The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the cityscape outside the Midoriya apartment. Inside, the cozy space hummed with the sounds of sizzling pans, clinking plates, and soft murmurs of conversation.
And one long, exaggerated groan.
"Uuuuuuugh... he's doing it again!"
Rimuri Tempest, flopped onto the couch in a oversized jumper and shorts, arms splayed out like she'd just been dramatically struck down by heartbreak.
Shion, seated nearby and folding laundry with the precision of a soldier, glanced at her with a tired look. "What now?"
Rimuri's muffled voice echoed through a pillow. "He's ditching us again! Izuku's never home anymore! First it was training with All Might, then it was the sports festival, then there was a mission in another country, and now it's the study group! It's like we don't even exist!"
"You're being dramatic." Shion paused, then sighed. "...But I kinda get it."
That admission earned her a blink from Rimuri. She sat up slowly, pouting. "You too?"
Shion nodded, her usual confidence dulled by the soft concern in her violet eyes. "We barely even eat dinner together these days. It's always 'I'm staying late at U.A.' or 'We've got training simulations.' I know he's trying to become the top hero, but..." She lowered her voice. "It's starting to feel like we're not part of his daily life anymore."
"Exactly!" Rimuri said, leaping to her feet and pointing like a prosecutor in court. "I was supposed to be his partner! His best friend! His slime buddy! And now I get, like, one hug a week. One! And I'm awesome at hugs!"
From the kitchen, the gentle clatter of dishes being set down was followed by a quiet voice.
"I... miss him too."
Shuna looked up from where she was helping Inko stir a pot on the stove, her expression soft. The pink-haired girl had flour dusting her cheeks and sleeves from baking earlier, but her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
"He used to come home and ask about our day," she murmured. "He'd compliment the food, or thank me when I helped clean... Now it's like he only comes back to sleep. Then he's gone again."
Inko Midoriya glanced over her shoulder, a gentle but tired smile on her face. "Girls..."
She wiped her hands on a towel and turned fully to face them. Despite the kindness in her expression, her eyes showed the same ache they all felt.
"I understand how you feel," she said softly. "He's my son. I raised him. And lately, I barely get to see his smile."
Silence lingered for a moment as that truth settled in the room.
"But," Inko continued, placing a hand over her heart, "we have to remember why he's doing this. Izuku's fighting so hard not just for himself... but for everyone. For his friends, his teachers, the people he hasn't even met yet."
She looked at Rimuri with a warm chuckle. "And yes, even for his dramatic little slime."
Rimuru crossed her arms with a grumble and a pout. "I'm not little... and I'm only dramatic because I care."
Inko stepped forward and gently ruffled her hair.
"I know, sweetie."
Shuna set the ladle down and walked over, brushing her flour-covered hands off on her apron. "I don't want to sound selfish. I'm really proud of him. I just wish we could see that pride in his eyes more often."
Shion rose to her feet as well, her arms crossed beneath her chest. "You think... maybe we should visit him? Surprise him at school or something?"
Rimuri perked up instantly. "Ooooh, I love that idea."
But Inko gently shook her head. "He's under enough pressure already. And you know how strict his teachers are, especially Shota."
Shion frowned. "So we just... wait?"
"Not wait," Inko said. "Support. Encourage. Make sure that when he does come home, it's warm and full of love. That he remembers what he's fighting for. And why he can't afford to lose."
Rimuri sighed and flopped onto the couch again. "Fine. But I'm giving him so much guilt when he walks through that door..."
Shuna giggled softly, walking over to poke her cheek. "Don't overdo it. He already carries so much on his shoulders."
Shion smiled faintly, a mix of pride and longing in her eyes. "You know... the world may be training him to be a symbol of hope... but here, he's just Deku."
Inko looked toward the front door, then back to the simmering dinner.
And for a moment, the apartment felt heavier than usual—not because it lacked joy, but because it was missing someone whose presence filled the space like sunlight.
They missed him.
And more than that, they loved him.
My hero academia Season 3 Opening 1 ODD FUTURE
...
The luxury car that dropped them off had barely pulled away before the entire group stood frozen on the stone walkway, heads tilted back, eyes wide.
