Archive of Our Own

Izumi had tried to forget.

She really had.

She had tried not to think about the movie theatre. Tried not to replay the dim lights, the low murmur of the film, or the way Katsuki's hand had brushed against hers on the armrest. Most of all, she had tried not to think about what that tiny touch had done to her. It had been nothing. Barely anything at all. An accident, probably.

And yet her heart had lurched so violently in her chest that she had spent the rest of the film painfully aware of every inch of space between them. Every shift of his arm. Every time his sleeve brushed hers. Every moment when their hands drifted close enough that she wondered if it might happen again.

It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And somehow, days later, she was still thinking about it.

That was what frightened her most. Because things with Katsuki had never been simple, but at least they had once been familiar. For most of her life, she had known exactly where she stood with him. She had been the annoying little shadow trailing after him. The quirkless kid who asked too many questions. The one who muttered too much, worried too much, followed too closely. Katsuki had complained about her constantly. He had snapped whenever she hovered. Growled whenever she tried to help. Accused her of looking down on him when all she had ever wanted was to stand beside him.

Even after entering U.A., that sharpness between them had remained. Not always cruel. Not anymore. But difficult. Complicated. Something they had spent years slowly untangling. And then, somewhere along the way... He had changed.

Izumi wasn't even sure when it had happened. There had been no single moment she could point to. No dramatic conversation where Katsuki suddenly became someone different. It had happened gradually. Quietly. So quietly that she hadn't noticed until she was already standing in the middle of it.

He didn't seem angry all the time anymore. Not really. He was still loud. Still impatient. Still brutally honest. Still capable of turning a perfectly normal conversation into an argument within thirty seconds. But the anger didn't sit beneath his skin in quite the same way. He didn't seem like he was constantly trying to prove something to the entire world.

He listened more. Sometimes. He apologised. Rarely, and usually like the words physically hurt him, but he did it. He didn't shove her away every time she got too close. Didn't complain quite as much when she walked beside him. Sometimes he even waited for her without being asked. That one confused her more than anything. Katsuki Bakugo did not wait for people. Yet lately, she had caught him slowing his pace when she fell behind.

Holding doors open with an irritated, "Hurry up." Saving her a seat and pretending it had been accidental. Passing her things before she even asked for them. Watching her. That was another thing. Sometimes she would look up during class and catch his eyes already on her. He always looked away first, usually with a scowl, as though somehow she'd been the one caught doing something wrong. And that... That was new.

Izumi sat cross-legged on her bed, notebook forgotten in her lap as she stared blankly at the same page she had supposedly been reading for the last twenty minutes, unable to fall asleep.

"...Calmer," she murmured.

Was that the word? Maybe.

Not calm in the traditional sense. Katsuki would probably explode something if she ever described him that way. But...

Softer?

No. Definitely not.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

More settled. Maybe that was better. Like some invisible weight he had carried for years had begun to loosen. Izumi wished she understood why. She wondered about it constantly. Had something happened? Was it U.A.? Was it their class? Was it the fact that he was finally surrounded by people strong enough to challenge him? Was it—

Her thoughts stalled.

Was it her?

The possibility sent a strange flutter through her stomach.

"No."

She immediately shook her head. "That's stupid."

Of course it wasn't her. Why would it be? Still...

Her mind betrayed her almost instantly. The movie theatre. His hand. The way neither of them had moved away. The walk back to the dorms afterward. The strange silence between them that hadn't felt uncomfortable at all. The way he had looked at her. Izumi covered her face with both hands.

"Oh my god."

Her cheeks were burning. This was getting embarrassing. She didn't know what any of it meant, didn't know if Katsuki felt anything at all. Didn't know if she was simply imagining meaning where there wasn't any. All she knew was how she felt. And that was the problem. Because whatever this was... It wasn't small.

It wasn't some passing crush she could laugh off with Ochaco and forget about a week later. It had roots. Years of them. Buried deep beneath childhood memories, old arguments, scraped knees, hero notebooks, playgrounds, resentment, admiration and everything they had somehow survived together. When she thought about Katsuki now, she didn't just feel nervous.

She felt warm. Restless. Happy. Terrified.

Sometimes she wanted to argue with him until he lost his voice. Other times she wanted to sit beside him in complete silence and never leave. Sometimes one look from him was enough to make her heart race. And sometimes—

Sometimes she caught herself wondering what it would feel like if his hand brushed hers again.

Izumi groaned softly and fell backward onto her bed, pressing both hands over her face.

"This is bad."

Very bad.

——

Katsuki was going through what could only be described as a full-blown mental breakdown. Not that he would ever call it that. If anyone asked, he was fine. Completely fine. Perfectly normal. Which was exactly why he had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him.

Coming to terms with the fact that he had feelings for Izumi had already been bad enough. Accepting it had been worse. But the aftermath. That was unbearable. Because now that he knew, he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do with that information. He barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind dragged him straight back to the movie theatre. The darkened room. The glow from the screen. The stupid film he could barely remember anything about. Her hand beside his. Then—

His fingers moving toward hers. The contact. The way neither of them pulled away. Katsuki groaned and dragged both hands down his face.

"What the hell was I thinking?"

That was the problem. He hadn't been thinking. Not really. He hadn't sat there planning it. Hadn't spent the movie working up the courage. Hadn't even consciously decided to do anything. It had just... Happened.

One second their hands were resting beside each other. The next his fingers were curling around hers as if they had done it a hundred times before. And the worst part? It had felt right. Too right. That was what kept bothering him. He remembered the warmth of her hand. The slight tension in her fingers before she relaxed. The way his pulse had kicked violently against his ribs while he stared straight ahead at the screen, pretending he wasn't suddenly aware of every tiny movement she made.

He had expected it to feel awkward. It hadn't. It had felt natural. Like something that had been waiting to happen. That thought scared the hell out of him. Because looking back on it now, Katsuki could feel it. Something had shifted. Maybe only slightly. Maybe neither of them had said anything. But it was there.

A line crossed. A door opened.

Whatever metaphor his sleep-deprived brain wanted to use, it didn't matter. Things between them weren't exactly the same anymore. And he didn't think they could be. Not really. He rolled onto his side, glaring at the wall.

"...Damn it."

The realization of his feelings had been slow. Painfully slow. For years, he'd brushed every strange reaction off as irritation. The way his attention always found her in a room. The way it pissed him off when she got hurt. The way he remembered tiny things she said without meaning to. The way he noticed when she was tired, when she was upset, when she was pretending to be fine. The way some part of him had always measured himself against her. The way losing her attention somehow bothered him more than he'd ever admit.

He'd spent so long refusing to look directly at any of it that when the truth finally became impossible to ignore, it hit him like a damn truck.

He liked her. No. That word was too small.

He was in love with her.

And he hated how terrifyingly obvious it all seemed now. Of course he was. Of course it was her. Who else could it have been? Izumi had been woven into nearly every part of his life. Childhood. School. Training. Every argument. Every victory. Every failure.

She had infuriated him more than anyone else on the planet. She had challenged him. Followed him. Defied him. Believed in him. And somehow, after everything... She was still there.

That was what kept getting him. She was still there.

Katsuki sat upright in bed, elbows resting on his knees. His room was dark except for the thin strip of moonlight spilling through the curtains.

"...So what now?"

He asked the question aloud. The room, unsurprisingly, offered no answer.

Did he tell her? The thought alone made his stomach twist.

Confessing meant changing everything. It meant putting words to something he could no longer take back. It meant handing Izumi something fragile and trusting her not to crush it. He hated that. He hated vulnerability. Hated uncertainty. Hated not knowing what someone else was going to do.

At least in a fight, you could read an opponent. You could prepare, adapt, strike back. This? This was completely outside his control. What if she didn't feel the same?

His jaw tightened.

He tried to dismiss the thought immediately. It shouldn't matter. He'd survive. Obviously. But the more he imagined it, the worse it felt.

What if she looked at him with pity? What if she became awkward around him? What if every comfortable silence between them suddenly disappeared? What if she stopped sitting beside him? Stopped arguing with him? Stopped calling him Kacchan?

That last thought hit harder than he expected.

"...No."

He frowned. He didn't like that one at all. Maybe he shouldn't say anything. Maybe he could just leave things alone. Pretend the movie theatre never happened. Pretend he didn't spend half his life thinking about her. Pretend his heart didn't do something stupid every time she smiled at him.

That seemed safer.

For approximately three seconds. Then another thought arrived.

What if someone else asked her first?

Katsuki went completely still.

