"Kamui Woods."
Ibara repeated the name in a low voice. Her eyes were fixed on the gray wall of the private gym, but she wasn't seeing it. She was seeing wooden branches.
"A formidable opponent," Ibara continued, almost in a murmur to herself. "His dominion over wood is a blessing he uses with great skill and precision. It will be a test worthy of my efforts."
Izuku, standing at her side, frowned. He wasn't looking at her, but at the empty space in front of him, visualizing the combat.
"What do you know about him?" Izuku asked, his voice sounding flat in the spacious gym.
Ibara seemed to snap out of her daydream. "He's the number seven Pro Hero on this year's rookie rankings. His debut was spectacular. He specializes in capture and immobilization. His 'Lacquer Chain Prison' move is almost..."
"Forget the ranking," Izuku interrupted her. "Rankings are for the press and for heroes who care about their popularity. We don't care. What do you know about how he fights?"
She blinked, readjusting her focus. "Well... he's fast. Very agile. He uses his branches for both offense and transport. He can create shields..."
"All of that is obvious. It's what you see on TV." Izuku turned to face her. "I want you to tell me what you don't see. What's his weakness?"
Ibara thought about it seriously. "His Quirk depends on wood. Perhaps... fire? It's an elemental weakness."
"It's an obvious weakness, and he knows it. You can bet every suit he wears has the highest level of fire resistance money can buy. Anyone who tries to burn him will find their flames do nothing, and by then, they'll already be tied up."
Izuku began to walk in a slow circle. "I'll tell you his weakness. He's a Pro Hero. That means he's bound by the rules. He can't seriously injure a civilian. He can't cause excessive collateral damage. And he cannot, under any circumstances, seriously hurt a U.A. student in an exam."
He stopped in front of her. "You don't have those restrictions."
Ibara's eyes widened. "Coach... are you suggesting that I...?"
"I'm suggesting that he'll be fighting with one hand tied behind his back, and you must use both. He will hold back. You will not."
"Understood," she said, with new determination. "I will use his mercy against him. I will purge him."
"Good. It's a start." Izuku nodded. "But that's not what's worrying me right now."
Ibara turned, surprise evident on her face. "No, Coach? I thought analyzing the opponent was the first step."
"It is. But we've already analyzed him. His weakness is his professionalism. Your advantage is your lack of it." Izuku looked her up and down, his eyes narrowed. "No. What's worrying me... is your hero costume."
She blinked. "My costume?"
"It's a piece of cloth. It barely counts as 'equipment.'"
"But... it's comfortable. And it allows me full mobility to..."
"Ibara, the choice of a costume is crucial," he cut her off. "It's not just how you look, it's how it functions. It's your armor. It's your life support equipment. And yours... is very simple. Too simple. It's the equivalent of going into battle with a plastic fork."
He moved closer to her, his gaze intense. "Put it on."
"Now?"
"Yes, now. I need to see it in action. I need to see how it moves with you. I need to see why it's a tactical liability for you."
Though surprised by the sudden request, Ibara obeyed without hesitation. Her coach's word was law. She went to the locker room and returned minutes later, wearing the simple, one piece white costume. It was a simple, almost monastic dress, made of a material that looked like thick cotton. It had no adornments, designed not to interfere with her Quirk.
Izuku walked around her, saying nothing. His eyes analyzed everything.
"It's... cotton," Izuku finally said. His voice was pure disapproval.
"Organic cotton. It's breathable and allows my Quirk to flow without synthetic interference," Ibara explained.
"It also absorbs water like a sponge. What happens if it rains? Or if you face someone with a water Quirk? That suit will weigh twenty kilos in thirty seconds. You'll drown in your own clothes."
Ibara hadn't thought of that.
"Alright," Izuku said, nodding to himself. "Let's begin. Arms out. Slowly."
She did.
"Now, turn around. Slowly."
She spun on the spot. He watched her with the concentration of a sculptor examining a piece of marble.
"Lift your right leg. As high as you can. Front kick."
She obeyed, the fabric stretching visibly around her hip and thigh.
"Hmm... it restricts movement," Izuku muttered. "The fabric has no four way stretch. You're losing mobility."