They were staring up at what could only be described as a palace.
Momo Yaoyorozu's family estate wasn't a mansion—it was a compound. Gated iron fences, a perfectly trimmed hedge labyrinth around the perimeter, koi ponds visible from the outside, and a main building that looked like it could host a foreign embassy, a gala, and still have space for a personal museum.
"W-We're in the right place, right?" Kaminari asked, his voice squeaky with disbelief.
"She said this was her 'family home,' not the Taj Mahal," Mina muttered, taking a half-step behind Izuku and Ruby like the gates might suddenly start chanting taxes.
Yang gave a low whistle, arms crossed as she tilted her head at the upper balcony. "Rich-rich."
Blake, beside her, nodded silently.
Even Iida's stiff form seemed to wobble slightly. "Impressive... architectural symmetry. The columns are Corinthian—flawlessly maintained."
Izuku, though flustered, smiled nervously. "Let's not just stand here. I told her we'd be on time."
Ruby rang the ornate silver-plated doorbell on the front pillar, her gloved finger hesitant, as if she was activating a boss fight.
A soft ding-dong echoed melodically, followed by a burst of sound from the intercom above it.
"HELLO! Oh! You're here! Please come in! I'll be waiting for you right inside!!"
Momo's voice crackled through with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. The gates clicked and began to open automatically. The group exchanged glances.
"She sounds... happy," said Jirou cautiously.
"She sounds like she's already had three espressos," Sero muttered.
They followed the polished marble pathway lined with cherry blossom trees in full bloom, and finally reached the grand doors, which swung open with a gentle creak.
And there she was.
Momo Yaoyorozu stood in the entrance hall like the perfect hostess—beaming, radiant, and clearly trying her best to play it cool despite the storm of joy practically radiating off her. She wore a crimson short-sleeved polo shirt, white shorts, and a pair of soft bunny slippers. Her usually composed and elegant demeanor was now replaced with that of a hyper-enthusiastic scholar on a caffeine high.
Behind her was a gleaming silver snack cart, stacked high with chocolate-covered biscuits, cookies, tea cakes, strawberry pocky, bottled smoothies, and at least three kinds of imported tea.
"I've prepared refreshments!" she said brightly, hands on the sides of the cart like a proud chef unveiling her signature dish. "We have matcha mochi, strawberry milk buns, dried plum candies, three types of cheese crackers, and oolong-infused mochi balls—I wasn't sure what everyone liked so I prepared everything!"
The group stood in the grand foyer, their shoes squeaking softly against the polished marble, suddenly very aware of the antique chandeliers, the suits of armor in the hallway corners, and the velvet staircase that led to the upper floors.
And how wildly out of place they felt.
Mina leaned close to Kaminari and whispered, "This place smells like it's never even heard of dust."
Ruby nodded mutely, her red eyes darting from a Monet painting on the wall to the golden embroidery on the rugs.
Even Izuku, always composed in combat, was caught off guard. "U-uh..."
Momo tilted her head, her warm smile faltering slightly. "Is... something wrong?"
Her voice was gentle, but there was a hint of nervousness behind her eyes now.
Izuku quickly stepped forward, waving his hands. "No, no! Not at all! Everything's perfect!"
"Yeah!" Ruby added, her voice rising an octave. "It's just... your house is beautiful."
"Like royalty," Yang said, casually throwing her arm over Ruby's shoulder to ground the tension.
"Way cooler than I expected," Jirou offered.
"Your snack game is elite," Sero added with a grin.
Momo's nervousness melted instantly. Her eyes lit up, and she gave a soft, almost bashful laugh. "Oh, thank you! I was just so excited to have you all over. I've never hosted a study session before—well, outside of private tutoring."
Tohru peeked over at one of the koi ponds visible through the glass doors. "Is that fish glowing?"
"Oh! That one is genetically bioluminescent! Papa had it bred in Osaka."
Everyone looked at each other.
"I'm not even surprised anymore," Kaminari said, flopping down on a velvet bench like a defeated tourist.
Momo clapped her hands gently. "Shall we begin? We'll be studying in the Sunroom today—plenty of space, natural light, and the tea warmers are built into the table!"
