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There were several things that you could attribute to summer: the metallic hum of cicadas buzzing, the smell of fireworks in the night sky, the icy hot comfort of the various wipes you used to keep cool in the humidity. Now you could add another thing to the list–the grating sounds of cameras clicking and reporters asking intrusive questions.
You were lucky during your first summer with Shouto. A genius villain had threatened to collapse Japan’s education system by giving all students that elusive ‘S’ grade. Newsgroups covered the debacle for nearly half the year. This year wasn’t as eventful, and the Hero Public Safety Commission had arrogantly declared this a summer of peace.
Naturally, less crime meant less work for the pro-heroes, which in turn meant less news to report on. Before getting with Shouto, you never kept up with hero culture, but now it was something you had to be particularly mindful of. You never realized how much the media relied on pro-heroes to keep the masses entertained. When crime was slow, they’d look for any kind of story that would sell.
“Unfortunately, some of us don’t have the luxury of a publicist to coach us on how to react to these kinds of situations,” you snapped–a comment you later apologized for.
The two of you had been stuck on the couch for at least an hour, no thanks to you and your hesitation about tonight.
“I don’t think I can do it, Shou.”
He was patient–god, he was fucking patient–and gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him head on. “Repeat after me,” he implored, “I can do it. I can do it even if I’m a little scared.”
“I can do it,” you sighed, finally giving in. This was his fourth pep talk after all. “I can do it even if I’m a little scared.”
“ Good .” His hand trailed from your chin down to the curve of your shoulder. “I knew I could be confident in your ability to take directions well.” Shouto savored the heat of your skin as shyness burned across your body.
“But still!” You pulled back from his touch, much to Shouto’s annoyance. He huffed before leaning back into his seat, crossing his arms. “Even if we go out tonight, what makes you think that people won’t recognize you ?”
Sporting a shorter cut that made his bangs fall just short of his brows and feather perfectly along his cheeks, Shouto’s hair brought more attention to his face. Anyone could fall in love with one look into his eyes. His chiseled jaw was left bare. From behind, you could see the thickness of his neck, tucked in-between broad shoulders. You weren’t sure if you should hate or thank his hairstylist.
It wasn’t just his face though. It was his clothes. Even if he weren’t a pro-hero, surely Shouto had enough social awareness to know that people would stare because of what he was wearing. You clicked your tongue. No, he lacked that sort of recognition, or maybe he simply didn’t care.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
His clean, black cotton shirt wrinkled across his chest, pleased to be given a break from having their fibers stretched to their limits. It fit just right, meaning that his biceps bulged while he crossed his arms and pouted. At least his jeans and sneakers weren’t as eye-catching.
Everyone was used to the professional dressed pro-hero or seeing Shouto in a suit as he made publicity rounds across Japan. You might not keep up with hero culture, but you knew how the minds of the thirsty worked–they’d go absolutely feral if they saw him in casual wear.
“I shouldn’t expect much out of someone who uses his actual first name as his pro-hero identity.” You shook your head. “But that’s why I love you, isn’t it? You’ve always been yourself.”
He hummed in deep thought. “I love you too, and well, if anyone asks, I’ll say that I’m not Shouto Todoroki.”
Blowing a puff of air, you gave him a disbelieving ‘As if!’ Shouto who said thank you every time a grandma stopped to call him handsome? Shouto who showed off his quirk any time a child asked, just to make them happy? There was no way he could do that.
He wasn’t finished with his plan as he continued. “Better yet, I’ll tell them that my name isn’t important.” He winked.
You wondered who had taught him that. Was it Sero or Kaminari?
“They can refer to me in the media as your boyfriend.”
No one had taught him that, you decided. He grew cheekier every day you spent together.
Your embarrassment traveled down to your hand as you playfully pushed Shouto, an insignificant detail that made him smile. He was proud that he could still make you feel this way even though the honeymoon stage of the relationship was over.
Grabbing your hand before you could pull away again, he asked you, “Shall we?”
“Aren’t you nervous?”
Various friends had asked you that through texts or whenever you met up. After all, the tabloids were running wild this summer. One gossip rag claimed that Bakugou was a virgin, which in turn led to news outlets covering the ensuing libel case. Another claimed that the principal of U.A., Nezu was a nepo baby because he was a relative of one Mr. Charles Entertainment Cheese. There was a wild debate on if that counted as nepotism if they were in different fields.
