Chapter 19: Ooh! Sparklers!

Naoto’s room was small—cramped, yes, but with an unspoken order that made it feel more lived-in than broken. The faint scent of cedar hung in the air, clean and grounding, threaded with something sharper—pine resin, like the woods after rain. His desk was crowded with battered monitors, their casings mismatched and taped at the corners, but each cable was looped neatly, every wire leading somewhere with quiet intention.

Aiko perched on the edge of his narrow bed, the blanket worn but freshly laundered, smelling faintly of soap. The room felt steady, cool—like standing beside a still river at dusk.

“Where’s Rika?”

“Out with my mom,” Naoto said, his voice low and steady, eyes lit by the dim glow of the screens though his hands were still. “Groceries.”

Aiko nodded, tugging at her sleeve. There was something calming about the cedar-and-smoke that lingered faintly in the air around him, like he carried a forest with him wherever he went.

“It’s all gone,” he said at last, turning to look at her. “That whole block of security footage looks like corrupted data now.”

Relief flickered across her face before his tone softened just enough to steady her.

“But don’t get too comfortable. If anyone checks closely, a missing chunk like that looks suspicious. And if a civilian uploads personal footage of you and your boyfriend running… I can’t erase every phone in the city.”

Her lips pressed thin. “I know.”

His gaze held hers, unwavering. “Those men weren’t random. They were searching. And they knew exactly what to look for.”

Aiko swallowed, the knot tightening in her chest. “Do we know who sent them?”

“No.” His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of frustration breaking through. “But they were definitely after you.”

Her hands curled against her knees. “Do we have any names?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms, his chair creaking. “I ran them. Just hired muscle—cheap. They don’t know who signed the checks.”

“So a dead end?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” His voice was calm, assured, like the steady lap of water against stone. “I’ll keep running checks on them, see if anything else comes up.”

Aiko’s shoulders eased just slightly. “Thanks, Naoto. You’re a life saver.”

He gave the faintest shrug. “No problem. But for now, just… stay local. Keep a low profile.”

Aiko shifted.

Naoto’s eyebrow ticked upward, his deadpan stare sharp enough to pin her in place. “Seriously?”

She winced, sheepish. “I… already said I’d go!”

Naoto sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, voice dry as stone. “At least wear a hat or something.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Izuku reached over and tugged the edge of Aiko’s pink woolen hat lower, fingers brushing briefly against her temple as he carefully tucked the streaks of blue back under the knit. “Okay,” he said softly. “That’s better.”

Aiko gave a faint smile, her breath misting in the chill. “Thanks.”

The winter festival was in full bloom. Strings of warm paper lanterns swayed gently overhead, glowing like captured stars in the cold night air. Their soft light danced across snow-dusted rooftops and shimmered in puddles of half-melted slush. The scent of roasted chestnuts, sweet mochi, and grilled soy sauce skewers drifted between the stalls, mixing with bursts of laughter and the chime of wind bells strung up for the new year. Somewhere in the distance, a taiko drum echoed faintly.

Izuku hesitated, scanning the crowd—the crush of people, the shifting shadows between lanterns. “Are you sure you’re okay being here? There’s… a lot of people.”

She nodded, eyes lifting toward the glowing rows of paper lanterns above. “Yeah. I don’t want to spend my life hiding. If I let fear decide for me, then they win.”

Izuku’s lips pressed together, but he nodded. “Okay. Just… stay close. And if you want to leave at any point, just tell me.”

Aiko reached for his hand as they started walking again, her smile faint but firm. “Okay.”

They’d wandered for nearly an hour—visiting food stalls, playing a few games, watching the festival lights flicker to life.

Eventually, they found a small wooden bench near the edge of the courtyard, their trays of food balanced on their laps. A cluster of lanterns hung low behind them, lighting up their faces with soft golden hues.

Aiko cradled a paper wrapper of steaming yaki imo in her gloved hands, its caramelized skin split open to reveal golden, fluffy insides. “Yours looks way better,” she said, eyeing Izuku’s yakisoba with a playful pout.

