Chapter 18: The Hero I See

Aiko stepped out from behind the curtain, smoothing the soft folds of her dress. It was navy, speckled with tiny sparkles that shimmered like the starry flecks in her sapphire eyes. She’d found it at a thrift shop a couple weeks ago, tucked behind a rack of forgotten band tees. Now, it fit like it had been waiting for her—thanks to Tetsurō, who’d carefully taken it in for her. She hesitated in the doorway, brushing invisible lint from the skirt, her heart fluttering slightly.

Tetsurō glanced up from where he was fastening his cuff. He wore pressed slacks and a dark button-up shirt, the collar slightly crooked. But when he looked at her, his expression softened.

“You look lovely,” he said with a warm, approving nod.

Aiko smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Should I… do my hair?” she asked hesitantly. “Put the soot in, or—?”

He gave a small shake of his head, stepping closer. “Not today. It’s your birthday. Let them see how pretty you really are.”

She blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of it.

“It’d just mess up the dress anyway,” he added with a small smile. “And besides… it’s dinner. Not a covert op.”

That earned a quiet laugh from her.

Tetsurō turned back to his workbench and reached for a small cloth-wrapped bundle tucked between a soldering iron and a tray of brass fittings. “Almost forgot.”

She tilted her head, curious, as he carefully unwrapped it.

Inside was the charm she’d found at the beach months ago.

No longer scorched and forgotten, it now gleamed. The small gear had been cleaned and lightly burnished, its teeth smooth and whole.

The bead was different. The scorched glass had been replaced with a real sapphire—small but vivid and alive. It glinted in the lamplight, reset in a custom backing and suspended from a slender silver chain, polished to a mirror finish.

Aiko’s breath caught. “You replaced it…”

Tetsurō gave a small shrug, eyes still on the pendant. “Yeah. Someone gave me the stone as payment for a job a while back—figured I’d hold onto it till I had a reason to use it.”

He looked up at her with a faint smile. “This seemed perfect.”

Aiko stepped forward, fingers brushing the charm. “It’s beautiful…”

Tetsurō clasped the chain behind her neck. “It’s strong. Like you. And it’s not gonna break again.”

She swallowed, voice soft. “Thank you.”

He smiled, quiet and fond. “You’re welcome.”

Before Aiko could answer, a sharp knock rattled the front door.

She froze, wide-eyed, breath caught in her throat.

Tetsurō looked up immediately. Her hand clutched at her skirt, but he gave a small motion toward the workshop curtain. She slipped behind it without a word, the fabric falling back into place as she held her breath.

He crossed to the door and pulled it open just enough to see. “Can I help you kids?”

Four figures stood outside, shuffling slightly under his steady gaze. For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Souta stepped forward, bowing politely.

“Good afternoon, sir. We’re friends of Aiko—we train Muay Thai with her. We just wanted to stop by and wish her a happy birthday.”

There was a pause, measured and heavy.

Behind the curtain, Aiko’s heart thudded. Then she peeked out, eyes widening.

“Souta!”

She slipped into view, the tension in her shoulders melting into surprise. Tetsurō glanced at her, then stepped aside without a word.

Aiko crossed to the doorway, smiling as she greeted them. “Oh my god!”

Souta gave a small, satisfied nod, Rika grinned wide, and Naoto offered a quiet dip of his chin. Haruki, without hesitation, stepped past the threshold like it was the most natural thing in the world. The others followed suit, lining up loosely inside the small entryway.

“Aww, you look so pretty!” Rika said, her grin widening as she gave Aiko an approving once-over.

Aiko flushed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh—thank you.”

Tetsurō smiled at the sight of four unexpected teenagers filing in, but he said nothing. He only shut the door behind them with a quiet click, watching carefully.

Aiko turned back to him, cheeks glowing. “Granddad, this is Souta, Rika, Naoto, and Haruki. They’re the ones I’ve been training with.”

Tetsurō crossed his arms, a wry smirk tugging at his mouth. “So you’re the kids Aiko’s been knocking around.”

Souta let out a short laugh, lifting his chin. “Still got the bruises to prove it.”

That earned a grin from Tetsurō, but before he could reply, Rika stepped forward with a small bow. “Thank you for letting us in, sir. I’m Rika.”