"..."

No.

Absolutely not.

His brain immediately supplied several possibilities against his will.

Half-and-Half.

Round Face could introduce her to someone.

Some idiot from another class.

Some future sidekick.

Some random guy who looked at her for five seconds and realised what Katsuki had apparently taken his entire life to figure out. His expression darkened.

"Like hell."

He stood abruptly. Then stopped.

"...What the hell am I doing?"

This was ridiculous. He was jealous of hypothetical people who didn't even exist yet. He ran a hand through his hair and began pacing.

Tell her. Don't tell her. Tell her. Don't tell her. Maybe wait.  No, waiting was stupid. Maybe she'd say something first. Even more stupid. He knew Izumi. She could spend six months analysing someone else's romantic situation and somehow remain completely oblivious to her own. If he waited for her to make the first move, they might both be eighty.

"Tch."

He dropped back onto the edge of his bed. The clock on his nightstand read 3:47 a.m. He stared at it. Then at the ceiling. Then back at the clock.

"This is your fault," he muttered to absolutely no one.

Somehow, in his exhausted brain, this had become Izumi's fault. For being there. For smiling at him. For holding his hand back. For making everything feel suddenly possible. Katsuki leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. He knew one thing. He couldn't go back to not knowing. That was over.

He loved her.

And sooner or later...

He was going to have to decide whether he had the guts to tell her.

——

Arriving at class the following morning filled Izumi with a strange mixture of anticipation and absolute dread.

She had been nervous to see Katsuki before. That wasn't unusual. He had always possessed an uncanny ability to make her stomach twist into knots simply by existing within the same room as her. Whether it was because she never knew what mood he would be in, or because she'd spent most of her childhood desperately seeking his approval, she couldn't quite say.

But this...

This felt different. This wasn't the familiar nervousness she'd carried around for years. This was something entirely new. She slowed her pace as she climbed the final flight of stairs towards Class 2-A, her fingers tightening around the strap of her school bag.

What am I even supposed to say? Her thoughts had been running in relentless circles ever since she'd woken up.

Would he mention it? The movie theatre. The hand holding. The way his fingers had slipped so naturally between hers, as though neither of them had stopped to question it until afterwards.

Or...

Would he pretend it had never happened? Izumi wasn't sure which possibility unsettled her more.

If he brought it up... Then they'd have to talk about it. Actually talk about it. And that thought alone was enough to make her face grow warm. But if he didn't... If they both silently agreed to ignore it... Wouldn't that somehow be even worse? Would it mean he'd regretted it? Had it simply been an impulsive mistake? A moment of absent-minded affection that she'd spent days assigning far too much meaning to? She groaned quietly under her breath.

"You're overthinking this."

The words did absolutely nothing to stop her. Because that was the problem. She always overthought things. She had replayed that evening so many times that certain moments now felt more vivid than events that had happened yesterday.

The warmth of his hand. The calluses on his palm from years of training. The way neither of them had looked at each other afterwards. The walk back to the dorms, where conversation had flowed almost normally, despite both of them being painfully aware that something had changed.

Something small.

Yet somehow...

Enormous.

She stopped outside the classroom door. Took a deep breath. Then another.

It's fine. Just act normal. You've known Kacchan your entire life.

Exactly. She had known him her entire life. Which was perhaps why this felt so terrifying. Because no matter how many memories they shared... No matter how many arguments they'd had. No matter how many years had passed... This was unexplored territory. They had never been here before. Never crossed this invisible line between lifelong friendship and... Whatever this was becoming.

Her hand hovered over the classroom door.

"...Okay."

She nodded once to herself. "I can do this."

She slid the door open. Immediately... The familiar sounds of the classroom washed over her. Kaminari was loudly insisting he'd somehow managed to complete the maths homework without copying anyone's answers.

"You literally copied my mistakes," Jirou deadpanned.

"I call it collaborative learning."

"You call everything collaborative learning."

Mina was already chatting animatedly with Ochaco by the windows. Iida was reminding everyone to take their seats. Normal. Everything looked perfectly normal.

Relief washed through Izumi. Maybe she really had been worrying over nothing. Then...

Her eyes found him. Katsuki was already there.

Seated at his desk near the back of the classroom, one arm resting across the top of his chair as he lazily flipped through a notebook that Izumi was almost certain he wasn't actually reading. Almost as though sensing her presence...

He looked up. Their eyes met. For one suspended heartbeat... The entire classroom seemed to disappear.

No cheering classmates. No conversations. No scraping chairs.

Just... Him.

And her.

Izumi's breath caught. Katsuki stared back with an expression that was almost impossible to read. Not annoyed. Not angry. Not even particularly surprised. Just... Quiet.

Then, almost simultaneously, they both looked away. Far too quickly. Izumi felt heat rush into her cheeks. Oh no. He remembers. Of course he remembered. Why wouldn't he remember? Because maybe it didn't mean anything to him...

Her heart sank.

No.

She immediately argued with herself. That's not fair. You don't know that. Stop assuming the worst. She hurried towards her desk, setting her bag down with far more force than she'd intended. The contents rattled loudly.

Smooth. Very smooth.

Across the room, Katsuki winced almost imperceptibly. He'd seen that. Obviously he'd seen that. He'd seen everything. She'd barely managed to sit down before Ochaco leaned across from the desk beside her.

"...Morning."

Izumi smiled a little too brightly. "Morning!"

Ochaco blinked. "...You okay?"

"Yep!"

"You sound..." Another pause. "...Really nervous."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

Izumi laughed awkwardly. "I'm fine."

Ochaco narrowed her eyes. "Hm..."

She wasn't convinced. Not even slightly. And unfortunately... Neither was the person sitting a row behind Izumi. Katsuki had noticed immediately. The moment she'd walked into the room. The moment she'd looked at him.
The moment she'd almost dropped her bag trying to act like nothing had happened. His own heart hadn't exactly been behaving normally either. He'd spent the entire walk to school rehearsing approximately fourteen different ways to bring up the movie theatre. By the time she'd his ararrived...
Did.
He'd forgotten every single one of them.

Now all he could think was—

Great. She's just as awkward about this as I am. And somehow... That thought made everything both infinitely better...

And infinitely more complicated.

The warning bell echoed through the corridor, pulling the last few lingering students into the classroom.

Conversations gradually died away as chairs scraped across the floor and bags were dropped beside desks. Kaminari was still in the middle of enthusiastically telling Kirishima about some video game he'd stayed up far too late playing, while Mina dramatically recounted a dream she'd had about becoming a professional ice skater despite possessing absolutely no skating ability whatsoever.

It was... Normal. Wonderfully, painfully normal. Izumi wished she could feel the same. She sat perfectly still at her desk, both hands folded neatly in her lap beneath the table. She refused to look behind her.

Refused. Because she knew exactly who sat there. She didn't need to turn around to picture him. Didn't need to see the messy ash-blond hair or the way he'd inevitably be slouching in his chair before Aizawa told him to sit up properly. She knew. She always knew.

Instead, she fixed her attention firmly on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom, pretending it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.

Don't look. Just don't look.

Her determination lasted approximately twelve seconds. Then...

She felt it. That unmistakable sensation crawling across the back of her neck. A stare. Not imagined. Not paranoia. A genuine, tangible feeling that someone was looking directly at her.

Crimson eyes. She was certain of it.

The longer she resisted turning around, the more intensely she became aware of it. Her shoulders stiffened. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Adjusted her notebook. Straightened a pencil that didn't need straightening. Anything. Anything except looking.

Please stop looking at me...

The thought was immediately followed by another.

...Or don't.

"..."

Oh, for goodness' sake.

She squeezed her eyes shut for the briefest moment. Get yourself together. Across the room...

Katsuki was having remarkably similar problems.

Why isn't she looking at me? The thought annoyed him far more than it should have. Usually she'd glance over at least once after arriving. Sometimes to ask about homework. Sometimes just because she'd noticed him watching first. Today...

Nothing. Not once.

She hadn't turned around a single time. Was she avoiding him? The possibility lodged itself firmly in his chest.  He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. She's definitely avoiding me. That thought should have made things easier. Instead...

It somehow made him want her attention even more. His eyes drifted back towards the green curls sitting two rows ahead of him. Without thinking, he watched as she nervously tapped the end of her pencil against the desk. She was fidgeting. Izumi only fidgeted that much when she was anxious. His brow furrowed.

Is she really that bothered by what happened?