"Built. Into the table," Sero repeated blankly.
As they followed Momo through the manor—passing libraries bigger than some apartments, trophy rooms filled with fencing medals, and a literal meditation garden—the group slowly began to relax.
She may live like a princess, but Momo's excitement, warmth, and earnest energy made them feel more like guests of a dear friend than strangers at a billionaire's estate.
And as she held open the glass doors to the beautiful, flower-filled sunroom—giant whiteboard already rolled into the corner and notebooks laid out with monogrammed pens—the study session had officially begun.
Timeskip:
The sunroom of the Yaoyorozu estate had transformed into a full-blown war room.
Books were cracked open on every flat surface. Notebooks were filled with scribbles and bullet points. The whiteboard was covered in complex equations, ancient battle dates, quirk diagrams, and notes in at least three different styles of handwriting.
At the center of it all stood Momo, notebook in hand, her voice calm and authoritative as she moved through the day's first subject: Mathematics.
"To simplify expressions involving radical numbers, always remember to factor the radicand completely before attempting to rationalize the denominator," Momo explained, motioning smoothly to the perfect example she'd written in black ink. "It's a very common mistake to jump steps, but the clarity will help you avoid silly errors during the final."
Jirou squinted at the board, her pencil barely scratching the surface of her page.
"...This still feels like Greek to me," she muttered.
"It is Greek," Kaminari whispered beside her, eyes half-closed in despair. "All these roots and powers... I feel like I'm trying to solve a Rubik's Cube underwater."
Mina let out a groan, slumping across the table dramatically. "Can't we just fight someone instead? I'm sure I'd understand math better after a punch to the face."
Momo, ever polite, chuckled softly. "Come now, you'll see it's not as difficult as it looks. Just take it step by step. Here—try this one."
As she handed out extra worksheets she'd printed and laminated, the group groaned in protest, but none refused. Her enthusiasm was infectious. And there was something comforting about the way she spoke. As if she genuinely wanted them to succeed—not just academically, but personally.
As they moved from math to History, Momo stood beside an easel, using detailed printouts and bullet-pointed flashcards. The timeline of the Great Quirk Emergence, Civil Rights for Quirked Individuals, the establishment of Hero Society—all laid out with the precision of a practiced scholar.
"I know it's a lot to remember," Momo said, flipping the flashcards with brisk precision, "but the written portion will definitely include matching key events with the years they happened. Focus on the big turning points. The Hero Public Safety Commission's formation. The Kamino reforms. The First Ranked Heroic Regulation Act."
"You could be a teacher," Ruby said, genuinely impressed.
"Oh, goodness no," Momo said with a small laugh. "That's far too much pressure."
Kaminari blinked. "More pressure than this?"
Momo didn't respond. She just smiled.
When it came to English, Ruby and Yang chimed in frequently, correcting pronunciations and offering translations. Ruby even teased Blake for correcting people in multiple languages.
But the biggest shift came when Momo stepped aside and gestured to Izuku Midoriya, offering him the center of the room like a king relinquishing their throne.
"Now," she said warmly, "for the next portion—Quirk Theories and Practical Application—Midoriya will be taking over. He's prepared a set of notes for everyone to follow along with."
Izuku stepped forward, shy at first, but the moment he began speaking, his confidence ignited.
"Alright, so... as you know, our quirks are deeply connected to our physical condition, mental control, and emotional stability," he started, holding up a stack of neatly typed documents. "I divided the notes into three sections: raw output, control, and combo potential."
"Combo what now?" asked Sero, eyebrow raised.
"Combo potential," Izuku repeated, eyes glowing with excitement. "You know—how two parts of your quirk or different abilities can be used together to enhance your strength or give you a tactical edge. Like Bakugo's speed bursts by concentrating explosions at his feet. Or Jirou combining her heartbeat sound with structural resonance to shatter walls."
Jirou blinked. "Wait... I can do that?"
Ruby nodded. "You totally can."
Momo gave a tiny giggle from her seat, and Izuku continued, flipping the whiteboard to a new page now covered in analysis charts and training drills.
