Chapter 17: Do You Want To Share A Crepe?

“There,” said Tetsurō, brushing the last bit of black soot across her hair, covering the telltale blue streaks. “Now you look like any other girl.”

Aiko scrunched her nose. “Gee, thanks. Can we go now before it sets my scalp on fire?”

Tetsurō chuckled. “Off you go then. Have fun—but keep a low profile, alright?”

Then he turned to Izuku, his expression soft but firm. “Take good care of her, Midoriya.”

“I will, sir,” Izuku said, bowing slightly.

Aiko grabbed her little crossbody purse and gave her granddad a quick wave as she and Izuku slipped out the door.

On the train, Aiko sat beside Izuku, her eyes flicking to the window as the skyline shifted past. Glass towers, tiny rooftops, distant bridges. Her reflection moved faintly alongside it all, a quiet ghost layered over the blur.

“It’s beautiful from up here,” she murmured.

Izuku glanced over and smiled. “Just wait till we get there.”

By the next stop, the train had grown crowded—teenagers, families, couples, all crammed together with bags and camera cases slung over shoulders. As they rattled closer to the venue, the crowd shifted—more and more people boarding in bright merch or full-blown hero cosplay.

A girl in a Hawks jacket leaned against the pole beside them. A trio of friends squeezed in near the door, two of them dressed as Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods, the third carrying a hilariously oversized Ingenium helmet.

Aiko’s brows lifted slightly, her mouth twitching. “You should’ve dressed up as All Might,” she whispered.

Izuku leaned closer with a grin. “You totally missed your chance to go as Midnight. I bet you’d rock that leather corset.”

She shot him a look, trying not to smile. “Yeah, I’ll pass on the corset and six-inch heels, thanks.”

They both laughed quietly, pressed shoulder to shoulder by the swaying crowd.

Aiko brushed her hair behind her ear, her voice softer now. “Some of these cosplays are really good.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Makes it feel like we’re already inside the event.”

She glanced around once more, scanning the car. But no one looked her way. Just another face in the crowd.

The station exit spilled into a sea of color and motion—booths lined the plaza, costumed fans bustled through security gates, and overhead banners rippled in the breeze: Hero Day Festival—Honoring the Next Generation.

Izuku pulled a slightly crumpled paper from his back pocket and held it up to the scanner. A beep. A green light.

A moment later, they were in. Aiko barely took two steps before her eyes locked on a high-speed rollercoaster painted like Gran Torino’s costume. Her smile widened. “Oh my god. We’re going on that!”

“Wait—what?” Izuku turned to look just in time to see her take off.

“C’mon, let’s go before the line gets bad!” she called over her shoulder, already weaving through the crowd.

He scrambled after her. “Are you sure you want to start with that?”

She threw him a grin. “What, scared?”

“N-No,” he said quickly, then quieter, “just… emotionally unprepared.”

They joined the end of the line—already winding past a mock hero agency façade—and the coaster screamed overhead, twisting in a corkscrew of smoke and steel. Aiko bounced slightly on her toes, eyes bright.

Izuku watched her for a second, then shook his head with a helpless smile. “Alright,” he said. “If we die, it’s your fault.”

She nudged his arm. “Deal.”

A few minutes later, they stumbled off the exit ramp, windblown and breathless.

Izuku staggered slightly, one hand on his stomach. “I think… I left my soul back on turn three.”

Aiko was already laughing, hair tousled and eyes gleaming. “You screamed louder than the kid two rows behind us.”

“I did not,” he muttered, visibly trying to walk in a straight line.

She patted his back, mock sympathetic. “I think I saw your life flash before my eyes.”

He shot her a look. “Next time, you’re sitting on the outside. I almost flew out.”

Aiko just smirked. “You really think I’d survive the outer seat? I’d get launched like a paper airplane.”

He groaned. “I’m never letting you pick the first ride again.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, still laughing as she looped her arm through his. “You’re in one piece. I’m proud of you.”

“I think my organs rearranged,” he mumbled, letting her drag him toward the next ride.