Before he could think any further, the classroom door slid open. Aizawa shuffled inside carrying his usual stack of papers and an enormous mug of coffee. Without so much as a greeting, he dropped into his chair.

"Morning."

"Good morning, Aizawa-sensei!" the class chorused.

"Hm."

He took a long sip of coffee before opening his lesson planner. "Open your textbooks."

Just like that... The school day began. For the next several hours, Izumi threw herself into her work with almost frightening determination.

Maths. Hero ethics. Disaster response. Anything that required concentration was welcomed with open arms. As long as her brain was occupied solving equations or taking notes, it couldn't wander back towards the movie theatre.

Couldn't remember the warmth of Katsuki's hand. Couldn't wonder whether he was looking at her again.

She answered questions. Copied notes. Participated in discussions. She was, by all outward appearances, completely focused. Ochaco noticed otherwise.

"...You're writing really hard."

Izumi blinked. "...Huh?"

Ochaco pointed towards her notebook. The tip of her pencil had snapped clean in half.

"...Oh."

"I think your maths homework has officially offended you."

Izumi laughed awkwardly. "I didn't even realise."

"I'll lend you another pencil."

"Thanks..."

Behind them, Katsuki watched the exchange over the top of his own notebook. He'd noticed the broken pencil too. Along with every other tiny sign that something wasn't quite right. The way she'd barely spoken unless a teacher asked her something. The way she'd laughed just a little too loudly at Mina's joke. The way she'd refused to turn around.

It irritated him. Not because she was acting strangely. Because he knew he was the reason.

By lunchtime...

Izumi allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief. Halfway. She'd done it. An entire morning. No awkward conversations. No mention of the movie theatre. No discussion about the hand holding.

Nothing.

Maybe... Maybe things really could go back to normal.

She quickly gathered her things before Aizawa had even finished dismissing the class.

"See you after lunch!" Ochaco smiled.

"Mhm!"

Izumi forced a cheerful smile onto her face before almost speed-walking towards the cafeteria. Behind her... Katsuki watched her disappear through the classroom door.

"..."

"...Oi."

Kirishima glanced up from packing away his books. "Hm?"

"Deku's acting weird."

Kirishima looked towards the empty doorway. "...Maybe she's just tired?"

"No." Katsuki shook his head. "She's avoiding me." There was no anger in his voice. Only certainty.

Kirishima studied him for a moment before a knowing smile slowly spread across his face.

"...You gonna do something about it?"

"...Obviously."

"What?"

"...Don't know yet."

That, unfortunately, was the problem. Because while Izumi spent the afternoon convincing herself that all she had to do was make it through the remaining lessons before retreating to the safety of her dorm room...

Katsuki had reached a very different conclusion. He wasn't going to let her avoid him forever. Sooner or later...

One of them was going to have to talk about what had happened in that movie theatre.

And if Izumi wasn't going to bring it up...

Then maybe—

Just maybe—

He was going to have to find the courage to do it himself.

——

By the time lunch came to an end, Izumi found herself breathing a little easier. She'd survived the morning. Somehow. No awkward conversations. No uncomfortable questions. No mention of the movie theatre. No mention of their hands. Maybe...

Maybe she really had worried herself over nothing.

As she changed into her training uniform in the girls' locker room, she felt the tight knot that had been sitting in her chest since she'd woken that morning begin to loosen ever so slightly.

Training. This was different. Training made sense. There were objectives. Strategies. Problems with clear solutions. Her body knew exactly what to do long before her mind had the chance to overthink it.

Out on the training grounds, there wasn't room to dwell on confusing feelings or embarrassing memories. There was only movement. Instinct. And the determination to become stronger. By the time she stepped out onto Ground Beta, the crisp afternoon air filled her lungs, and for the first time that day...

She felt like herself again.

The familiar sounds of explosions, conversation and stretching students echoed around the field while Aizawa lazily observed from the bleachers, coffee already in hand despite the afternoon hour.

Izumi wandered towards her usual spot near the edge of the training area before setting her water bottle on the ground. She began her routine without thinking.

A slow stretch of her shoulders. Her arms. Her legs. A careful rotation of her wrists after years of overusing them. It was comforting. Predictable. She welcomed the familiar ache in her muscles. Once she'd finished stretching, she reached behind her head, gathering her dark green curls into a high ponytail. A few stubborn strands immediately escaped and framed her face. She sighed.

"Stay."

The loose curls ignored her entirely.

"...Traitors."

She smiled to herself before tightening the hair tie one last time.

"Alright."

Aizawa's voice carried effortlessly across the field.

"Partner up."

Immediately, the training ground dissolved into movement. Students drifted naturally towards their usual partners. Kirishima was already making his way towards Kaminari. Ochaco smiled as she headed in Tsuyu's direction. Momo and Iida exchanged a nod before walking together. Izumi glanced around, wondering who hadn't paired off yet.

Maybe Shoji? Or Tokoyami—

"Oi."

The familiar voice sent a jolt through her entire body.

"...Deku."

Her heart stumbled. Slowly... She turned around.

Katsuki was walking directly towards her. His hands rested casually in the pockets of his training trousers, his expression as unreadable as it had been all morning. For one terrifying second, Izumi wondered whether he'd finally decided to bring up the movie theatre. Instead...

He stopped a few feet away. She realised she'd been staring.

"Oh!" Far too quickly, she forced a bright smile onto her face. "K-Kacchan!"

The greeting came out louder than she'd intended. Painfully cheerful. Almost squeaked. She cleared her throat immediately.

"...Hi."

Smooth. Very smooth.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"..."

"..."

"...You sound weird."

"I do not."

"You do."

"I-"

She stopped herself. Took a slow breath. "...I'm just excited for training."

"Hm."

He clearly didn't believe her. Not even a little.

Still... He let it go. For now. Instead, he jerked his head towards the centre of the training field.

"Partner with me."

The words weren't phrased like a question. They rarely were when Katsuki wanted something. It sounded less like an invitation... And more like he'd already made the decision for both of them. Izumi blinked.

"...Me?"

He frowned.

"...Who else am I talking to?"

"I just thought..." She looked around the field.

"...You usually train with Kirishima."

"I do."

"So..."

"So today I'm training with you."

Simple. Matter-of-fact. As though there were nothing remotely unusual about it. Only... There was. Very unusual. Izumi couldn't remember the last time Katsuki had specifically sought her out before she'd even had the opportunity to ask someone else. Normally, whoever happened to be closest became his unfortunate training partner.

This... This felt intentional. Across the training ground, Kirishima noticed immediately.

"...Huh."

Kaminari followed his gaze.

"What?"

"Bakugo partnered with Midoriya."

"So?"

"He never chooses first."

"...Oh."

Kaminari paused.

"...You're right."

Back on the field, Izumi's thoughts were racing. Why me? Does he want to talk? Oh no. What if he brings up the movie? What if he doesn't Kacchan, please stop looking at me.

"Oi."

She blinked.

"...Huh?"

"You listening?"

"O-Of course!"

"I asked if you're partnering with me."

"...Right!"

She nodded a little too enthusiastically.

"Yes!...I mean..." She laughed awkwardly. "...Sure."

Katsuki studied her for another second. Something was definitely off. Izumi was usually nervous around him. That wasn't new. But this felt... Different.

She wouldn't quite meet his eyes. She kept smiling at strange moments. Her replies came half a second too late, as though she were translating every sentence inside her own head before saying it aloud. She was overthinking. Again. He knew that look. Unfortunately...

He was doing exactly the same thing.

"Tch."

He clicked his tongue and turned towards the practice area. "C'mon."

Izumi hurried after him. As she fell into step beside him, she couldn't help noticing how naturally they walked together. Close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. Just like they always had. Except now...

Neither of them could stop remembering what had happened the last time they'd been this close. The silence between them stretched. Not uncomfortable. Just...

Fragile.

As though one wrong word might shatter whatever invisible thing had settled between them after the movie theatre. Neither of them realised they were thinking the exact same thing.

Please don't bring it up...

...Unless you're going to tell me it meant something too.

The moment Aizawa gave the signal to begin, everything else seemed to disappear. The awkwardness. The unanswered questions. The lingering embarrassment from the movie theatre. All of it was pushed to the back of Izumi's mind the instant Katsuki launched himself towards her with a deafening explosion.

She reacted almost instinctively.

One For All surged through her body, green lightning dancing across her arms as she pushed off the ground just before his blast tore through the space she'd occupied a heartbeat earlier. A sharp gust of wind swept past her face.

"You'll have to do better than that!" she called back.

"Hah!"

