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Shouto lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe at his forehead, breathing hard. One day, he’ll manage to beat Momo in a match.
How is she barely winded?
Momo bounces the ball against the court surface a few times, wrinkling her nose. “This one’s flat already. I don’t mind bringing balls next time, you know. You don’t always have to provide them.”
“It’s okay, I still have a few cans left.” He’ll have to settle for regular balls after he runs out; he could justify one spiteful order of expensive ones on his father’s credit card, but a second order would be pushing it. He crouches down and unzips his duffel bag, stowing his racket inside. “Monday, then?”
“Oh, sorry — I meant to tell you,” she says, shouldering her own bag. “Kyouka and I are going out of town for the long weekend. Can we reschedule for Tuesday?”
Shouto nods. He doesn’t exactly have a lot filling his calendar these days.
Momo holds out a hand. “Pass me the other ball? I can recycle them.”
“Ah,” Shouto says, sheepish. “Actually, I’d prefer to hang onto them.”
At her quizzical expression, he sighs. “There’s this guy who brings his dog to run around the court in the evening.” He gestures up at his apartment balcony overlooking the court. “I throw a ball down to them sometimes.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet, Shouto!” Momo’s eyes light up. “And I suppose ‘Reuse’ comes before ‘Recycle’, anyway.”
He stuffs the ball into his bag and catches the other one she tosses to him, putting that one away as well. He can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, thinking of Cute Dog Guy’s expression when another ball comes out of nowhere.
“Shouto,” Momo says, slowly, a note of amusement in her voice. “Do you like this guy with a dog?”
He focuses intently on the zipper. “That would be stupid; I’ve never even spoken to him.”
“Doesn’t he at least say thank you?” She sounds affronted. Maybe reuse takes a backseat to recycle if the would-be recipient has bad manners.
But he doesn’t. Cute Dog Guy just hasn’t had the chance to say thank you. More accurately, Shouto hasn’t given him the chance.
Standing up and lifting his bag, he shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m an…anonymous ball donor.”
“Anonymous.” She repeats the word, tone flat, as they head for the gate.
Resigned, he admits, “I throw it and then duck out of sight.”
He glances at her as he pulls the gate open. Her eyebrows are raised; most likely Jirou will be hearing all about this shortly. “Okay.” It’s a simple enough response, but the look on her face speaks volumes.
It doesn’t really matter, as long as he gets the tennis balls.
“I’m telling you,” Izuku says, setting his cup down on the table, “I have a tennis angel.”
Ochako rests her chin in her hands, elbows propped on the table. “A tennis angel,” she repeats. “Tenya,” she says, as their friend pulls up a chair to join them, “Deku has a tennis angel.”
He waves a hand across the street, where Hot Tennis Boy and Japanese Serena Williams are absent from their usual Monday late afternoon match. “The balls keep coming out of nowhere whenever I bring Katsu to run around the tennis courts.”
At the sound of her name, Katsu lifts her head off his feet, tags jingling on her collar, and he reaches a hand down to scratch behind her ears.
“Perhaps she simply finds discarded balls on the court that you hadn’t noticed?” Tenya sits down and takes a sip of his tea.
“No!” It comes out louder than he’d intended, and Izuku winces. They’re at an outdoor table, at least. More quietly, he continues. “I mean a ball literally falls from the sky, every time, shortly after we get there. I’ve seen them bounce a few meters when they land, so depending on elasticity and whether they’re just dropped or thrown down with any force, they must be coming from at least a height of—”
“Deku,” Ochako says, cutting him off. “We get it, they come from above.”
Tenya hums thoughtfully. “That is odd, and may be worth investigating.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” He sits back, relieved. Katsu puts her head back down on his feet.
“Ooh!” Ochako exclaims. “We could come and be your lookouts, hide behind a bush or whatever.”
She drains the rest of her drink with a loud slurping noise, slams the empty plastic cup down on the table, and stands up.
“We may be able to help you ascertain the origin of these mysterious tennis balls.” Tenya nods, also standing. “I have a pair of binoculars back home, I can retrieve them and then meet you two there.”
