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The afternoon charm didn’t last as long as Izuku would have wished, the summer silence encroaching in and loneliness filling the space of every crevice. His house wasn’t anything extraordinary, a small thing with tiny plants out in the front garden.
The walls were painted a sunflower yellow, warm and bright and joined with overflowing plants. It was a hobby Izuku started to pick up after graduation, finding genuine joy in caring for these tiny, miniscule lives. Maybe that was the hero in him who missed saving, who yearned to reach out once more and protect the hearts of the world.
With a somber frown, he heads further into his house, feeling weighted, but somehow light. Conflicted emotions run turmoil in his chest, heart pounding in an unsure rhythm. He’d also grown to adore teaching, the students listening with bated breath as he touches the history of his wars, genuine passion lacing his every word.
He was admired as a teacher, his mailbox sometimes filled with letters of past students, just graduated, gratitude expressed in ink. He had pictures of every one of his successful students hung up on his wall, feeling as though he’d accomplished something through him.
When one for all had bid its final farewell, he’d been at a loss for what to do. The days had stretched longer, and no more did he strive for first in class. Only to not fail, not ever hit last place. His friends did their best to encourage him, always at his side with flowery words pouring off their tongues.
It wasn’t much use. He’d fallen behind in most heroic lessons. Now, mind you that he wasn’t weak. His constant training with AllMight surely put a generous amount of muscle on his bones, so usually at least he was above Hagakure and Mineta. Sometimes. It depended on the exercise.
Aizawa had never let him believe he was a failure however, never once deeming to expel him even when his hope for heroics seemed like a dwindling dream. He taught him how to fight even with his disadvantage, techniques of fighting and dodging and gymnastics. It had proven extremely helpful when he was allowed out in the field, though it wasn’t much.
So when he was finally allowed to make his own choice, he decided to resign his title as a hero. He couldn’t imagine getting in the way, perhaps a liability on the field. None of his friends were supportive of his decision, stating firmly that he could be a hero even without a quirk.
He could just never believe them.
And now, eight years later, and meeting this kid named Dai, he thinks that perhaps, just maybe, he did have another option. He didn’t have to settle for less. That if maybe he could believe in himself just as his friends did in him, then maybe he could be at their sides right at this moment.
Warmth snuggled his heart, a thumping comfort under the guard of his ribcage. He felt, just for a moment, that he was like All Might when talking to that kid. Only instead of saying words he would soon take back, he spoke something encouraging. You can be a hero, and he was able to believe it. Because Dai had tried to help that kid and wanted to reach out.
Was that what Izuku had grown to lack? The desire to reach out?
Had his fear of losing Tenko really dragged so heavily at him?
After graduation, Izuku’s friends had grown apart from him. At first, he’d been so confused and so hurt. He hadn’t understood and had set schedules after schedule. He thought that maybe, out of everyone, they would stick by him even if he was powerless. He hadn’t expected such a quick retreat.
They picked up plenty of shifts, overworking and spending every last minute out on the field. Izuku won’t lie and say he hadn’t felt abandoned, leading to teary nights in his lonesome apartment at the time and questioning what else was left for him.
But then Ochako had come around and they talked. They had talked about Toga and her strive for a better world. They had talked over her early romantic feelings for Izuku, but also of how she no longer could feel them. She’d lost something so grand when Toga died, that it felt as though she was incapable of love.
Maybe not forever, but definitely not then.
She said that Izuku hadn’t needed to reciprocate any feelings, and he’d been honest when he said he didn’t. He liked her in the beginning, sure, but once the first signs of war hit… Things had changed in him. Growing older, he knows juggling the weight of his trauma and any kind of relationship would be a heavy experience. Perhaps not impossible, but certainly undesirable.
Instead, they had chatted like old friends. Ochako expressed interest in romance with others, but never any plans to follow through. Her guilt over Toga ran deep, wounds that would perhaps never be completely healed. Her goal for a better environment for the younger generation, and anyone who struggled with their quirks, had been born one of those nights. They’d planned for how it would work and how it would be funded, and Ochako had devoted the entire experience to Toga.
Izuku hugged her and they cried. He didn’t feel good enough to talk about Tenko, but he could still connect with her emotions of grief. For once in the past number of months, he felt remembered. His friendship felt treasured.
