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When Fuyumi elected to take a year off from work in the wake of the war, she’d expected to use that time caring for her family and playing middle-man between her siblings and parents. And she has been doing that of course—that, and housework, and running errands, and having monthly meetings with the Pro assigned to Touya’s case. But she still somehow severely underestimated just how much time she would have on her hands when she doesn’t have to worry about a full-time job that requires endless hours of extra work in the form of lesson planning, grading, classroom maintenance, and the various other duties that come with being a teacher.
So, when she’s asked to assist in an undercover investigation, she’s grown antsy enough that she readily agrees.
Touya gets upset at her for it, and her mother purses her lips in a way that betrays she doesn’t particularly approve of Fuyumi’s decision either. But she’ll be working with the Pro who has been conducting observations on Touya ever since he was released from the hospital, and she was promised there shouldn’t be any danger since this mission is purely for investigative purposes. And Fuyumi wasn’t able to aid in the war like her family—she’s never been cut out to be a hero, but she’s always done what she can to help people in other ways. It’s why she chose to become a teacher.
And, it’s why she’s now meeting with Midnight and Detective Tsukauchi in the kitchen of her childhood home.
“Your only goal here is to find evidence of ties to an underground crime ring,” Tsukauchi reminds them. “You are not to engage in any physical altercation, as Todoroki-san is not a licensed Pro and Midnight is still on recovery leave. You can use your Quirk to deescalate the situation if required, of course, but do not engage unless your lives are on the line.”
He glares pointedly at Midnight.
She raises her hands in defense. “I only get naughty if it’s worth my while~”
Tsukauchi’s glare does not waiver.
Midnight pouts. “Fine, fine.”
Apparently satisfied with her agreement, Tsukauchi turns to face Fuyumi. “Your role will be fairly simple, though we’d like to request a bit of preamble before we send you into the target restaurant. As our goal is to make this investigation as innocuous as possible, it would be ideal for the two of you to appear in public together before the scheduled mission date. Preferably sooner rather than later.”
“That makes sense,” Fuyumi agrees. The reason they’re meeting here instead of having called Fuyumi to the police station or some other more professional setting is to keep this entire mission as discreet as possible. Besides, Midnight has only ever been nice to Fuyumi, so she really doesn’t mind having to spend more time with her. There are far worse people she could be forced into close proximity with.
Still, she feels her face heating at the thought of publicly going on a date with Midnight, and she can’t quite get herself to look the other woman in the eye while Tsukauchi finishes his briefing. The one time she does dare to glance up, she finds Midnight’s gaze already fixed on her, a dreamy look in her eyes that only makes the warmth in Fuyumi’s cheeks worsen.
They make plans to meet up at a coffee shop in a few days for their first public “date,” and before Midnight leaves, she brings Fuyumi’s hand to her mouth, brushing a kiss against her knuckles.
“Thank you for agreeing to this,” she says. Then, with a wink, she adds, “I’ll make it up to you in whatever way you may desire.”
An embarrassed squeak escapes from Fuyumi. “I don’t— I don’t need anything! I—”
Midnight throws her head back, laughing. She drops Fuyumi’s hand, and Fuyumi tries not to immediately miss her warmth. “I’m only teasing,” she promises. “Unless…”
“Midnight, please,” Tsukauchi chides.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She offers Fuyumi one final grin before following Tsukauchi outside.
As soon as the door shuts behind them, Touya appears from nowhere and says, “I’m holding you hostage, effective immediately.”
Fuyumi rolls her eyes. “If you do that, you’ll be sent straight to prison.”
“It’d be worth it.”
Touya is standing with his back against the wall, a dark glare carved into his face. Fuyumi doesn’t know how much of their discussion he may have overheard—he was supposed to be in his bedroom, but it’s not like she wanted to lock him in there, and their mother is at a physical therapy appointment, so no one was supervising him to ensure he kept his distance.
(Besides, what is he going to do? He’s on probation, not allowed to leave the house or even have a phone.)
“Working with heroes is a one-way ticket to suffering,” he informs her.
Fuyumi raises an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you actually care about me.”
Touya barks out a laugh. “Not a chance. I just fucking hate heroes.”