Izuku taps a finger to his lips. What if there’s a reason his tennis ball benefactor has chosen to remain anonymous? Maybe they won’t appreciate being spied on.
He is really curious, though.
“Okay,” he says, standing as well, and Katsu stands with him. “Binoculars, then dinner, then espionage.”
With Momo out of town, Shouto hadn’t bothered with solo practice — it’s probably why she’s a much better player, if he’s honest with himself — and therefore when the telltale jingling of dog tags carries into his apartment from outside his window, he’s grateful that he’s made a habit of holding onto old tennis balls for this reason specifically. This is the last of his stash, though, so it’s a good thing he’s scheduled to play with Momo tomorrow.
He wouldn’t throw a brand new tennis ball down just to keep up with this secret tradition — would he? Pulling aside his curtains to watch Cute Dog Guy and Cute Dog now…maybe he would.
Cute Dog bounds across the court, happy and excited, and Shouto smiles. It’s a far cry from how he — she? — had appeared at first, underweight with patchy hair, skittish and subdued. The very first ball Shouto had thrown had scared the dog so badly that he’d felt guilty and sick about it, at first. He’d made the decision to throw it on a whim, and immediately realized how stupid that had been, since obviously the owner would have brought a ball if he’d wanted one.
But then Cute Dog Guy — after a few seconds of looking around, astonished — had patiently, gently, kindly introduced the ball, and managed to initiate a very toned-down game of fetch that the dog had seemed to genuinely enjoy.
Shouto hadn’t planned on doing it again, but the next time they’d come to the court, the dog had stared up at the sky expectantly until he felt guilty for not throwing a ball down. And now it’s become a whole… thing. Something he looks forward to. He’s pretty sure he’s developed — and the irony is not lost on him — a Pavlovian response to hearing those dog tags jingle, immediately getting a rush of warmth before he’s even reached the window to see the two of them happily playing together.
Careful to stay out of sight — because it would be weird at this point, wouldn’t it? To suddenly introduce himself? — he tosses a ball over his balcony railing and watches it fall down to the court below. Cute Dog Guy shakes his head in wonderment.
Shouto lies on the floor and presses his hands over his face to suppress a squeal. A squeal, really — how much more ridiculous can he possibly get over this unfairly sweet guy he’s never spoken to and his stupidly cute dog?
There’s that jingling again — he can see the scene perfectly, in his mind's eye, the dog jumping up and down in anticipation of the ball being thrown, the owner smiling and laughing — and his heart squeezes.
…Maybe there’s still room to get a little bit more ridiculous.
“It came from a balcony, I’m sure of it.” Katsu snuffles at Tenya’s hand as he crouches down to pet her. “From the apartment building adjacent to the court.”
“Didn’t see who threw it, though,” Ochako amends, with an apologetic shrug.
Izuku runs a hand through his hair. “From an apartment? Did you see which balcony it was?” Not that he would know anyone who lives there. Luxury apartments like those don’t really match up with his social circle (other than Tenya, but he knows where he lives).
“No, sorry,” Tenya says, standing up. “We may be able to pinpoint it with continued observation, though.”
Izuku shakes his head. He’s taken up enough of their time. “No, that’s okay — at least I know it’s not, like, aliens, or whatever.” He laughs. “It’s probably just someone who likes to watch dogs play.”
…Whoever it is probably throws a ball down to anyone who comes by with a dog. That’s a lot of tennis balls, though. It’s a lot just for Katsu, actually. Why would they have so many? Unless…
“Why not be more obvious about it, then?” Ochako frowns. “Wave and say hello, at least, you know?”
…Could be one of the regulars at the tennis court…
Tenya hums. “Some people prefer to keep their good deeds anonymous.”
…What if—? No, that’s just silly. Hot Tennis Boy has better things to do with his time, surely…
“I guess.” Ochako throws up her hands. “Not a very satisfying payoff to the mystery, though.”
