Chapter Text
Apparently, living in an expensive apartment block in downtown Mustafu means he’s required to attend a bi-monthly meeting with other residents.
As he settles into his chair (702), he notices the 705 spot is empty.
"Miss Kusama’s not showing up again?" A disgruntled man (308) huffs, shaking his head in distaste.
"Will that kid ever?" A cheeky young woman (602) remarks, causing the group to laugh.
The more Izuku learnt, the more intrigued he became. Apparently, somebody around his age named Kusama Nicole is supposed to live in the apartment across from him. Key word?
Supposed to. The issue is, nobody has ever actually seen Kusama - during the meeting, there’s a few passing comments about the mysterious resident of 705 being a hikikomori or NEET of some kind.
But Deku can't really help himself.
Midoriya Izuku had finally done the unthinkable: move out of his mother's apartment.
It was about time - he's definitely old enough and he's making good money as the licensed pro hero Deku with an agency of his own. So he mortgaged himself a fairly spacious apartment in downtown Mustafu, with soundproofed walls, a private training room, and a stunning view of the city from the thirtieth floor. Part of living in such a preppy building are the mandatory bi-monthly, building-wide meetings.
His whole life he’d been known for being near-suffocatingly optimistic. Being liked by all of his neighbours is a need. And seeing the empty chair, he knew that the missing resident had to be his next new friend.
Not even ten minutes after the meeting’s end, he stood in the hall, knocking at the door of unit 705.
"Hello? Nicole-?” He uses the supposed resident’s first name. “-Are you there? You missed the first meeting for this month!"
There’s no response.
The silence doesn’t dissuade him, however, still pounding at the door.
"Uh, I'm your neighbour. Midoriya Izuku from 702. Can you hear me?" He calls out, again to no answer. He continued to knock. Nearly three minutes pass until an irritated, raspy voice, muffled by the door, replies.
“What do you want.” Her voice is unfriendly and tired. The door still doesn’t open.
Izuku’s face lights up. “Hi! Can you open the door? I’ve just moved in, and I want to meet you!”
There’s a grunt. The door still doesn’t open. “Leave me alone.”
His expression settles and he tries to lower his enthusiasm. “Please? The other residents never see you! They were telling me that you’re a hikikomori..”
“Don’t say it like it’s shameful.” The voice huffs and the door opens, immediately hitting Midoriya with a flood of stale air. The apartment was dark, grungy and smelt.. unpleasant. Uncomfortably explicit posters hung on the wall and statues of various unrecognisable fictional characters decorated the room, alongside empty cans of energy drink (what is there even to use all that energy for? She doesn’t go outside!) and used, balled-up tissues. The windows were so heavily covered they may as well have never existed. At the centre of the back wall of the tiny apartment was a desk with a dirty keyboard and a collection of glowing computer monitors, emitting the only light in the room. More than one of the screens was stalled on a video or a game much more than distasteful. His freckled cheeks flushed red at the sight.
The girl herself was pale, a bright white that contrasted with her habitat. A loose, stained pyjama shirt (at least, he assumed it’d be a pyjama shirt for anyone else) hung down from her unhealthily thin frame, the energy drink graphic having long worn into a cracked state. The material of her baggy grey sweatpants had pilled across the outside. Her glasses, rimmed with a thin grey frame only at the bottom, sat on the bridge of her nose, not at all helping to obscure the deep purple eyebags that hollowed out her dark brown eyes. The skin on the right side of her neck was scarred and red- he guessed it was from a habit of scratching. Her ashy black hair stuck out at all angles, messy and ungroomed for what must’ve been at least a few weeks. The grease that coated it shone in the hallway light.
“Will you just leave now? I don’t want you here.”
Being the personification of sunshine itself, the greenette ignored her angry protests and put his foot in the door as she tried to close it- Nicole already dislikes him, he might as well be bold. “Please, Nicole!” “-don’t use my name like we’re friends, asshole-” “I just wanna come inside and talk for a bit! And then I promise I’ll be out of here, okay? I’m just curious!”
She groaned and opened the door again.