He tried to ask why everyone had been so distant. Ochako had looked away, scratched the back of her head, and muttered some excuse that doubled as an apology before quickly diverting attention. Izuku had grabbed the hint anyhow with humming disappointment, but decided to not push it further.
They hadn’t any more chances to meet up again in the same context. Most of his friends had grown distant once more, and any inquiries he had were blocked with random excuses. Izuku had grown vaguely sick of it and stopped asking. After seeing Ochako, he knew his friends hadn’t forgotten about him. Only that they were busy.
Once Izuku started teaching, any hope of aligned schedules were lost. He grieved shortly, but then decided to support his friends from a distance. To watch them grow their careers, grins plastered on every screen, he found contemptment.
Really, though, the friendship he missed most was Katsuki’s. His dear friend hadn't been the hardest to keep in contact with. He never answered any texts, and any calls were responded to with voicemails and offhanded words. He only knows that the other cares at all is because every birthday, a signature, preciously detailed package arrives at the foot of his door.
It isn’t expensive, rather toeing the budget side, but money had never been an important thing to Izuku. Sometimes it’s old merch of All Might, sometimes it's figurines of his old class, and this year, it was a little card of Izuku himself.
He’s almost moved to tears by the gesture. On the card is a photo of him back during UA, during the war. His costume was designed with a shiny, reflective material that Izuku couldn’t drag his eyes away from. The card had a signature Hero Deku written in the corner. There were many cards of all the heroes, Katsuki could have gone for any other one, but he’d gone for Izuku. For the hero Deku.
Ok, so maybe a few tears do fall. He can’t help it. He misses being a hero. But it feels too late now, a dream covered in mounds of dirt and left to rot alone. He sobs and cries and holds the card close to his chest, not quite sure why this simple gesture has him so emotional.
He just... He misses. Ok? He misses who he was, he misses his friends and his life. He misses not being a murderer, and now he has the precious little version of him in his hand and he’s just- not handling it well.
And then, well, he finally got his answer. Eight years after that fateful moment, All Might had pulled him aside and spilled the truth. Of a suit specifically tailored to Izuku, built with precious care and thoughtful precision. Its- It’s expensive, it’s too much, and Katsuki had started the project and everyone had pitched in to help fund it.
He feels like bawling, and he does a bit, when he finally puts on the suit. He adores teaching now and he’ll never let it go, but god did he yearn to be a hero. And now he can! Aizawa managed both jobs, surely Izuku could learn too.
It’s been so many years since he’s been on the field, but it feels like a breath of fresh air when he’s back. Katsuki meets him outside of the agency, eyes trailing over his suit with pride gleaming in his eyes. He smiles freely and reaches out a hand, shouting, “Come on, Deku!”
And it isn’t a demeaning name, the way he says it. It isn’t an insult or an age-old nickname. It’s the title of a hero. Of a hero that he can now be.
And perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but for a moment he swears he sees the outline of Tenko Shimura. Of the man he murdered eight years ago. An action that had kept him so terrified of grasping continuing his life as a hero. He sees the man and wonders if maybe he shouldn't, but then the figure nods in acceptance, a silent encouragement that he needs to forgive himself.
He doesn’t know how, or even where to start. But he figures now that perhaps taking Katsuki’s hand is a good way to start.
…
“You ok, Izuku?” Katsuki asks, the night rain pouring against the window, thunder rumbling in the distance. Both he and Izuku are soaked to the bone, having to make a break for Izuku’s house to avoid the sheer downpour. They’d known the storm would be bad tonight, they just figured they had enough time before it would cut loose.
Izuku. Katsuki uses that name now in the quiet of this house, soft and tender and everything he’s not supposed to be. Where’s the anger? The explosions and yelling?
“Mm? Yeah, I’m ok, Kacchan.” He says, pulling his hoodie off and throwing it over the laundry. The shirt, pale blue and All Might themed (he wore a similar one during the war) had taken on a darker tone, sopping with rainwater and in desperate need of a wash. Feeling a tad embarrassed, he informs Katsuki of his need to take a shower.
He feels a little awkward about leaving his friend in his house alone, finding the practice rather rude, but the blond simply states that he’ll need to jump in right after, less they both catch a cold.
The hot water is soothing to the few bruises he’s obtained, but he doesn’t hog it. Stepping out after only a few breathed moments and quickly changing his clothes. He walks out to the kitchen, the aroma of dinner fresh in the air. Mouth watering, he turns the corner to find Katsuki at the kitchen, cooking an american style scrambled eggs.