Fuyumi doesn’t bother arguing with him—it’s enough that she knows for herself those two things can both be true.
Three days later, Fuyumi makes her way to the café Midnight picked for their first public fake date. She arrives early, jittery from the nerves—not just because they have to sell this date in order for the subsequent investigation to happen but also because Fuyumi hasn’t exactly been on a date of any sort since high school. And she most definitely has never been on a date with another woman.
It’s not that she’s against the concept, it’s just that she’s never really had time to examine what she wanted from a relationship before. She was much too concerned about caring for her family, and then putting her energy towards her career. She didn’t even particularly want to go on those dates she accepted in high school; she just let Natsuo talk her into it because he insisted it would be good for her.
Whether or not she could possibly be attracted to Midnight doesn’t matter now, though—all that matters is that she’s able to convincingly pretend.
Expectedly, Fuyumi is the first to arrive between the two of them. She texts Midnight to let her know that she’s there and has a table, and Midnight responds almost instantly with: I love a girl who is punctual ;) I’ll be there soon xx.
Fuyumi ducks her head in order to hide her blush, though she doubts anyone is even looking at her.
As promised, it’s only a few more minutes before Midnight arrives. She’s rather noticeable even without her hero costume, especially with the scars from her injuries in the PLF battle criss-crossing her face. She has her cane in hand today too—which is a deep red color that matches the accents of her costume. So there’s no surprise that a bit of chatter is stirred up even before she reaches Fuyumi’s table.
It’s exactly what they need—if any one person in the café right now snaps a picture of them to post online, their goal of soft launching the relationship, as Midnight put it, will be successful.
Still, Fuyumi shifts uncomfortably as the focus turned onto Midnight ultimately ends up falling on her as well when she slides into the seat opposite her.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
Fuyumi shakes her head. Her eyes track Midnight’s movements as she props up her cane against the table, and when she lifts her gaze to meet Midnight’s, she finds something almost hungry in her eyes. She knows it’s all part of the act, but she shivers under it regardless.
“You look beautiful, Fuyumi-chan.”
An embarrassing noise of surprise escapes Fuyumi’s throat. “I— Um— Thanks?”
Midnight laughs. “You’re so cute.”
Fuyumi’s face burns, but she doesn’t exactly hate it. Even if it’s all fake, the attention from Midnight is sort of…thrilling. Because ultimately, Fuyumi is just some nobody who happens to have a well-known family name while Midnight is a hero responsible for helping save the world. She’s everyone’s greatest fantasy, and Fuyumi is lucky enough to experience a taste of that firsthand.
They order food and chat idly as they eat. Midnight does the heavy lifting of guiding the conversation to begin with, but it doesn’t take long for Fuyumi to find her footing and settle into the rhythm. Midnight is an egregious flirt, which Fuyumi sort of expected, but she may have undersold just how bad it would be. And Fuyumi most certainly doesn’t know how to dish it back out, but Midnight makes it clear she doesn’t mind that one bit. She seems to delight in leaving Fuyumi a stuttering, stumbling, mess in the wake of her horrible pick up lines.
Midnight pays for Fuyumi’s meal, despite her valiant attempt to convince her otherwise. Despite being functionally unemployed at the moment, it’s not as if Fuyumi is short on money. Midnight adamantly refuses to hear her out, though, pressing her card directly into the waiter’s hand and pairing the gesture with a wink so he’s inclined to listen to her rather than Fuyumi.
She huffs as the waiter scurries away. “You can’t play dirty like that,” she complains.
“Playing dirty is sort of my whole thing, dear,” Midnight teases.
And, okay, Fuyumi probably should have seen that one coming.
They leave the café together, and on impulse, Fuyumi offers to drive Midnight home.
“You don’t have to accept, but I know you said you took a cab here, and I figured this would be quicker than waiting or having to walk to the train station—”
“Only if you’re sure it won’t be any trouble,” Midnight interrupts.
“It won’t! Shouto is home for the weekend anyway, so they’re around to help my mother with Touya if she needs it.”
“In that case, I would love an excuse to spend more time with you!”
(Fuyumi tries, very hard, to not take the statement seriously despite how genuine the statement sounds falling from Midnight’s lips.)