"I also included a list of control-focused exercises based on each person's quirk type. Physical mutations need different endurance training than emitter types. And transformation quirks have to be mindful of time limits."
Yang leaned forward, hands on her knees. "Are these drills gonna hurt?"
Izuku blinked. "Uh... yes. Probably."
Yang grinned. "Perfect."
As the session continued, Iida stood at the back of the room, arms folded, like a judge at a prestigious event.
"I believe it is now time for the Assessment Phase," he declared, striding forward with the weight of a school principal. "To ensure that none of us fall behind, I shall be administering a timed quiz in each subject we've covered so far."
Mina dropped her pencil. "I hate everything."
Jirou groaned. "This is worse than school."
"That's because it is school," Kaminari muttered.
Sero laughed. "We came here to study and got ambushed by another Aizawa."
But Iida was already distributing homemade paper exams—clearly created within the last twenty minutes—each one bearing a small UA logo he'd hand-drawn on the corner.
"Complete each page within five minutes. No talking, no cheating. This is meant to simulate mental pressure under exam conditions. Ready...? BEGIN!"
And so, the group dove into a mix of silence, frantic scribbling, and the occasional whispered curse.
Ruby whispered to Blake, "Is this what it feels like to be in a military boot camp?"
Blake, pencil steady, didn't look up. "Worse. At least there we got sleep."
As the minutes dragged on, and the quizzes were turned in, Iida examined them with military efficiency. Momo helped grade. Deku double-checked the logic and corrections.
Eventually, the final papers were returned. No one failed. Not completely, anyway.
Even Kaminari, who barely escaped the flaming jaws of failure, raised a victorious fist. "I'm... not dead."
"Yet," Mina added, slapping his back. "Still gotta survive the practical!"
"Let's worry about that after dinner," Jirou groaned.
Momo beamed at them all. "You're doing great, everyone. I'm so proud of you all already."
Meanwhile with everyone else:
Outside the walls of Momo's elegant mansion, others from Class 1-A were busy preparing in their own ways.
At a quiet little café in downtown Musutafu, Tsuyu Asui and Ochako Uraraka sat across from one another, textbooks spread between them like a chessboard of future ambitions.
"Alright," Tsuyu said, calmly sipping a matcha latte as she pointed at a highlighted passage in her history book, "the Quirk Regulation Act was passed in response to the Tokyo Black Market Uprising... ribbit."
Ochako nodded, tapping her pen rhythmically against her notebook. "Yeah, right! That's the one where illegal Quirk-enhancing drugs were being sold, and the government had to step in. I remember reading that part."
"I think we'll be okay," Tsuyu said simply, "as long as we don't panic."
"Easier said than done," Ochako muttered with a half-smile. "I still get anxious when I take notes too fast."
Tsuyu blinked. "Just don't take notes fast then, ribbit."
Ochako laughed. "You make it sound so simple."
Now, in a dimly lit apartment across town, Katsuki Bakugo sat cross-legged on the floor, an open book on atomic structure in front of him. He scowled at the pages like they'd personally insulted him.
"Over here you spiky haired idiot !!," he growled, jabbing a finger at a confusing diagram.
"C'mon, man, it's just chemistry," Kirishima said, flipping his own page. "It's like battle strategy, but with molecules, right?"
Bakugo shot him a look. "Do I look like I care about molecules?! YOU'RE GETTING A GOOD MARK EVEN IF IT KILLS YOU!!!"
Kirishima chuckled. "Alright chill bro. We're still gonna pass even with a few wrong answers, right?"
"YOU THINK I CAN'T GET FULL MARKS HUH!!!," Bakugo snarled, flipping to the next page like it owed him money.
Across the city, in his room lit by the unholy glow of a computer monitor, Minoru Mineta had completely abandoned studying in favor of something far more on brand for him.
He sat in a beanbag chair, headphones on, watching the late-night broadcast of the Midnight and Mt. Lady Interview Special.
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Thank you... God," he whispered, clasping his hands together in a dramatic prayer. "This is the motivation I needed to survive these exams."
His desk behind him remained untouched. Not a single pen was out of its cap.
Meanwhile, the rest of Class 1-A could be seen scattered across the UA training grounds, pushing their bodies to their limits.