…It’s just as likely to be his tennis partner, and there’s no real reason to think it would be either one of them to begin with…
“Izuku, you’re mumbling,” Tenya says, and Izuku looks up. “What are your thoughts?”
“Oh, sorry,” he says, automatically, though Ochako and Tenya have repeatedly told him to stop apologizing about it. He resists the urge to apologize for apologizing. “It’s nothing — I just figured if he — uh, or she, they — have so many tennis balls, it’s probably a tennis player.”
“Makes sense.” Ochako nods absently. And then her eyes flick to him and narrow in suspicion. Uh oh. “You have someone in mind, don’t you? Someone you’re hoping it is.”
Her lips start to curve into the beginnings of an evil grin and he knows he’s lost. She’ll get the whole story out of him now, it’s just a matter of whether they’re doing this the easy way or the hard way.
He sighs. “There’s this guy who’s at the court pretty often; sometimes I watch him play if I happen to be sitting outside the café at the right times.”
He’s not going to mention that he knows when the right times are — he’s not a stalker, he’s just frequently in the area and has a good memory for these kinds of things.
“Sometimes I watch him play,” Ochako singsongs back at him. “You have a crush!”
“Let’s not be invasive, Ochako,” Tenya says, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Ha.
“You should go introduce yourself next time.” She presses her hands together. “If he’s your tennis angel then he’ll recognize you!”
Izuku rolls his eyes. “Supposing for a second that it’s somewhere within the realm of possibility” — he waves his hands vaguely around — “that it is him… he’s not my tennis angel, he’s a tennis angel, he— he probably just throws a ball for every dog.”
“That sounds like a hypothesis that could be tested.” Ochako lifts an eyebrow, looking at him meaningfully.
He blinks at her. No— If she’s suggesting—
“Kirishima and Bakugou have a dog, don’t they?” Tenya asks, evidently oblivious to their staring contest.
“Kacchan still hasn’t forgiven me for naming Katsu after him — I mean, I didn’t—”
“You kinda did, though.” Ochako scrunches her nose at him.
“—it’s not my fault that food names are the best dog names and katsudon is my favorite—”
Tenya cuts him off. “You don’t have to get Bakugou involved if you approach Kirishima about it.”
He has a point.
Shouto is panicking.
Cute Dog is currently slobbering all over one of his tennis balls — right in front of him. He’d dropped it by accident and the dog had just come out of nowhere to grab it.
And Cute Dog Guy is not far behind.
“I’m so sorry!” He catches up, a little flushed, a little breathless. “She tugged her leash right out of my hands and bolted.”
She, then.
“Katsu!” Cute Dog Guy’s eyes go wide as she jumps up, paws on Shouto’s legs, looking up at him and panting around the ball in her mouth. “Get down!”
“Ah— it’s okay,” Shouto manages to say. “I like dogs.” He likes this dog, anyway. He reaches a tentative hand to scratch behind her ears, and is rewarded with her tail wagging even more vigorously.
He melts a little, on the inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Momo watching from a short distance away.
“She’s normally nervous around strangers,” Cute Dog Guy says, an odd look on his face. He takes her by the collar and crouches down, gently maneuvering her off of Shouto. Big hands rub at her ears and neck. “She’s a rescue.”
“Oh,” he says, faintly. That explains her initial malnourished appearance. “You obviously take good care of her — uh, because she seems so happy now.”
“I guess it’s lucky that she seems to like you? Or else who knows how far she would’ve run!” He looks up at Shouto and lets out an adorable nervous laugh and Katsu licks at his freckled cheek and Shouto might just die.
“Yeah, lucky,” Shouto repeats. God, he sounds like such an idiot.
“Um, sorry about your ball.” He smiles apologetically, and it should be illegal to have dimples like those. “I’m, uh— I’m Midoriya Izuku, by the way, not that my name matters at all, sorry!”
“Todoroki Shouto.” He glances over at Momo. “And this is my friend—”
“Yaoyorozu Momo,” she says, stepping closer. “And don’t worry about the ball — they’re only good for a few matches before they lose too much elasticity, anyway.”