Ixuku had forgotten just how hungry he was.
“About time.” Katsuki grumps, but there’s no real heat to it. His eyes pass warmly over Izuku, taking stock of his now exposed arms and narrowing at the slight discolorations. He doesn’t push it, however, a frown dusting his lips before dropping the fresh eggs onto a free plate.
He only made enough for one.
“Ah, what about you?” He asks hurriedly, idly noting that he’ll have to mop after them sooner than later. A towel had clearly been passed through, but there were still bits of muddy footprints and puddled water that had been left clinging.
“I’m fine, nerd.” And oh, his words were spoken so dearly, tender and soft and kind. He trudges off for the showers, leaving Izuku alone in the kitchen. He doesn’t want to waste the eggs, likely to be reprimanded for leaving them cold, so he eats quickly.
The sounds of the shower filled the tiny home. The eggs are frankly delicious, though Izuku never really expected less. The other had always been an amazing cook, of course it hadn’t faded.
Although, it had been eight years. So much had to have changed with his friends, and yet he’s heard very little. This whole day, his first day of returning to the field, he’s been chatting up his new life. Of his work at UA and the feelings of accomplishment that he’s earned through each of his students. Through them, he feels as though he’s able to actually help people.
Katsuki had been so, so quiet. The rest of the class had found them and they’d all celebrated in a short party, which is what led to staying past their expected time, and some of them had offered information about their lives. They’d been busy, they apologized, working any extra shift that would get them enough money for his new suit.
“Really though,” Kaminari had stated, thoroughly drunk. “It’s good ol’ Kats that lead the entire project.” He boasted, “If it was just us, it would have taken decades.”
“Oh, shut up.” Katsuki growled, a low rumble that was bathed in years of smoke inhalation, words tearing at the back of his throat. “You all did good. Fuck knows if it hadn’t been me then Icyhot would’ve ran up ahead. Congrats, by the way, for the jump in rankings. Don’t start slacking now, I’m right behind you.”
The half and half man raised his glass, an amused glimmer in his mismatched eyes. “Oh? Do you finally plan on being nice to civilians? I never thought I would hear that day.” He shifted over to Izuku, positively towering over him. He maintained his thinner frame, but he’d had some kind of growth spurt that positively shot him up. “Don’t be fooled.” He chuckles, “He’d been skipping meals trying to save up enough.”
Katsuki’s ears turned red, and if Izuku hadn’t been staring at him in brief shock, he would have missed it. “Oh, Kacchan,” He says, incredibly touched with guilt trickling in. “You really didn’t have to.”
“He kinda did.” Kirishima states, throwing his friend straight under the bus. “Man, he was torn when you officially resigned.” He clicked his tongue, blissfully ignoring the daggers being glared into the back of his skull. “ I thought he was gonna go right after you! Something about not feeling like a hero without you there at his side.”
Izuku had felt his cheeks positively alight, warmth rushing into his face, squeaking “ oh!”
Katsuki’s blush had also increased, and it wasn’t a sight Izuku’s ever seen before. His fists are clenching with miniscule explosions popping off his fingers. His teeth grind and he mutters a few expletives, but he doesn’t… blow up, like he may have at any younger age.
Once again, Izuku is hit with just how much time has passed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The blond sighed, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I missed my goddamn friend, no need to spill all of my business.”
That got a round of chuckles to pass through the entire class, but Izuku was hung up on one particular word. Friend. He just said they were friends. He would never have stated that earlier, but he did so easily here. His friends didn’t even tease him for it, as though it was an age-old answer that they’d been hearing for the past eight years.
But it’s the first time for Izuku, so he feels like crying.
“Deku? Are you ok?” Ochako asks kindly, redirecting all the attention. He sniffs and wipes at his face, nodding his head but not sure whether or not he was lying.
“Yeah- I just-” His words rise and fall, watery and sloshing all over the place. His class all breathe a word of panic, diving in to wrap him all in a hug. “I never thought I’d see you all again, not like this.” He’s openly sobbing now, but his friends are there to catch him. “After UA I thought that maybe you had all… moved on.”
“We’re so sorry!” Mina bawled, wrapping her arms around Izuku and hugging him tightly. “We didn’t mean to make you feel so left behind- We all missed you so much too!”