She held out a neatly wrapped plate, warm smells of sugar and butter drifting through the paper. “We baked some cookies for Aiko. Nothing fancy, but… we wanted to wish her a happy birthday.”

Aiko’s eyes widened, her smile breaking bright and unguarded. “You guys…”

Haruki shifted, his tone matter-of-fact. “They’re chocolate chip with cranberries. We hope you like them.”

Aiko accepted the plate with both hands, bowing slightly. “Thank you so much.” Her smile softened as she looked down at the neatly wrapped bundle. “You didn’t have to…”

Rika shrugged with a grin. “Birthdays need something sweet.”

Aiko loosened the paper carefully, revealing the golden-baked cookies inside. A warm, buttery scent filled the small room, flecked with melted chocolate and bright ruby dots of cranberry. Her eyes lit up. “They look amazing.”

At Tetsurō’s small nod, she picked one up, broke it in half, and took a tentative bite. The chocolate melted warm across her tongue, the cranberry sharp and sweet all at once. Her smile widened instantly.

“Mmm… They’re delicious,” she said, her voice bright with genuine delight. She glanced back up at them, cheeks glowing. “Thank you. Really.”

Then, without hesitation, she held the plate out toward the group. “Please—have some with me, before we go.”

Haruki didn’t need to be asked twice, snagging one with a grin. Rika laughed and followed, Naoto murmured a quiet thanks as he picked his piece, and even Souta reached for one, giving a wry smirk.

Tetsurō chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he took one too. “Guess I can forgive you all for showing up unannounced. These are good.”

The kids laughed, the small entryway filling with the easy warmth of shared sweets and birthday cheer.

Aiko’s gaze lifted. Around her, everyone was busy with their cookies—smiling, chatting, distracted. She let her eyes flick toward Naoto.

He was already looking at her. His expression didn’t change, but he gave the slightest nod, followed by a quick thumbs-up low at his side.

Aiko’s lips pressed into a tight smile as she dipped her chin in return. Then she looked away quickly, lifting her cookie for another bite. Her shoulders loosened just slightly, a quiet breath slipping free before she joined the chatter once more.

After a few more minutes of easy talk—promises to see each other at the next training session, a round of cheerful goodbyes, and one last reminder from Rika to enjoy the cookies—they finally filed back out. Aiko lingered by the door, waving as they disappeared down the street.

After a few more minutes of chatter—promises to see each other at the next training session, a round of cheerful goodbyes, and one last reminder from Rika to enjoy the cookies—they finally filed back out. Aiko lingered by the door, waving as they disappeared down the street.

When she turned back, Tetsurō was already straightening his cuff with a faint smirk.

Tetsurō gave a satisfied grunt, then offered his arm. “Alright, birthday girl. Let’s go meet your other family.”

Aiko took his arm and smiled. “Let’s go.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The dinner table was simple but inviting. Aiko sat opposite Izuku, beside her granddad, who settled into his seat with a quiet grunt. Across from him, Inko smiled warmly as she set down a final plate of stir-fried vegetables.

“It’s not fancy,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel, “but I hope it’s alright.”

Aiko’s eyes swept across the table. Bowls of rice, glistening tempura mushrooms, crisp tofu skewers, rolled omelets, and miso soup with wisps of green onion and seaweed. Off to one side sat a smaller dish of grilled fish—clearly separate. The effort didn’t go unnoticed.

“It looks amazing,” she said quietly.

“It really does,” Tetsurō added with a small nod of approval. “Smells like an actual restaurant.”

Inko beamed, a little flustered. “Ahh, thank you! I wasn’t sure what you both liked, so I just… tried to keep most of it veggie.”

She poured tea into the small ceramic cups in front of them. “Hoshino-san,” she said kindly, “Aiko mentioned you’re a blacksmith?”

Tetsurō gave a small nod, adjusting his chopsticks. “That’s right. I do mostly custom work these days—tools, fittings, the occasional commissioned piece. Nothing flashy.”

Inko smiled. “That’s so impressive. I’ve only seen things like that at festivals or in museums.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, the work’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Lots of soot and bad knees.”

Aiko nudged him gently. “And beautiful pendant repairs.”

He gave her a mock-stern look, but there was warmth in it. “That was a one-time exception.”

Inko’s eyes lit up. “Is that the necklace you’re wearing? It’s lovely.”

