Chapter 8: Like I Already Am

“Let’s take a break,” Izuku said, dusting his hands off on the sides of his shorts. “We’ve been going non-stop.”

Aiko looked up from where she was picking seaweed off a tangled plastic net. “You sure? We’ve still got so much more to do.”

“Yeah,” he said, already reaching for his backpack. “But, uh—come here.” He motioned toward the stone ledge. She followed and sat beside him.

Unzipping his backpack like he’d rehearsed this a hundred times—which, honestly, he kind of had. He carefully pulled out a blue and yellow bento box, the lid printed with a bold image of All Might grinning mid-pose, arm raised in victory.

Aiko stared at it.

“Um.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This is for you.”

Her hands moved slowly. She took it gently, cradling it like it was made of glass. It felt heavier than it looked.

Izuku watched her. "Open it," he said.

She looked up. “There's something inside?”

He nodded. “M-my... my mom packed it for you.”

Aiko blinked. “You told your mom about me?”

His cheeks reddened, not sure where to look so he just looked down. “Uh… yeah…”

She blushed slightly, but didn’t say anything. Her fingers brushed over the lid again, tracing the curve of All Might’s smile. Then, carefully, she lifted the top.

Her breath caught.

Inside were a few balls of mochi, slices of tamagoyaki, a small cluster of nimono… and several pieces of inari-zushi. With tiny seaweed faces. Happy. Sleepy. Pouty.

Her hands began to tremble.

She stared—lips parting slightly, eyes wide and glassy. A tiny, fragile sound left her throat—half inhale, half gasp—like she was trying to steady herself and failing.

And then, she broke. The composure she always wore slipped away.

Her eyes overflowed, tears spilling hot and unrelenting down her cheeks. She inhaled sharply, then let out a soft, pained sound, as though the ache in her chest had finally broken free. Her shoulders quivered, the box trembling faintly in her grasp.

She clutched it closer, as if holding it tighter might anchor her, might keep the flood of memory from dragging her under.

Izuku froze, the weight of the moment hitting him all at once. His heart ached. For a second, panic sparked in his chest.

Oh no. I made her cry. What should I do? What should I—

His eyes stayed on her. She looked smaller somehow. Fragile. And a fierce, unfamiliar feeling rose in him.

He didn’t just want to protect her.

He needed to.

Something in him settled.

His hands moved before his brain could process what he was doing. He shifted toward her, his expression softening with a quiet steadiness. The nerves and doubt didn’t vanish—but a steadier feeling pushed through, just enough to guide him. Without a word, he pulled out the chopsticks, slid them from their sleeve, and gently reached into the box.

He chose one of the inari-zushi—the one with the little sleepy face.

Aiko looked up, eyes brimming, her lower lip trembling.

He offered it to her, his hand steady.

She didn’t speak. Just leaned in and opened her mouth, and let him place it gently between her lips.

She chewed slowly, tears still slipping down her cheeks.

Izuku watched her for a moment. Then, with his other hand, he reached up and brushed his thumb softly across her skin—wiping a tear from the edge of her eye, then another from her cheek.

She closed her eyes, leaned into his hand ever so slightly.

Neither of them spoke. The waves lapped softly in the distance, and the sea breeze tugged gently at her hair. They simply looked at each other—his healing emerald eyes searching hers, while her storm-soft sapphire gaze shimmered through the last traces of tears.

A new feeling blossomed in his heart, a truth rising where uncertainty had lived before. His voice was barely a whisper.

“All Might believes I could be a hero someday, but… you make me feel… like I already am.”