They’re all crying, except for the few that don’t. They still hug, though, with emotion behind their eyes. Katsuki is one of these few, and his friends part to let him through, reaching out a hand. “Izuku, you always could have been a hero.” He says, and his words quiver and shake, “but you gave up on that dream. We all wanted to reach out to you, to say that- that it was ok.”
Izuku watches, astonished, as Katsuki’s eyes gain a wet gleam. “We wanted you at our sides, but we wanted you to believe it too. We hadn't expected your suit to take so long, and maybe we could have made more of an effort to reach out,” He sniffs now, words jolting when the feelings behind them rush forward, “but we couldn’t bear a world without you being a hero at our sides. Not when it was something you would always yearn for. Not when we could do something about it.”
His hand was reached out, fingers splayed and gloves, designed after Izuku’s old ones, on full display. With tears cascading down his cheeks, he grabs that hand, intertwines their fingers, and pulls Katsuki into the hug, sobbing desperately into his chest. And if Katsuki’s shoulders wrack, and if his breath hitches, and if there are staines where his eyes are hidden away against his hero costume, then that’s his own secret.
That had been earlier that day. They’ve changed out of their attire now, but on their walks back, before the rain had unleashed. All Izuku could think about was the muttered sacrifice Katsuki had made for him. He skipped a few meals- sure, he’d stated endlessly that he missed their rivalry, but to- to essentially harm himself? For what?
The shower clicks off, filling the house with silence. Izuku’s plate is empty now, only tiny crumbs remain. There’s a brief, awkward tension in the air, Izuku feeling out of place in his own home. Would it be rude to start dishes? Should he have cooked something for Katsuki?
But then an embarrassed yell breaks through, “Izuku!” His friend calls from behind the bathroom door. Concerned, Izuku rises from his chair, starting over and saying “Yeah?” back in a quieter tone. Realizing that he was just outside the door, he mutters, “Fuckin, forgot I didn’t bring shit to wear. You- ah. Shit. You have anything?”
“Oh!” Izuku squeaked, stammering, “Y-yeah! Yeah I’ve- I’ve got something. One moment. I'll be, ah, right back.” He rushes off to his room, rummaging through his closet. Izuku isn’t as short as he used to be, and Katsuki hadn’t any surprise growth spurts, so while they were in a similar height range, Katsuki still had a few good inches over him.
He digs out an oversized All Might shirt, gifted to him by his father, who was often out in America and had no idea how big Izuku had grown. Pants were a harsher issue, but eventually he found some shorts that should fit-
He gathered all the clothes his friend (god, he’s never getting over that) could need and practically jogs back to the bathroom door, knocking before passing them through. His cheeks feel as though they’re on fire, embarrassment lighting across his veins before retreating back to the kitchen.
He tries not to physically react when Katsuki leaves the bathroom, hair tussled with a half heart drying with a towel. The clothes fit, thankfully enough, but something about seeing Katsuki in his clothes feels… he doesn’t know. It feels as though they’ve been interacting for years, that this isn’t a new development. It’s nice.
“Thanks.” Katsuki hums with a shrug. Idly, he glances at the door, perhaps ready to take his leave, but then a telling crash of thunder shoots down the idea. “Fuck.”
“Um, you can stay here, tonight, if you would like.” He offers. Katsuki gives him a considerate look before nodding, agreeing to take the couch. “Um- did you want to get something to eat? You didn’t have anything.”
Katsuki shrugs, oddly silent, but brushes past him and digs through the cabinet, hesitating before grabbing a few ingredients and putting something together, downing it in only a few bites. Izuku feels incredibly, incredibly, awkward.
They eventually move to the couch, on opposite ends and an All Might movie playing on the tv. Izuku can’t help but he fidgets, toying with the hem of his shirt. Katsuki must notice, because he says, “You have questions, spill.”
Izuku bites his lip, wondering if he actually should. But Katsuki offers a glare that Izuku finds he missed, and eventually spills. “Why… Why did you ah, skip meals, I guess.”
Katsuki looks put off, forgetting that the information had slipped earlier, but shifted on the cushion, heaving a deep sigh. “Not starting easy, huh? I needed the funding for your suit, and I wanted to get it as fast as possible.”
“But- Kacchan.” Izuku wished he could properly communicate how off kittler that felt. The blond didn’t just, do things like that. Right? “What if you like, I don’t know, faint or something because you’re not eating enough.”
