Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Hana!"
I hit the door again, hard enough to rattle the frame.
It takes way too long for her to answer. Footsteps shuffle somewhere inside, stop and continue again. Like she's deciding whether to open it at all.
Damnit I don't have time for this. C'mon Hana.
When the door finally cracks open, I'm already halfway through stepping forward. I stop just short of slamming into her, inches from her face.
"I need the equipment," I say, voice clipped.
Hana blinks, hair sticking out at every angle. "What…equipment?"
"The ones you've been testing. The field prototypes. I need them now."
Her brows knit together. "I told you, they're not finished. I was still running safety trials. I'll let you know when-"
"Hana."
She stops mid-sentence.
I look her in the eyes and force my voice steady. "I need them. Now."
For a long moment, she just stares at me. Something in my tone, maybe the edge I can't quite hide, makes her shoulders tense. Then, wordlessly, she steps aside.
I don't wait for permission. I walk past her, straight through the narrow hallway and up the stairs.
Her house is small, warm, and cluttered. As many times as I've been here, it's never been neat. Not that it's dirty or anything, it's just…messy. Lived in. A bunch of stuff everywhere you look.
Her room looks normal enough for a thirteen-year-old girl. There's pink curtains, a half-made bed, and a desk covered in notebooks and craft supplies. But the walls are something else entirely.
Stickers. Hundreds of them. Glowing faintly in the soft morning light. Some are stars. Some are hearts. Some are spirals. Even a few with doodled faces. Some pulse faintly with energy. Others shimmer as if alive.
Honestly with so many around at once it feels like I'm one second off from being permanently blinded, or exploded into a million pieces or something.
I head straight for the closet.
"Izuku," Hana says, voice small behind me. "What's going on?"
I pull the door open and I take a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts.
"A group hit the convenience store," I say finally. "Three men. Black masks. Guns."
Her eyes widen. "Were you-"
"I was there," I cut in. "Nobody got hurt. The police showed up. A hero, too. They got away."
I pause. My throat tightens.
"They stole my notebook."
She blinks. "…Your book?"
I nod once, sharp.
For a second, she looks relieved, like she expected me to say something worse. "Izuku, it's just a book," she starts gently. "I know you worked hard on it, but-"
I turn.
The look on my face stops her cold.
"They. Stole. My notebook."
The words come out quiet, but they hit harder than a shout.
Hana's mouth opens, then closes again. The usual spark in her tone is gone, replaced by something careful.
She swallows. "…Okay."
I take another slow breath, forcing the tension out of my shoulders. "I need the gear, Hana. Whatever you have ready. Anything that works."
She hesitates, eyes flicking between me and the half-open closet.
For once, I don't look like the calm, analytical boy she's used to seeing. My voice doesn't rise, but there's an urgency underneath it that feels dangerous.
Finally, she nods. "Alright."
"Just… don't do anything stupid," she says quietly. "Please."
I don't answer.
Because at this point, it's already too late for that.
Hana kneels beside one of the open boxes, biting her lip as she rummages through it. The faint light from the glowing stickers paints her face in shifting colors. A shifting rainbows faintly glows her face.
"Alright," she says finally, pulling something out. "First there's this."
She holds up a small black belt pouch, sleek but clearly handmade. The stitching's uneven in a few spots, and the latch looks like it was stolen off a backpack. Inside, neatly stacked like playing cards, are rows of rectangular tags, her stickers, laminated and slotted into thin card sleeves. Each one hums faintly with energy.
"It's not much," she says, glancing up at me. "But it works. Each card's a one-time use. Once you activate the effect, it fizzles out and burns up. You'll have to swap to a new one after."
I nod. "That'll do."
She hesitates, watching me with uncertainty before turning back to the box. "Next are these."
She lifts a pair of black gloves from the foam lining. They're sturdy, reinforced along the palms and knuckles, with one of her signature star stickers pressed neatly onto the back of each hand.
"Shock absorption's improved," she says, voice low but steady. "If you catch a blow, like a punch or a blunt strike, you'll barely feel it. As long as it's not, you know, a car being thrown at you."
I slide one on, flexing my fingers. The material fits snugly. The faint pulse from the sticker feels alive against my skin.
"Perfect," I murmur.
Hana looks away, fiddling with a loose strand of her hair. "Unfortunately, I still haven't figured out the other effect you wanted. The kinetic storage works, same for the release burst, but I can't get both functions to stack without the stickers burning out. And I still can't layer multiple ones on a single object. The energy feedback fries them instantly."
A small frown creases my forehead. So the Impact Gloves aren't finished.
A shame. But these will do. For now.
I nod, expression hardening. "Alright. Continue."
She hesitates again, then reaches into the box for the next item. When she stands, she's holding a white dress shirt and a black vest neatly folded over her arms.
"Izuku," she says quietly, "please tell me you're not seriously planning to-"
"I am," I say.
The words leave no room for argument.
Hana doesn't move for a moment. Then, wordlessly, she sets the shirt and vest on her bed and kneels again by the box. Her hands tremble slightly as she sorts through the remaining equipment.
"The tie," she says after a pause, lifting it carefully. It's black, thin, with a small silver clip shaped like a star. "It's got a sticker woven inside the lining. Pull on it, and it'll extend up to five feet. Good for binding someone if you can catch them off guard."
She hesitates, glancing at me. "Or tripping them. Or, you know… anything not insane."
I nod, expression unreadable. "That's clever."