Sato and Koda practiced lifting and reaction speed, trying to sync their quirk usage.
Jirou and Sero worked on sound-based combos in Training Room C.
Ojiro honed his agility in silence while Tokoyami sparred with his shadow under flickering lights.
Everywhere, effort echoed like a battle drum.
Back at the Yaoyorozu estate, the study group had settled into a deep, focused silence.
The only sound came from the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional shifting of chairs.
Not a word spoken.
Not a breath wasted.
But then—GRRRRRRRROOOOWL.
The sound echoed like thunder in a library.
The room froze.
A second, shorter growl followed. Then another. And then suddenly, everyone's stomachs began protesting their intense concentration in harmony.
Ruby slumped back with a sigh. "I'm starving..."
Kaminari groaned. "My stomach just wrote its own fanfic."
Momo stood up so fast it startled Jirou.
"I'll get snacks!" she announced with an almost glowing enthusiasm. "I can prepare something right away!"
"Wait—let me help," Izuku said quickly, standing up beside her.
Their eyes met for a moment—hers shining with purpose, his warm with his usual kindness.
Together, they made their way through the grand hallways of the Yaoyorozu estate, past portraits and antique vases, until they reached the kitchen.
But calling it a kitchen would be an insult.
It was a culinary cathedral.
The room was massive—walls lined with state-of-the-art appliances, chrome surfaces gleaming, several island counters, and a walk-in pantry large enough to be its own room. A massive double-door refrigerator sat beside a marble sink big enough to bathe in.
Izuku stared like he'd just stepped into the hero version of a royal armory.
"Whoa..." he muttered, blinking at the sheer luxury. "This place is... huge."
Momo laughed, cheeks tinting a little pink. "It's just the main kitchen. We don't really use the others unless there's a party."
"Others?" Izuku repeated.
Momo rolled the cart to a prep station, retrieving ingredients from the fridge—fresh lettuce, tomatoes, sliced meats, cheese, eggs already boiled, and an assortment of condiments.
"Let's make some sandwiches," she said brightly.
Izuku stepped in beside her, tying on a spare apron she handed him.
He started washing the vegetables while she began slicing bread, the two moving in sync like they'd done this many times before—even though they hadn't.
After a few quiet minutes of chopping and assembling, Momo broke the silence.
"Midoriya," she began, not looking up as she sliced tomatoes with precision. "There's something I've wanted to say."
Izuku turned his head, blinking. "Huh? What is it?"
She smiled, still focused on the task. "I wanted to thank you."
"For... helping with the sandwiches?" he asked, confused.
She gave a soft chuckle. "No. I mean for what you said to me during the Sports Festival."
His hands froze for a second, eyes flicking to hers.
She finally looked up, her gaze gentle.
"After I lost to Setsuna," she said softly, "I felt like a complete failure. I'd put so much pressure on myself to prove I was worthy of being here... and then I lost so quickly. I was humiliated."
Izuku opened his mouth, but she kept going.
"But then... you came to check on me. You didn't try to fix it or lecture me. You just... listened. You told me I didn't need to win to prove my worth. That my abilities weren't just about power, but about thought and planning. It meant more to me than you probably realized."
Izuku's expression softened.
"I remember that," he said quietly. "You looked so upset, and I just... I didn't want you to feel alone."
Momo nodded, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Well... I didn't. Thanks to you."
She turned back to the sandwiches, but her smile lingered.
"And... it's funny, actually," she added. "Do you remember how we met before UA even started. On the train."
Izuku's eyes widened before he rubbbed his neck nervously. "Heheh yeah?! You were being mocked by those jerks."
Momo giggled. "Yes and you even helped me back then. I recognized you immediately once class began. But... I didn't want to seem like a creep for saying anything. Especially not after that ( How he fell over her)"
Izuku laughed. "Really? You acreep? Not possible."
They both laughed lightly, their voices echoing gently off the marble and tile.
The trays of sandwiches were nearly complete now. Momo began arranging them on serving plates while Izuku wrapped a few in paper for anyone who wanted to take theirs to-go.