“Jesus Christ, Izuku!” I wasn’t fuckin starving myself or anything.” He shrugs, looking at the TV but eyes unfocused. “A meal or two wouldn’t hurt, and it didn’t! Everything turned out fine.”
“But-” Izuku doesn’t understand, “ Why? You’ve always strived to be the best at everything- But every time I’ve seen you on the news you fight with civilians or are worn out? Are you taking care of yourself outside of eating? Getting proper sleep? Taking breaks?” He inhales an unsteady breath, “I know that you’re… you’re smarter than that. This is all on purpose- but why?”
He remembers earlier the video that had been shoved in his face via Aizawa, his teacher who’d become his coworker. The elder pro was none too happy when he found out about this. But they’d still chatted and got along, and he’d pulled out his phone that morning and on the screen was Katsuki shouting at the reporters.
Izuku remembers when they were at UA, or perhaps even in public right after the war. The blond had calmed so, so much. He handed out autographs and thoughtful conversations with curious fans, had no trouble toning down his temper during prodigy questions. What had changed so much that Katsuki lost control? Why had he reverted back to those ways now? “You could have been the top hero a long time ago.” He mutters, and it’s certainly on the more wishful thinking side, but not impossible.
“ Idiot.” Katsuki snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t you understand? I can’t be the top hero without you at my side, Izuku. I wasn’t fucking kidding when I said that I wanted to continue to compete with you for the rest of our damned lives.” He inhaled softly and finally turned to Izuku, reaching out his hand and resting it on top of Izuku’s, where it lay on the couch limply. “What I can’t understand; is why you gave up on being a hero.”
Izuku sucks in a quick gasp, turning away at once. He tries to pull that comforting hand away, but Katsuki intertwines their fingers and gives them an encouraging pull. “Izuku, come on. Something’s clearly weighing on you.”
“I- I don’t know if I can get through this without crying.” He admits wetly, and Katsuki finally gets up, but does not exactly leave.
“Then I’ll go get some tissues and ice cream. They in the freezer?”
Izuku nods, sniffling, with images of Tenko flashing behind his eyes. He’s scared, almost, to talk about that day. When he met that scared child who only wanted to be seen, to be recognized. He didn’t care to be cherished, to be loved thoroughly and fully, he only wanted just a hint of support, just for someone to reach out their hand.
Katsuki returns with a giant bucket of ice cream, something Izuku’s been discreetly saving for a night such as this. He always gets teary around the anniversary of their graduation, which is coincidentally when this entire day took place. Izuku wasn’t sure whether or not this was intentional. A large box of tissues is set down on the table, a few passed over to Izuku so he could wipe away the tears that are already forming.
And so, they spend the next number of hours going through Izuku’s pain. Of working through his guilt and the feeling of blood caked under his fingernails. Sometimes, it’s so bad that he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs- just trying to get rid of the imaginary feeling.
He weeps as he mourns what was lost. He wishes desperately that he could turn back time and find Tenko when he needed help most, and offer him that hand that he craved so dearly. He wanted to protect that heart that lay bare- but instead, he had erased it. Ended a life that still seeped with potential. He ripped someone’s hope for a better world out with his bare hands and he still has the audacity to pretend to play hero.
Katsuki’s hugging him now, wrapping him up in a firm hug and soothing every anxiety. He says simply that they can’t turn back time to save that boy, but they can learn from him moving forward. By knowing what he went through, by carrying these heavy burdens, they can stop the future generations from rotting away in alleyways, wishing for somebody to reach out their hand.
All Might had asked once if Tenko looked happy as he went, and Izuku had answered that he did. Katsuki built off that now, saying that even though he wasn’t here to witness the world today, that he’d entrusted it in the hands of Izuku. That he must continue moving forwards and make sure the world doesn’t revert back to how it was-
Izuku doesn’t feel much better now, but Katsuki says that he will in time. The feeling of being a hero is fleeting, but the blond assures that it will grow. That someday he’ll pick someone up who needs it most and give them such strong support that he’ll realize that he can still be a hero, even with the sins he carries.
Izuku cries himself to sleep, not even realizing until he wakes up. The ice cream that had been seated firmly in his lap was gone, a blanket splayed over his shoulders. He panics briefly, not seeing any immediate sign of Katsuki and wondering if he left without a word, but then he hears a faint sizzling coming from the kitchen.