Aiko instinctively touched the gear pendant at her collarbone, fingers brushing the sapphire. “It was broken. He fixed it for me and replaced the blue bead with a sapphire.”

Inko leaned in, eyes bright. “It’s beautiful. And so unique—it really suits you.”

Izuku glanced at her, then at Aiko—his voice quieter. “Yeah, it… brings out your eyes.”

Aiko looked up at him.

Their eyes met, and lingered.

The air between them shifted… slowed. Her breath caught just slightly. And Izuku, so often flustered, didn’t look away. He just looked at her, smiling softly.

Across the table, Tetsurō glanced up, watching them quietly. Inko’s gaze followed his, and softened.

They shared a knowing smile, warm and unspoken, as the silence stretched gently around the two teens.

Tetsurō cleared his throat lightly, then glanced toward Inko with a faint smile of his own. “Be honest with me, Midoriya-san—was he always this polite, or is that new?”

Inko let out a warm laugh. “Oh, he’s always been polite. A little shy, but very sweet.”

Izuku turned slightly red.

“Granddad…” Aiko murmured under her breath, clearly mortified.

Tetsurō just smirked, taking a sip of tea. “Just making sure he’s not on his best behavior only when I’m around.”

Aiko groaned softly, hiding her face behind her chopsticks. “He is always very sweet,” she muttered.

Izuku blinked, then flushed all the way to his ears.

Inko giggled behind her hand. “Goodness—look at him! You’ve got him blushing brighter than I’ve ever seen.”

Izuku didn’t answer right away, still flustered. His eyes darted briefly to Aiko, then down to his plate.

“…I’m just being myself,” he mumbled.

“You’re doing fine, son,” Tetsurō said with a small chuckle, before calmly returning to his rice.

Once the dishes were cleared, the table wiped down, and the warm clink of teacups replaced the clatter of plates, Tetsurō leaned back with a quiet sigh of contentment, while Aiko sipped the last of her jasmine tea.

She was mid-sentence—telling Tetsurō about how Izuku was geeking out at the hero exhibit last week—when Inko stood and disappeared briefly into the hallway.

She returned with a soft bundle in her arms, wrapped in simple paper and tied with string.

“I almost forgot,” she said with a smile, placing it gently in front of Aiko. “It’s nothing fancy, but… I thought you might need something warmer for the season.”

Aiko carefully untied the string, unfolding the fabric to reveal a deep forest green winter coat. Thick, cozy, beautifully lined—with wide sleeves and hidden pockets.

Her breath caught. “Midoriya-san… it’s perfect.”

“I wasn’t sure about the fit,” Inko said quickly, “I just got the smallest size, but I saved the receipt, just in case. I saw it and thought of you.”

Tetsurō leaned over for a better look, nodding in approval. “Now that’s a real coat. Should keep you warm through anything.”

Aiko smiled, trying it on. “Thank you so much.”

Inko smiled back warmly. “You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

Tetsurō gave a quiet grunt of agreement, then added, “Yes, thank you, Midoriya-san. This is kind of you.”

Inko waved him off, her cheeks tinting pink. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. I just didn’t want her catching cold.”

Tetsurō offered softened smile. “Still. It means a lot.”

A pause.

Then the lights dimmed.

Aiko blinked. “Huh?”

From the kitchen—

“Happy birthday to you…”

Izuku appeared, carefully carrying a small round cake with flickering number-shaped candles—one and five—nestled among swirls of whipped cream and fresh strawberries. He looked nervous but proud, voice soft as he sang.

Inko chimed in next, then Tetsurō, his deep voice warm and gravelly.

Aiko just stared.

She didn’t move at first, eyes wide as the song washed over her. The candlelight danced across her features.

When they finished, Inko gave a gentle clap and Izuku placed the cake in front of her.

“Make a wish,” he said, smiling shyly.

Aiko blinked rapidly. “You didn’t have to…”

“We wanted to,” Inko said kindly.

Tetsurō grunted. “Didn’t even tell me they had a cake hidden back there.”

Izuku’s cheeks pinked. “We were trying to surprise you both.”

Aiko looked down at the cake.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She looked up at Izuku. He was smiling—softly, earnestly, just for her. Aiko’s chest ached in the sweetest way.

She closed her eyes and made a wish.

I wish he becomes everything he dreams of. That the world sees the hero I see every time I look at him.