Once they’re alone, in the safety of Fuyumi’s car, she asks, “Do you think that was enough?”
Midnight hums. “Only time will tell, but I’d say we did the best we could do. You’re a lovely actress, Fuyumi-chan.”
“Not as good as you,” she deflects. Because, for the most part, Fuyumi wasn’t acting at all—Midnight was just succeeding in flustering her for real, and the rest was bolstered by Fuyumi’s natural tendency towards kindness. Midnight is the real star of the show; Fuyumi is merely riding on her coattails.
Midnight clicks her tongue. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
Fuyumi chances a glance over at Midnight, and finds the other woman is studying her intently, chin resting on her hand. It might be a good thing that Fuyumi can’t stare too long right now, because otherwise, she’s certain she’d get lost in the soft swirling blue of Midnight’s eyes and the affection shining there despite no one else being around.
(She’s starting to think maybe she is attracted to women after all.)
She refocuses on the road, swallowing thickly. “Thank you, then,” she whispers. “You’re very kind, Midnight-san.”
“Aww c’mon, you don’t have to call me that! I’ve been calling you Fuyumi-chan all day; there’s no reason you can’t call me Nemuri.”
Fuyumi’s breath catches in her throat. She very nearly misses her next turn, distracted by the fact that not only did Midnight—Nemuri—give her permission to call her by her name, but her given name, no less. It’s understandable for Fuyumi to call her that in public, if they’re supposedly dating, but there was no caveat of only using that if other people may overhear them.
“Oh, um, okay. If you’re sure that’s alright, Nemuri-san.”
“Still with the honorific,” Nemuri complains, though her tone is teasing. “I suppose that’s good enough, although -senpai might be sexier. Or maybe -sama, if we’re going for a master/sub dynamic.”
“I think I’ll stick to using -san,” Fuyumi replies, voice strained. She is not going to think about what terms Nemuri finds sexiest right now, and she is definitely not going to examine if any of that is something she might be into as well.
“Suit yourself.”
Many UA staff members, Nemuri included, are still living on the campus, so Fuyumi can really only take her as far as the entrance gate. She rushes to open Nemuri’s door for her and helps her out, though Nemuri insists she’s fine on her own.
“I’m sure you are,” Fuyumi agrees, “but that doesn’t mean help isn’t nice.”
Nemuri relents with a sigh. “You’re a smart girl.”
Fuyumi bows her head. “Thank you.”
They bid each other farewell, but before Fuyumi can turn to leave, Nemuri catches her wrist. She steps closer, leaning down to brush a kiss against Fuyumi’s cheek.
“See you soon,” she murmurs.
Fuyumi’s brain short-circuits. By the time she can actually form a cohereant thought, Nemuri has already begun walking away from her, heading through the entry gate onto the campus of UA.
“See you soon!” Fuyumi calls after her, several moments too late.
Nemuri still glances over her shoulder, giving her one final grin before disappearing from sight.
Fuyumi returns home to find both Touya and Shouto waiting for her like some sort of intervention. Which doesn’t make sense, because they both knew she agreed to this, and she didn’t do anything particularly scandalous, and she can’t be accused of returning home too late since it’s not even noon. Even going out of her way to drive Nemuri back to UA didn’t prevent her from getting back at a perfectly reasonable time.
“Shouto doesn’t like that you’re doing this either,” Touya informs her.
“That isn’t what I said,” Shouto argues. But he doesn’t go on to clarify what he did say, so Fuyumi is sort of at a loss for what to do there. She can’t defend herself if she doesn’t know what she’s defending against—and why should she even have to defend herself here in the first place?! Shouto is a hero student who has been actively putting himself in real danger for the past year and a half; not to mention the toll his pre-high school training took on him. Fuyumi helping out with one little non-combative mission is nothing compared to that.
“Luckily, neither of you are in charge of deciding what I do with my life,” Fuyumi responds curtly. She slips off her shoes, hangs up her coat, then brushes past them, intent on seeing whether or not their mother needs any help making lunch.
She’s stopped in her tracks, however, when Shouto informs her, “Mom went to eat lunch with friends today.”