By the time they stumbled off that ride—some spinning, upside-down monstrosity—Izuku looked borderline ghostly.

“That one was worse,” he said weakly, hand on the nearest railing.

Aiko couldn’t stop giggling. “You looked like you were trying to phase through the seat.”

“I think I did,” he muttered. “My soul’s just doing laps at this point.” He gave her a side glance. “Honestly, I can’t believe they even let someone your size on that thing.”

She smirked.

“I think I ruptured something,” he groaned.

Aiko grinned, then finally took pity. “Alright, alright. Let’s take a break from the rides.”

They wandered through the park for a while, weaving between game stalls and food carts. The smell of buttered popcorn and fried noodles hung in the air, and the shouts of excited kids echoed across the grounds.

Then Izuku slowed, pointing across the plaza. “That’s my kind of ride.”

Aiko followed his gaze to a tall Ferris wheel, its bright gondolas slowly turning against the sky.

She raised an eyebrow. “What, no corkscrews or death drops?”

“Nope,” he said. “Just sitting. Peaceful. Gravity not trying to kill us.”

She snorted. “Alright, old man. Let’s go.”

The Ferris wheel creaked gently as it brought them back down, the breeze cooler now, brushing softly against their cheeks. Aiko stepped out of the gondola first, stretching her arms overhead with a satisfied sigh.

“That,” she said, “was more your speed, huh?”

Izuku followed after her, hands tucked in his pockets. “Way better. Nothing tried to launch me into orbit.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Glad you survived.”

They drifted through the crowd again, the plaza buzzing with music, chatter, and the occasional burst of confetti from pop-up photo booths. Just past a row of souvenir stands, a large banner flapped overhead: “Pro Hero Showcase: Gadgets, Costumes, Legacy!”

Izuku slowed, eyes going wide. “Whoa. I didn’t know they had a whole exhibit.”

Aiko smiled. “Come on, then.”

Inside, the space was lined with rows of glass cases and life-size mannequins dressed in replica hero suits. Bright spotlights lit up each display. There were even mock battle maps and gadget breakdowns with buttons to press and sound effects to trigger.

Izuku practically lit up.

“Whoa, check this out!” Izuku said, stopping short in front of a replica of Kamui Woods’ costume. “They actually used replica restraint fiber—see that threading? It’s routed through the sleeves to mimic his Arbor-style combat method. He uses it to immobilize villains at mid-range before they even get close.”

He leaned in a little, eyes shining. “And the material? It’s a synthetic polymer blend, super elastic but with ridiculous tensile strength. The real stuff can hold up against shockwaves and blunt-force attacks.”

She grinned, folding her arms. “You know that without even reading the plaque, don’t you?”

He hesitated just long enough to give himself away.

She bumped his arm lightly. “Nerd.”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, smiling faintly, but not minding it all that much.

They moved on to the next display—a mannequin dressed in sleek, structured denim, standing tall beside a giant spool of thread.

Izuku perked up again. “That’s Best Jeanist’s hero uniform. See the reinforced stitching and the triple-layer collar? It’s not just for looks—he uses those threads like whips. He can control any fabric with his quirk, but denim gives him the most strength.”

Aiko tilted her head, genuinely curious. “That’s actually kind of cool. So it’s all functional?”

He nodded. “Super functional. He’s one of the top heroes for a reason.”

She smiled, watching him light up. “You really know your stuff.”

He scratched his cheek, a little embarrassed. “I, uh… read a lot.”

Aiko leaned in, lowering her voice just slightly. “You know, it’s kinda cute—how excited you get about this stuff.”

His blush deepened, but he smiled. “Thanks.”

They moved from display to display. A full-size image of All Might in battle pose towered over the far wall, with a cracked glove in a glass case beneath it. Beside it, a fake notebook display had scribbled stats and sketches—clearly made to look like something a fan might’ve kept.

Izuku stared at it for a long moment.

Aiko glanced at him, her voice a little softer. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly, looking down. “It’s just… cool. Seeing this kind of stuff in real life.”

Aiko smiled. “Makes it feel closer, doesn’t it?”