“Oh, really?” Midoriya actually looks interested. “I didn’t know that. What do they—? Oh, heh, sorry, I won’t bother you with a bunch of questions.”
“You can keep the ball,” Shouto says. He’d happily answer any and all questions — but he manages to resist saying so.
“One more for the collection, huh girl?” Midoriya chuckles softly, eyes on his dog.
Momo makes a noise in her throat, and Shouto bites his lip. She’s got it all figured out now, almost certainly.
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” Midoriya says, standing up, leash in hand again. “Nice meeting you.”
He’s already several steps away by the time Shouto murmurs back, “Nice to meet you too.”
“So,” Momo starts, lifting an eyebrow. “That was ‘guy with a dog’, wasn’t it?”
“That was a guy with a dog,” Shouto mutters. It’s pointless to deflect, though; he’s not going to get away with it.
Momo folds her arms. “Right,” she says, clearly skeptical. “Well, if that was the guy with the dog, you should probably have taken the opportunity to tell him that you’re his ‘anonymous ball donor’, hm? Or it could be even weirder when he finds out.”
Damn it.
No balls come miraculously raining down from the sky for Kacchan’s dog.
Judging by Kacchan’s baffled scowl when Kirishima conveys this to Izuku at the café, the reason behind their visit to the tennis court had not been communicated to him beforehand.
“The hell? Why are we meeting Deku? Why would a tennis ball— what?”
Explaining things directly to Kacchan never goes well. Better to let him piece it together himself.
“Thanks anyway, Kiri,” Izuku says. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem, man.” Kirishima grins. “We still had fun even if we didn’t score a free tennis ball.”
Lord Explosion Murder, Kacchan’s hulking Doberman, noses against Izuku’s knee under the table and whines, no doubt hoping for a bite of his lunch. Izuku glances down to make sure he’s not crowding Katsu — he’s a sweetheart, really, but doesn’t seem to understand how big he is. But she’s fine, unperturbed and resting at his feet.
“Eijirou,” Kacchan says slowly, eyes narrowing — Kirishima cringes exaggeratedly, looking to Izuku for support — “did you trick me into doing a favor for this idiot?”
“You’re the one who volunteered to come along!” Kirishima says. “I just said I was taking Lord for a walk.”
“I wasn’t trying to get you involved, Kacchan,” Izuku insists.
“If it involves my dog, it involves me, Deku!” The outline of a vein is visible on Kacchan’s forehead. But then he sits back, folding his arms. “Whatever. Nothing happened, anyway. Dunno what you were expecting.”
Izuku exhales. What does it mean that his mysterious benefactor hadn’t thrown a ball this time? Maybe they just hadn’t been home. Or maybe they hadn’t had any extra balls this time…
You can keep the ball.
Todoroki’s surprisingly kind, calm voice echoes in Izuku’s mind, and the way Katsu had been so trusting with him after just meeting him—
No, that’s a stupid line of thinking. Todoroki would have said something about it when they’d met. There’s literally no reason to think it’s him other than that he plays tennis and likes dogs.
“Thanks for lunch, Mido,” Kirishima says, when they finish up. Kacchan grunts — that’s about as much as can be expected from him in terms of pleasantries, so Izuku just nods at both of them.
No reason to think it’s him. No reason at all.
But when he takes Katsu to the court a few minutes later, the ball that bounces down to them (before he even has a chance to take out the one he already has) is a little brighter, a little bouncier than usual. Katsu is delighted, excitedly jumping for it, but Izuku nabs it out of the air first. The fuzz is nearly pristine, like it’s never been used.
So maybe the tennis balls are just for him (or just for Katsu). But that still doesn’t have anything to do with whether it could be Todoroki.
But when he gets home a little while later, he pulls out the ball they’d gotten directly from Todoroki earlier and places it on the counter along with the one that had been tossed to them. They’re the exact same brand, identical aside from one being a little more worn than the other.
