Chapter 2: Even Her Voice is Pretty

His heart stuttered. He swallowed hard.

Say something. Anything.

But no sound came. His mouth opened, then stalled, the words snagging somewhere between chest and throat.

You idiot, you’re just standing there like a weirdo. Say something.

But in that moment, he couldn’t. Because standing right in front of her, all he could think was: She’s even more amazing up close.

She moved with this… quiet. Not just calm but serene. Like nothing rattled her. Like she was made of still water and midnight and things that stayed steady even when the world spun too fast.

For the first time in weeks he felt something bigger than nerves—terror and wonder braided together.

This isn’t just some random beach girl anymore. Don’t mess this up.

Izuku’s heart was pounding so loud he was sure she could hear it. His fingers clenched the stack of papers in his hands like a lifeline.

“H-Hi… um… I-I’m—uh—Izuku Midoriya,” he blurted, too loud, too fast.

She gave a small, elegant bow. “Midoriya-san. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His eyes widened.

Even her voice is pretty, he thought helplessly. Soft… like falling petals. Or tea steam. Or something poetic I can’t think of right now because my brain has completely stopped working. Help!

“N-no, no! Please don’t—uh—I mean, just… call me Izuku. If… if that’s okay?”

She gave a tiny smile and bowed again. “Izuku-san.”

Dimples! Heat flared across his ears.

“A-ah, uh—no ‘san’ either! Just—I mean—Izuku is… is fine. Really.”

She hesitated, looking at him as if weighing the intimacy of it, then nodded once. “Izuku-ku—”

“Yes!“ He blurted. ”That’s it—just Izuku.”

Heat surged up his neck.

Did I just cut her off? Smooth, Midoriya. Real smooth.

“Izuku.” She smiled. “I’m Aiko Takara.”

There was a pause—just long enough for him to scramble for something intelligent to say and come up empty.

“O-oh. Wow. That’s… that’s such a beautiful—uh—sorry! I didn’t mean—I mean it is—uh—Aiko-chan!” he stammered.

Mortification detonated. Then, for reasons even he didn’t understand, he bowed. And then again. And again. Like three quick bows in a row would make up for whatever just came out of his mouth.

Aiko lifted her delicate fingers to her lips and giggled—soft, sincere, almost musical. The laugh scattered through him like fireflies.

Izuku looked up at her, face flaming.

Her laugh sounds like a thousand stars twinkling in the night sky.

Calm down, he begged himself. Calm. Down. She’s just a girl. A really… really pretty—okay nope that’s not helping at all.

She was composed, radiant, not even flustered—and here he was, holding a bunch of fluttery papers and trying not to pass out.

What if she thinks I’m weird? What if I said my name wrong? Can you say your own name wrong? What even is—

“You found all the pieces,” she said gently, cutting through his mental chaos.

“Oh! R-right—uh, here—” He quickly extended the stack of papers with both hands, bowing a little as he offered them. “These are yours!”

Her fingertips brushed his as she accepted them—light as a whisper, but it set every nerve in his arm humming.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Her hand just touched mine. That’s—Is that allowed? That should be illegal. How is her hand so soft? It was like… like silk wrapped in sunshine wrapped in—WHAT ARE WORDS—

As she adjusted the papers in her hands, one slipped forward just enough for him to catch a glimpse of messy handwriting and diagrams. His eyes flicked down, barely thinking.

“Wait—these are… quirk notes?”

Aiko stiffened. “They’re just scribbles,” she said quickly. “They’re nothing.”

But Izuku’s expression had already shifted, like someone had just handed him a free trial of self-esteem.

“No, they’re… amazing,” he breathed. “I mean—the way you’ve broken down the components, and the notation style—I do that too! You even charted activation times and decay factors. That’s… really good. Like, pro hero-level good.”

Aiko blinked. “You… think so?”

He nodded, more confident, his nerd brain now driving the bus while anxiety hung onto the bumper. “Definitely. I’ve never seen anyone else take notes like this. The way you broke down the quirk mechanics… it’s seriously next-level.”

Then his nerves caught up. He realized how much he’d just blurted out. His blush came rushing back, twice as strong.

“I-I mean—! Not that I was reading your notes! I just—uh—they were kind of visible and—”

Aiko tilted her head slightly. “You recognized what I was writing about that quickly?”

Izuku glanced at the top sheet again, curiosity overruling embarrassment. “Yeah… wait—who’s this hero?” He pointed to a circled name. “I’ve never heard of him.”

She stepped a little closer, brushing her hair behind her ear. “That’s Red Justice. He’s the Number One Hero in Thailand.”