Izuku glanced down at his tray, then at hers. “I think I just got lucky with the sauce distribution.”

“Uh-huh.” She tugged off one glove and broke off a piece of sweet potato, popping it into her mouth. “Smells amazing though.”

Izuku’s gaze drifted back to her hand.

“Wait,” he said, frowning. “What happened to your hand?”

Before she could answer, he gently reached over, taking her wrist. His thumb brushed over the faint bruise near the base of her thumb, just above the joint.

Aiko froze for a beat. “Oh—um… nothing,” she said quickly. “Just smacked it on the door.”

His eyes narrowed a little, not quite convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he rubbed his thumb lightly over the spot again, careful and soft.

“You should be more careful,” he murmured.

“I am,” she said, smiling despite herself. “Mostly.”

He let her go slowly, his fingers lingering for just a second.

Between them on the bench, two small paper cups sat nestled in a cardboard tray. Wisps of steam curled from the rims—hot matcha, the kind just bitter enough to warm your throat, with a faint grassy aroma that clung to the cold air.

Izuku reached for his and took a sip, cupping it between both hands. “I don’t know how people drink soda at festivals in winter,” he said, smiling into the rim.

Aiko nodded, nudging his knee lightly with hers. “This is way better. Besides… I like the taste. It feels kind of traditional, you know?”

Aiko took another small bite, watching the steam curl up from her yaki imo. She tugged her hat lower over her ears, cheeks flushed from the cold.

Across from her, Izuku’s eyes lingered on her for a moment. She glanced over, catching him watching her—his expression soft, a little shy.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Me too.”

They sat there for a while, talking about favorite foods and hot drinks. Eventually, the last of their matcha cooled, and the crowds began to shift.

Aiko stretched her legs, brushing off crumbs. “Wanna keep walking?”

Izuku nodded, standing and offering her a hand. She took it without hesitation, slipping her glove into his as they stepped back into the stream of light and motion.

Then he paused, leaning in slightly. “Gotta keep you safe,” he murmured as he tucked a loose streak of blue back under the knit. She smiled, warmth rising in her chest as she watched him fuss.

The sun had dipped below the horizon now, leaving streaks of deep indigo and warm plum across the sky. The lanterns glowed brighter. The air had turned colder, but somehow, softer too.

Aiko and Izuku wandered slowly through the lantern-lit paths. Her hand slid into his pocket, fingers curling gently around his. He smiled, squeezing back.

As they passed a wooden booth nestled between two lantern posts, Izuku slowed to a stop. A small sign hung overhead, swaying slightly in the breeze:

Draw Your Fortune for the New Year!

The omikuji stand was simple—just a wooden tray with folded paper slips and a coin box beside it.

“Hey,” he said, glancing at her. “Wanna try it?”

Aiko perked up. “You’re into fortune telling now?”

He shrugged, a little sheepish. “Thought it might be fun.”

She smiled. “Alright. But don’t blame me if the spirits say you’re doomed.”

They each dropped a coin into the box and picked a slip.

Izuku unfolded his slowly, brow furrowing as he read. “Huh…”

“What?” Aiko leaned in.

He cleared his throat, reading aloud with a small, almost nervous smile.

“That which is given may be taken. But what’s true will return—
even across lifetimes.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Whoa. That’s kind of… a lot.”

Izuku gave a small laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, it’s… kinda weirdly specific.”

She flipped hers open—and immediately burst into a snort.

“Beware of flying mochi. A wandering drummer may disturb your rhythm.”

She blinked. “…What does that even mean? Is this about music? Or carbs?”

Izuku leaned in to peek. “It’s probably a metaphor… maybe for life balance?”

She gave him a look. “Or maybe it’s telling me to never trust a taiko player.”

Izuku leaned over to peek at it. “A wandering drummer may disturb your rhythm… They probably just mean to watch out for disruptions in your plans.”

“Yeah, well,” she sighed, folding it neatly. “If someone hits me with a drumstick tonight, I’m blaming the universe.”

He smiled as she made her way over to the nearby fortune rack. It was strung with rows of wooden bars and fluttering omikuji slips, each tied like a tiny white ribbon.