With Shouto rising the ranks each quarter, it was inevitable that the media would be interested in him, and by association, you. Along with his PR team, Shouto was trying to craft the best way to publicly announce your relationship but while still protecting your normal life as a citizen.
“No,” you’d laugh it off and lie. “I’m too boring for them. Besides, what could they possibly say or photograph me doing?”
“Right,” they’d nod their heads in agreement. “It’s not like they could catch you in a totally vulnerable position while out in public.”
Unfortunately, there was one very glaring and obvious vulnerable position they could catch you in, and unfortunately again, that situation was deeply entwined with celebrating summer.
Smoke and the tempting smell of food guided you towards the festival grounds better than your map ever could. Grilled meats greeted you first as workers fanned the flames of their grills and quickly handed out skewers, only to be replaced just as quickly. After those stalls were the usual festival fanfare: takoyaki, okonomiyaki, and grilled corn.
Like you, the other festival goers were too absorbed in the atmosphere to take notice of anyone else. Aside from the food, various games and wares were taking their attention.
“Not so bad, right?” Shouto commented. Putting on a hat and mask at the last minute also helped.
Ever mindful, Shouto watched your reaction to everything you encountered since leaving your apartment. Neither of you said it out loud, but tonight was a big moment for you both. There was a possibility that your relationship could be revealed to the public. You had to be careful.
Tugging you towards a different area, you wondered what he could have been so excited to show you. You passed game stalls that had stuffed animals and goldfish as prizes. You walked past a line of artisanal ceramics.
To your surprise, bright lights and foreign mascots greeted you instead. American style burgs, Korean corn dogs, and other foreign eats lined the small lane.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Shouto asked, chest puffed up with pride.
He was referring to the corn dogs of course, in all their diced potato-coated glory. Referring to the corn dogs, in all of their diced potato-coated glory. During a particularly long mission, you were bored and spammed his phone with different pictures and videos of the food, going so far as bookmarking several places you could try them at.
Differing from its American counterpart, the Korean style corn dogs had a lighter batter, making it crispier. You weren’t sure of what was more intriguing–the different cheeses you could add or the different things you could coat it in. Seeing and smelling them in person had you drooling.
You needed to be strong though. Anyone could be a reporter or photographer nowadays. You wouldn’t know any better unless they approached you. You doubted you could hear any camera clicks with all this noise too.
Swallowing, you lied. “No, I think I want some karaage instead.”
Shouto did his best to hide disappointment. He was looking forward to seeing your face light up at that first bite.
Heading to the nearest karaage stall, Shouto wondered if you were feeling self-conscious. He thought that you were perfect as you were, but you’d been anxious all summer. He couldn’t know with certainty what you were feeling. Just last week, Selkie was sad after a news anchor called his skin lackluster and dry because of the weather. Shouto wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t told him. Were you putting on a brave face too?
After sharing some of that delicious fried chicken, Shouto could easily predict what would come next. That was the beauty of knowing someone so well. His hand was already pushing in the right direction towards something sweet as you checked your phone.
Tonight was running more smoothly than expected. The fireworks would start in about an hour. There weren’t suspicious people in the area. After the show, you and Shouto could go home and cuddle.
“S’not fair, Mama!” A child whined from atop his father’s shoulders. “Let Dada have one more. Please!” His ice cream haphazardly swayed as he pleaded with his mother.
“Kenta, sweetie,” his mom tried to say in her gentlest voice, “you might not understand because you’re still a kid, but Dada had three ice cream cones already. He’s gonna have a tummy ache if he eats another one.”
Her partner failed to disagree, quipping, “C’mon, babe! You heard the little guy.”
Shouto thought you had finally gone back to normal. Maybe he was being too sensitive and cautious about your feelings earlier.
“B-but Mama, Dada’s been good today.” Kenta listed off the things his father had done so far. “He got us food, and he put me on his shoulders so I can be real big and see!” His arms made a show of depicting how tall he was now.
And in doing so, Kenta’s ice cream fell on Shouto’s head.