He gave a quiet “Yeah,” then wandered to the next case, still wide-eyed.

She watched him for a moment, then said, “You look like you’re gonna cry.”

He hesitated. “Sorry. I just—this stuff always made me feel like maybe, someday, I could—” He stopped himself and looked away, embarrassed.

Aiko reached out and touched his arm, gentle and steady. “You will.”

Then, her smile faded. Her eyes widened suddenly, and without a word, she grabbed Izuku’s arm and yanked him down behind the edge of the display.

He nearly tripped over his own feet. “Wh-What—?!”

“Shh!” she hissed, crouching low behind the fake notebook stand. “It’s Kacchan!”

Izuku blinked, heart skipping. “What? Where!?”

She nodded toward the far side of the exhibit hall. “By the souvenir booth.”

Izuku carefully peeked around the edge. Sure enough, Bakugo was there, scowling like the merchandise had personally offended him.

“Oh no,” Izuku muttered, ducking back down. “Do you think he saw us?”

“I dunno,” Aiko whispered. “But why is he always around?”

Izuku glanced at her. “So… what now?”

She grinned. “Now we run.”

They clumsily bolted from their hiding spot, weaving between a pair of cardboard standees and a cluster of unsuspecting tourists. Aiko nearly crashed into a popcorn cart, Izuku grabbed her wrist just in time to steer her clear. They didn’t stop until they were out of the exhibit hall, breathless and laughing, half-hiding behind a vending machine.

Izuku bent over, hands on his knees. “That was—”

“Close,” Aiko finished, panting. “Too close.”

He looked at her, still catching his breath. “I can’t believe we just ran from my classmate.”

She grinned. “Correction: you ran. I initiated a tactical retreat.”

He gave her a look, then started laughing again. “Okay, fine. Tactical retreat.”

They were still laughing, huddled near the vending machine, when the crowd shifted—and Bakugo stepped out of the exhibit hall.

Aiko froze mid-breath.

Izuku followed her gaze. “…Oh crap.”

“Act natural!” she whispered.

“There’s nothing natural about hiding behind snacks!”

But she was already tugging his wrist. “Come on!”

She yanked him toward a row of purikura booths nearby, their bright screens flashing animated sparkles and hearts. Aiko pulled open the curtain of the nearest one and shoved them both inside, yanking it closed behind them just as Bakugo rounded the corner.

It was cramped and dimly lit, with the soft glow of the touchscreen casting pale colors over their faces. Izuku stood stiffly, practically nose-to-nose with her.

“You think he saw us?” he whispered.

Aiko peeked through the narrow gap between curtain and wall. “He’s right there.”

Izuku stiffened. “Seriously?!”

“Shh,” she breathed. “I can see his shoes.”

They froze, barely breathing. Outside, Bakugo’s footsteps slowed—then paused.

The seconds dragged.

Then, finally, the footsteps moved on, swallowed up by the crowd again.

Izuku let out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

Aiko whispered, “How does he always show up when we least want him to?”

Izuku just shook his head. “He’s like… a mini-boss with perfect timing.”

They stood there a moment longer, the tension finally breaking into nervous giggles.

Aiko glanced at the screen. “…Wait. It’s still running.”

Izuku blinked. “Huh?”

She pointed. “The photo session. It’s counting down!”

The machine flashed.

“Wait—what?!” Izuku flinched, eyes wide.

Too late.

The first photo caught them mid-panic—both wide-eyed, crammed into the booth, limbs half tangled. The next shot was even worse: Aiko bumped into the side wall trying to get out of the frame, but lost her balance and tumbled sideways—landing half on Izuku’s lap, one knee awkwardly hooked over his leg.

“Sorry!” she hissed, laughing as she tried to shift.

“It’s fine—don’t move—!” he stammered, flustered and flushed.

The third flash caught her laughing with her hand over her mouth—Aiko’s hair tumbling loose across Izuku’s cheek as she perched on him, while he watched her for one breathless second. The final photo was quieter—both of them breathless, still tangled together, but smiling into the camera like they’d meant to be there all along.