It still doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Slazenger Wimbledon is probably a super common kind of ball that most players use anyway.
It’s not. It’s not even sold in Japan; it has to be ordered from the UK. It’s something like ¥500 per ball — not including shipping. Unless tennis is a much more expensive sport than he’d realized, that can’t possibly be the norm — especially given his newfound knowledge that balls only last a game or two.
“I could ask my gym buddy about it,” Ochako says, when he tells her about his findings. “I think she mentioned that her girlfriend plays tennis.”
“Sure.” Izuku shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”
She pulls out her phone and starts typing.
“Is five hundred yen per ball really so expensive?” Tenya asks, finger and thumb framing his chin.
Izuku blinks slowly at him, and Ochako stops typing with a sound suspiciously like a choked sob.
“This is a price of a banana situation again, isn’t it?” Tenya sighs and drops his head into his hands.
“It kinda is, yeah,” Izuku says.
“You’re officially not allowed to weigh in on conversations about money, Tenya.” Ochako shakes her head and looks back at her phone.
“Understood,” Tenya says, sufficiently chastened. He gets up and looks at the cork board Izuku has filled with what they know so far.
“Did they throw down a new ball by accident, maybe?” Izuku frowns. “And what does it mean that Kacchan and Kirishima didn’t get one?”
“This is weird,” Ochako says. She chews her lip.
“That’s what I’m saying!”
But she shakes her head. “No, not that — she keeps typing and then stopping.”
Ochako flips her phone around so the screen is facing him. The ‘typing’ dots appear for several seconds and then disappear. Appear, and disappear.
Placing her phone face up on the coffee table, she turns to him, one knee tucked against her chest. “Since we’re on the topic of your tennis boy anyway…were my eyes playing tricks on me or did I see you chatting him up the other day?”
Izuku groans and drops his head back against the top of the couch. “I wasn’t— I mean yes, I was talking to him, but it was just— Katsu got away from me and went straight for him.”
“What, like, attacked him?” Ochako blinks.
“No, no, nothing like that,” he says, quickly. “She seemed to really like him actually. I’ve never seen her warm up to anyone that fast.” He smiles, looking up at the ceiling.
“Awww, Tenya, look how soft he just went!” Ochako shoves his shoulder and Izuku sticks his tongue out at her. “Who could have guessed that the way to Deku’s heart was through his dog?” She laughs. “Everyone who’s ever met you, I guess.”
“If he is the one throwing the balls,” Tenya says, ever on task, “could Katsu have recognized his scent?”
Huh. That’s an…interesting point.
Finally, the phone chimes and a message appears.
JK: I’ll get back to you on that
“That’s it??” Izuku throws up his hands. “‘I’ll get back to you’? After all that?”
Ochako looks at her phone and frowns. “Huh.”
“What did you ask her, exactly?” Tenya comes to the back of the couch and leans down, looking over Ochako’s shoulder.
“I said my friend is trying to figure out who keeps throwing tennis balls at him so if she could ask her girlfriend about the brand that’d be great.”
Another chime from the phone sounds.
“She just replied again,” Tenya says, matter-of-fact. “‘Are there any suspects?’” he reads.
Ochako hums. “I’ll just tell her since you got a matching ball from him personally, you think it might be your tennis crush.”
“What—? No!” Izuku lunges across the couch for the phone but the sound of a message being sent indicates defeat, and he lets himself go limp, rolling onto the floor. “I’m dead, ‘Chako. You killed me.”
She nudges his ribs with her foot. “Why do you even care if my random gym friend knows you have a crush on some unnamed tennis player?” Ochako laughs. “I didn’t even tell her your name.”
A familiar woof from across the street has Shouto turning to look.
His eyes widen. Midoriya is there, sitting outside the café. Katsu is standing up and has pulled to the end of her leash, looking his way. Midoriya’s gaze follows where she’s pointing until his eyes meet Shouto’s.
His heart rate had already returned to resting after he and Momo had finished their match, but it speeds up a little upon seeing Midoriya waving at him.
He lifts a hand to return the gesture.