Fuyumi blinks. “Friends?”
Touya jerks his thumb at Shouto. “The brat’s loser friends must’ve blabbed to their mothers about how sad and lonely Rei is.”
Shouto’s frown deepens. “That isn’t—”
“So we’re gonna order takeout!” Touya finishes.
“Fine,” Fuyumi relents, because she doesn’t particularly feel like cooking right now anyway. She pulls her phone from her pocket, heart stuttering when she finds a text from Nemuri is waiting for her. She swipes the notification away, making a mental note to respond later, but she must not be fast enough, because Touya seems to materialize behind her, looking over her shoulder.
“I know you’re not smiling at the Doordash app.”
Fuyumi jumps. She smacks his shoulder. “Stop it!”
“Maybe you should stop—”
“I want soba,” Shouto interrupts.
“You always want soba,” Fuyumi grumbles. But she starts an order anyway, and adds a second soba order for Touya before he can even tell her that’s what he wants. While she deliberates on what to get herself, Touya slinks back over to Shouto, throwing his arm over their shoulders and forcibly guiding him out of the room all while whispering something in his ear. Shouto is nodding along solemnly to everything he says, and while Fuyumi is happy to see them getting along, she also sincerely does not want to be the victim of whatever it is they’re planning.
She doesn’t see either of them again until the food arrives and they all sit down to eat.
As Fuyumi passes out silverware, Shouto announces, “I like Midnight-sensei. She’s nice, and also funny.”
“What?!” Touya demands, turning an incredulous look onto him. Shouto slurps up a noodle, unbothered. “That is not what you were supposed to say!”
“But it’s true.”
“Guys,” Fuyumi hisses. “Are you forgetting this entire thing is fake? It doesn’t matter what you think about Midnight-san, because I am not actually dating her.”
Shouto and Touya look at each other.
Then, Shouto looks back at Fuyumi. “I just didn’t think you’d want so much attention on you.”
Fuyumi shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal,” she promises, although she hasn’t actually checked social media since she got back from her date with Nemuri, so she doesn’t really know what sort of aftereffects this may have on her life. Still, it can’t possibly be worse than the attention being Endeavor’s daughter garners her. She might like to fade into complete obscurity, but that’s never really been an option for her, so to have some extra press for a couple months shouldn’t be too bad. Especially when she knows this time, it won’t affect any of her students.
“Okay…” Shouto replies slowly.
Touya scoffs. “Well I don’t like Midnight. Dating her is like dating a singer who’s popularity rides on their breakup songs.”
Fuyumi takes a deep breath. “I am not actually dating her. I don’t even— I don’t even know if I’m attracted to women like that, okay? So can we just drop it?”
“Endeavor isn’t going to give you brownie points for being straight,” Touya bites. “I mean—look at Natsu!”
“Natsu-nii isn’t straight,” Shouto informs them, and then takes another bite of his food, as casually as if he’d commented on the weather.
“What?!” Fuyumi and Touya chorus. Touya then continues with, “Okay, so Endeavor still isn’t going to give you brownie points even if you’re the only straight kid. And none of the rest of us give a shit.”
“It’s not about that!” Fuyumi argues, electing to not worry about the Natsuo thing for now. “I just— I’ve never thought about it before. I don’t even know how I would go about figuring that out, and I’m not worried about that when this relationship is for a mission and nothing else.”
Touya just sort of glares at her.
“Wouldn’t this be a good time to figure that out?” Shouto muses. “Because you can actually try kissing another woman to see if you like it or not.”
Touya turns his glare onto Shouto.
Fuyumi sighs. “I’m not having this conversation with you two. Can we just eat?”
“Fine,” Touya says, venom dripping from the word. “But I’m still not happy about any of this.”
Fuyumi chooses not to engage with that, and thankfully, Shouto does the same.
Over the course of the next few weeks, Fuyumi finds herself texting Nemuri quite a bit more than she’d expected. They go on another date together—shopping, this time, and stopping for boba afterwards. And when Fuyumi picks up Shouto from UA for the weekend, Nemuri comes to greet her with flowers and a kiss to the cheek.