Another explosion erupted from his palms. "I've only just started!"

She smiled despite herself. There he is. This...

This was familiar. This was the language they understood better than any conversation. Movement. Instinct. Challenge. Neither of them ever asked the other to take it easy. Neither of them wanted that. Every strike Katsuki threw came with genuine intent. Every dodge Izumi made demanded complete concentration.

It wasn't cruel. It wasn't reckless. It was trust. The kind of trust built over years of bruises, arguments and shared ambition.

Katsuki fired another blast beneath his feet, propelling himself across the training ground with frightening speed. Izumi met him head-on. Their forearms collided with a dull crack before they sprang apart almost immediately.

He swung. She ducked. She countered. He twisted around her kick before answering with another explosion that forced her backwards. Neither landed a clean hit. Not because either of them was holding back, because they knew each other too well. Izumi could predict the slight shift in Katsuki's shoulders before he launched an explosion powerful enough to change direction.

She knew the tiny narrowing of his eyes that always preceded a feint. Katsuki, meanwhile, recognised the almost imperceptible adjustment in Izumi's footing before she accelerated with One For All. He knew exactly how she'd angle Blackwhip. Exactly how she'd use the environment. Exactly where she'd try to redirect him.

Years of training together had made them frustrating opponents. It was almost like fighting a mirror.

"You've gotten predictable!" Katsuki called as another blast sent dust spiralling through the air.

Izumi laughed, vaulting over the explosion.

"I'm pretty sure you said that last week!"

"And I was right then too!"

"Oh really?" She landed lightly behind him. "Because I seem to remember knocking you flat on your back."

"Tch."

"One lucky hit."

"Lucky?" She couldn't help smiling wider.

"I distinctly remember you sulking afterwards."

"I wasn't sulking."

"Kirishima said you were."

"Kirishima talks too much."

The exchange felt... Effortless. Natural. Like slipping into a favourite old jumper. The strange tension that had followed them around since the movie theatre slowly began to dissolve beneath the rhythm of sparring. Every movement reminded Izumi why she'd always loved training with Katsuki.

There were no hidden meanings here. No confusing silences. No wondering whether she'd imagined something. Just the familiar dance they'd been performing since childhood.

Attack. Counter. Adapt. Improve. For the first time all day, she stopped worrying.

Maybe...

Maybe everything really would be okay. Maybe she'd built the whole thing into something much bigger inside her own head.

Maybe—

An explosion burst beside her ear. She instinctively blocked, sliding several feet across the ground before regaining her footing. Katsuki didn't press the attack. Instead, he stood a few metres away, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"...Oi."

She blinked.

"Hm?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, an oddly uncertain gesture. One she rarely saw from him.

"...Can I ask you something?"

Izumi's stomach dropped.

"...Sure."

He looked away for the briefest second before meeting her eyes again.

"...You've been acting weird all day."

The words landed like a stone in her chest.

"I..."

"No point denying it."

He folded his arms.

"You've barely looked at me."

"..."

"You've been avoiding me since this morning."

"..."

"And every time I talk to you..." He frowned. "...You start sounding like you've forgotten how conversations work."

Heat rushed into Izumi's cheeks.

"I don't—"

"You do."

"..."

"..."

"...It's obvious."

Silence settled between them. The distant sounds of the other pairs training suddenly felt impossibly far away. Katsuki shifted his weight.

"...Is it because of yesterday?"

The question struck her harder than any explosion could have. Her breath caught. There it was. The conversation she'd been dreading since she'd opened her eyes that morning. She stared at him, unable to answer. Katsuki clicked his tongue, mistaking her silence for confirmation.

"...Tch. I knew it."

Izumi finally found her voice.

"I-It's not..."

"It is."

"..."

"..."

He scratched awkwardly at the side of his face.

"If you're acting like this because of the movie..." He exhaled through his nose. "...Then stop overthinking it so much."

Izumi simply blinked.

"...What?"

"I know you." He said it so matter-of-factly that she almost forgot to breathe. "You've probably replayed the whole thing in your head about a thousand times."

Her eyes widened.

"...Maybe."

"I knew it." His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "You always do this."

"I don't always—"

"You absolutely do."

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Because... He wasn't wrong. He never took his eyes off her.

"It happened." He shrugged, as though he were talking about an ordinary training exercise instead of the moment that had consumed both of their thoughts for days. "...That's all."

Izumi searched his face desperately.

"That's... all?"

For a split second... Something flickered across Katsuki's expression. Something softer, almost guilty. Gone before she could be certain she'd seen it.

"..."

"..."

"...Yeah."

The answer came a fraction too quickly. Too casually. As if he were trying very hard to sound convincing. Izumi wasn't the only one pretending not to overthink what had happened. Katsuki had spent nearly the entire previous night arguing with himself about that same moment. The difference was...

He had no intention of admitting that.

Not yet.

Izumi's brows drew together ever so slightly. A small crease appeared between them as she searched Katsuki's face, trying to find something, anything, that would tell her what he was really thinking.

Had she imagined it? Had she spent days turning one fleeting moment into something it had never been?

Maybe... Maybe this was exactly what he'd meant. Maybe she had overthought everything. She certainly had a habit of doing that. She had replayed that evening so many times that she'd begun analysing things she couldn't possibly know.

The way he'd looked at her. The warmth of his hand. The silence afterwards. Perhaps none of it had carried the meaning she'd convinced herself it did.

Perhaps... It had simply been a hand. An innocent gesture between two lifelong friends. Nothing more.

A quiet disappointment settled somewhere deep inside her chest.

It wasn't dramatic. It didn't hurt in the way she'd expected heartbreak to hurt. Instead...

It felt like watching the last little spark of hope slowly disappear.

Maybe I should just let it go...

The thought was strangely calming. She'd spent so much time worrying about feelings she didn't understand that she'd almost forgotten why she'd come to U.A. in the first place.

She wanted to become a hero. That had always been the dream. Maybe it was time to stop letting herself get distracted by thoughts that only left her confused. Maybe she should put all of this behind her. Focus on training, on One For All. On becoming someone worthy of standing beside the people she admired.

Romance...

Could wait.

She lowered her eyes to the dusty training ground beneath her feet before quietly tucking a loose strand of green hair behind her ear.

"...So..." Her voice was softer than before. "So it didn't mean anything?"

The question hung between them. Simple. Quiet. Yet somehow heavier than any conversation they'd ever had. Katsuki's eyes widened.

"What?" His answer came almost immediately. Too immediately. As though his brain hadn't even consulted the rest of him before speaking. “I didn't say that."

Izumi looked back up. Her heart stumbled so hard she was certain he'd be able to hear it.

"...You didn't?"

"No."

The word left him with surprising certainty. Then...

He realised exactly what he'd just admitted.

"..."

"..."

"...Tch."

His ears immediately began to burn.

Idiot. Nice one.

He rubbed the back of his neck with obvious frustration, suddenly finding the training ground infinitely more interesting than making eye contact.

"I just..."

For perhaps the first time in recent memory... Katsuki Bakugo struggled to find the right words. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. Or... More accurately... He knew exactly what he didn't want to say.

He wasn't ready. Not yet. Not while his own thoughts still felt like a battlefield he couldn't navigate.

"...I just mean..." He exhaled slowly through his nose. "...Stop worrying about it so much, alright?"

Izumi blinked.

"...That's your answer?"

"It happened."

"I know it happened."

"So..." He shrugged one shoulder, trying very hard to sound unaffected. "...You don't need to keep analysing every second of it."

Her lips parted. "But..." She hesitated. "I don't know what it was."

Neither do I.

The thought flashed through Katsuki's mind so quickly it almost escaped his mouth. He swallowed it back. Barely. Instead, he looked at her with an expression far gentler than either of them seemed to realise.

"...Maybe it doesn't need explaining yet."

The words surprised them both. Izumi stared at him. He frowned slightly, clearly annoyed that he'd accidentally said something that sounded almost... thoughtful.

"What I'm saying is..." He searched for the simplest way to put it. "...You don't have to decide what it meant today."

A breeze drifted across the training ground, stirring the loose strands of Izumi's ponytail. She couldn't look away from him.

"...You don't?"

He shook his head.

"...No."

Another quiet settled between them. This one felt different. Not awkward. Not comfortable. Just...

Honest.

Izumi found herself studying his face. The way he refused to meet her eyes for more than a second. The faint pink beginning to colour the tips of his ears. The tiny, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw whenever he seemed embarrassed. Then it hit her.

He was nervous.

Kacchan...

