Chapter 22: Hopelessly In Love With Her

The chill of the night air clung to his skin as Izuku jogged the last few steps up the quiet street. His heart still thudding with disbelief.

He knocked on the heavy door of the Hoshino workshop.

A moment later, it creaked open.

Tetsurō stood there in his usual work apron, sleeves rolled up, a faint smudge of soot on his cheek. He smiled at the sight of him.

Izuku bowed politely. “Hoshino-san. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

Tetsurō stepped aside without hesitation, voice warm. “You look excited, son.”

“I—yes, I—” Izuku barely got the words out before a rustle came from behind the curtain at the back of the workshop.

Aiko peeked out, in her tee and sweatpants, hair loose around her shoulders. “Izuku…?”

He lit up at the sight of her.

“I got in!” he blurted, practically bouncing on his feet. “Aiko—I got in!”

She let out a squeal and ran straight to him.

He caught her mid-leap, arms wrapping around her waist as he lifted her clean off the ground and spun her in a breathless, dizzy circle.

She laughed into his neck, breath catching on a sound somewhere between a giggle and a sob. “Yes! I knew it!”

When he finally set her down, her arms stayed looped around him, face glowing with pride.

Tetsurō crossed his arms, watching the two of them with a soft smile. “Congratulations, Izuku,” he said with quiet certainty. “I’m proud of you.”

Aiko grabbed his hand and pulled him through the curtain into the back room. “I knew it!” she said again, laughing, squeezing his hand. “I knew you could do it! You were so worried, but I—”

She stopped as Izuku gently tugged her arm back.

She turned—and he was already close.

His arms slid around her waist, steadying her, grounding her. The excitement in his face softened into something quieter and more intense.

“Aiko,” he said, voice low, breath still unsteady. “This… is because of you.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“All Might gave me the strength. The tools. The training,” he continued, his voice dipping even lower. “The quirk.”

He met her gaze fully now, earnest and unwavering.

“But you gave me what I needed to see it through. You didn’t let me fall apart. You kept me focused. You gave me hope.”

She didn’t say anything, frozen under the weight of his words.

Her hands slid gently up his arms, resting lightly at his shoulders. Her fingers grazed the back of his neck, slow and instinctive, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it. One hand found its way to the space between his shoulder blades, rubbing softly.

He let out a slow breath.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m so, so grateful to you.”

She looked up at him, eyes bright with emotion.

And then he said, quieter still—

“You’ve always been my hero. Even when I was trying so hard to become one myself.”

The silence between them shimmered, electric. For a second, neither of them moved. Their faces were close now. One more breath and their lips might have touched.

Aiko’s eyes flicked down for the briefest moment—then back up.

Izuku leaned forward, just a little—

His heart stuttered.

I want to kiss her. So badly.

The thought slammed into him harder than any zero-pointer ever had.

His hands tensed slightly where they held her waist. She didn’t move away. Her lashes were low, breath shallow. She was… waiting.

And suddenly, Izuku panicked.

He pulled back a fraction, breath catching.

Kiss her. You can do this. It’s not a villain fight. It’s not a final exam. It’s just… Aiko. She’s right here.

But that was exactly the problem.

Because she wasn’t just any girl. This was Aiko. His Aiko. She wasn’t some fleeting crush. She was everything.

And what if he ruined it?

What if it was too awkward, too clumsy, too… Izuku?

What if she only liked the idea of me—the would-be hero who made her laugh—not the fumbling, overwhelmed mess of a boy who’s trying so hard not to fall in love with her?

Wait. Am I falling in love with her… or am I already IN love with her?

His pulse thundered in his ears.

“I—um—sorry,” he blurted, backing off just slightly. “I just—uh—I’m still kind of—processing?”

Her brows lifted, and for a split second he wanted to crawl into a hole.

She didn’t say anything. Just blinked at him once and took a small step back, her hands slipping from his shoulders.

She’s upset.

Oh no—she’s upset.

She’s trying not to look upset.

His brain went into full scramble mode. Why did I say anything? Why didn’t I just kiss her?

He opened his mouth—probably to blurt something even more awkward—but Aiko just offered a small smile. Soft… not cold or hurt, but…

Different.

Like she’d pulled something back.

“Oh,” she said gently, tone deliberately casual. “That’s okay. It’s a big night. You’ve got a lot to process.”

Then, with a shrug and a tiny smile, “You wanna go get boba? That place at the top of the street is still open.”

Izuku blinked. “Boba?”