It’s still all just for show—to build up credibility before the restaurant investigation—but Fuyumi is rather enjoying herself. Nemuri is good at making her feel special, and the time they spend together is always enjoyable. She’s touchy in a way Fuyumi isn’t accustomed too, but the physical contact is also comforting, in a way. It reminds Fuyumi that she isn’t in this alone. No matter what, Nemuri is beside her for as long as this ploy lasts.
Touya continues grumbling about it, even when their mother and Shouto both tell him off, but Fuyumi doesn’t let it bother her. She wouldn’t expect him to be fond of any heroes, and his distaste over the whole thing seems to be poorly masked concern for Fuyumi more than anything.
She thinks more about what Shouto said too, despite her efforts not to—about this being a perfect opportunity for her to examine her attraction to women, and also her interest in relationships in general. Nemuri hasn’t initiated anything more than kisses to Fuyumi’s cheeks and hands, but if she did, Fuyumi…isn’t sure she’d mind.
In fact, she sort of wants Nemuri to kiss her.
She wants to know what it’s like, if Nemuri would be gentle or rough, if kissing is really as enjoyable as movies and books make it out to be. She wants an excuse to do something her father wouldn’t approve of without the risk of facing consequences. She wants to feel the rush of making a questionable decision for herself.
And of course, this all culminates on the night of the investigation date when Nemuri shows up to Fuyumi’s house in a tight red dress with lipstick to match and Fuyumi’s entire body seems to set itself alight at the sight of her.
“You—um— Wow,” she stammers, her tongue feeling too big for her mouth. She knows she should stop staring and get moving, because they have a reservation and it’s imperative they arrive on time. Tonight is the whole reason they’ve been performing a relationship, and with how delicate the situation is, there’s no room for error.
But Fuyumi simply cannot tear her gaze away.
Her gaze roams over Nemuri’s body—the curve of her hips, the dip of her neckline, the bare skin of her arms and legs, the way her hair falls over her shoulders… Fuyumi doesn’t think she’s ever been so attracted to someone before in her life.
And, oh.
Huh.
Nemuri’s smile turns teasing. “You look so pretty when you’re speechless.”
This, of course, does not help Fuyumi’s floundering in the slightest. She has to force herself to physically turn away from Nemuri, grabbing her purse and shouting a farewell to her family, in order to regain her bearings. And then, once she steps outside, she finds herself pretty much right back where she was as soon as she laid eyes on Nemuri. Unable to form any thoughts beyond Wow, she’s gorgeous, can I look at her forever?
“I sure hope the entire date won’t be like this.” Nemuri laughs lightly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but it’s horribly boring when my partner can’t do anything besides gape.”
That snaps Fuyumi out of her trance, at least a little bit.
She shakes her head fervently. “N-no! Sorry!”
“No need to apologize,” Nemuri assures her. “Like I said, I’m flattered.”
Fuyumi flushes, ducking her head.
Nemuri drives this time—although she admits the car is a rental she was lended for the sake of the mission. It’s nice, because Fuyumi is feeling much too anxious to drive, but it also leaves her without any distraction for the duration of the trip. She ends up mostly figeting with her purse strap and trying not to stare at Nemuri the entire time. She’s not sure she really succeeds in the latter, but at least Nemuri doesn’t call her out on it. And it’s not her fault she looks hot while driving!
(Okay, so, yes, Fuyumi is very much attracted to women. And specifically the woman she is currently in a relationship with. Though, to be fair, Midnight’s entire hero persona revolves around being sexy, so it might be stranger if Fuyumi weren’t attracted to her.
She’s pointedly not going to think about the fact that the allure of Midnight to her is not Midnight so much as it is Nemuri.)
They arrive at the restaurant right on time and are led to their table without issue. Nemuri keeps her arm linked with Fuyumi’s until they sit down, which Fuyumi figures is for stability as much as it is their cover considering she didn’t bring her cane with her. She orders a bottle of wine for them to share, and the waiter rushes away, leaving the two of them alone.
“This place is so nice,” Fuyumi whispers. “I’ve been to hero galas that aren’t nearly as fancy as this.”
Nemuri snorts. “Honestly. Gala committees should take notes.”