Was nervous.

The realisation was so startling that she almost forgot what they'd been talking about. He was trying so hard to sound casual. So determined to pretend none of this affected him. Yet every little crack in his composure told a different story. And somehow...

That thought made the weight in her chest feel just a little lighter.

She smiled before she could stop herself. A small one. Soft. Almost imperceptible. Katsuki noticed immediately.

"...What?"

"...Nothing."

"You smiled."

"I know."

"...Why?"

She looked down at the ground again, her fingers absently tightening around the hem of her training shirt.

"...I just realised..." She laughed quietly to herself. "...I'm not the only one who's been overthinking things."

For a fraction of a second... Katsuki completely froze.

"..."

"..."

"...You got proof?"

His attempt at sounding offended only made her smile grow a little wider. She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Because for the first time since the movie theatre...

She no longer felt like she was carrying the confusion alone.

——

By the time classes had finally come to an end, the tension that had hung between Izumi and Katsuki throughout the day had softened into something quieter.

Neither of them had all the answers. Neither of them had been brave enough to say what they were truly thinking. But somehow...

The conversation during training had eased something. Not enough to erase the uncertainty. Just enough that breathing felt a little easier.

As evening settled over Heights Alliance, Class 2-A slipped effortlessly into its familiar routine. The common room slowly filled with life. The television hummed quietly in the background while Kaminari enthusiastically challenged anyone willing to lose to him at the latest fighting game.

"I told you that's cheating!" he protested.

"It literally isn't," Jirou replied without looking up from her book.

"It feels like cheating!"

"It feels like you're losing."

Kirishima burst into laughter.

"She's got you there, man."

Nearby, Mina, Ochaco and Tsuyu had somehow become completely invested in a dating show playing on the television, providing a running commentary loud enough for the entire room to hear.

"No, don't forgive him!" Mina groaned dramatically.

"He lied for three episodes!"

"He probably has a tragic backstory," Ochaco suggested.

"That doesn't excuse everything."

Iida sat in an armchair attempting to read in peace. He had failed spectacularly. The room buzzed with the easy comfort that only came from living together. It felt like home.

Izumi, meanwhile, had claimed one end of the dining table, determined to accomplish one thing before bed. Finish her English homework.

Or... At the very least...

Understand what the assignment was actually asking. She stared blankly at the open textbook in front of her. Then at the worksheet. Then back to the textbook. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"...Why?" she whispered miserably.

English. Out of every subject U.A. offered, English had always been her greatest weakness.

Combat strategy? Fine. Rescue operations? No problem. Hero ethics? She could happily write essays for hours. English grammar? Might as well have been ancient hieroglyphics.

She sighed heavily, resting her chin in one hand as she absently tapped her pencil against the edge of the table.

"...Present perfect continuous..." Her eyes drifted over the page again. "...Why does that even exist?"

She reread the same paragraph for what had to be the sixth time. It somehow made even less sense than before.

"I'm definitely reading English..." She frowned harder. "...Right?"

Across the room...

Katsuki sat sprawled comfortably across one end of the sofa, one arm hooked lazily over the backrest while Kirishima and Kaminari loudly argued over whose fault their latest defeat had been.

"It was lag!"

"It wasn't lag!"

"It was emotional lag."

"What does that even mean?!"

Ordinarily... Katsuki would've had something to say. Probably something involving the word idiots. Instead... His attention had drifted elsewhere. Without consciously deciding to, his eyes found Izumi. Again.

She sat completely absorbed in her work, or at least trying to be. Books, notebooks and loose sheets of paper were scattered across the table in a level of organised chaos that somehow only she seemed capable of understanding. Every few seconds she would mumble something quietly to herself before scribbling down another answer. Then immediately frown and erase it.

"...No..." Erase. "...That's worse."

Another sigh. Another attempt. Katsuki's lips twitched. He knew that expression.

The tiny crease between her eyebrows whenever she couldn't solve something. The way she absent-mindedly chewed on the inside of her cheek while thinking. The soft muttering that became faster the more frustrated she grew. He'd watched her do exactly the same thing since they were children.

Only now...

He found himself noticing different things too.

The loose green curls that had escaped her ponytail during training now rested over one shoulder, catching the warm light spilling from the lamps around the common room. One sleeve of her oversized jumper had slipped slightly, exposing the curve of her shoulder and the faint scattering of freckles across her skin. She reached up without thinking, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear before immediately leaning back over her textbook with renewed determination.

"...Come on..."

She sounded personally betrayed by the English language. It made him want to laugh.

He didn't. He simply...

Watched.

There was something strangely peaceful about it. Izumi wasn't trying to impress anyone. She wasn't smiling that bright smile she wore around people. She wasn't nervously rambling or overanalysing every sentence she spoke. She was just...

Being herself.

Completely absorbed in a problem she was stubbornly refusing to lose to.

Katsuki realised, not for the first time, that he could probably sit there for hours doing absolutely nothing except watching her exist. The thought should have embarrassed him. Instead...

It felt oddly natural.

Across the sofa, Kirishima finally noticed the silence beside him.

"...Bro?"

No response.

"Bakugo."

Still nothing. Kaminari paused his game long enough to follow Kirishima's gaze.

"...What's he looking at?"

Both boys turned. Their eyes landed immediately on Izumi. Then... Very slowly...

They looked back at Katsuki.

He hadn't noticed either of them watching him. His expression had softened in a way neither of them had ever really seen before. The usual sharpness around his eyes had disappeared. There was no irritation. No impatience. Just a quiet, almost unconscious fondness as he watched the girl sitting across the room.

Kirishima's grin grew wider by the second.

"...Oh."

Kaminari blinked.

"...He's got it bad."

"What?"

Katsuki's head snapped around instantly.

"What've you idiots got to say?"

Kirishima smirked innocently.

"Nothing."

"You were talking."

"We weren't."

"You were."

"We're just wondering..."

Kaminari struggled to hide his grin.

"...How long you've been watching Midoriya."

Silence. Katsuki's expression remained perfectly blank.

"...I wasn't."

Both boys slowly turned to look at Izumi again. She was still completely engrossed in her homework, blissfully unaware that she'd been the subject of the conversation. Then they looked back at Katsuki.

"...Right," Kirishima said.

"You weren't."

"Tch. I wasn't."

"You've been staring at the same page of our game for about ten minutes."

"I don't care about your crap game."

"No."

Kaminari's grin became positively devious.

"...But you do seem to care an awful lot about Midoriya."

For perhaps the first time that evening... Katsuki's ears became ever so slightly pink.

"...Shut up."

Across the room, Izumi looked up from her textbook at the sound of his voice. Their eyes met for only a second. Then Katsuki looked away first. And despite everything they'd talked about earlier that day...

Izumi couldn't help smiling just a little.

Gradually, the common room began to empty.

The television clicked off. Game controllers were abandoned on the coffee table. Textbooks were gathered into bags as sleepy conversations drifted towards the staircase. One by one, Class 2-A called out their usual goodnights.

"Night, everyone!"

"Don't oversleep tomorrow!"

"Kaminari, if you're late again I'm dragging you out of bed."

"You say that every week!"

"And yet you keep making me do it."

Laughter echoed briefly through the dorm before fading upstairs. The room grew quieter with every passing minute. Eventually, only the gentle hum of the lights and the occasional rustle of turning pages remained.

Izumi barely noticed.

She had become completely absorbed in a one-sided battle against the English language.

"...No..." She erased another sentence. "...That doesn't sound right either."

She checked the textbook. Then her notes. Then the dictionary she'd somehow ended up borrowing from Yaoyorozu. Nothing helped.

With a defeated sigh, she let her forehead fall softly onto the open pages of her workbook.

"I give up..." Her voice came out wonderfully muffled against the paper. "I officially surrender."

The textbook, unfortunately, refused to accept her terms. Across the room...

Katsuki hadn't moved.

He'd watched almost everyone disappear upstairs. Kirishima had paused at the foot of the staircase.

"You coming?"

"...In a minute."

Kirishima followed his gaze.

Midoriya.

Still sitting at the table. Still staring at the same worksheet. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"...Right."

He didn't say another word, just continued upstairs, leaving Katsuki alone in the common room.

Well...

Almost alone.

For a few moments, Katsuki simply sat there. His eyes drifted towards the clock on the wall.

Almost ten.

She'd been wrestling with that assignment for over an hour.

"...Tch."

He knew exactly what was going to happen if nobody intervened. She'd stay up until two in the morning trying to figure it out herself. Then she'd apologise for being tired tomorrow.