“Yeah. You know—chewy little tapioca balls, sugar high, poor nutritional value, all the essentials.” She tilted her head, the blue in her hair catching the light. “Come on. First taste of victory deserves a treat, right?”

He let out a breath—half relief, half awe—and nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds… perfect, actually.”

Aiko grinned. “Cool. And it’s my treat tonight.”

As she disappeared behind the room divider, Izuku let his shoulders sag for a second, pressing a palm to his chest like he was trying to calm the fireworks still going off in there.

You’re not dead. She doesn’t hate you.

He smiled faintly to himself.

Boba. With Aiko.

Okay. This night might still be amazing.

The glow of the boba shop spilled out onto the street as they approached. The sign above the door flickered slightly—a little battered, but still welcoming. A sleepy-looking girl behind the counter glanced up.

“Two brown sugar milk bobas, please,” Aiko said cheerfully, reaching into her bag.

Izuku moved faster than he thought possible. He dropped some money on the counter before she could even unzip her purse.

“Hey!”

“What did I tell you about paying for things when I’m around?” he said with a smile, trying to sound cool—and totally failing to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

The cashier gave a slow nod, then punched in the order.

Aiko narrowed her eyes playfully, poking him in the chest. “But we’re celebrating you!”

“And I’m celebrating being with you,” he said, words tumbling out before he could stop them. His grin faltered into something softer, more shy.

Aiko smiled, her earlier tension slipping away as she took her drink from the counter.

They made their way to their usual booth near the window, the shop mostly empty at this hour save for a couple of students hunched over notebooks and one guy asleep with his head on the table.

Aiko poked her straw through the lid and took a sip, her eyes flicking up to him as the tapioca pearls rattled at the bottom of her cup. “So,” she said, swirling her drink lazily, “what happened? How’d you end up with enough points to get in?”

Izuku leaned forward, excitement bubbling up all over again. “They gave me rescue points!”

Her brows lifted. “Rescue points?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “That girl I helped during the exam? She actually tried to give me some of her own points afterward.”

Aiko blinked—then let out a quiet laugh, clearly impressed. “Whoa, seriously?” she asked with a grin. “See what happens when you help people?”

Izuku gave a sheepish little shrug, fingers drumming the side of his cup. “Yeah… I think I hesitated long enough that I almost ran too. But I just kept hearing your voice in my head, telling me I was your hero. You gave me the push I needed to help her.”

Aiko’s straw paused mid-stir. Her smile softened, eyes glinting in the dim shop light. “I could say those same things to someone else and they’d walk away. It was you who did it. Not me. You’ve always had it in you.”

He looked down, cheeks warming. “Still… hearing you helped.”

Aiko tilted her head, lips curving into a smile. “You really did it, Izuku,” she said softly. “You’re going to U.A.”

When Izuku looked back up at her, his eyes were shining, glassy at the edges, his throat tight with all the words he couldn’t quite say.

✧ ✧ ✧

Aiko rounded the corner toward their usual training spot, hands stuffed into the pocket of her hoodie. She slowed when she saw the group spread across the cracked concrete steps of the open space between the run-down apartment blocks.

Haruki sat cross-legged, a battered notebook balanced on his knees, pencil tapping against the page. Souta leaned over his shoulder, pointing at something on the page with the blunt end of a pen.

Rika was perched a step higher, her knees pulled up, sketchbook angled against them as she shaded something with quick, practiced strokes. A stray strand of hair kept falling into her face, and she blew it away impatiently without looking up.

Naoto had claimed the far corner, slouched against the railing with a book propped on his thigh, eyes flicking over the pages with calm disinterest.

Aiko blinked. “Uh… what are you guys doing?”

Haruki looked up first. “Studying.” His voice was matter-of-fact, pencil still tapping.

Rika grinned without glancing up from her sketch. “Shocking, I know. Don’t faint.”

Souta smirked, giving his little brother’s head a quick nudge. “Gotta keep his brain functioning, even if he’s not in class.”

Aiko tilted her head. “Math?”

Haruki grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately for me,” Souta muttered. “I’m the one trying to explain fractions to a brick wall.”

“Hey!” Haruki protested, pencil tapping harder now. “Fractions don’t even matter in real life anyway!”

Naoto turned a page of his book, voice flat. “You’d both be faster if you actually read the examples instead of arguing.”

Souta scoffed, giving Haruki’s head another nudge. “Tch. Like you’ve ever helped anyone with math.”