Aiko tied hers with a flourish. “Begone, drummer boy.”

Izuku followed, more careful with his own. His fingers moved slowly as he secured the slip in place, brow briefly furrowing at the cryptic lines.

“That which is given may be taken. But what’s true will return—
even across lifetimes.”

He stared at it for a second longer, lost in thought, then quietly tied it beside hers.

Just as he stepped back, Aiko turned—and soft gasp escaped her lips.

“Ooh! Sparklers!”

She motioned to a small stall nearby where a group of kids were already lighting thin, golden sticks that sparked and crackled in the crisp night air.

“Can we get some? Please?”

She was already halfway toward the booth, turning back just long enough to flash him an eager grin.

Izuku blinked, then laughed softly. “I guess we’re getting sparklers.”

Aiko jogged ahead, boots crunching in the slush as she reached the booth. She fumbled with her purse, pulling off one glove with her teeth to dig for coins. But before she could find them, the vendor was already handing over two sets of sparklers—straight to Izuku.

She blinked, glancing up in surprise as he stepped up beside her, a little out of breath.

“I—hey! I was gonna—”

He just smiled and shrugged, slipping the change into his pocket. “Too slow,” he murmured.

Aiko let out a quiet laugh, her breath curling in the cold air. She shook her head fondly. “I’m gonna pay for something one day, you know.”

Izuku smiled, the warmth in her voice easing the nerves in his shoulders. He looked down at the bundle in his hands, then pulled one of the slender sticks free and held it out to her.

“Here,” he said gently. “They light pretty fast, so be ready.”

Aiko took it carefully, her eyes shining with anticipation. “I’ve never actually used one before.”

He blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

She shook her head, already crouching near the flame the stallkeeper had left burning in a tiny ceramic bowl. “Nope. I always wanted to, though.”

Her sparkler came to life with a bright hiss, her eyes going wide as it flared and crackled in her hand.

“Ohhh… it’s so pretty!” she whispered, grinning like a kid.

He crouched beside her, holding his own sparkler to the flame. The tip caught with a sharp fizz, sending a spray of golden sparks into the air.

They stood slowly, still watching the golden sparks trail off in looping streaks. Aiko waved hers through the air in slow circles, then quick flicks, giggling as the light traced shapes in the dark.

Izuku copied her movements, their sparklers leaving tangled trails that shimmered and faded.

“Let’s make them kiss,” she said suddenly, holding hers up like a sword.

Izuku blinked. “Uh—what?”

She bumped her sparkler gently against his, sending a small burst of sparks between them.

“See?” she said, smiling. “Now they’re in love.”

His laugh came soft and helpless. “That’s… really cute.”

But something in his face shifted as the sparks danced between them. His gaze lingered—not on the sparklers, but on her. Like something quiet and real had settled into his chest and caught him off guard.

He shifted slightly, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket. “Hold still,” he said, lifting it. “Let’s get a picture before they burn out.”

Aiko leaned in close, her cheek brushing his shoulder. They held the sparklers up, little suns between them, and smiled as the shutter clicked.

The sparklers hissed and sputtered, their golden light dimming to embers. Aiko gave hers a gentle shake before dropping the spent stick into a nearby bin.

“That was so pretty,” she said, brushing her hands together. “I didn’t think they’d be that bright.”

Izuku nodded, doing the same with his. “It kind of felt like holding a firework.”

They shared a tender glance, then started walking again. The crowd had thinned just a little, making it easier to move slowly. They passed more food stalls, rows of tiny charms strung up on wooden racks, and a few kids chasing each other with cotton candy sticks like swords.

Aiko nudged him with her shoulder. “You didn’t get any festival snacks to take home.”

Izuku shrugged, grinning. “I didn’t want to carry a bag around all night.”

She made a thoughtful noise, just as a burst of color from a neon sign caught her eye.

“Wait—!” Aiko’s hand tightened on his arm.

Izuku turned just in time to see her eyes light up. She was pointing, practically bouncing on her toes. “Oh my god. It’s Red Justice!”