The machine chimed and clicked, the final shutter fading into a soft mechanical whir. A slip of glossy paper slid out from the slot beside the screen.

Aiko reached over and grabbed it, still seated on his lap, holding it up between them. “Look at your face in the second one,” she whispered, laughing under her breath.

Izuku leaned in to see—and as he did, his hand lifted slowly, almost uncertainly, and came to rest lightly on her waist.

His fingers curled just slightly, a barely-there pull that brought her a fraction closer. Her heart fluttered.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured.

They sat like that for a moment just looking at their photos—quiet, close, the world outside muffled by the thin curtain.

Then Aiko tilted her head slightly. “Are you hungry?”

Izuku blinked, like surfacing from a dream. “Huh? Oh—uh, yeah. Definitely. Let’s, uh… let’s go check out the food stalls or something.”

They stepped out of the photo booth, cheeks pink but smiling, the warmth between them lingering. Aiko tucked the photo strip carefully into her crossbody bag, and Izuku ran a hand through his hair, still feeling the ghost of her weight on his lap and the softness of her waist beneath his fingers.

Trying to shake the butterflies loose, he cleared his throat. “So… uh. Food.” He glanced at her with a smile, still a little flustered. “What do you think I’m about to surprise you with?”

Aiko blinked, then turned her eyes to the rows of food stalls ahead.

Steam curled from a yakisoba grill. Skewers sizzled beside thick hot dogs. Somewhere, fresh melon bread was being pulled from a warmer. But her gaze paused at the end of the row—bright red signage, plastic trays lined with golden crinkle fries, and cartoonishly large cheeseburgers stacked in bold print.

“…Cheeseburgers?”

Izuku lit up. “Yes! How did you know?!”

Aiko narrowed her eyes. “You had no idea, did you?”

He grinned. “Not a clue. But I stand by the decision.”

She shook her head, laughing under her breath.

They got in line at one of the western-style food stands. Izuku paid, insisting before she could even reach for her wallet. "I got this. It’s a date, right?"

Aiko looked at him and blushed—then quickly looked away, flustered that he could still make her blush like this after so long.

They found a shaded bench near a small fountain, unwrapped their food, and dug in. For a few minutes, there wasn’t much said—just satisfied munching and the occasional hum of approval.

Aiko took a big bite and made a quiet “mmm” sound. “Okay, this is way better than I expected.”

Izuku nodded through a mouthful of burger. “I know, right? Western-style stuff at festivals is usually just okay, but this is legit.”

They ate quietly for a moment, surrounded by the gentle trickle of water from the fountain and the distant calls of game vendors.

Izuku wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth with a napkin, then glanced at Aiko—only to catch her staring off toward a row of booths nearby. Her veggie burger was half-forgotten in one hand, her eyes focused on something behind him.

He turned slightly, following her gaze.

A line of prize stalls stretched out just past the food court, flashing with lights and bright banners. Oversized plushies hung from the rafters—hero-themed toys, cute animals, and a towering All Might with a lopsided grin.

Aiko didn’t say anything. Just stared for a second.

Izuku looked back at her, tucking that moment away.

Then, as she popped the last bite of her burger into her mouth, he stood, brushing crumbs from his hands.

“Come on,” he said casually, like it was nothing. “I wanna check something out.”

Aiko blinked. “What?”

He didn’t answer. Just held out a hand with a smile.

They passed a row of booths—ring tosses, shooting galleries, goldfish scooping—all painted in bright colors with over-the-top hero branding. But it was the claw machine that made Aiko slow.

Inside the glass, a jumble of stuffed toys lay in a messy pile. Some were shaped like All Might, others like tiny Hawks or Best Jeanist. One of them—a little plush dressed like Edgeshot—was half-hanging off the edge of the prize chute.

“That one’s cute,” she said absently, pointing it out.

Izuku glanced at it. “You want it?”

She looked at him, startled. “What? No, I just—”

He was already digging for coins. “I can try.”

She stepped closer, arms folded lightly. “You don’t have to.”