Idiot.

With a quiet sigh that sounded far more exasperated than he actually felt, he pushed himself off the sofa. His footsteps echoed softly across the wooden floor. Izumi didn't even notice him approaching until a familiar voice spoke beside her.

"...You understanding any of that?"

She startled so violently that her pencil rolled straight off the table.

"Oh!" It clattered onto the floor. "S-Sorry!"

"...You apologising to the pencil now?"

She looked up.

"Kacchan..." A sheepish smile appeared almost automatically. "...I didn't hear you."

"I noticed." He nodded towards the disaster spread across the table. "So?"

She looked back at the worksheet.

"...Yes." A pause."...Kind of." Another pause. "...Not really." Finally... She sighed dramatically, letting her shoulders slump.

"...Okay. I'm completely lost." She buried her face in her hands. "I've read the same paragraph so many times that none of the words look like real words anymore."

A quiet snort escaped Katsuki before he could stop it. Izumi immediately looked up.

"...Did you just laugh at me?"

"I breathed."

"You laughed."

"I didn't."

"You absolutely did."

"Tch."

Despite his protests, the corners of his mouth refused to stay entirely straight.

"You make funny faces when you're confused."

"I do not."

"You do."

"I've never made a funny face in my life."

"Hah."

She folded her arms.

"...You're mean."

"And you're hopeless."

"That wasn't very nice."

"It was accurate."

She tried to glare at him. It lasted approximately three seconds before dissolving into another defeated groan.

"...I'm never going to pass this assignment."

Without another word, Katsuki reached for the empty chair beside her. The legs scraped quietly across the wooden floor. He turned it around. Then sat down. Izumi blinked.

"...What're you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"...Sitting."

"Hm... Next to me."

"Congratulations."

She stared at him for another second.

"...Why?"

He looked genuinely confused by the question.

"'Cause you're stuck."

"..."

"..."

"...That's it?"

"What else would it be?"

Izumi looked down at her workbook.

"...Kacchan..." Her voice softened. "...It's late."

"So?"

"You've got your own homework."

"Finished it."

"You should probably get some sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"You don't have to stay and help me."

For the first time since sitting down, Katsuki looked directly at her. His crimson eyes held hers with surprising steadiness.

"...I know."

The words were quiet. Simple. Matter-of-fact.

"I wasn't asked."

"..."

"I'm choosing to."

Izumi felt something warm bloom quietly inside her chest.

"...Oh."

She wasn't entirely sure why those two words affected her so much. Maybe because he'd said them so naturally. As though helping her wasn't an obligation. Wasn't a favour. Just...

Something he wanted to do.

Katsuki reached over without ceremony and slid her workbook closer to himself.

"Let's see."

He skimmed the first page. Then the second. By the third page... His eyebrows had climbed noticeably higher.

"...How the hell did you get this one?"

Izumi winced.

"...Bad?"

He pointed to one sentence.

"The hero have save many civilian yesterday.”

She covered her face.

"...Please don't read them out loud."

"...'He runned very quickly because villain was dangerous.'"

"Kacchan..."

"'I am become stronger every days.'"

"I know!" She laughed despite herself, equal parts horrified and embarrassed. "I know they're terrible!"

He looked over at her. She was laughing now. Really laughing. Her earlier frustration had melted away entirely.

Without thinking...

He smiled.

Small. Barely noticeable. But unmistakably there. Izumi stopped laughing.

"..."

"..."

"...You smiled."

His expression vanished immediately.

"I did not."

"You did."

"No."

"Kacchan."

"Whatever."

She couldn't stop smiling now. The homework still looked impossible. The clock still insisted it was far too late. Tomorrow's classes would arrive much too early.

And yet...

None of that seemed quite so overwhelming anymore. Because somehow...

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Katsuki while he patiently explained English grammar felt a lot less like studying, and a lot more like home. At some point, Izumi realised she hadn't heard a single word Katsuki had said for at least the last five minutes.

His voice continued steadily beside her, explaining the difference between verb tenses with far more patience than she would have ever expected from him.

"...So if it's already happened, you use—"

She didn't catch the rest. Not because she wasn't trying to. Because her attention had quietly wandered somewhere infinitely more distracting. Without even realising she'd done it, she'd turned ever so slightly in her chair.

Closer to him. Close enough that their shoulders were almost touching. Close enough that every now and then, when one of them shifted, the fabric of their jumpers brushed together.

Her breath caught. She'd never noticed before...

How nice he smelled.

Not the faint scent of smoke and nitroglycerin that inevitably clung to him after training. This was different.

Fresh. Clean. A subtle woody cologne she'd never been close enough to notice before. It wasn't overpowering.

It was comforting. Warm. She found herself inhaling a little deeper before her brain caught up with what she was doing.

What am I doing? Embarrassed, she quickly looked down at her textbook. Unfortunately, that only lasted a second. Because her eyes drifted back towards him again. Katsuki was leaning over the table, one forearm resting beside her workbook while the other lazily held her pencil.

He'd apparently taken over writing examples after deciding her own notes were "a disaster." His sleeves were rolled up slightly, exposing his forearms. Izumi had seen them countless times during training. Yet somehow...

She'd never really looked.

Years of combat had left them lean and powerfully defined, muscles shifting beneath lightly tanned skin every time he moved the pencil across the page. Without meaning to, a completely ridiculous thought wandered into her head.

...He could probably pick me up with one arm.

Her eyes widened.

What?!

Where had that come from?

She nearly buried her face in the table. Focus on English. Instead...

Her gaze wandered even higher. To his face. The serious concentration he wore while explaining something she was no longer listening to. The faint crease between his brows whenever he was thinking. The tiny scar near his jaw she'd somehow never noticed before. His skin looked impossibly clear beneath the warm lights of the common room. His crimson eyes, usually so sharp and intimidating, appeared softer now.

Gentler. Almost glowing in the quiet evening light.

There wasn't a trace of the irritation he showed everyone else. Just quiet focus. And every now and then... When he glanced down at her notes... The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, like he was trying very hard not to laugh at one of her spectacularly awful English sentences.

Izumi felt her heart melt.

He's...

The thought formed before she could stop it.

He's really...

Beautiful.

The word settled quietly inside her mind.

Simple. Undeniable. She'd noticed before that Kacchan was attractive. It would have been impossible not to.

But tonight...

Sitting this close.

Watching him patiently spend his evening helping her with something he'd finished hours ago. Seeing the version of him very few people ever got to see...

She didn't think she'd ever found anyone more handsome.

"...Deku."

She didn't respond.

"...Oi."

Still nothing.

"...Izumi."

She blinked.

"H-Huh?"

Katsuki had stopped writing entirely. His pencil rested forgotten on top of her workbook. Instead...

He was looking directly at her. One eyebrow raised.

"...What?"

Heat flooded her face instantly.

"N-Nothing!"mShe looked away so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. "I wasn't..."

Her voice became considerably quieter. "...Nothing."

Katsuki wasn't convinced. Not even remotely.

"You were staring."

"I-I wasn't!"

"You were."

"I was listening!"

"...To my face?"

"..."

"..."

"...Maybe."

The admission escaped before she had time to stop it. She immediately covered her mouth.

"...I didn't mean to say that."

A long silence settled over the table. Izumi wished the floor would simply open beneath her. She could happily live underground forever.

"Deku."

She reluctantly looked up.

"...Yeah?"

The teasing expression she'd expected wasn't there. Neither was annoyance. Instead...

Katsuki was looking at her with an expression she'd almost never seen directed at herself. His eyes had softened. Not dramatically. Just enough that the usual sharpness had disappeared. He looked...

Curious. Careful. Almost vulnerable.

"...What's going on in that head of yours?" His voice had dropped considerably.

The bustling common room was gone now. Everyone else had gone upstairs. Only the two of them remained, surrounded by half-finished homework and the soft hum of the lights overhead. Izumi searched desperately for something sensible to say.

Nothing came. Instead...

She found herself looking into his eyes, really looking. Deep crimson meeting soft emerald. Neither of them spoke. Neither seemed willing to break whatever fragile thing had settled between them.

The silence stretched. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. But heavy with everything neither of them knew how to say aloud.

Katsuki felt his pulse begin to quicken. She was looking at him differently. Not with confusion. Not even embarrassment anymore. And he realised, with startling clarity... He'd been looking at her exactly the same way all evening.

Almost absentmindedly... He lifted one hand. Slowly enough that she could have moved away if she'd wanted to.

She didn't.