Next, she picks up the vest, running her fingers along the inner seams. The faint shimmer of embedded stickers catches the light. "This one's for piercing protection," she says quietly. "It should stop small blades, maybe even a weak projectile. I think it could handle a low-caliber gun but…" Her voice falters. "…I don't know. It's not tested."
Her eyes flick to me, pleading. "Because they aren't ready. None of them are. You can't-"
I cut her off gently. "Nothing's ever going to get tested if I wait until U.A."
"Izuku-"
"Where would we even find a gun for proper calibration?" I ask calmly. "Or a sword for slash testing? No. A knife will have to be good enough. A BB gun will have to do. These are the best conditions we'll get until we're allowed into the real field."
She grips the edge of the vest tighter, frustration and fear warring in her expression.
"And yes," I add, glancing down at the gloves again, "it's a shame we couldn't figure out how to combine multiple effects onto one sticker. But we work with what we have. And what we have is this."
The firmness in my voice makes her stop arguing. She looks at me like she's trying to recognize the boy she's known for years and realizing she can't. I'm sorry, I really am, but I don't have time to treat her with kid gloves. What if they leave town or something? If they take my notebooks with them then all of this would be for nothing!
After a long moment, she reaches back into the box and pulls out a pair of black dress pants and matching shoes.
"The pants have a swiftness mod," she says quietly. "It should make you faster. And the shoes…" she hesitates, frowning, "they're supposed to increase your jump height. How high? I don't know. I was too scared to test them without that feather-fall prototype you wanted. I didn't want to break my legs just to find out."
I take them from her hands carefully, setting them on the bed with the rest of the gear.
"That's all I've got," she finishes, voice small.
I nod. "It's enough."
Silence stretches between us, heavy and brittle. The glow of the stickers fades slowly, leaving only the sound of our breathing.
"Thank you, Hana."
She doesn't answer right away. Just stands there, staring at me like she's not sure who she's talking to anymore.
"And… I'm sorry."
Her head tilts slightly. "For what?"
"For acting like this," I say, not meeting her eyes. "For dragging you into it. You've been a good friend."
There's a flicker of relief on her face, soft and hopeful, like maybe she's finally getting through to me.
Then I add quietly, "But you can't tell anyone about this."
Her expression freezes. "Izuku-"
"I mean it," I say, turning back toward her. My voice isn't harsh, but it's final. "Not the dojo. Not your parents. Not a single word."
She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again when she sees my eyes.
The silence that follows says everything neither of us can.
I pause at the doorway, turning back. "There's one more thing I need."
Hana looks up, wary. "What now?"
"The Vivre Card."
Her eyes widen instantly. Understanding flashes across her face, followed by reluctant admiration. "That actually makes sense," she murmurs. "Since I still can't make my stickers attach to living things, I put the effect on something that's always with you."
"My notebook," I say quietly.
She nods, moving to her desk. From one of the drawers, she pulls out a small square of paper. It's thin, pale, and faintly glowing at the edges. The air around it hums softly, and I notice it's gently tugging itself in one direction, like a compass with a mind of its own.
"That's how you're planning to track them," she says. "When the police can't. You've basically got a built-in tracker on whoever's carrying your notebook."
I take the paper carefully, watching the faint pull in the air before slipping it into my pocket. "Exactly."
Hana crosses her arms, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a prayer. Then her expression suddenly changes. Panic flashing across her face.
"Wait! I almost forgot something!"
She spins toward the closet and starts digging through the boxes again, throwing random scraps and half-finished projects over her shoulder. Stickers, wires, bits of fabric, it all goes flying until she lets out a triumphant, "Aha!"
When she turns around, she's holding up… a bright pink domino mask.
I stare at it. "…What the hell is that?"
"It's a mask," she says matter-of-factly.
I just blink at her. "…Obviously."
"No, I mean, it's special." She steps closer, pushing it into my hands. "It's got what I call a 'notice-me-not' field. It won't make you invisible, but it'll make it harder for people to recognize you. Kind of like blending into the background. Eyes slide right past you unless they're really focused."
I stare at the ridiculous pink thing in my hands. "And why does it look like something a discount superhero sidekick would wear?"
She crosses her arms. "Look both of my best friends are heading off to be heroes. How can I not want to give it a try. But some of us don't want to head out into the world without hiding their identity."
I deadpan at her. "How do you even know what a 'notice-me-not' charm is?"
She blinks, caught. "...I read."
My eyes narrow. "You read Harry Potter?"
Her cheeks flush instantly. "That's not the point!"
"Oh, it's exactly the point."
"Hey! You're one to talk!" she shoots back, jabbing a finger at me. "You name all your prototype ideas after Minecraft enchantments! 'Feather Falling,' 'Knockback,' 'Protection III'—ring any bells?!"
I blink, thrown off. "Wait. How the hell do you know what Minecraft is?"
Her blush deepens, almost matching the mask. "Because someone keeps making references to old movies and games that no one else our age even knows about! So I looked them up, okay?!"
I just stare at her for a moment, then start laughing. I can't help it.
After a second, she laughs too, the sound cracking through the tension.
"You know," she says between giggles, "for someone who acts all serious and mysterious, you're actually kind of a dork."
I smirk faintly. "I've never tried to hide my interests."
"Unlike me?" she teases.
"Exactly."
The laughter fades, replaced by a quiet stillness that feels heavier now, but softer too.
Then Hana steps forward and wraps her arms around me in a sudden hug. It's quick, but tight, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "Please be safe, Izuku."
I hesitate only a moment before hugging her back. My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. "Of course."
When she finally lets go, she gives me a small, watery smile. I turn toward the door again, the paper in my pocket tugging faintly toward its destination.
Time to move.