“That’s Todo’s dog guy?”
He drops his hand and turns back. Jirou has an arm looped around Momo’s waist and an eyebrow raised expectantly at him.
Momo rubs the back of her neck and shuffles her feet. There’s no need for her to feel guilty — it’s a given that anything he tells her is likely to be shared with Jirou.
“Quit staring,” Shouto says, quietly. “Or he’ll know we’re talking about him.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” Jirou smirks.
Shouto gives her a flat look. “Are we getting dinner, or are we just going to stand here all evening talking about my non-existent love life?”
Jirou hums. “How ‘bout we hang at your place, order in?”
She’s up to something. He narrows his eyes.
But Momo nods in agreement. “Only if it’s not too much of an imposition.”
It has been a while since he and Momo have spent time together outside of the context of playing tennis; it might be nice to have them over.
And it is — they make for pleasant company throughout dinner, and he even invites them to stick around for a movie afterwards. It’s fine. This is fine. He can be sociable.
All three of them look towards the balcony when dog tags jingle from below.
“Can I throw it?” Jirou asks, blinking at him innocently.
“Why?” he asks, retrieving the ball from his bag.
She shrugs. “It’s a cute dog.”
There…isn’t really a good reason to deny her. He sighs, and tosses it to her.
“Just don’t say anything to him, okay?” He bites his lip. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Cross my heart.”
He pulls aside his curtain so at least he can watch, even if he’s not the one throwing it this time.
The ball sails down, bounces once, and Midoriya catches it. And then frowns. Well, maybe. It’s hard to tell from this angle, this distance, in this lighting, but he does seem to be looking closely at the ball. It’s not hard to tell that he’s pulling out his phone.
Three things happen next: Momo inhales sharply. His phone buzzes. And Jirou clicks a cap back onto a sharpie, which she calmly places back in her pocket.
His stomach drops. “What— You— What did you do?”
Jirou puts her hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Kyouka,” Momo says, quietly, “that was out of line.”
“Ugh!” Jirou rolls her eyes. “Just check your texts. I’m helping you out, dude. The guy is into you.”
If Midoriya really texted, it’s probably just to tell him he’s being a creep and to stop throwing unsolicited tennis balls with his phone number on them. Slowly, Shouto pulls his phone out of his pocket.
Unknown: Hello?
Okay, so maybe he’s waiting to tell him off until after they get basic greetings out of the way.
“Did you— Was it just my number? Or my name too?”
Nausea grips him. At best, Midoriya is going to think he’s an awkward weirdo.
Maybe he kind of is an awkward weirdo. Ugh, Momo is right, he should have admitted it the first time they’d spoken.
“Just your number,” Jirou says, and he lets out a breath. “But what are you gonna do, text him back and not tell him who you are? Really?”
He could do that. Maybe they could have a bunch of conversations via text over the next few weeks and Midoriya would come to know and like him that way…but then what?
He could ignore the text and get to know him better in person instead. But then what would happen if they exchanged numbers and Midoriya saw that it was the same contact? He could get a new phone…
But then what if he ever wanted to bring Midoriya to his apartment? Even if he didn’t realize it was the same one the ball came from, it’s a stretch to expect him to accept that he lives in the same building by coincidence. He could pack up his belongings and find a new place—
“You okay, Shou?” Momo’s warm hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He’s sitting down, apparently. The window glass is cool against his back.
“I didn’t think he’d freak out like this,” Jirou says, in the background. She actually sounds somewhat apologetic.
“I’m not freaking out,” he says — it comes out maybe a little too defensive. “I’m just thinking through my options.”
“It’s…I don’t think it’s a big deal,” Momo says, gently. “Deciding to keep hidden all this time is a little peculiar, but he— I mean, obviously he’s already aware of that, and still texted when he could have just ignored the number.”
A faint call of “Um — hello?” sounds from outside.
Shouto closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Momo is right, as always. Jirou’s chosen method of pushing him may be irritating, but he was always going to have to reveal himself eventually.