“Red Justice?” Izuku repeated, eyes lighting up. “What’s his quirk?”

“Kinetic Surge,” Aiko said. “It lets him absorb the force of any physical impact—like punches, falls, even explosions—and store it for weeks. Then he can release the energy through his strikes. It’s pretty cool.”

She hesitated, fingertips brushing the page’s edge.

“I like that it’s defensive,” she added softly. “He only uses what’s given to him—nothing more. It’s not a quirk for starting fights. It’s for ending them.”

Izuku blinked at her, a little stunned. “That’s… a really thoughtful way to see it,” he said. “Most people just care about how flashy or powerful a quirk is. But you’re looking at what it says about the person.”

He studied her face for a moment. She's kind, he thought.

“He fights in a Muay Thai style?” He asked, glancing at her notes.

She nodded. “He said if you’re going to have a body-based quirk, you should treat your body like a weapon.”

A small, excited spark lit behind Izuku’s eyes. “That’s so smart. I’ve never seen him in any of the Japanese hero databases…”

Aiko gave a soft shrug. “Most people don’t look outside their own country.”

He looked at her again, a little in awe now—not just of her notes, but of her. “You really know your stuff.”

Her smile was quiet, but proud.

A comfortable pause stretched between them.

Then she tilted her head. “So… what about you? Why are you here every morning? You always come alone.”

Izuku blinked. “Oh, uh—well… I’m training.”

“Training?”

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. All Might told me to workout and clear this beach. So I can build strength, discipline, stuff like that…”

Her eyes widened slightly. “The All Might?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean—no, not personally personally, but… yeah. I have a workout routine and I’m supposed to clean the whole beach before UA’s entrance exams.”

Her gaze dropped to the piles of junk along the shore, then back to him. “That’s a lot of work.”

“Yeah,” he said, then laughed nervously. “But I want to be a hero. So… I guess I don’t really have a choice.”

Aiko was quiet for a moment, her fingers brushing a curl of hair behind her ear. Then, softly—

“You’re going to UA?”

Izuku blinked. “That’s the plan… if I can get in.”

She nodded slowly, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. “It’s a good school.”

“You know it?”

Her smile was faint. “I’ve heard… things.”

Izuku didn’t push.

And then, suddenly, he felt kind of dumb—standing there going on about entrance exams and elite training programs when she was out here in worn boots and an oversized T-shirt that she wore as a dress, sleeves swallowing her tiny arms, collecting scrap off the beach.

She probably didn’t even go to school.

Idiot, he thought. Nice job bringing up UA like some rich kid bragging.

“It’s super competitive,” he added quickly, as if to manage expectations. “I probably don’t stand a chance, but I just—I have to try, you know?”

She considered him a moment. “What’s your quirk?”

His breath caught. “…I—I don’t have one.”

Aiko blinked.

He looked away fast, shoulders tightening. His hands fidgeted at his sides, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt. Words spilled out before he could stop them.

“I know it’s stupid. I mean, I know I can’t actually be a hero without a quirk. Everyone’s told me. My teachers, the other kids, my mom, even the doctors when I was four—like, literally everyone. But I just—” He trailed off, voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know. I guess I thought maybe… if I tried hard enough, if I just kept working…”

He shook his head, the tips of his ears burning. “It’s dumb. I’m just an idiot with a dream.”

There was a long pause. Then—

“Wanting to be a hero even without a quirk?” Aiko said quietly.

“That mindset is a superpower in and of itself.”

Izuku froze.

Slowly, he turned to her. “…What?”

Her voice was calm, like she wasn’t trying to comfort him, just saying a simple truth. “I don’t know anyone else who would still want to be a pro hero without a quirk. You must be really brave… and very special.”

Izuku didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Her words hit him like sunlight through a crack in the clouds… sudden, unexpected, and blinding in its warmth. His chest tightened, and something deep inside him ached… a place he didn’t even know was still hurting.

His heart thudded painfully, like it didn’t know whether to break or burst. Tears welled up before he could stop them, blurring the edges of her face.

Only All Might had said he could be a hero. But she didn’t know he was getting help. She wasn’t encouraging him because of some hidden advantage. She just… believed in him. As he was. And it undid him.

He swallowed hard, breath catching in his throat. “…Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely steady.

Aiko smiled softly. “You don’t need to thank me, Izuku.”

His breath hitched, just a little... and he looked down, blinking fast.

The sound of his name in her voice did something to him.

Something warm and unfamiliar that pooled behind his eyes and ached in his chest.

But he did. He did need to thank her—more than she could ever know.