They peruse the menus for a while, which Fuyumi hopes gives Nemuri some time to observe the restaurant around them without raising suspicion. Fuyumi doesn’t know what she should even be looking for, so she’ll gladly pretend she still doesn’t know what she’d like to eat after Nemuri has already decided. She can’t waffle for too long, though, and once they’ve ordered, they fall back into quiet conversation with one another.
Fuyumi wants to ask if Nemuri has seen anything suspicious so far, but that’s out of the question for obvious reasons, so she asks about how work has been this past week instead. She talks about her students, and Fuyumi recognizes several of them from Shouto’s stories of their classmates as well. They keep their conversation going semi-steadily throughout the dinner, though it’s obvious to Fuyumi that Nemuri’s full focus isn’t on her.
Which is fine! Because the whole point of them being here is for Nemuri to be looking at everything else while Fuyumi acts as a cover. But she misses the energy of their previous interactions, where she had Nemuri’s undivided attention.
After they’ve both nearly finished eating, Fuyumi excuses herself to use the restroom. She has a bad habit of drinking more when she’s nervous, and the wine seems to have gone straight through her.
“Would you like me to come with you?” Nemuri asks with a wink.
“Nope!” Fuyumi shakes her head quickly, then turns away as Nemuri giggles. She is absolutely not going to think about that insinuation right now; she has plenty of other things to worry about.
The bathrooms are half-hidden down the hallway that leads to the kitchen, and Fuyumi has to weave around several waiters before she reaches her destination. Once she’s locked herself in a stall, she takes a moment to just breathe. She checks her phone to find a text from Shouto wishing her luck, as well as one from Touya that’s just a picture of him flipping her off while glowering. She responds to both of them while she has the chance, but before she can actually do what she came in here for, she hears the door swing open along with whispering voices.
Fuyumi freezes.
It’s probably nothing—girls go to the bathroom together and gossip all the time. Except the clientele of this restaurant seemed to be mostly middle-aged straight couples with an abundance of wealth, and this doesn’t exactly sound like gossip. Even straining her ears, Fuyumi can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but they’re definitely speaking with a more serious tone.
She holds her breath, not wanting to risk being discovered. If she were anyone else, she could get away with flushing the toilet, then making her escape with a quick apology for bothering whoever else is in the bathroom with her. But the daughter of Endeavor, who is here on a date with a pro hero? Even if she weren’t trying to listen, it would be concerning enough that she may have overheard something by pure coincidence.
“…need to get the goods out of here,” one of the voices says.
“Not right now,” the second hisses. “We’ll be caught.”
“The boss said—”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Well, I’m not telling him that!”
“Shh!”
Their volume drops again after that, but Fuyumi has heard enough to be suspicious. With careful, silent movements, she unlocks her phone and opens the camera. She starts recording a video, then attempts to angle the camera towards the crack in the stall door, hoping she might be able to catch a visual. She’s not sure if her microphone will pick up the audio, but she catches more mentions of goods and the boss and payment—none of which sound good with the information she received from Tsukauchi during the briefing for this mission.
Finally, the conversation seems to finish. The door opens and shuts again, and Fuyumi is left alone in the bathroom.
She exhales a slow, silent, sigh of relief, and sends the video to Nemuri.
When Fuyumi returns to the table, Nemuri is typing idly on her phone. She sets it down as soon as she notices Fuyumi and asks, “Are you feeling alright?”
Fuyumi nods.
“Good.” Nemuri reaches forward, taking one of Fuyumi’s hands in hers, then furrows her brow. “You’re so cold, darling. Are you sure you aren’t getting sick?”
Fuyumi yelps, yanking her hands back. “Sorry! It’s a—nervous habit.” She shakes her hands, dispelling the frost that had begun to form on her skin without her realizing. “I must not have properly dried my hands.”
Nemuri’s concern fades into a fond smile. “That quirk could come in handy, you know. It’s a shame your father never realized just how useful it is.” She sighs, leaning back in her seat. “I think I’ll use the restroom myself, and then we can take our leave. Does that sound okay with you?”
“Yep!”
Fuyumi watches Nemuri go, moving slowly through the restaurant. Maybe leaving her cane behind was a strategic choice, so she can blame her pain on why she’s lingering in one place for too long.