"I had never noticed..." Ibara said.
"Because you've never been in a real fight. Now, jump. Vertical jump, knees to chest."
Ibara jumped.
"Do it again. And again."
He made her jump and crouch for almost a minute, observing how the fabric wrinkled, tensed, and moved.
"The fabric seems sturdy..." he muttered, circling her. He stopped behind her. "But... is it flexible enough? Kamui Woods will try to immobilize you with his branches. You'll need to be able to break free with brute force if necessary. You can't just depend on your vines. You'll need to use your arms and legs to break the wood."
Ibara grew nervous. She felt his analytical gaze scanning every seam, every fold of the fabric. He moved even closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his body at her back.
"This seam, for example," he said, his voice a murmur right next to her ear. "It runs all the way down your back. Who sewed this?"
"Er..."
"Ibara, is it fire resistant?"
"I... I don't know."
"Is it cut resistant?"
"No..."
"What holds the suit together? Buttons? A zipper?"
"It's a hook and eye closure, up here," she whispered, pointing to the nape of her neck. "And the seam..."
"The seam," he repeated. "It looks like a weak point. In a real fight, if someone grabs you and pulls hard right here..."
Izuku took the fabric of the costume near her shoulder between his fingers.
"...would this hold?"
And with a surprising, unannounced suddenness, he pulled.
He hadn't expected it to give. He just wanted to test the material's tension. But the seam ripped.
The pull, combined with the catastrophic failure of the seam, unfastened the small hook closure at her neck. The entire costume split open down the back. And with nothing else holding it, it slid off her shoulders, fell past her hips, and landed on the floor around her feet in a white, wrinkled pile.
Ibara stood completely still. Naked. In front of him. With an expression of absolute shock on her face.
Izuku also froze. His hand was still in the air, where the fabric had been.
There was a second of absolute silence as his eyes traced her figure. It was a look of sincere, direct, and completely unashamed appreciation. The look of someone admiring an unexpectedly revealed work of art. It was the same analytical gaze he had given the costume, only now applied to the person who had been inside it.
He pointed to the pile of cloth at her feet. "That is an unacceptable design flaw," he said with total seriousness.
His gaze traveled back up, fixed on her blushing face, and then lowered slightly, his brow furrowing in pure confusion. "Why aren't you wearing anything underneath?"
The question was asked with a tone of genuine curiosity.
The shock on Ibara's face slowly transformed into a deep blush that crept from her neck to her ears. The heat was almost visible.
But, surprisingly, she didn't scream. She didn't try to cover herself with her hands. She didn't run. She simply looked at him, her usual serenity now tinged with a slight but undeniable embarrassment.
"It's... more comfortable this way, Coach," she replied, her voice a barely audible whisper.
"Define 'comfortable,'" Izuku replied instantly, crossing his arms.
"I... the fabric... of underwear... it chafes less when my vines move quickly," she explained, striving to maintain a professional tone. "It allows for a greater... spiritual connection with my Quirk."
Izuku stared at her for a long second. "Repeat that. The 'spiritual connection.'"
"Yes. Synthetic materials, like polyester or nylon... they interrupt the flow of my natural energy. The cotton of my suit is organic, but underwear..."
Izuku held up a hand, stopping her. "Ibara."
He sighed. It was a sigh of pure, practical concern. "Let's talk about physics, not spirituality. Forget comfort for a second. Think tactically."
He took a step back, giving her a little space, but his eyes didn't leave her breasts.
"You're in a fight. A villain sprays you with acid. Your organic cotton suit dissolves. What do you do?"
"I... don't..."
"You're in a burning building. Sparks catch your suit. It burns off. What do you do?"
"I would cover myself with my vines..."
"Your vines are your hair. They burn too. Next scenario. You're facing an enemy like Mineta. He throws his spheres at you. They stick to your suit. How do you get it off without tearing your skin off? Or do you just let him rip it off for you?"
Ibara's face paled.
"What if you face someone with a cutting Quirk who manages to rip your suit? Or someone with a wind Quirk who just blows it up over your head? Or just someone who decides, like I just did, to pull on your clothes in the middle of a fight?"
