Chapter Text
Sakura Beach is... different, compared to what you’re used to. The air is warm and salty no matter where you are in the city (in the town? What’s the difference, anyway?) and the sky is clear and bright. It’s surprising to find that the streets aren’t stuffed with tourists. Maybe this is Japan’s best-kept secret.
Your cousin, Izuku, had been kind enough to bring a car and pick you up from the airport. The road from the airport had been long and winding, and you’d spent the time in the car together wisely, catching up. You may have kept up a penpal relationship with him for the last several years, but it’s different to hear it in his voice.
Izuku tells you in depth about his partner Mei (a design genius, especially when it comes to hero support!) and his ongoing quest to convince her to adopt a kitten at the shelter in town. In turn, you tell him more about why you wanted the change of scenery, about being under too much stress with too little support. He tells you how excited he is to have you local, you choose to be considerate and don’t tell him about all of your looming anxieties.
Your dad had been the one to suggest Sakura Beach, at first. Auntie Inko had made noises about it before — you think Izuku comes home to see her sometimes, but if you know anything about her it’s that she’s a worrier. Izuku hadn’t been opposed to the idea, either, even after you’d asked half a dozen times if he was sure, and... it was a plan in motion, just like that.
“If nothing else, it’ll be a breath of fresh air, kiddo. But you know how the Midoriyas are.”
“Yeah, dad, I know...”
“You might not like the idea of somebody lookin’ out for you, but I know you hate the idea of it being me. Just... go into it open-minded, okay? You know they’ll take care of you if you let them.”
And, maybe, even though the idea of being babied leaves a sour taste in your mouth, your dad had had the right idea. He’d definitely been right about his place in it all; he’d done far too much for you when you were still a kid. Accepting help as an adult feels like failure, after all the lengths he’d gone through. It’d been a lot of fighting to get into a good high school as a quirkless teen, a good job as a quirkless adult. Not that you have one now...
If it wasn’t such a sore subject, you might ask Izuku how he managed it, but you don’t want to relive those hard times.
Regardless, whether he was really right or it’s just the sun shining on your face, this move is starting to feel like a good idea.
Izuku makes a point to show you everything, from the moment you hit the city limits. There’s a mansion on the hill, overlooking town, that he points out as ‘the Todoroki estate.’ It’s got a big privacy fence, which seems like a horrible choice if you live somewhere as beautiful as Sakura Beach. But maybe they’re just very private people, or maybe they just have more money than sense. Maybe you’ll meet them someday and get to make that judgment call.
Further in town, you come across a cinema in the old style, with big posters and meticulously lettered lightbox signs. There’s a huge gym, sleek and fancy with its chrome and glass. A couple of blocks over, the post office is quaint and washed out by the sun, and there’s a torii gate nearby as well. You take it all in with a curious eye, listening to Izuku ramble; there’s so much about Sakura Beach that doesn’t match up together. It’s kind of charming, honestly.
He shows you to the cat cafe and the pet shelter across the street, but the moment he starts looking like he wants to go inside, you draw the line. You aren’t even going to be living in your own place; you don’t have the option of getting emotionally attached to an animal that needs you.
When he pulls up into the parking area of a massive building and tells you that you’ve arrived at the apartments, you have to do a double take. It’s another one of those incongruous buildings — possibly the most standout of them all, looming high over all of the other structures in town.
“You live here?” you ask, getting out of the car with some trepidation. This isn’t a prank TV show joke, right?
“No, you live here,” he says, laughing at his own joke, and refuses to let you carry your own luggage into the building itself. Izuku’s really beefed up since the last time you saw him, and apparently he’s using all those muscles for good.
The lobby has a doorman that gives Izuku a big smile when he sees him, that doesn’t seem concerned about the fact that he’s moving you in. You’re too busy taking in the elegant details to ask questions, following Izuku and your things into an elevator that works. At your old apartment, it was easier to just assume the elevator was out of service and to take the stairs every day. At least it was good for your cardio.
Even though it’s shining and probably literally polished on the inside, you let yourself sink against one of the rails as it begins to move. You’re tired; flying places wears you out like nothing else. You’re already not excited about tomorrow’s inevitable jet lag.
What you could get excited about, though, is the comfortably air-conditioned ride up to your destination. It’s the most exciting thing yet —
And then Izuku opens the door to the apartment and the luxury of it slaps you in the face.
“How high are we?” you ask Izuku, stepping past him. There’s a massive wall of windows directly ahead, drawing you in like a magnet, and you stop just short of pressing your nose against the glass.
“Ah, the seventh floor?”
“How tall is the building?” Good god.
“...seven floors?”
He laughs sheepishly when you turn to side eye him, but — it’s hard to fully turn away from the city below. You can see everything from here.
“There’s a door to the balcony over here,” he says after a moment, and that’s enough to draw you away. You hadn’t even noticed the balcony, too distracted by the glowing world beneath you. It feels like flying, to be up this high.
It takes a moment or two (or ten) but you eventually undazzle yourself long enough for a proper tour of the apartment. The living room is plush — cushy, even — but it’s bare except for the furniture. Where are Izuku’s things? Maybe his All Might shrine is just in the bedroom. The first time you’d seen all his figures and posters you’d boggled at the dedication. Several years out, you’re still not sure how he maintains that interest so strongly.
The kitchen is shiny, fancy, with almost more appliances than you know what to do with. The coffee pot is most exciting, even though it’s not a futuristic chrome rendition of one. You’re just happy to know coffee’s in your future, really. The bathroom at the end of the hallway is surprisingly large, with a glass-enclosed shower and a blinding array of lights around the mirror.
And then —
“This is the bedroom! I’ve already put out clean sheets and everything, I didn’t think you’d mind that they weren’t brand new, but they have been freshly washed! I even used some of the nice detergent—“
The bedroom is just as barren as the living room.