The candles went out in a single soft breath.

Plates were passed around, and soon the living room was filled with the soft clinking of forks and low hums of approval. The cake was simple but perfect—airy sponge, layers of whipped cream, and strawberries that burst with sweetness.

Aiko took a slow bite, letting the flavors settle. “Mmm… This is so good…”

Tetsurō grunted in agreement, finishing his slice in record time. “Haven’t had cake this soft in years.”

Inko beamed. “It’s from a place nearby—one of Izuku’s favorites.”

Izuku, still chewing his last bite, said, “You enjoyed the strawberries and cream when we shared that crepe, so I figured you’d like this.”

Aiko smiled. “Mmm… It’s perfect. Thank you.”

As he finished his slice, Izuku set his fork down, then glanced over at his mom. “Um—we’re gonna go to my room for a bit. To hang out.”

Then, quickly—“We’ll keep the door open!”

Aiko nearly choked on her last bite, coughing into her napkin as her cheeks went pink.

Tetsurō snorted into his tea.

Inko just chuckled, utterly unfazed. “Did you even clean it?”

Izuku groaned. “Yes, Mom.”

She smiled, giving him a playful nod. “Then go ahead.”

He nodded, already standing. “Come on,” he said softly to Aiko.

Izuku pushed the door open and stepped aside to let her in. The room was tidy—mostly—and carried the familiar scent of freshly laundered clothes, that same warm, clean smell that always clung to him. His desk was stacked neatly with notebooks, pens lined up in a careful row. A couple of All Might posters hung proudly on the walls, slightly curled at the corners from age. A bookcase stood in the corner, filled with old hero magazines and worn manga volumes.

Aiko wandered in, letting her fingers trail along the edge of his desk. Izuku’s eyes followed her, and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out softly.

“You look beautiful.”

She froze for half a second, caught off guard, then glanced back at him with a quick, shy smile. “Thanks.”

For a moment, they just smiled at each other.

“So… Kacchan really hasn’t said anything to you this whole week?”

Izuku shook his head, closing the door most of the way and leaving it ajar. “No. He just keeps giving me these weird looks. Like he’s trying to figure something out but doesn’t wanna ask.”

Aiko turned, leaning against his desk. “You think he’s waiting for you to say something first?”

“Maybe.” Izuku dropped onto the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. “Or he’s just… trying to decide what to do with what he knows. I mean, he’s not dumb. He saw us. He knows something’s up.”

Aiko crossed her arms, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But he hasn’t gone to a teacher or anything?”

“No,” Izuku said quietly. “And he’s had plenty of chances.”

Their eyes met.

A quiet stillness passed between them—unspoken worry settling like dust in the room.

Then Aiko reached behind him. “So what if he does say something? What do we do then?”

Izuku leaned slightly to the side without a word, letting her grab the All Might plushie tucked near his pillow. She settled into the desk chair across from him, hugging the plushie in her lap like it wasn’t the first time she’d held it.

Izuku stared at the floor, brow furrowed. “I don’t think he will at this point.”

Aiko didn’t answer. She just hugged the plushie a little tighter, the silence between them filled with a hundred unspoken possibilities.

Then Izuku stood and pulled open the top drawer of his desk. He hesitated for a second—then reached inside and carefully took something out, wrapped in tissue paper. Without a word, he held it out to her.

Aiko rose from the chair, gently setting the All Might plushie in her seat, then reached to take the bundle from his hands. The paper crinkled softly in her fingers as she peeled it back.

It was a silver heart-shaped locket, smooth and cool in her palm, with tiny engraved stars dancing across the surface like constellations. She blinked at it, lips parting slightly as her hand came up to her mouth.

“It’s… gorgeous,” she whispered, unable to hide her smile.

Izuku shifted, almost fidgeting. His voice came quiet, nervous. “Um… Open it.”

She looked up at him, startled by the tremble in his tone—then back down. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp for just a second before it clicked open.

Inside were two photos.

Her parents.

They were close-up shots—one on each side of the locket. Her mother smiled softly on the left, eyes sparkling, strands of dark hair lifted by the breeze. On the right, her father laughed at something just out of frame, his expression warm and full of life. The faint blur of a park—maybe flowers, maybe trees—hovered in the background, but the focus was only on their faces.

Aiko didn’t move.