After Nemuri has disappeared from sight, Fuyumi picks at the last of her food. She finishes the remaining wine in her glass, obsessively looking at her phone screen, worried about Nemuri getting caught. She’s not sure if it would be worse to miss a text asking for help, or for Nemuri to forgo contacting Fuyumi at all in order to keep her safe. There’s not much Fuyumi could feasibly do, but she’d also hate to stand by in ignorance while Nemuri is fighting villains—especially because she hasn’t been cleared to engage in physical combat yet.
Nemuri is gone for much longer than the length of a typical trip to the bathroom, but Fuyumi tries not to let it worry her. This is an investigation mission, so it’s likely she’s simply investigating. Fuyumi’s video might be enough to validate concerns about this restaurant being a front for something sinister, but she knows it isn’t going to work as proof that will allow for hero intervention.
She receives a reply back from Shouto, which she ignores for the time being. Still nothing from Nemuri.
She switches to looking around the restaurant, but their table doesn’t have a particularly great view—most of what she can see from here is just other patrons innocently eating. The majority of them aren’t even talking to each other; it’s like they’re the ones here as a performance, keeping up the act of an ideal relationship when there’s no real affection between them. It reminds Fuyumi an awful lot of the dates she went on in high school.
Strangely enough, being with Nemuri has been the only time she understood why people say dating is fun. It only ever seemed like an obligation before, and it was one Fuyumi was never very interested in. She’d figured, someday, probably, she’d find someone to settle down with—even if something arranged by her father, to continue pushing the image of the perfect family he so desperately wanted the world to believe he had. But it wasn’t ever something she felt the need to actively seek out.
With Nemuri, for the first time ever, she wants to be the one to take the first jump. It’s terrifying, but she thinks she’d probably rather risk a confession and be turned down than spend the rest of her life wondering what might have happened if she hadn’t been so afraid. Nemuri may very well laugh in her face, because she’s Midnight, and Fuyumi is just Fuyumi, but—
It would be worth it.
Fuyumi sighs. She reaches for the win bottle, intending to pour what little is left into her glass, just to give herself something to do.
Before she can, however, Nemuri returns and catches Fuyumi’s wrist in her hand. “Let’s go,” she instructs, voice low and grim.
Fuyumi gathers her things quickly, then lets Nemuri link their arms together as they make their way out of the restaurant.
“Did you pay?” she whispers.
Nemuri nods. “Said I was doing it behind your back, so you wouldn’t fight me about paying yourself.”
Fuyumi hums. It’s a believable lie, and she should probably play off of it, but the set of Nemuri’s jaw and hard look in her eyes has Fuyumi’s voice failing her. So she just silently lets Nemuri guide her outside into the cool night. And then she instantly steers Fuyumi in the opposite direction of where the car is parked.
“Wh—?”
“Just follow my lead.”
Fuyumi nods, swallowing thickly.
Nemuri giggles, then, leaning more heavily against Fuyumi and stumbling as if she’s had too much to drink. She tucks a strand of hair behind Fuyumi’s ear and mumbles, “You’re so prettyyyy, Fuyumi-chan.”
Fuyumi flushes. “And you should’ve held back on the wine.”
“Awww, you’re no fun!”
Fuyumi sighs, hoping she sounds the part of someone tiredly yet fondly putting up with her girlfriend’s antics. Nemuri doesn’t complain about her acting, at least. She just nuzzles against Fuyumi’s cheek.
“The alley,” she murmurs, tilting her head slightly in the direction of a nearby alley. She must be trying to shake someone, and it’s not like Fuyumi has much of a choice anyway, because Nemuri pretty forcibly drags her where she wants to go. Not that Fuyumi would fight even if she thought she had a chance of winning.
Nemuri pushes her back against the wall, caging Fuyumi in place with her arms. Fuyumi hardly has time to register the thrill rushing through her body and the fact that that is really not what she should be thinking about right now!!! before Nemuri says, “Sorry about this.”
And then her lips are on Fuyumi’s.