His fingertips hesitated only for a heartbeat before his palm came to rest gently against her cheek. She was warm. So impossibly warm. Her skin was softer than he'd imagined. Tiny freckles disappeared beneath the span of his hand.

Izumi's breath caught. Every muscle in her body went perfectly still.

"K-Kacchan..."

Her voice barely rose above a whisper. He swallowed.

"I..."

For perhaps the first time in his life... Katsuki Bakugo had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He only knew one thing. He wanted her to know she wasn't the only one. A faint smile tugged almost imperceptibly at the corner of his mouth.

"...I was looking at you too."

The confession was so quiet she almost wondered if she'd imagined it.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Neither of them moved. Then... Almost instinctively...

Katsuki leaned forward.

Slowly. Painfully slowly. Giving her every opportunity to stop him.

She never did. Instead...

Her eyes fluttered closed. Her breathing became uneven. She found herself unconsciously leaning towards him too, closing the tiny distance that still remained between them.

His forehead almost brushed hers. She could feel his breath. Warm against her lips.

Just another inch...

Just—

SLAM!

The front door crashed shut with enough force to make them both jump.

Katsuki's hand disappeared from her cheek immediately. Both of them sprang apart as though caught committing a crime. Izumi's chair squeaked loudly across the floor. Katsuki nearly dropped her pencil.

Standing frozen in the doorway, Todoroki stared at them. His expression remained perfectly neutral. Though there was perhaps the faintest hint of confusion.

He looked from Katsuki. To Izumi. Back to Katsuki again. Then quietly pointed towards one of the sofas.

"...I left my phone."

Silence. No one moved.

"..."

"..."

"...Carry on." Another pause. "...Actually..." He glanced between the two of them once more. "...Maybe don't."

Izumi made a noise that sounded suspiciously like her soul leaving her body. Katsuki slowly buried his face in one hand.

"...Of all the damn timing..."

Todoroki blinked.

"...Should I come back in five minutes?"

"NO!" both of them answered at exactly the same time.

The room fell silent again. Todoroki looked genuinely thoughtful.

"...Right."

He walked over, picked up his forgotten phone from the arm of the sofa, slipped it into his pocket and headed back towards the door. As he reached it, he paused. Without turning around, he said in his usual matter-of-fact tone,

"…I’ll let you get back to it…”

The door slid shut behind him.

Silence.

Utter...

Mortifying...

Silence.

Izumi slowly lowered her face into her hands.

"...I'm transferring schools."

Beside her, Katsuki let out a long, defeated sigh.

"...Not before I kill Half-and-Half."

Silence settled over the common room once again. Only this time, it felt entirely different. Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just impossibly heavy. Both of them were still trying to process how close they'd come to crossing a line neither of them had been brave enough to acknowledge until now.

The world seemed strangely quiet after Todoroki's interruption. The hum of the lights. The ticking of the clock on the wall. The distant creak of the building settling for the night. Everything sounded unnaturally loud.

Izumi remained frozen in her chair for several long seconds. Her breathing had yet to steady. Almost absent-mindedly, she lifted trembling fingertips to her cheek. The warmth had already begun to fade.

Only moments ago...

Kacchan's hand had been there.

His palm had rested so gently against her freckled skin that she'd almost forgotten how to breathe. Now all that remained was the memory of it.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

It really happened...

Across the table, Katsuki wasn't faring much better.

His face burned with a heat he prayed the dim evening lighting concealed. He'd never blushed this hard in his life. He refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he found himself desperately occupying his hands. He tugged unnecessarily at the waistband of his sweatpants. Ran a hand through his already impossibly messy hair. Adjusted his hearing aid despite it sitting perfectly where it belonged. Straightened the sleeve of his jumper.

Anything.

Anything except admitting the truth.

His hands felt...

Empty.

The sensation surprised him. Only a few seconds had passed since they'd left her face, yet he could still remember the softness of her skin resting against his palm. The tiny freckles beneath his thumb. The warmth. It was as though his hands were still expecting her to be there.

He clenched them into fists.

Get a grip.

Neither of them spoke. Neither seemed capable of finding words that could possibly explain what had almost happened. Because that was the terrifying part.

It hadn't felt impulsive. It hadn't felt accidental. They had both leaned in. If Todoroki hadn't opened that door... Neither of them knew how that sentence ended.

Eventually...

Izumi drew a slow, steadying breath. She smoothed the fabric of her oversized jumper over her knees before quietly looking down at the scattered books still covering the table.

"...It's getting late." Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "We should probably..." She swallowed. "...Head to bed."

Katsuki stared at the tabletop for another second before nodding once.

"...Yeah."

The single word sounded strangely distant. Like it belonged to someone else. Slowly, they both stood.

Izumi began gathering her textbooks into a neat pile, carefully sliding loose sheets of paper between the pages before hugging everything tightly against her chest. The movement gave her something to focus on. Something other than the way her heart still refused to slow down.

She risked one glance toward him. He was already looking at her. Their eyes met. Neither looked away.

"...Goodnight..." She offered him a small, hesitant smile. "...Kacchan."

"...Night."

Neither moved. The silence stretched once more. It was almost unbelievable how much could be said without either of them speaking.

Questions. Hope. Fear. The unmistakable feeling that everything between them had changed.

Izumi wondered if he could hear her heartbeat. It felt loud enough to echo through the entire room. Eventually she lowered her gaze.

"...See you tomorrow."

Turning carefully, she took her first step towards the staircase. Then another. Katsuki watched her go. His body refused to move.

Let her go.

That would be the sensible thing to do. Sleep on it. Pretend tonight hadn't happened. Figure it out tomorrow. His feet remained planted firmly where they were.

Just let her go.

She reached the edge of the dining area. Another few steps... And she'd disappear upstairs. Then she'd spend the entire night doing exactly what she'd admitted to earlier.

Overthinking. Wondering what he'd meant. Wondering whether she'd imagined everything. Wondering whether he'd regretted it. The thought alone made something twist painfully inside his chest.

He didn't want that. He didn't want her lying awake questioning herself.

Questioning him. Questioning them.

His fingers curled tightly at his sides. Every instinct he'd spent years building screamed at him to stay where he was.

Don't be vulnerable. Don't take the risk. Don't give someone the power to hurt you.

But another voice...

Quieter.

Far more honest, asked only one question.

What if she walks away...

...and you never tell her?

He closed his eyes for the briefest moment. Exhaled slowly. Then opened them again.

"...Fuck it."

Before he had the chance to reconsider...

He crossed the distance between them in only a few quick strides. His hand closed gently, but with unmistakable certainty, around her wrist. Her eyes widened.

"Kacchan—"

He gave the slightest tug. Not enough to startle her. Just enough to bring her back towards him. The books slipped slightly in her arms as she stumbled one step closer. Then another. Until barely a breath separated them.

Slowly...

Almost reverently...

His free hand rose once more, finding exactly the same place it had rested only minutes earlier. His palm cupped her cheek.

Warm. Familiar. As though it had always belonged there.

Izumi leaned into the touch without even realising she was doing it.

"Kacchan..." Her voice was scarcely audible.

His crimson eyes searched hers one last time, looking for hesitation. Fear. Anything that might tell him to stop. He found none. Only emerald eyes looking back at him with the same longing he'd been trying so desperately to ignore. His forehead brushed hers.

Then…

He closed the final inch between them.

His lips met hers softly. Tentatively. As though asking a question rather than making a statement. The kiss lasted only a heartbeat before instinct gave way to certainty.

Izumi's eyes fluttered closed. The textbooks slipped forgotten from her arms onto the carpet with a muffled thud. Her trembling fingers found the front of his jumper, lightly curling into the fabric as she kissed him back.

Warmth spread through her chest so suddenly it almost stole her breath.

This wasn't hurried. Or desperate. It was gentle. Careful.

Two people who had spent years dancing around each other finally allowing themselves to stop pretending.

When they eventually parted, neither moved very far.

Their foreheads remained together. Their breaths mingled in the quiet room. Izumi looked at him with eyes shimmering in the soft light.

“Kacchan…” Izumi’s voice remained impossibly soft. Almost breathless. There was still a slight tremble beneath it, as though her body hadn’t quite caught up with what had just happened. Her eyes remained half-lidded when she looked at him, cheeks flushed a deep pink beneath the faint scattering of freckles across her skin.

Katsuki hadn’t moved away. Not completely. His hand still cradled the side of her face, his palm fitting against her cheek with a gentleness that seemed almost at odds with everything she had known him to be. His thumb moved before he seemed to realise what he was doing.