Her fingers stayed frozen at the edges of the locket. The room fell silent except for the tiny buzz of her breath.

Izuku rubbed his neck. “Y-you can change the pictures if you want. I found them online. I just… I wasn’t sure if—”

He stopped. Her expression hadn’t changed.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to—if it’s too much, I—”

She slowly shook her head.

One tear slipped down her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice cracking.

Izuku stepped closer, hesitating just a moment before reaching out. His hand trembled slightly as he brushed his thumb against her cheek, wiping away the first tear. But more followed, soft and steady. He swallowed hard, unsure if he should say something, unsure if he’d done too much. The silence between them stretched, grief and gratitude slowly unraveling in her eyes.

His hand lingered at her cheek a moment longer, his other hand hovered awkwardly before settling at her waist. He pulled her in slightly.

Still clutching the locket, Aiko stepped into him without a word. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders in one fluid motion, and she buried her face into the side of his neck, trembling slightly.

His breath hitched, his arms trembled slightly but he held her silently, stroking her back.

After a few moments, he asked, quietly…

“Did I… do the right thing?”

Aiko didn’t answer right away. She just stayed there, tucked into him, eyes squeezed shut.

Then, she gave the tiniest nod against his shoulder.

“You always do,” she whispered.

Izuku let out the breath he was holding. Slowly, he tightened his arms around her more fully, pulling her a little closer. His head dipped, leaning gently against hers—soft, steady, like he didn’t want the moment to end.

They stayed like that for a long moment.

Eventually, Aiko pulled back slightly, her arms still loosely around his shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes shimmering but steady.

“I haven’t seen their faces since that night,” she said softly, her voice tight with held-back tears but a faint smile touched her lips.

Izuku’s face fell. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

She shook her head gently, turning the locket in her hand. “No, Izuku. This is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.”

He swallowed, relaxing just a little—but only for a moment. His hand stayed at her back, rubbing it absently in slow, gentle circles as if grounding both of them.

“There’s, uh… something else,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter now. “It’s… kind of silly.”

He glanced toward his desk, then reluctantly pulled away just enough to reach the drawer. Carefully, he took out a folded piece of paper—ripped cleanly from one of his notebooks, the edges soft and slightly uneven.

“What’s that?” she asked softly, still holding the locket in her hand.

Izuku hesitated—then gently guided her to sit beside him on the bed. He stared at the folded paper for a second longer before offering it to her with both hands, almost like it was something fragile.

“It’s, uh… it’s kind of dumb,” he mumbled, cheeks already tinged pink. “I drew it a while ago. When you… told me about your parents.”

Aiko looked up at him.

“I know you don’t want to be a hero,” he rushed to explain, rubbing his hand along his thigh. “I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and… I guess this was my way of hoping you’d be okay. Like… if you ever did want to be a hero. Or even just… to feel strong.”

He ducked his head a little. “It was just for fun. I didn’t think I’d ever show you.”

Carefully, she unfolded it.

It was a sketch—detailed, thoughtful, a little rough around the edges but clearly drawn with care. A sleek, all-black outfit: black boots, over-the-knee socks, a short skirt, fitted elbow and knee pads, and a long-sleeved top with a high collar and hood. Functional, but still her. Still pretty.

Aiko stared at it for a long moment. “Is this…?”

Izuku’s knee bounced nervously. “It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he said quickly. “It was just a sketch—I wasn’t even sure what kind of gear you’d want, or if you’d think it’s weird, or—”

She looked up, smiling now.

“I think it’s awesome,” she said softly. “I might have to become a vigilante just so I have an excuse to dress like this.”

A quiet laugh passed between them, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the paper, and the words tumbled out.

“I figured… the knee and elbow pads, in case you ever decide to fight like Red Justice—you know, close-quarters, Muay Thai style. Lots of strikes. You’d need impact protection.”

Aiko blinked. Did I tell him I was training?

She didn’t remember saying it out loud.

“And the boots,” Izuku continued, his voice gaining speed the longer he spoke, “you always wear boots. And the high socks—well, I… I like when you wear them, and I thought it’d feel like you.”

She glanced at the sketch again, heart fluttering.

“The skirt,” he said, then paused.

His cheeks flushed, eyes darting to the floor. “I just thought… it would show off your, uh…”

He gave a small, embarrassed cough.