Without looking up, Naoto murmured, “At least I don’t explain fractions like I’m starting a bar fight.”

Rika snorted, flicking her pencil. “He’s got you there.”

Souta barked a laugh. “Kid’s lucky he’s cute, or I’d have traded him for a calculator by now.”

Haruki flushed crimson. “Shut up!”

He turned to Aiko. “See what I live with?”

Aiko smiled softly at the familiar rhythm—the little bickers and balances between them. For all the chaos, there was something steady here. Souta hovered like a big brother, Haruki pushed to keep up, Rika drifted into her art, and Naoto sat quiet but sharp, watching everything.

“You guys do this all the time?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” Souta said, tapping Haruki’s pencil against the page. “If he doesn’t keep up, I make him redo it.”

Haruki groaned. “Slave driver.”

“Responsible brother,” Souta corrected.

Aiko tilted her head. “So… have you guys never been to school?”

For a moment, the air shifted. Naoto’s book lowered just slightly, and Rika’s pencil stilled on the page.

Naoto spoke first, calm but flat. “When my sister died, my mom… broke. Stopped working. She couldn’t get out of bed most days. I dropped out to look after her. Rika’s been with us since she was seven—she had to drop out too.”

Rika gave a small shrug, like it was nothing. “Didn’t bother me. School wasn’t really my thing.”

Aiko tilted her head, catching sight of the sketchbook in Rika’s lap. The lines were fluid, confident—shadows and shapes forming into something vivid. “Whoa,” Aiko said softly. “You’re… really good.”

Rika’s lips twitched into a half-smile. “Thanks. They don’t let you do enough creative stuff in school. Besides…” she shaded in a line, her voice quieter now, “paper and pencils don’t expect anything from you. Your art could be a mess and they don’t punish you for it.”

Aiko’s chest tightened a little. She lingered on the soft scratch of Rika’s pencil, the way her focus never wavered. Then, almost hesitantly, she turned to Naoto, her voice low. “Is your mom… better now?”

Naoto’s brows drew together for the briefest moment. He blinked once, slow, before answering, his voice softer than usual. “Yeah… she’s doing better these days. A lot better.” He let the words hang there a second, gaze fixed somewhere past the page in his hand. “But… after everything, going back to school just never really crossed our minds.”

Aiko nodded slowly, but before she could respond, Souta’s voice cut in.

“We never went at all,” he said simply, nodding toward Haruki. “Dad’s been raising us alone since Haruki was a baby. School was never in the budget. But he did what he could—brought back books from thrift shops, old workbooks people were throwing out. He taught us at home whenever he wasn’t working. And when I turned twelve, I started picking up odd jobs too—buying more books, supplies, whatever we needed.”

Souta reached over and ruffled Haruki’s hair, earning an annoyed squawk. “This one’s almost fourteen and hasn’t had to work a day in his life. Spoiled, huh?”

“Am not!” Haruki shot back, swatting his hand away, though the pink on his ears betrayed him.

Aiko studied him—studied all of them—and something in her stomach gave a slow, heavy twist. She’d never guessed. Souta always seemed carefree, like he didn’t have a worry or responsibility in the world. Naoto looked like nothing ever phased him. And Rika had a confidence that made it seem like she’d have been class rep.

Her gaze drifted to Haruki, hunched over his notebook, pencil tapping against the margin as he frowned at a mess of fractions. He was only a year and a half younger than her but there was an innocence to him which made him seem more childlike, more vulnerable. Something about the crease in his brow tugged at her.

She slid onto the step beside him. “Let’s have a look, then.”

Haruki blinked, startled, as she angled the notebook toward her.

“It’s just fractions,” he muttered, a little defensive.

“Mm-hm.” She tapped the page with her finger. “See here? You’re multiplying, not adding. If you flip this one over—” she turned his pencil gently in his hand, “—it cancels out.”

Haruki’s eyes widened as the numbers lined up neatly for the first time. “Oh! …I mean, yeah, I knew that. Just… testing you.” His ears went pink the second the words left his mouth.

Aiko grinned, teasing. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

He ducked his head, but there was the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he scribbled in the answer.

Souta glanced over, watching the exchange with something unreadable in his eyes—pride, maybe, or quiet relief.

Haruki leaned in, tongue poking slightly from the corner of his mouth as he copied her steps. When the answer came out right, his grin broke wide across his face.

“Yes!” he shouted a little too loud.

Aiko laughed, holding up her palm. “Victory high-five?”