Izuku looked her directly in the eyes, his tone deadly serious. "Are you going to fight crime completely naked?"
The question, so direct and so brutally logical, hit her harder than any physical blow. The idea horrified her. She had been so focused on her Quirk's functionality, on the purity of her connection, that she hadn't considered the most basic vulnerability.
"I... hadn't considered it," she admitted, looking down for an instant.
Then, her eyes met Izuku's again. "I don't mind you seeing me like this, Coach. I trust you. You are my guide. My body is just a vessel."
She paused, her blush intensifying slightly. "But... for others to see my sacred body... sinners, villains, or even the press... it would be... mortifying."
"Exactly," Izuku said, nodding grimly. "Mortification is a disadvantage. Shame is a distraction. If you're thinking about who's looking at you instead of the next punch, you're dead."
He looked her up and down again, this time with a calculating expression. "Mortification leads to doubt. Doubt leads to hesitation. And in a fight against a pro like Kamui Woods, a tenth of a second of hesitation can be fatal. He won't hesitate. He'll tie you up and hand you over to the police while you're trying to cover yourself."
Ibara swallowed. The image was vivid and humiliating. "I understand, Coach. I was... negligent."
"You were. But that's why I'm here. To find these blind spots before a villain does."
Izuku crossed his arms, his mind already working on solutions. "We need to redesign your costume. Right now. From scratch."
He pulled his tablet from a pocket of his sweatpants. He powered it on and opened a design program. "Something that's still comfortable, if you insist, but 'comfort' now means 'combat efficiency.' Something functional, that doesn't restrict your Quirk... but that also has... layers of security. Multiple layers. And maybe something a bit more armored in key points."
He looked up from the screen at her, still standing motionless. "Come here. We're going to work on this together. I need your measurements and your input on the materials."
Ibara nodded. She took a step, walking out of the pile of white cloth, and moved next to him, completely naked, and leaned over to see the screen.
They began to work. The scene was a strange mixture of absolute professional seriousness and a completely normalized nudity, at least for the two of them.
"First, a base layer," Izuku said, his fingers flying across the screen, drawing quick lines. "No more cotton. We need a full bodysuit. Long sleeves, high neck, down to the ankles. Made of a synthetic polymer. Fire resistant, level two cut resistant, and acid resistant."
"But, Coach," Ibara interjected softly, pointing at the sketch. "That seems... very restrictive. How will my skin breathe? And the flow of my Quirk?"
"It won't. That's why we'll add breathable mesh panels here..." he drew rectangles on the underarms, the inner thighs, and along the spine. "...and this mesh will be woven with a carbon composite so it's still durable. Your Quirk will have to 'learn' to flow through it. If it can't, then your Quirk is weaker than I thought."
Ibara nodded, accepting the challenge. "Understood."
"Good. On top of the base layer, we'll put the protective pieces." He erased the sketch and started a new one. "We can't put heavy armor on you, it would slow you down. We'll use light, composite ceramic plates. Here, here, and here."
He touched the screen, indicating the chest, a breastplate that would cover her sternum and heart. Then the sides, over her floating ribs. And a back plate to protect her spine.
"And the legs?" she asked, following his logic.
"Shin guards. You mentioned bamboo in our first training session," Izuku said, remembering. "You were right. It's light and incredibly strong. We'll use a polymer and bamboo fiber composite. Lightweight, flexible, high impact resistance. Same for the forearms. You'll be able to block punches and even knives."
"That is... very thorough," Ibara murmured, impressed.
"It's the basics. Now, the outer layer. The part people will see." Izuku paused. "I assume you'll want to keep it white."
"White is the color of purity and divinity, Coach. It represents my..."
"White is a tactical disaster," he interrupted her. "It gets dirty. It reflects too much light. It turns you into a giant, bright target at night. It's the worst thing you can wear unless you're on a mission in the Arctic."
Ibara looked crestfallen.
Izuku sighed. "We can compromise. How about a pale gray? Or a very light olive green? It will still look 'pure,' but it won't scream 'shoot me' to every sniper in a two kilometer radius."
"Green..." she said, thoughtful. "Like the forest. Like nature. Yes. That is... acceptable. Spiritually."