“Where’s all your stuff, Izuku?” The curtains over the window are pulled back, showing you the evening sky from a new angle, if you wanted to look. The bed is made, pristine, and the nightstand and dresser are completely clear. No clutter, or knickknacks, or — not even a whisper of an All Might figurine.
“It’s... at Mei’s?” He sounds as surprised as you feel, and you turn around to give him a look.
“So you don’t. Live here?”
You’d come into this thinking he’d let you crash on his couch and you could repay his hospitality with like, cooked dinners and cleaning the bathroom. Not... this.
“I’m out of town a lot for work,” he says after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I spend most of my time with Mei, when I can. I’d been thinking about selling this place when we first started making plans, and then...”
“Izuku... this is a lot of money.” You don’t want to imagine the asking price on an apartment as nice as this, in a place as nice as this.
“It’s — it’s not like that. I wasn’t worried about the money. I just didn’t like leaving it empty, you know?” When he looks you in the face again, he’s smiling. “But now you’re here! It’s worked out perfectly.” It really sounds like he means it, too.
This is too much, you think but can’t bring yourself to say. How nice does a gift horse have to be before you do give in and look inside its mouth? How did your cousin end up this grown up, while you’re still... not?
“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I’d be just as happy to crash on the couch. I don’t want to kick you out of your home.”
He laughs, then, and you follow him back into the living room, sinking down onto the couch together. Your luggage is still sitting by the door, sticking out like a sore thumb in the empty space.
“I hadn’t been here in at least... three weeks? Before I came to clean the place up. You should have seen what I found in the refrigerator.” The disgusted look on his face makes you laugh, and — well. Okay. Izuku is stubborn as the day is long, and it doesn’t feel good to argue with him anyway. Even though this kindness is way too big for him to be giving you.
“You have such a good heart,” you tell him, bumping your knee against his. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, I want to know, okay?” It’s the least you can do.
“Well...” The expression that crosses his face at your suggestion makes you nervous, suddenly and all at once. He bites his lip, looking like he’s trying to find the right words, and you freeze, staring him down. What could it possibly be? Is he involved with yakuza? Is that how he got this place?
“If you don’t mind... I was wondering if you might let me set you up with some people I know.”
You narrow your eyes. “Set me up how?”
“I mean, it can be romantic or platonic! I don’t know your type, or anything. But... I don’t want you to be lonely here, you know? And I’m not always in town.”
You press your lips into a flat line, thinking. This whole thing reeks of your dad’s meddling.
“You don’t have to if you really don’t want to. It’s not — a condition of you staying here. But...”
“But my dad said something to your mom who said something to you, and now you’re worried I’ll die cold and alone?” It’s only about 40% a joke, but he smiles anyway.
“Something like that, yeah.” He chuckles. “I mean — these people are my friends already, so they’re pre-vetted. I wouldn’t set you up with someone who I thought would — be bad for you, you know? There’s no risk!”
Maybe he knows more than you thought he did. How much did your dad tell Auntie Inko? How much did she tell Izuku? You don’t have the emotional space for shame right now, but that just means you’ll stay awake into the small hours of the night kicking yourself about it instead.
That’s later, though, for all that it is inevitable. For now: “I mean, there’s still some risk. I don’t... want things to go bad and your feelings to end up hurt, you know?” It’s a real fear, but maybe he does understand it after all, considering the way he goes quiet, staring down at his hands.
“I know it’s going to be hard, but... You just have to believe that I trust you.” Izuku looks up, eyes shining, but at least the famous Midoriya waterworks haven’t started yet. “If I was worried about that outcome, I wouldn’t be doing this.” You take a deep breath, but he carries on. “I mean it, though. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, okay?”
Okay with you, maybe. But what about our parents? Have you mentioned me to any of these friends of yours, would they be disappointed? “What If I find a way to mess it up anyway?”
“You’re really worried about that, aren’t you,” he says, and he bumps your knee.
“Anxiety is no joke,” you offer wryly, folding your hands together in your lap. “I think you know that as well as I do.”
When you meet his eyes again his expression is rueful, and he looks much older than you in a way that simply shouldn’t be happening. What has Izuku’s life been like, to give him that sadness in the corners of his eyes and mouth?
“No, you’re right, I know,” he admits. “But... please try to trust me, okay? I won’t put you in a situation I think you’d have a bad time in.” You chew on your lip, trying to figure out what to say, to fix the heavy atmosphere, and he checks his phone, looks over the couch and out the window. “It’s getting late. Why don’t we go get something to eat? I can show you my favorite restaurant!”
Your stomach growls and, well, that’s an argument you won’t be making today.
Settling in Izuku’s apartment after dinner, with your stomach full and your mind as empty as you can manage, is still pretty weird. He’d gone home to Mei, leaving you at the doorstep of the building with the keys to the place in your hand and a tight hug around your shoulders. The elevator ride up had nearly been enough to lull you to sleep, and you’d dragged your body into the apartment with none of the energy of the first time.
The sheets on the bed are as fresh as he’d promised, smelling like lavender. It may not smell like home, but at least it’s clean. You lay on your side facing the window, with the curtains still open wide. The sun has totally set and, even though the windows are closed, you imagine you can hear the waves crashing on the beach at the edge of the island.
This entire arrangement still feels too good to be true. You’re going to have to make it up to Izuku, or taking advantage of the endless well of his kind heart is going to eat away at you. If meeting a couple of his friends is what it takes, you can do that. It’s not like anyone would be looking for marriage on your first meeting... You could go for lunch with someone and manage not to make them hate your guts within the hour, right?
You spend a long time, staring out that window. It’s always hard to sleep in a new place, but exhaustion eventually takes you there.