He smacked her hand with way too much enthusiasm, and they both burst into giggles. Souta shook his head, smirking faintly as he pulled a book out of his back pocket.

“Don’t go filling his head too much,” he muttered, but his tone was light. “Kid’ll start thinking he’s smarter than me.”

Aiko laughed, then her eyes fell to the book he’d cracked open. Its corners were dog-eared, the spine cracked. She blinked—startled. The title, printed in faded academic lettering, read Advanced Principles of Cryokinetic Physics.

Her brows lifted. He’s a… nerd.

✧ ✧ ✧

Class 1-A… okay… okay, this is it.

Izuku pushed the door open slowly.

Voices spilled out immediately. Bakugo was mid-argument with a tall, glasses-wearing student near the front of the room. Other students sat scattered throughout, watching with varying degrees of interest, boredom, or wariness.

Izuku hesitated for a second, then stepped inside.

The tall boy noticed him almost immediately and straightened, adjusting his glasses with a crisp motion. He walked over and introduced himself as Tenya Iida, then launched into a tangent about the entrance exams.

Then, a voice called out from behind him.

“Hey! I recognize that messed-up hair—falling boy!”

Messed up hair?

He turned around.

Oh my gosh. It’s that nice girl who talked to me. She looks good in that uniform.

The thought barely had time to register before another crashed in behind it.

Aiko would look incredible in that uniform.

The image hit him with full force.

Aiko’s legs in thigh-high socks. Her skirt swishing with every step, that confident little tilt of her chin as she walked, like she owned the hallway and didn’t even realize it.

Her dark hair would catch the light just right as it flowed behind her—those deep blue streaks framing her face just enough to make her eyes pop.

Those eyes. That piercing blue with flecks of white like stars against a midnight sky, so intense it made his chest ache if he looked too long. The red tie would bring them out even more, like some perfectly crafted combo meant to completely undo him.

She’d look adorable. Like, unfair levels of cute. Like…

He slammed the brakes.

No. No no no. Stop it. This is school. This is a professional hero environment.

His face went hot.

I’m literally in my first ten minutes at U.A. I cannot be overheating because I’m picturing Aiko in a school uniform. I think I’m blushing now. Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

Panic shot through his chest as he tried to keep his expression neutral, not let on that he was absolutely melting inside over someone who wasn’t even here.

Nope. Too late. Definitely blushing.

He scrambled to focus on the girl in front of him who was talking to him while he was day dreaming about Aiko. He could feel his cheeks burning and quickly lifted his hands, trying to casually cover his face.

Say something. Unrelated to Aiko. Anything. Thank her for trying to give me some of her points. Yes. That. Thank her!

✧ ✧ ✧

The first week at U.A. passed in a blur of adrenaline and exhaustion.

There were normal classes—math, literature, history. But also combat training, quirk drills, rescue simulations, and surprise tests that made Izuku’s head spin.

He tried to stay focused. Mostly, he did. But his thoughts kept drifting.

How would Aiko's quirk work for this drill, or that test, or against these students? Would Mr. Aizawa’s erasure quirk even work on her?!

And every time he had a free moment to himself, a part of him wanted to talk to her. Not about anything big—just to say hey, to hear from her, to tell her about what was happening at school, to know if she was thinking of him too.

Later that week, they suited up in their hero costumes for the first time. The training grounds filled with students showing off new gear—armor, visors, flashy support items. Everyone looked like they belonged in a pro hero magazine.

The gravity girl, Ochaco Uraraka, said her skin-tight bodysuit wasn’t really her style.

Izuku nodded sympathetically.

Then froze.

His mind spiraled.

Aiko in a skin-tight hero suit!

His brain short-circuited just trying to imagine it.

He’d drawn a costume for her—it was tactical, cool, a little edgy. Armored guards, stealth accents, a mask and hood. It had structure.

But now he was sitting in class second-guessing everything as his pencil hovered over his notebook ready to sketch her a new skin-tight version.

Maybe she would prefer something sleek? Something bold? Something that hugged her waist and showed off her curves and—

He slammed his notebook shut.

No. Stop. Bad.
Why am I like this?!

He buried his face in his arms, groaning softly into the desk.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just focus? I wanted this more than anything else and now I’m here. Is it because Aiko helped me train? Is it because she believed in me, because she supported me? Because I probably wouldn’t be here without her?

And then, suddenly, it dawned on him.

No.

It’s because… I’m hopelessly in love with her.