"Great. Pale olive green." Izuku modified the colors in the design. "And we need a quick release system for the vines on your back, but one that doesn't compromise structural integrity like that ridiculous seam. We'll use overlapping magnetic flaps. They'll stay closed against any pull, but they'll open instantly when you push your Quirk through them."
"It's... perfect," Ibara whispered, her eyes shining as she looked at the design. "It's functional, it's safe... and it's... modest."
"Modesty is a consequence, not the goal," Izuku corrected. "The goal is efficiency. A hero who's worried about a 'wardrobe malfunction' is an inefficient hero."
They were so focused on the task, discussing the merits of boot soles and hidden compartments for medical supplies, that Ibara's lack of clothing seemed to have become completely irrelevant.
After several minutes of intense design work, Izuku stopped. He looked at the sketch on the screen, satisfied. It was a good design. Solid. Functional.
He looked up to ask Ibara for her final opinion. She was right beside him, leaning in, pointing at a detail on the glove design. Her profile was illuminated by the gym light.
And his brain, finally, registered the total incongruity of the situation. He was fully dressed. She was completely naked. They had been like this for almost fifteen minutes, discussing her costume.
"One moment," Izuku said.
Ibara looked up, her green eyes full of enthusiasm for the design. "Yes, Coach?"
His tone was one of pure, logical confusion. "Why are you still naked?"
Ibara blinked, genuinely confused by the question. She looked at him as if he'd said something completely out of place.
"Isn't this part of the design process, Coach?" she asked, tilting her head innocently.
"What is?" he asked, not understanding.
"For you to see me. So you can better visualize how the new fabric will adapt to my physical form? To ensure a perfect fit? To take visual measurements?"
Perhaps he needs to observe the musculature at rest to optimize the cut of the pieces, she thought. He is very considerate to pay attention to such details.
The answer. So innocent. So logical, in its own way. So... Ibara. It gave Izuku an idea. A terrible idea. A brilliant idea.
A slow, calculating smile, the same one he'd had before giving her the Bakugo mission, spread across his lips.
"You're right," he said, his voice soft. "You're absolutely right. In fact... this gives me an idea for a new training modality we could implement after the exam."
Ibara's eyes lit up with curiosity. "A new modality, Coach? Something that will make me stronger?"
"Oh, yes," he nodded, his gaze turning a bit distant as he imagined the possibilities. "'Textile Unrestricted Training.' It could improve the connection with one's Quirk by eliminating all physical barriers between the user and the environment. It would maximize sensory feedback. We could test it in different environmental conditions... cold, heat, rain... to strengthen your... connection."
"That sounds... incredibly profound," Ibara said, amazed at his wisdom.
Izuku cut himself off, returning to the present. His gaze fell on her again, sweeping over her from head to toe, but this time, the analytical filter was mixed with something else.
He gave her a friendly pat on her bare shoulder. The contact lingered for perhaps a second longer than strictly necessary. Skin against skin.
"You are incredibly attractive, Ibara. You really are," he said.
She blushed even deeper, if that was possible, lowering her gaze, but a small smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, Coach."
"But," he added, turning abruptly back to his tablet with a sudden seriousness that contrasted with his previous comment, "you are distracting me. A lot."
Ibara looked up, confused. "Me?"
"Your current state," he clarified, gesturing vaguely at her. "You are too attractive and that makes me look at you, not that I hate it, on the contrary, it's something I enjoy, but I want to give you quality work, so."
He looked up again.
"Please, put some clothes on. Grab a towel. Whatever. We have a battle against a Pro Hero to prepare for, and we can't afford to waste any more time because I'm analyzing irrelevant data."
Ibara nodded, though a bit disoriented by the rapid change in topic. Her enthusiasm for the new costume and the future (and completely misunderstood) training modality overshadowed any possible discomfort.
"Yes, Coach!"
She grabbed a large towel from the gym bench and wrapped it modestly around her body.
"Good. Much better," Izuku said, nodding in approval. "My efficiency is back to one hundred percent. Now, let's talk about the boot soles..."
They leaned over the tablet again, their heads close together, passionately discussing the design details of the costume she would wear against Kamui Woods.