“If I let you inside, you better get out the second I tell you to.” Izuku nodded enthusiastically, curls bouncing. The girl grunted again. “Fine.”
And she stepped aside.
Walking into the barely-lit apartment, the smell was… bearable. Almost. But that couldn’t stop the sunshine boy for a second, exploring the tight, cluttered space like it wasn’t in such a horrific state. For what was meant to be such a large apartment, one equal in size to his own, it stunned him how small it could feel.
Now, being inside the apartment, Izuku could see even more posters covering every wall, shelves lined with scantily-clad figurines; women with long, solid ponytails and weaponry, and men with elaborate costumes and plastic explosions. More than one of the figures didn’t go without feline features, sculpted ears and tails taking centre shelf.
A collection of long pillows- dakimakura, he recalls- had overrun an armchair in one of the room’s corners below the shelving. He gingerly steps over the mess strewn about the floor and giggles as he holds one of the many body pillows up to inspect. It’s decorated with an illustration of a shirtless older man, consistent with the tastelessness of her other decor. Hey, she doesn’t discriminate. “You really collect stuff like this?”
Nicole’s brows furrow in a glare and she crosses her arms. She doesn’t appreciate a stranger demanding entrance and barging into her home only to judge her interests- who would?
“Out.”
Midoriya’s face fell and the amusement was wiped off his expression. “Sorry..”
“Out.” She repeats. “You said you’d leave the second I told you to. Now get out.”
The next day, after he’d come home from his agency and changed out of his hero costume, Izuku stood outside apartment 705 for the second time.
The door opened again, with slightly less knocking than the day prior. His face brightened at the sight of Nicole. And then the smell hit him, stronger than it had been previously. Before he could think it through, his nose scrunched. “How long has it been since you showered?”
Nicole scowled, scratching the side of her neck. “Why do you think that’s any of your business?”
His face reddened and he looked down. “Sorry.” He paused, looking back up at her. “Maybe you’d feel a little better if you showered..?”
She started to close the door, but once again, Izuku had to intrude, slipping through the door before she could shut it.
She rolled her eyes. “Same rules as last time. You’ll leave the second I tell you to.” The sunshine boy nodded, already barging past into her apartment.
“You got a new statue! This wasn’t here yesterday,” He motions to a large figurine on the kitchenette’s countertop- a blue pigtailed girl holding a staff, roughly as tall as his forearm. “It’s pretty. You really like the ones with cat ears, huh?”
She nods. “Don’t touch it. She was expensive. A one hundred CGA score.”
The sunshine boy tilted his head, curls bouncing. “Huh?”
“Oh. The CGA. It’s the collectable grading authority. It means she’s in perfect condition.” She explains, like she’s talking to a child. Umeji doesn’t seem to notice- and if he did, he clearly didn’t take offence to her tone.
“How do you.. y’know.. get the money for these?”
“My parents pay.”
“..you’re in your twenties, though. Who pays for the apartment? Since you don’t go outside.”
She looks irritated. The neck-scratching got louder. “None of your business.”
Definitely her parents.
He just nods politely, trying not to get kicked out as quickly this time. “How did you actually get the statue in here? Did you leave the apartment?”
Nicole shakes her head. “I just order things to be delivered to my door.”
“Oh. Okay.” So she’s definitely agoraphobic. Midoriya looks back at the intricate figurine. “It looks like.. I can’t remember her name right now, actually. That singer?”
Her expression soured again. “Are you serious? This is Yoko Kimura, from I got reincarnated as a refrigerator but thirty hot cat-hybrid girls are in love with me. It’s my favourite isekai.”
Izuku just stood quietly, with a blank expression.
Nicole stared at him, incredulous. “Uncultured normie.”
“I don’t know what half of those words meant. That’s a long title. And it sounds kinda gross.”
Her expression soured. “..get out, Midoriya.”
He pouted and sighed. In reality, he’d come to be less offended by being kicked out of the woman’s apartment. “…m’kayyyyy. I’ll see you tomorrow, after work!”
She just huffed as she closed the door as soon as he had stepped out. “Please don’t.”