“Too late,” he muttered, eyes narrowing in determination as he slid the first coin in.

The claw lowered. Missed. Jerked sideways. Reset.

Aiko tried not to laugh. “It’s rigged.”

“It’s not rigged,” he muttered. “I’m just adjusting.”

She leaned a little closer, placing a hand on his back. “Adjusting your grip or your pride?”

His hand slipped as he moved the joystick, and the claw veered off course again.

“Okay,” he admitted, stepping back with a crooked smile. “Maybe your proximity is messing with my aim.”

Aiko raised an eyebrow. “My proximity?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, cheeks pink. “You standing that close is kind of hazardous.”

She laughed, bumping his arm lightly. “Sure. Blame the girl.”

He smiled, a little sheepish but still warm. “Alright. I owe you something else then.”

“Oh yeah?”

His nose crinkled slightly as a warm, sweet smell drifted past. He turned toward a nearby stall where crepes were being folded and topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

“Hey,” he said, glancing at her. “Do you want to share a crepe?”

Aiko blinked—then lit up.

“Mmm… Yeah!” she said, a little too quickly, eyes brightening. “Let’s do that!”

The disappointment of the missed prize melted away as the warm, sugary scent drifted from the food stalls. Their fingers found each other again and they walked toward the stand as if the crowd had opened just for them.

The paper-wrapped crepe was warm in her hands—soft sponge folded around whipped cream, fresh strawberries, and a drizzle of chocolate. They carried it off to a quieter corner, settling onto a low bench tucked beneath a string of soft warm lights.

Aiko held it carefully, peeling the wrapper down just a little. She glanced at him. “First bite?”

Izuku leaned in hesitantly, his shoulder brushing hers. His face was close—closer than it had ever been. He took a small bite, chewing quickly, then pulled back with an awkward little smile.

She laughed softly, lifting it for a bite herself. When she lowered it again, he leaned forward for a second taste—this time closer, his breath brushing her cheek.

Their eyes caught.

Neither moved.

Her fingers stilled on the paper wrapper. His hand twitched slightly at his knee, as if he wanted to reach for hers but didn’t dare. The crepe hovered forgotten between them.

Izuku leaned in again, slower this time, his face just inches from hers as he angled toward the crepe. The space between them crackled, her pulse tripping wildly as his lips brushed the edge of the crepe.

She didn’t look at it. She couldn’t. She only looked at him.

Her chest tightened, every second stretching thinner, sweeter.

And then—when she finally tore her eyes away to take another bite—she smeared a little whipped cream across the corner of her cheek.

She blinked, flustered, wiping at it with her sleeve. “Ah—”

Izuku leaned in before thinking, voice low. “Hold on. You’ve got…”

His thumb brushed gently across her cheek, wiping away the cream. His hand lingered, warm against her skin, his thumb barely hovering now.

Her gaze snapped back to his, and the world stilled all over again.

Her heart stumbled against her ribs, her eyes flicked down just once to his mouth before darting back up.

The silence stretched, fragile and unbearably sweet.

Then—grrrmm—a low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, distant but distinct.

Izuku blinked, cheeks flaming. He pulled his hand back quickly, fumbling for composure. “There. Got it.”

Aiko blinked too, startled back into herself. Her fingers trembled faintly on the paper wrapper, like even holding the crepe steady felt suddenly delicate. But then a smile curved her lips, soft and a little shy. “…Thanks.”

They passed the crepe back and forth, finishing the last bites in a quiet that hummed with everything they weren’t saying. His knee brushed lightly against hers, and neither of them shifted away.

When she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, she caught him looking again, his blush returning as he turned quickly toward the fading evening sky. The air was cooling, but the warmth between them lingered.

Then, somewhere behind them, a girl’s voice rose sharply above the hum of the crowd.

“Hey! Get off me!”

They turned—abruptly.

Two large men stood near a drink kiosk. One of them had a heavy hand clamped on the girl’s shoulder. She couldn’t have been much older than them—long black hair with streaks of vivid blue. She pulled away from his grip.

“Jerk!” she snapped, eyes wide with alarm as she stumbled back.

