if you passed, you were in.” She looked at him then, meeting his wide-eyed stare with something quieter. “I was invited because of my dad.”

For a long moment Izuku just looked at her, his expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. Then, with a small shake of his head, he murmured, “That’s… insane. I can’t believe you went through all of that in middle school.”

Aiko smiled faintly. “Some quirks needed to be honed early. Mine wasn’t the only one.”

He hesitated, then asked, “Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, her gaze softening. “Not the rules or the pressure… but my operatives—” she caught herself, lips twitching slightly, “my classmates. Especially Reverie.”

Izuku blinked. “That’s… an unusual name.”

Aiko glanced at him sideways, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “That was her code name.”

Izuku sat up a little straighter, his jaw falling open again. “Code name? You all had code names? Like… like, hero names?” His hands twitched like he wanted to grab a notebook, his words tumbling faster than he meant. “That’s… wow, that’s straight out of a pro manual.” He caught himself, flushing faintly. “S-sorry, that’s just… really cool.”

“Mmhmm.” She smirked. “They were assigned on the first day. Chosen for us based on how we performed in our entrance exams. We were never allowed to disclose our real names—I have no idea what hers even is. We didn’t know much about each other beyond the codes we were given.”

A small warmth flickered in her eyes. “Reverie… she had this crazy quirk. She could manipulate memories—erase them, plant new ones.” Aiko’s eyes flicked to Izuku. “She could drive someone insane if she wanted.”

Izuku’s eyes widened; he swallowed.

Aiko let out a laugh. “Relax. She was the biggest goody two-shoes you’ve ever met. She’d never go rogue. One time she got an extra sushi roll at the cafeteria by mistake and went straight to the principal’s office to confess.”

The laugh came easier now, lightening the air between them.

Izuku tilted his head, curiosity plain on his face. “So… what was your code name?”

Aiko’s lips curved. “Aria.”

Izuku froze for a beat, the word hanging in the air between them. His eyes widened, as if just the sound of it struck him. “Aria…” he echoed softly, almost reverently, like he was already impressed before even knowing why.

“What does it mean?” he asked, leaning in.

“It’s a musical term,” she explained. “An aria is when a single voice takes the stage alone—the spotlight’s only on them, carrying everything themselves.” Her eyes glimmered faintly at the memory.

Izuku’s chest swelled, a kind of awe washing over him. The name didn’t just sound beautiful, it fit her. Strong, singular, unforgettable.

She looked at him, the corner of her mouth lifting as if she were holding back a small laugh, amused at her own memory.

“In the entrance exams… I basically soloed everyone.”

His eyes widened further, brows lifting, before he let out a quiet, breathy laugh—like he couldn’t quite believe she was real sometimes.

Aiko’s smile softened as she glanced down at their joined hands. “I had a lot of early training with my quirk because of Dad. He’d come home with a different quirk every night, and we’d… play with them, test things out. At the time it just felt like a game. But once I got into school, I realized he’d been training me all along. Most of the other kids didn’t have that advantage.”

Izuku just stared at her, blinking. After a long moment, he shook his head with a smile, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of her hand.

“Aria,” he repeated softly. “A beautiful code name… for a beautiful stealth girl.”

Her smile lingered, warm and amused.

“You never thought about becoming a hero?” he asked after a pause. “Reverberate seems like the kind of quirk that’d look amazing on TV.”

Aiko smiled at that. “Some of the kids from my school did go on to hero schools. But… when your quirk’s super rare or versatile…” She gave a small, wry tilt of her head. “They prefer you to work under cover.”

Izuku’s brows furrowed faintly, but he didn’t push. He just nodded, eyes thoughtful.

They sat like that for a while, saying nothing. Just watching the waves. Letting the silence stretch.

Izuku rolled the water bottle between his palms, a small smile tugging at his mouth. Then he shifted slightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Hey… there’s a Hero Day thing this weekend at the amusement park. Rides, food stalls, an exhibition. Do you wanna go? I thought it might be fun.”

Aiko turned to him, interest flickering in her eyes. “That does sound fun.”

“I already checked with my mom,” he said, a little shyly. “She said she’d cover the tickets for us.”

She smiled. “That’s so sweet of her.”

“So just ask Hoshino-san,” he added. “If he’s okay with it, we’ll go.”

She gave a soft nod. “I’ll ask granddad tonight.”

“Cool,” Izuku said, nudging her knee with his. “Then it’s a date… my pretty little stealth girl.”

Aiko let out a laugh, giving his shoulder a playful shove, though her cheeks were pink.