Already hearing Kenta’s sniffles, his dad cooed that it was okay. It was an accident, but he needed to apologize. Meanwhile, his mom already started apologizing on behalf of all of them.
“It’s fine,” Shouto said, ice cream dripping down his hat and falling to the ground. You and her exchanged a look. No, it wasn’t fine.
“Really,” he tried to reassure you both. “There’s a convenience store just outside of here. And how about another cone to replace the one that fell?” Conveniently, the exchange happened in front of another soft serve stall.
Kenta nodded his head in excitement, promising to be more careful this time. His father set him on the ground to prevent other people’s heads and hats from getting ruined by his son.
“Now kiddo, what do you say?”
With ice cream dripping down his chin and onto his hand, Kenta grinned. “Thanks Shouto! This is why you’re my hero.”
You and Shouto froze. Leave it to a child to point out something that you were trying to hide.
His parents scrutinized Shouto more closely. The hat and mask covered most things, but it couldn’t have been anyone else when they saw his scar. “ Pro-hero Shouto?”
Their questioning caught the attention of others.
Grabbing your hand, Shouto said in the politest of ways, “No, I think you’re mistaken. Bye now.”
In the rush, his hat got lost to the crowd, making it more obvious that he was lying. You were too distracted by the whispers of his name to wonder how his hair and clothes didn’t get ruined while Shouto focused on getting you out there.
“You okay?” He asked, slightly out of breath as you crossed into Family Mart.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you wheezed, trying to breathe normally.
Straightening out your clothes, you said, “Well, I guess that’s the end of our date, huh? It was nice while it lasted at least.”
Looking outside, he told you, “It might not be the best view, but we can catch the fireworks from that bench over there.” He pointed towards a spot a few meters away that was just off the main street.
“Great,” you said, browsing the drink aisle, grabbing something for both of you to share. You grabbed some wipes too, in case Shouto felt sticky.
At the register, a popsicle slid in with your other items.
“What?” Shouto asked innocently. “Isn’t this your favorite?” He leaned over you to tap his card on the reader. “Besides, I’m paying for it anyway.”
Taneo truly was blessed by the heavens with fortune like this. The only reason why he came to this festival was to cover their unique culinary delights. While looking for ice cream, Kenta had stopped him, telling him to go to a specific booth.
“That place is the best,” he argued, “because Shouto got me ice cream from there. It was tasty!”
“ Todoroki Shouto?” Taneo clarified, journalist mode activating. Because of the slow season, any pro-hero stories were hot, but stories about the Todoroki Shouto would be especially tantalizing.
“I guess,” Kenta shrugged. How was he supposed to know what Shouto’s surname was? He was only six.
“Yeah, he got me ice cream even though he was on a date,” Kenta told him, not understanding the value of the information he shared. Taneo was already drafting titles in his head. So far “ Too Hot to Stay Single, Who’s the Mysterious Person that has Melted Shouto’s Heart? ” was his favorite. “That’s what Mama and Dada said at least. They said that when you don’t have kids, you can do whatever you want, like hold hands and go on dates whenever.”
“Kenta, dude!” His father groaned. “You just can’t repeat everything we tell you.”
Meanwhile his mother hoped that the conversation would end soon, in case Kenta would share more personal secrets about his family.
“Oh really? They were holding hands ?” Taneo said, straightening up from his stooped position while talking to Kenta. “Well, that’s okay for them to do since they’re both adults.” Despite that, Kenta made a face.
He pointed in the direction that you had left in. “And you said that you saw them go this way, right?”
Kenta’s mom nodded. “They mentioned something about a convenience store.”
“Thanks for the scoop, kid,” Taneo grinned. “You too, mom and dad!”
He could already hear Juzo News’ editor-in-chief singing praises about this juicy story.
“Do you really not want it?” Shouto asked as you settled on the bench. His guess was correct. You’d still be able to see most of the fireworks from here.
“Really,” you said, handing it to him.
The corn dog you could resist, but the popsicle? Nothing sounded more refreshing than its cherry coolness on your tongue. Your escape from the main grounds of the festival had left you parched, and you didn’t think any of the drinks could satisfy you the way your favorite summer treat could, especially in this humidity.
“Has anything been bothering you today?” He asked bluntly.