The men didn’t argue. They just moved on.

To another girl.

Also black-and-blue-haired. Also young.

Aiko’s heart stuttered. A cold ripple slid down her spine. Her eyes darted toward Izuku’s, and she could see it hit him too—the slow, terrifying realization that this wasn’t a one-off.

Her throat tightened. “They’re looking for someone,” she whispered.

Grmmmmm.

Another low roll of thunder swept across the sky, closer this time. Ominous. Heavy. Like the clouds were listening.

Izuku followed the men’s movement, watched them zero in on yet another girl with similar hair. He turned to Aiko. His blood ran cold.

“They’re looking for you,” he said.

Her eyes widened. His hand found her arm.

“We need to go. Now.”

He reached down and took her hand. She didn’t argue. Just nodded, already on her feet.

They slipped through the crowd fast but quiet, weaving past food stalls and clusters of families. Aiko’s grip was tight, her pace jittery, movements growing more uneven.

Izuku glanced back at her, heart pounding. “Aiko,” he said softly, trying to steady his voice, “calm down. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She nodded again, but the fear in her eyes didn’t fade.

Aiko’s eyes scanned the crowd, pulse thrumming in her ears. They were everywhere. Men in plain clothes, approaching girls with black hair tinged in blue, green, even faint purple.

Then—

CRASH.

A sky-splitting crack of thunder—and the clouds finally gave in. Rain poured down in sheets, drenching the plaza in seconds. Gasps rippled through the crowd as umbrellas shot open and people scrambled for cover.

Izuku flinched at the sudden downpour, then turned to Aiko—his face pale.

“…Your hair.”

Her breath caught.

She looked down.

The soot-black dye in her hair was streaking. Washed out by the rain, her natural deep blue shone through in streaks down the sides of her face.

She looked up.

And locked eyes with one of the men.

He didn’t hesitate. He lifted a hand to his ear, lips moving as a faint crackle of static carried from the device. She couldn’t hear the words, but she didn’t need to. She knew what he’d said.

Target in sight.

Two others—stationed across the plaza—snapped to attention, eyes locking on her instantly.

“Aiko—go!” Izuku grabbed her wrist and yanked.

They took off.

The sound of water slapping pavement mixed with shouts and the pounding of heavy footsteps behind them. The crowd was thick, disoriented, umbrellas and bodies everywhere—but the men were cutting through it with purpose.

Izuku’s grip tightened on her wrist as they weaved through the panicked crowd. “We need to hide—”

“No!” The word burst out sharper than she meant, almost a shriek. Her throat burned, and she forced her voice lower, steadier, even as it shook. “If we—if we go static, we’re boxed. They’ll sweep the perimeter, pin us.”

His head jerked toward her, startled by the sudden edge in her tone.

Her breath came quick, uneven. “We… we stay mobile. Crowd cover—buys us time. Movement is concealment.”

Izuku started to protest—“But—”

“Trust me!” Her voice cracked, and her eyes stung as she shoved him toward a thicker knot of festival-goers. Her fingers shook in his, her chest tight and aching. “Rule one of evasion—never let yourself become a cornered target.”

For a heartbeat she thought he’d argue. But when she glanced up, she saw only the flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, fear, but also… trust. He didn’t say another word. He just ran with her.

Aiko’s soaked boots slipped slightly on the slick concrete, heart hammering in her throat. Izuku kept his grip tight, steering her around people, weaving through the maze of legs and stalls.

They turned a sharp corner, splashing through puddles, lungs burning.

Aiko’s legs were starting to shake, adrenaline pushing her forward—but her focus flicked upward as they broke into a clearing near the plaza’s central statue.

Her heart skipped.

Bakugo.

He was standing near a vendor cart, half-turned toward the noise, brow furrowed. He was sliding his jacket on, and he looked completely baffled by the sudden chaos.

Then his eyes locked with hers.

For a second, everything slowed.

The confusion in his expression deepened when he saw her face—soaked, panicked, rain-streaked soot running through her hair, her hand gripped tightly in Izuku’s. Her mouth opened slightly, breathless. She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t.