He goes over, rubbing at his eyes to try and get rid of any encroaching tiredness, and finds the mentioned man over the stove cooking breakfast. “You need more shit to cook with.” He complains, casting a glance over his shoulder when he’d heard footsteps. “Why the hell do you only have eggs and ice cream? That’s a terrible combination.”
“Sorry, Kacchan.” Izuku says sincerely, taking a seat at the kitchen table and shoveling the breakfast into his mouth. He’s pleased to find Katsuki sitting across from him, sporting his own meal now. “You didn’t have to stay.”
Katsuki casts over a raised brow, none too impressed. Izuku flushes under the stare, muttering an apology. They eat in silence for a while, before finally he dares to brave, “So what area are we going to do now?”
“ We,” Katsuki starts, and only for a second does Izuku worry he overstepped, “are going to open our own agency, and then, we’re going to surpass goddamn Mirio and take first place in the rankings!”
Izuku smiles at that, a grin that comes easy and stretches from ear to ear. “That’s going to be rather complicated Kacchan, I’ll have to make up for all the yelling you do at the civilians.” He teases.
Katsuki waves him off, and has no trouble in replying, “ Bah! I won’t have any issue with that now that you’ll be there with me.”
Izuku almost chokes on his eggs, eyes growing wide and face lighting up in a heated flame. A boisterous laugh rings from over the table, and Izuku’s left to wonder if Katsuki knows… Ugh! Just how flirtatious that sounded! He can’t be doing it on purpose, right? Right?
But Katsuki has been dropping little hints throughout their entire interactions recently. How unbashful he is when stating that he’d been waiting for Izuku, that he couldn’t very well climb the rankings without Izuku there to compete with him. It’s been these small, offhanded statements that just make him feel so- he doesn’t know, loved?”
“Kacchan…” He worries for a moment if he’s pushing too far, if he’s asking for more than he can take. But he knows that even if he interpreted this wrong, that even if the blond doesn’t reciprocate any romantic desires, that they’ll manage a way through it.Their friendship will last no matter what comes between them, he’s sure. “Um…”
Still, he can’t force himself to meet Katsuki’s eyes, cheeks going flush. “Do you, ah, really want to spend the rest of your, um, life with me?” He asks, and ugh, how does he even word his question. Do you want to be with me forever in a romantic sense? Katsuki raises a brow, perhaps not understanding, and Izuku’s forced to push on, “I mean, like, you make it sound like maybe… You just want it to be between us? That you don’t, um, want to spend your life with uh, anyone else?”
It takes only a moment for Katsuki to catch on, and that blush from the day previous is back, only with more force than before, ears an impressive shade of red. He sets down his fork and coughs into his fists, and Izuku wonders briefly if he’s formulating some kind of rejection. “You’re asking if I want to be with you romantically?”
He says it so bluntly. Izuku nods weakly, wondering if this was a good idea as Katsuki scratches the back of his neck. He doesn’t look mad though, only thoughtful. “I didn’t want to breach the topic so soon. Fuck. I don’t even know where to start, Izuku. Because for the past eight years I’ve been devoted to you, I can’t imagine ever loving someone to the full extent that I do you.”
Katsuki takes a shuddering breath, turning away and looking scared for once, “But I understand that it may not have been the same for you. If you don’t want to be hero partners, or if you’ve found someone else, then I’m ok with that I just-” He shrugs.
And oh, Katsuki’s bracing himself for Izuku’s rejection. Because while Katsuki had spent so much time on him, Izuku had moved forwards in life. But that doesn’t mean that he’d ever moved on.
“No- Kacchan I-” He stammered for a second, reaching out and taking a hold of Katsuki’s hand, rubbing his fingers over the back of the other’s knuckles, hoping the gesture was soothing. “Of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I don’t know if I can get rid of these feelings if you don’t reciprocate.” Katsuki warns, but Izuku just gives him a soft, soft look.
“I didn’t say that. I’d like to spend that part of my life with you too. Truthfully, Kacchan, I don’t think I could spend my life to full enjoyment with anyone but you.”
There’s some tears, from both of their parts, and a kiss that seals a promise. Both know the road ahead is anything but easy, but they’re determined to move forward, together, as the hero duo they’d always set out to be. As the heroes who would always reach out and grasp the hand of those who needed their support the most.