He stands up, and steps out onto his balcony.
“Todoroki?” Izuku cranes his neck, looking up at the balcony above, where a distinctive head of red and white hair has made an appearance.
“Uh— Yes, it’s me.” Todoroki turns back towards something in his apartment before looking down at Izuku again. “I mean— Hi?”
“Um, hi!” Izuku swallows. Katsu whines for the ball. “You, uh, you dropped this.”
“Yeah…” Todoroki runs a hand through his hair, which is down, rather than pulled back, for once, and Izuku’s mouth goes dry. “Yeah, I— I know it’s weird, sorry—”
“It’s okay,” Izuku says, quickly. “I’m weird, too.” His eyes widen. “Not that you’re weird, I mean, that, uh— I may have had a whole conspiracy board set up to try to figure out who you were, or I mean, who was throwing the balls, and whether it might be you…”
This is a lot to be shouting to and from a balcony in the evening.
“Do you want to come up—?”
“Do you want to come down—?”
They both break off, having spoken over each other. He laughs, and Todoroki laughs, and his heart flutters.
“I’ll come down,” Todoroki says, and disappears back into his apartment.
The phone number on the ball has to mean he’s...interested, right? Izuku chews his lip. Ochako would probably call him an oblivious idiot, generally, but he’s not so oblivious as to misinterpret this. Right?
A minute later — or maybe five or ten, his heart is beating too fast for his internal clock to keep track — Todoroki appears, pushing open the glass entrance doors at the base of the building. The harsh yellow industrial lighting does strange things to the appearance of his hair, but Katsu barks in recognition anyway.
He jogs over to the court and Izuku waves at him through the fence. The chain links rattle as Katsu jumps up.
“Hi.” Izuku rubs the back of his neck.
“Hi,” Shouto says, breathless.
“You didn’t, uh— you didn’t text me back.” A nervous laugh bubbles out of him. “It was your number on the ball, right?”
Todoroki drags a hand down his face. “Yeah — it’s mine. My friend thought she was being, uh, funny, I guess.”
“O-Oh.” His smile falters. “Your friend,” he repeats, mindlessly. Of course it was just his friend playing a prank. Someone like Todoroki wouldn’t really want to give—
“But, um— I guess, uh—” Todoroki drops his hand, and it’s hard to tell in this lighting, but he might be blushing. “I guess I don’t mind— I mean, maybe I’d like you to have it anyway?”
Izuku steps closer to the fence. “Yeah?”
Todoroki gestures towards the gate before starting to sidestep closer to it. Izuku moves correspondingly.
“I guess I don’t mind having it, then,” Izuku says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He steps back, making room for the gate to swing open as Todoroki unhooks the latch.
Maybe he didn’t step back far enough, though, because now that Todoroki has come through the opening, they’re suddenly standing really close.
Todoroki is a few inches taller, and Izuku finds himself lifting his chin to maintain eye contact.
“That’s good, then.” Yeah, he’s definitely blushing.
“And I guess you already have my number, since I texted you.” Izuku tilts his head, bites his lip, stomach swooping and face warming even though flirting is (in theory) not as awkward when the other person has basically already admitted they’re interested.
Todoroki’s eyes flick down to his mouth and back up again. So that really works, then. Huh. “That’s good, too,” he breathes.
Woof!
Katsu nudges her way between them to jump up and nose at Todoroki’s hand.
“You know, now that she’s had some time to adjust, I was thinking of taking her to a dog park and seeing how she does.” Izuku scuffs his foot against the turf.
Todoroki’s eyebrows twitch into the barest frown as he crouches to scratch at Katsu’s neck and ears. “So you won’t be bringing her here anymore?”
“Well, maybe I still will sometimes.” He swallows. “I thought maybe— you could come along?”
Todoroki blinks up at him, frown gone, hint of a smile playing at his lips.
“I mean, since Katsu seems so comfortable with you.” Izuku grins, and Todoroki’s smile turns into something… breathtaking.
Oh.
Wow.
“I’d love to,” he says.