As they stepped out of the arcade, the evening air greeted them with a gentle coolness.
The sun was sinking low on the horizon, painting the streets in deep gold and burnt orange, long shadows stretching across the pavement as the day slowly gave way to night.
Izuku walked beside Mina, hands relaxed at his sides, the small plushie he'd won from the claw machine dangling from his fingers.
Mina had absolutely claimed it as hers the moment it dropped into the chute—but for now, he was still holding onto it, much to her exaggerated annoyance.
"You still salty I didn't let you cheat with your acid back there?" Izuku asked, glancing sideways at her with a teasing smirk.
Mina stopped for half a second, planting her hands on her hips and puffing out her cheeks dramatically.
"Hey! That claw machine was totally rigged. And for the record, even if I did use my Quirk, I'd probably just melt the toy… or the whole machine."
"Sounds like a skill issue," Izuku replied smoothly.
She burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained—but after a moment, her laughter softened.
Her pace slowed just a bit as she nudged a loose pebble along the sidewalk with her shoe.
"You know…" she said, voice lighter but more thoughtful, "it's actually harder than it looks. My acid's strong, yeah—but controlling how corrosive it is? That's the real challenge. Too much and I destroy everything. Too little and it's basically useless."
She shrugged, eyes flicking away for a moment. "I've been training to fine-tune it, but…"
Izuku tilted his head, giving her his full attention. "So it's like having a dial—but it's stuck on random settings?"
Her eyes lit up immediately. "Yes! Exactly that!" She grinned, relieved to be understood. "Sometimes it's perfect, and sometimes it's—uh—let's just say I've melted more than a few pairs of shoes during practice."
Izuku chuckled. "Guess that explains why you never wear the same shoes twice in training."
"Yup," she said proudly. "And hey, if you ever see me fighting a villain barefoot, now you know why."
He smirked. "Noted. I'll make sure to bring spare shoes if we're ever on patrol together."
That earned him a playful shove.
They kept walking, conversation flowing easily—jumping from jokes to quirks to random stories—until they turned onto her street.
The houses were quieter here, porch lights flickering on one by one as evening settled in.
When they reached her doorstep, Mina finally stopped.
Izuku stepped closer and held out the plushie. "Alright," he said, voice gentle. "The prize is yours."
The streetlight above them flickered softly, casting a warm glow over her face as she took it and hugged it to her chest. Her grin softened into something warmer, more genuine.
"You're way too sweet for your own good," she said quietly. "And… thanks for walking me home, Izu."
"No problem," he replied easily. "Couldn't just let my partner-in-crime wander home alone after I wiped the floor with her in Dance Revolution."
She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Pfft. Lucky round. Next time, I'm totally winning."
"We'll see," Izuku said, leaning casually against the fence. Then his tone shifted—still teasing, but quieter. His eyes met hers. "But you know… I think I can handle your Acid."
Mina blinked.
The pink in her cheeks deepened almost instantly. "Y–You mean my Quirk?" she stammered, tilting her head, clearly flustered—but smiling.
"Yeah," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Acid. Quirks. Everything. I'm not exactly easy to burn, Mina."
Her blush spread as she lightly punched his shoulder. "Careful, Izu… you say stuff like that and I might actually believe you."
He shrugged, unfazed. "I'm just telling you the truth."
For a brief moment, she just looked at him—eyes searching, expression softer than usual.
Then, without warning, she stepped forward.
A quick, light kiss landed on his cheek.
"Goodnight, Izu," she whispered.
Before he could even respond, she spun around and dashed toward her door, waving once over her shoulder before slipping inside.
Izuku stood there for a second longer than necessary, fingers brushing the spot where she'd kissed him. A small, satisfied smirk crept across his face.
'…Guess I'm making progress.'
With that thought lingering warmly in his chest, Izuku turned and began the walk home. The streetlights flickered on one by one behind him as the last traces of sunset bled out of the sky, night quietly taking its place.
Hands in his pockets, he stared up at the darkening clouds.
'…So what's the next arc again?' he mused.
'Oh yeah. USJ.'
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
'Can't wait.'
---
The next few days passed faster than he expected.
Life at U.A. never really slowed down—but lately, it felt like everything revolved around him whether he wanted it to or not.
The first major incident came with the Class Representative elections.
What should have been a quick, orderly process turned into chaos almost immediately. Voices overlapped, arguments sparked, and excitement spiraled out of control as students shouted suggestions and nominations.
Izuku hadn't planned on doing anything.
But when the noise grew too loud—when students started talking over each other, frustration creeping in—he stood up.
That alone was enough to draw attention.
"Alright," he said, voice calm but firm, cutting cleanly through the chatter. "Everyone take a breath. One at a time."
The cafeteria quieted.
He organized the discussion, redirected arguments, defused tension—handling the crowd with a steady confidence that surprised even himself. It was something Iida should have done… but hadn't.
By the end of it, the vote made sense. He was officially. Class Captain: Midoriya Izuku.
The role stuck.
From that day on, whenever things threatened to spiral—whether it was an argument in class, confusion during drills, or students panicking over a report of suspicious activity—Izuku stepped in. He kept people calm. Gave clear instructions. Took responsibility without needing to be asked. It wasn't flashy. But it was effective.
And just like that, his position as Class Captain solidified—not on paper, but in practice.
Then came the hero suit.
U.A.'s support department didn't disappoint.
When Izuku finally received it, he took a long moment just to look at it. The material was reinforced and flexible, designed to withstand extreme stress. The fit was perfect. The design—clean, sharp, unmistakably him—was exactly what he'd envisioned.
They hadn't missed a single detail. That weekend, he barely took it off.
He trained in it. Walked around his room in it. Adjusted straps, tested movement, memorized how it felt against his skin. Every time he caught his reflection, a quiet thrill ran through him. He felt… powerful. Not just physically—but ready.
---
And then there was the other thing. Something he definitely hadn't planned for. One by one—politely, awkwardly, sincerely—the girls asked him out.
Mina first. Casual and bold.
Ochaco next, nervously hopeful.
Momo, composed but clearly earnest.
Toru, playful and teasing.
Tsuyu, blunt in her own way.
Jiro , though a tsundere somehow asked.
Every single one of them asked kindly.
And that made it impossible to reject them outright.
So he didn't.
Now, somehow—
Izuku Midoriya had six dates lined up. He stared at his phone late one night, scrolling through confirmations, times, and places, letting out a slow breath.
'…How did my life turn into this?'
A beat.
Then a faint, amused smirk.
'Guess I'll figure it out as I go.'
Unbeknownst to him, trouble was already stirring. And in a few days the USJ will finally arrive.
TO BE CONTINUED