“…legs. Thighs. Not in a weird way! Just—you have really nice… legs. I noticed.”

Aiko bit back a smile, eyes wide. Her cheeks ached from holding it in.

“And then the long-sleeved top,” Izuku rushed on, “with the high collar and hood—because… uh—for stealth stuff. But underneath, there’s, like, a cropped layer. Short sleeves. So you could absorb quirks without damaging your clothes. I thought—”

He stopped, finally noticing how she was looking at him.

Aiko sat frozen in the moment, the sketch still open on her lap. Her smile was soft, quiet and full.

Her gaze traced over every line of the drawing, then back to him—his earnest eyes, his nervous hands, the pink rising across his cheeks. He hadn’t just drawn her a costume. He had seen her, he’d noticed everything about her.

Her chest ached, warmth blooming until it threatened to spill over. She swallowed, her throat tight, hardly daring to breathe in case the spell broke.

He’d thought of everything.

“Izuku…”

He looked up, meeting her gaze.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

Izuku froze, color blooming across his cheeks. The quiet between them deepened, warm and fragile, every heartbeat stretching the moment thinner. Aiko’s fingers tightened around the sketch, her breath catching as his eyes lingered on hers—earnest, unguarded, like he couldn’t believe she’d really said it.

The silence held, trembling on the edge of something neither dared to break.

At last, Izuku shifted, fumbling for his phone—his thumb tapping nervously until a gentle melody began to play through the tiny speaker.

He swallowed, cheeks warm, and he slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Umm… come here.”

Aiko let him draw her in. They sat back on the bed, leaning against the wall, her head resting on his shoulder and their hands laced together as the music wrapped around them. Neither spoke, just breathing in the moment, letting it settle.

Izuku’s chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, a little too fast at first, then gradually easing. He glanced at her hair brushing against his sleeve, at the way her thumb traced faint, absent-minded circles against his knuckles.

“This is… nice,” Aiko murmured at last, her voice quiet—almost shy.

“Yeah,” Izuku managed, his throat tight. “Really nice.”

Silence again, but softer now. The kind of silence that didn’t press and didn’t need filling.

The song carried them, every note stretching the moment just a little longer, like the world outside the room had disappeared.

As the song faded, the next track kicked in before Izuku could stop it—faster, brighter, the rhythm quick and playful.

Aiko straightened instantly, her eyes lighting. “Oh, I love this song!”

She popped to her feet, tugging at his arm. “Come on.”

“W-wait—” Izuku stammered, but she’d already pulled him up.

She started moving with the beat, loose and laughing, her hair bouncing as she turned back to grab both his hands. “Dance with me!”

“I—I can’t dance!” he yelped, but she only grinned wider and spun him clumsily into motion.

At first he was stiff, awkward, shuffling like he was counting every step. But then something shifted. His body caught the rhythm, his feet light, movements fluid and sharp. Without thinking, he spun, stepped, even added a little flourish as he moved with her.

Aiko stopped mid-step, staring. Her mouth fell open. “Oh my god, Izuku—you can dance!”

His face went red, sheepish, his hands dropping to his sides. “Uhh… y-yeah. I mean—kind of.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It just… never works when I try in front of other people. I freeze up. I end up looking like—like a broken robot or something.”

She blinked, still grinning in disbelief. “You’ve got moves!”

He glanced away, rubbing his arm. “I… I don’t know. I guess… I’m not nervous dancing around you.”

The admission hung in the air—quiet, honest, a little fragile.

Aiko reached for his hand again, tugging him back toward her. “Then don’t stop.”

He let out a shaky laugh, but he didn’t resist. Their hands clasped once more, steps finding rhythm together as the music carried on.

Then, almost without thinking, Izuku gave her hand a gentle tug and spun her under his arm. Aiko let out a startled laugh as her hair brushed her cheek, only to find herself pulled smoothly back into his chest.

His arms steadied her there, holding her a little tighter than before. For a moment, the music seemed to fall away, leaving just the quiet thrum of his heartbeat against hers. His eyes met hers—earnest, soft, filled with something that made her chest flutter.

“Happy birthday, Aiko,” he murmured.

They stilled for half a beat, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, before moving again, this time with Izuku leading.

They kept dancing—until the walls of the room seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them, swaying and laughing in each other’s arms.