One slow stroke across her cheekbone. Izumi’s breath caught. Neither of them said anything.

For once…

Words seemed unnecessary.

They simply stayed there. Close enough that their foreheads almost touched. Close enough that Izumi could feel the warmth of his breath whenever he exhaled. Close enough that Katsuki could count every freckle scattered across her nose if he wanted to. And maybe…

For a second…

He did.

A lifetime had somehow led them here. Scraped knees and playgrounds. Childhood arguments. Hero notebooks. Cruel words neither of them could take back. Apologies that had taken years to say. Training. Competition. Fear. Admiration. The endless push and pull between them that had shaped so much of who they had become.

There had been so many moments where they could have lost each other. So many times when Katsuki had pushed her away. So many times when Izumi had followed anyway.

And now…

After everything…

Neither of them seemed to know what came next.

Izumi let out the smallest nervous laugh.

“…We really did that.”

Katsuki’s ears turned red again.

“You were there.”

“I know.”

“Then why’re you saying it like you’re surprised?”

“Because I am.”

“Tch.”

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

“…Are you?”

He looked at her.

“What?”

“Surprised.”

His expression shifted. For once, there was no smart answer waiting immediately behind his teeth. His thumb went still against her cheek.

“…Not really.”

Izumi blinked.

Katsuki swallowed.

Then his gaze lowered briefly.

“I mean…” His voice became quieter. “…I didn’t exactly plan it.”

That earned a soft laugh from her.

“I figured.”

“But…” He hesitated. A strange uncertainty crossed his features. Then, finally—

“I couldn’t.”

Izumi’s smile faded slightly.

“…Couldn’t what?”

His jaw tightened. Not with anger. With effort.

“I couldn’t let you walk away again.”

The words landed quietly between them. Izumi stared at him. Katsuki looked away almost immediately, as though saying it had exposed too much. His hand remained against her cheek.

“I watched you turn around and…” He exhaled sharply through his nose. The frustration in the sound was directed entirely at himself. “I knew what you’d do.”

Izumi’s brows lifted slightly.

“…What I’d do?”

“You’d go upstairs.” He looked back at her. “You’d sit in your room all night thinking about every damn thing that happened.”

“…”

“You’d convince yourself I’d regretted it.”

Her eyes widened.

“And then tomorrow you’d start avoiding me again because you thought that’s what I wanted.”

Izumi opened her mouth. Closed it. Because… That was exactly what she would have done.

Katsuki’s expression softened. Barely. But she saw it.

“I’ve spent enough time letting you walk away because I was too much of a coward to say what I was thinking.” His voice dropped lower. “…Didn’t wanna do it again.”

Something inside Izumi’s chest ached. Not painfully. Something warmer. Something so full it almost hurt. Katsuki had never been afraid of fighting. He’d throw himself headfirst into danger without a second thought. But this…

This was difficult for him. She knew that. Letting himself be seen like this. Admitting that he wanted something. Admitting that he was afraid of losing it. That required a completely different kind of courage.

Izumi’s eyes softened.

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Katsuki looked at her. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Izumi stepped forward. She didn’t think about it. Didn’t analyse it. Didn’t worry about whether it was the right thing to do. She simply wrapped her arms around him. Katsuki stiffened instinctively. Only for a second. Then slowly…

His shoulders relaxed. His arms settled around her. Izumi rested her cheek against his chest. The world disappeared again. There was only warmth. The quiet rise and fall of his breathing. And—

Thump.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

Thump.

His heart.

Strong. Steady. Reassuring.

Izumi found herself focusing on it without meaning to.

Every beat seemed to settle something inside her. Kacchan was here. Right here. Holding her. Not pushing her away. Not pretending nothing had happened. For once, there was no distance between them at all. She tightened her arms around him slightly. Katsuki noticed.

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re squeezing me.”

“…Am I?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

She made absolutely no attempt to loosen her grip. Katsuki snorted quietly.

“Liar.”

Izumi smiled against his chest. She could stay here forever. Or…

At least until morning.

Something about listening to his heartbeat felt strangely intimate. More intimate, somehow, than even the kiss. It was something she’d heard countless times during training when they’d been thrown against each other in combat. But this was different.

Here…

There was no adrenaline. No explosions. No desperate attempt to win. Just him. She could listen to that sound all night if he’d let her. Eventually… Izumi spoke.

Her voice was muffled against his jumper.

“We probably have a lot to talk about.”

Katsuki went quiet. She felt the slow rise of his chest beneath her cheek as he inhaled.

“…Yeah.”

Neither of them moved.

“We don’t have to do it tonight,” she added.

“…Good.”

Izumi laughed softly.

“That relieved?”

“I’ve had enough emotional conversations for one day.”

She tilted her head slightly so she could look up at him.

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

Her face heated immediately.

“…I know.”

“So don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The thinking one.”

Izumi frowned.

“I always think.”

“Exactly.”

She couldn’t argue with that. After another moment, Katsuki’s hand moved to the back of her head. His fingers slipped carefully into her curls. Izumi’s eyes widened slightly. The touch was so gentle. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing down the strands that had become messy after an entire day of classes and training.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Izumi’s expression softened.

“…You think?”

“Hm.”

His chin rested lightly against the top of her head.

“We’ve figured out worse.”

A tiny laugh escaped her.

“That’s true.”

His fingers continued slowly through her hair.

“…Together.”

Izumi closed her eyes. That word. There was something about hearing it from him that made everything feel suddenly less frightening.

Together.

Not a confession. Not a label. Not some grand promise they weren’t ready to make.

Just…

Together.

She nodded against him.

“Together.”

They stayed like that for another few minutes. Maybe longer. Neither kept track. Eventually, however, the clock on the common room wall seemed determined to remind them that tomorrow still existed. Izumi reluctantly pulled back.

Katsuki’s arms loosened around her. For a second, neither seemed entirely willing to let go. Their hands lingered at each other’s sides before slowly falling away. Izumi looked towards the staircase.

“…We really should sleep.”

“Hm.”

Another pause.

“…Goodnight, then.”

“Yeah.”

Still neither moved. Izumi smiled.

“We’re doing it again.”

Katsuki frowned.

“Doing what?”

“Not saying goodbye properly.”

“Tch.”

“We’ve been trying to leave for twenty minutes.”

“That’s your fault.”

“My fault?”

“You keep talking.”

“You kissed me!”

“And somehow that’s related?”

Izumi laughed. The sound filled the empty common room. Katsuki couldn’t help the small smile that followed. This time, when she turned towards the stairs, the uncertainty she’d carried earlier was gone. Halfway across the room, however…

She stopped. Turned. Katsuki was still standing beside the table. Watching her. Izumi’s fingers rose unconsciously towards her lips. His eyes followed the movement. Immediately, both of their faces warmed.

“…Night, Kacchan.”

His expression softened again.

“…Night, Izumi.”

Her heart skipped.

He didn’t call her Deku. Didn’t tease her. Just…

Izumi.

She smiled. Then disappeared upstairs.

Katsuki remained where he was long after she’d gone. The common room felt strangely empty now. His gaze drifted towards the forgotten English worksheet still spread across the table.

“…Damn nerd.”

He gathered her remaining papers into a neat pile. Then he noticed something written in the margin of her notebook. A sentence she’d apparently been practising earlier. Several attempts had been crossed out. The final version remained beneath them.

Some things are worth being brave for.

Katsuki stared at it. His thumb brushed lightly across the words. He wondered whether she’d written it because of the assignment. Or whether it meant something else. For once…

He decided not to overthink it. A small smile crossed his face. He closed the notebook.

Upstairs, Izumi slipped quietly into her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

For several seconds, she simply stood there. Then her back fell against the wood. Her textbooks dropped forgotten onto the floor. Her hands covered her burning face.

“…Oh my God.”

The words dissolved into helpless laughter. She’d kissed Kacchan. Kacchan had kissed her. And somehow…

The strangest part wasn’t that everything between them had changed.

It was that, beneath all the nerves and uncertainty…

Something about it felt like it had always been heading here.

Izumi climbed into bed sometime later. Sleep didn’t come immediately. Her mind still replayed the evening. The almost-kiss. His hand against her cheek. The way he’d stopped her from walking away. His lips against hers. His heartbeat beneath her ear. But for once…

She didn’t desperately search for answers. She didn’t analyse every second. Because she knew one thing now.

Whatever came next…

She wouldn’t be figuring it out alone. And for tonight…

That was enough.