She just ran past him.

But she saw it—the flicker of something shifting behind his eyes.

Bakugo looked ahead.

Saw the men.

Three of them. Moving fast. Laser-focused.

He looked back at her.

Then at them.

Back to her.

Realization snapped into place.

BOOM.

A deafening explosion erupted just behind them—right in the villains’ path. A plume of smoke and sparks lit up the square, stopping the men short as screams burst from the surrounding crowd.

Aiko flinched mid-run, nearly stumbling. She glanced back.

Izuku did too.

Through the clearing smoke, they saw him.

Faint sparks still dancing across his palms. His eyes were locked in their direction. He didn’t say anything. Just watched.

Then, without a word, he turned.

Lowered his hand.

And walked away—like the explosion had nothing to do with him.

Aiko stared, stunned, her feet still moving.

Then Izuku tugged her forward again. “Don’t stop!”

They ran until the noise of the park had faded behind them.

Outside the grounds, Izuku spotted the small bus shelter ahead—a simple glass overhang with one bench, tucked beside a vending machine on the edge of a quieter street. He tugged her toward it, and they stumbled under the roof just as the rain grew heavier.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Their shoulders heaved. Water dripped from their clothes and hair. Aiko leaned against the cool metal of the shelter, one hand gripping the edge of the bench.

Izuku turned to her. “Are you okay?”

Aiko opened her mouth but no sound came out.

She nodded slightly, her breath catching.

Then, the sob broke before she could stop it.

Her body trembled, knees softening as the shock hit her in full. Izuku stepped forward instinctively and caught her.

She folded into his chest, arms between them, head pressing against his shoulder. He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her like it was the only thing he could do. One hand settled protectively at her back, the other cradling her shoulder.

“It’s ok…” His voice was low, steady, trembling with conviction. “…I’ve got you.”

There were no other words—just the solid warmth of him anchoring her as she cried.

✧ ✧ ✧

The train rocked gently as it carried them away from the park.

Their clothes were still damp, the floor beneath their feet slick with rain. Aiko sat beside Izuku in silence, the hum of the carriage loud around them. Her head leaned faintly against the glass, eyes fixed on the blurred lights racing past.

Izuku glanced at her. She was calm now—quiet, but not frozen. Still, he hesitated before speaking.

“Are you… going to tell your granddad?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze stayed forward, distant.

“No,” she said finally. “If I tell him, we’ll move again. He’ll make us pack up and disappear. And I’ll never see you again.”

Izuku blinked. “But—”

“I’m fine,” she cut in, gently. “Nothing happened.”

He turned a little more toward her. “Aiko…”

She shook her head. “Please don’t tell anyone. Not your mom. Not All Might. No one.”

His brows furrowed. The silence stretched between them again.

Then he gave the smallest nod. “Okay.”

They sat there for a little while, just the hum of the tracks beneath them.

Izuku broke the silence again. “Kacchan…” He didn’t finish.

Aiko spoke softly, “He helped us. I know. I saw that too.”

Izuku nodded.

Aiko stared down at her hands, voice low. “Do you remember the first time he saw me?”

Izuku looked at her, quiet.

She gave a faint, almost bitter smile. “He said he hated me.”

Izuku let out a slow breath, eyes softening. “Yeah… I remember.”

There was a pause—just long enough to hold the weight of it.

“I don’t think he knows how to feel about you,” he said gently.

Aiko looked up. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, then shrugged slightly. “You don’t back down. No one’s ever stood up to him before. I think you confuse him.”

She arched a brow. “Confuse him?”

Izuku gave a soft laugh. “You might even intrigue him.”

Aiko blinked. “Intrigue?”

“Well… you’re not scared of him. He’s not used to that.” Izuku smiled, a little sheepish. “Honestly… I think he might be a little scared of you.”

He grinned, nudging her lightly with his elbow. “I know I am.”

Aiko let out a small laugh—tired, but real.

They sat like that for the rest of the ride home—side by side in the dim train light, the world rushing past outside, and the air between them felt safe again.