He followed her gaze to a line of claw machines nestled against a low brick wall. There, inside one of them—tucked between a few off-brand mascots—was a tiny plushie of Thailand’s No. 1 hero, arms raised in a miniature fighting stance.

“You’re kidding,” Aiko whispered. “That’s not even a Japanese hero—how is he here?!”

She grabbed Izuku’s arm with both hands, tugging him closer to the glass. Her breath fogged up the display as she leaned in.

Izuku fished a coin from his pocket, already smiling. “I’ll win it for you.”

Her eyes widened, and she clutched his sleeve tighter, pressing herself against his side in excitement.

But just as he stepped forward, he paused. He glanced down at the coin in his hand, a slow smile forming on his lips. Then turned to her.

Gently, he unlinked their arms, slipping out of her hold with a quiet laugh. “Wait,” he said.

Before she could respond, his hands found her shoulders. He walked her back a few paces, positioning her just far enough to get a perfect view of the machine.

“You need to stay exactly there,” he added, smiling shyly, cheeks tinting pink. “Last time you… distracted me.”

Aiko giggled, eyes crinkling. “You’re such a dork.”

He didn’t argue—just grinned and turned back to the machine.

Then, with a breath, he inserted the coin.

The claw dipped.

Paused.

Shifted.

Grabbed.

And in one smooth motion—it lifted the plushie from the pile.

Aiko gasped.

The claw carried it gently to the chute, released—and the little Red Justice landed with a soft thud.

Izuku turned, triumphant, the plush in hand.

Aiko squealed, her eyes wide. “You did it!”

She did a couple of quick, excited jumps, hands flying to her cheeks for a second—then she launched forward, throwing her arms around him.

Izuku let out a surprised laugh, catching her without thinking. And before he could stop himself—he spun her once in a tight, happy circle.

Aiko laughed, breath puffing in the cold air, her hat slipping slightly as his scarf brushed her cheek.

He set her down carefully, but neither of them stepped away. His hands stayed at her waist; her arms were still looped around his shoulders.

She looked up at him, flushed and glowing. “That was so cool,” she whispered. “You did it on the first go!”

Izuku grinned. “What can I say? When the prize is worth it…”

His voice trailed off—just enough to make it flirty. But the blush that followed betrayed him completely.

Aiko raised a brow, smirking. “Oooh, Midoriya. Keep up the smooth talking and I might start thinking you’re dangerous.”

His heart slammed against his ribs.

And then, without thinking, he pulled her closer.

Just a little.

Just enough that her chest brushed his. Just enough to feel her breath catch.

His hand stayed firm at her waist, the other shifting slightly, brushing against the fabric of her sleeve, like he wasn’t sure where to place it. His gaze dropped—lingered—on her lips.

Aiko’s breath hitched.

He looked back up, eyes searching hers. For doubt. For hesitation.

He found none.

And so, slowly—nervously—he leaned in.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she leaned in too.

Her fingers lifted, resting gently at the back of his neck.

His eyes fluttered half-closed. Her gaze flicked to his lips.

Their noses nearly brushed. The air between them was warm, charged, dizzying.

Inches.

Barely.

Then—

“Well, look at you two. Getting real cozy.”

Izuku froze like he’d just been doused in ice water.

Aiko’s expression dropped instantly. Her eyes narrowed, then rolled as she let out an exasperated sigh and released Izuku’s hoodie.

She muttered under her breath, “Should’ve known lighting sparklers would summon him…”

Then she turned. “Seriously? Why are you everywhere?”

Bakugo stood just a few feet away, hands jammed in his coat pockets, scowl twisting his face into something halfway between annoyed and amused.

“Are you sure you’re not stalking us?” Aiko added, eyebrow arching.

He gave a low scoff. “You might wanna watch your tone, princess.” Then, a sharp smirk. “Unless you forgot who kept your little date from going up in flames last time.”

Izuku’s breath caught.

Aiko’s gaze sharpened.

Bakugo stepped closer, the smirk fading just enough to reveal what he really came for. “We need to talk.”