Fuyumi makes a noise of surprise, muffled by Nemuri’s mouth. She’s momentarily torn between fretting over whether or not they’re about to be ambushed by villains and focusing on the fact that Nemuri is kissing her, but when there’s no immediate attack, the second train of thought wins out. She circles her arms around Nemuri’s neck, holding her close, and fumbles to match the vigor with which Nemuri is kissing her.
Nemuri huffs out a laugh against her lips, and Fuyumi really truly cannot tell if it’s real or fake.
This feels more than pretend, with Nemuri pressed against her and holding Fuyumi gently even as she devours her. But if anyone could do something like this for show, it would be Midnight, and right now, in the midst of a mission, the woman Fuyumi is kissing must be the pro hero doing whatever needs to be done in order to keep their cover. And Fuyumi lets Nemuri kiss her breathless anyway, lets herself fall into it and be greedy, taking as much as Nemuri is willing to give to her.
If she never sees Nemuri again after tonight, at least she’ll have this kiss to remember her by.
Fuyumi loses track of time, and it feels like an eternity before Nemuri pulls away from her.
“I think they’re gone,” she whispers. A beat of silence extends between them, with Fuyumi’s pounding heart the only noise she can hear. Her chest burns, and she can still feel the ghost of Nemuri’s kiss on her lips. She’s not sure if she’ll ever recover from this.
After another moment, Nemuri steps back, putting a more respectable amount of space between them and leaving Fuyumi cold.
“Sorry I didn’t ask—”
“It’s fine!” Fuyumi interrupts. She lets out a nervous laugh, pushing up her glasses. “I, um— Yeah. It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”
Nemuri raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Fuyumi looks away. “Shouldn’t you be tracking down villains or something?”
“That part isn’t my job. I sent the info over to Tsukauchi-san, so he’ll get someone else on it. Thanks for your help, by the way—I wouldn’t have known what to look for if not for that video.” Nemuri reaches out, fixing Fuyumi’s hair. Fuyumi’s breath hitches at the touch, feather-light as it is. “If only there were some way for me to properly express my gratitude…” she muses.
Fuyumi bows her head. “I don’t need anything, really. I’m not doing this for a reward.”
“So you don’t want another kiss?”
“Nemuri-san…” Fuyumi pleads. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for at this point—if she wants to let herself fantasize for just a little longer, or if she wants Nemuri to leave now because that will hurt less in the long run.
“You have Pro Hero Midnight at your mercy, offering you anything your heart desires,” Nemuri purrs. She winds a strand of Fuyumi’s hair around her finger. “And there’s nothing you’d ask for?”
“I don’t want Midnight,” Fuyumi whispers. “I’d rather have you.”
Nemuri goes still. Fuyumi forces herself not to cry, or run away, but she can feel her hands growing cold from the nerves. She twists her fingers together, trying to prevent the buildup of any ice.
Carefully, Nemuri tells her, “If you want me, Midnight comes along with that.”
“I know,” Fuyumi assures her. “I just—I don’t want only Midnight. And I don’t want you because of your hero persona. I don’t want you as a prize, so I can brag about getting with the world’s sexiest hero or anything. I know what it’s like for someone to like the idea of you better than the reality, because dating Endeavor’s daughter sounds like a one-way ticket to fame, and I’d never want you to think that’s all I see in you.”
Nemuri huffs out a laugh. “You’re adorable,” she murmurs, leaning in to capture Fuyumi’s lips once more.
It’s a slower kiss this time, and with no looming threat of villains chasing after them. Fuyumi hums contentedly as Nemuri explores her mouth, taking her time mapping it out with her tongue. One of her hands tangles in Fuyumi’s hair while the other settles on her waist, thumb stroking against her hipbone. It’s overwhelming, how Nemuri has managed to flood all of her senses, and yet, Fuyumi can’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than falling apart beneath Nemuri’s touch.
When they break apart again, Nemuri asks, “Will you go on a date with me for real?”
Fuyumi giggles. She cups Nemuri’s cheek with one hand, tracing over the deepest of her scars. The media has had nothing kind to say about Nemuri’s appearance since the war, but Fuyumi thinks it only makes her more beautiful.
She pushes herself onto her toes, placing a soft kiss atop the marred skin. “I would love nothing more.”