Food was how you showed your love, insisting on the first date that that was how people were truly able to connect with each other. Your blatant rejection of two food items that Shouto brought you meant that something was wrong.
You paused, your drink hissing as you left it half-turned. Were you that obvious? He gave you that look with his eyes.
“Yeah,” you finally confessed. “It’s just that…” You finished taking the cap off your soda, taking a sip for courage. “It’s so dumb . It sounds even worse when I say it out loud.”
“It can’t be that bad,” he reassured you but didn’t press you further. He already thought of counters to any insecurity that you might have. You were gorgeous. You were smart. He wasn’t worthy of you . If you were worried about the media, he knew that he could ask for favors to manage that too.
“I’m self-conscious about putting phallic-shaped things in my mouth.”
“ Huh? ”
Your voice went up a pitch as you stumbled on your words, heat radiating from your body. “It’s dumb! I know, I know . But I can’t stop thinking about the face I make! And what if someone takes a picture of that? I can already see it, people making fun of me on the internet. Ugh, and what would they say about you? Shou, I–”
His laughter stopped you mid-panic as he removed his mask to breathe. “I don’t mean to offend you, but was that it?” You nodded, face still hot.
“It doesn’t change how you feel, but I love it when you–”
Your hand covered his mouth as you squeaked, “We’re still in public!”
“–especially when it’s my–”
“I’ll eat it!” You said, hoping he’d quiet down.
Quickly, you ripped the popsicle from its wrapper, half-melted from your neglect. Cherry red syrup dripped down your hand as you sucked on it. It left a stain on your mouth.
“I can’t stop thinking about that face you make now too,” Shouto said amusedly.
“Really?” You challenged, pointing the half-eaten popsicle at him. “You try doing this, knowing that someone could see you.”
His dichromatic eyes never left yours as he took it completely, using a combination of suction and his tongue to play with it. Artificial sweetness flooded his mouth as his lips were left cherry-stained. Taking advantage of your surprise, he pushed the stick from his mouth to lap at the syrup that ran down your hand, making sure to peck away at any redness.
“Show off,” you mumbled as you met him in a kiss. It was the only way that you could get rid of the popsicle stains.
Admittedly, it took Taneo longer to find Shouto than he’d like. He’d almost given up on it too until he spotted you two on a bench. His days of photographing for a paycheck were long gone as he focused more on journalism. Still, he knew a good shot when he saw one. His eyes zoomed in, waiting for an opportune moment before turning away to let the photograph develop. He just hoped that you two would still be there.
When he checked again, the fireworks were nearly over, smoke trailing up the sky.
“Shouto!” He called out from a safe distance. When the pro-hero didn’t react, he dared to venture closer, holding up his hands in front of him as a gesture of good faith.
“Do you know him?” You asked, not recognizing the strange man.
He shook his head. “He doesn’t seem trustworthy though.”
“Guess you don’t remember me,” Taneo laughed. “Figures. It’s been over a decade since we last met in person. I visited your dorm back in your U.A. days to do a report after the Kamino Incident.”
When he received a blank stare, he laughed–nervously this time. “Oh, you really don’t remember, do you?”
“Is there something you need?” Shouto asked, taking care to step in front of you.
Taneo clicked his tongue. “Right, right. I should have opened up with that first. Here–” he said, shoving something into his hands. You peered around Shouto to see it.
It was a picture of you and Shouto laughing on the bench, his body was turned towards yours as you squeezed his hand. You had just broken apart from your make out session, finally laughing at the absurdity of today.
“I followed you here in hopes of reporting on something interesting,” he admitted. You and Shouto stiffened. “But the shot was too good. The lighting, the mood. You could really feel the love between you. So keep it. That picture’s yours.”
“You’re not going to expose our relationship?” You asked, still cautious.
He shrugged. “Nah. Call it a change of heart, or if you can’t believe that, then know that I’m too professional to report on such low-hanging news. This wasn’t the story I originally came for anyway.”
Shouto held onto the photograph as if he feared that Taneo was lying.
“Oh, and before I go, here’s a suggestion. It might be easier to announce your relationship on your own terms and time.”
He grinned. “And if you decide on that, would you mind giving me a call?” He tucked his business card beneath the photo and Shouto’s thumb.