In that golden-lit kitchen, the air smelled of toasted bread and something softer—something warm and genuine that neither of them said aloud.
Gratitude. Respect. Maybe something else still growing.
Momo looked at him again, and this time her smile was a little smaller. But a little more real.
"Thanks for helping," she said again.
Izuku nodded. "Anytime."
Before the two realised it they started getting closer to one another, Momo couldn't avert her gaze from the magnetic pull she felt from his emerald eyes. This boy who seemed so little compared to the world around him but he carried a strength in him few could ever possess.
And Midoriya when he looked into her beautiful shinning eyes felt some of the weight in his heart ease up. When was the last time he felt such peace, when was the last time he didn't have to try and be the hero in the situation.
Their eyes fluttered shut, they faces a breath away from one another when.
"Ahem."
They both jolted back like they'd been electrocuted.
Momo stood bolt upright, gripping the counter with both hands.
Izuku nearly tripped over the serving cart.
Turning toward the sound, they were met by the sight of a tall, elegant woman standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face.
She was breathtaking—clearly where Momo had inherited her poise and grace. Her black hair was styled into a refined side-swept twist, cascading over her shoulder, and her eyes were a deep crystal blue, twinkling with amusement. She wore a flowing crimson dress, fitting yet tasteful, and heels that clicked softly as she stepped further into the kitchen.
"Well, well," she said, smiling with playful sharpness. "I come down to check on the children and find the kitchen occupied by two very close friends."
Momo was already red from ear to ear, her arms flailing slightly as she stepped forward.
"M-Mother!" she stammered. "We were just—making sandwiches!"
"Mmhm." Her mother's gaze shifted to Izuku, who stood frozen like a villain caught in the act. "And you must be Izuku Midoriya."
"Y-Yes, ma'am!" he said with the stiffest bow he'd ever given in his life. "Nice to meet you! I—I mean, thank you for letting us—uh... use your kitchen!"
The woman chuckled softly, the sound like wind chimes in the breeze. "So polite. And adorable. I can see why Momo talks about you."
"M-Mother!" Momo hissed again, practically steaming now.
"What?" her mother asked with exaggerated innocence. "He's cute. And clearly helpful. It's not every day I catch my daughter about to kiss someone in the kitchen."
"WE WERE NOT—!" Momo's voice cracked halfway through her protest.
Izuku's face was redder than Endeavor's flames at this point. "T-that was—uh—just a coincidence—r-really—!"
Her mother laughed again, waving a hand dismissively. "Relax, both of you. I was young once too. And I'm only teasing... mostly."
She gave Momo a pat on the shoulder as she walked past, grabbing a sandwich from the tray. "These look wonderful. I'll leave you two to bring them back to your friends before someone starves to death."
She turned to leave, pausing at the doorway.
"Oh, and Midoriya," she added, peeking over her shoulder.
Izuku straightened, hands clenched like he was preparing for a villain attack. "Y-Yes?"
Her smirk deepened. "You've got good taste. Try not to get flustered next time, dear."
Then she was gone.
The room was silent again.
Momo and Izuku stood side by side, too mortified to speak for a few seconds.
Then—
"I am so sorry," Momo groaned, hiding her face in her hands.
"N-No, it's okay," Izuku said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "She seems... really nice."
"She's impossible," Momo mumbled into her palms.
Izuku chuckled nervously, but then the two shared a glance—and slowly broke into laughter.
The tension melted away, leaving behind a warm, slightly embarrassed but genuine comfort.
Momo picked up the tray of sandwiches while Izuku grabbed the drinks they'd set aside earlier.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded. "Let's feed the geniuses."
Together, they headed back to the study room—hearts a little lighter, stomachs a little hungrier, and cheeks still slightly flushed.
Timeskip:
The apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that wrapped itself around the air like a warm blanket. The night breeze brushed softly against the balcony curtains as Izuku quietly unlocked the front door.
Click.
He stepped inside with a tired but content smile, gently shutting the door behind him as he whispered,
"I'm home."
The lights were off, only the soft glow from a nearby streetlamp casting faint golden stripes through the windows. His bag slid off his shoulder with a dull thump, and he quietly made his way through the living room, heading toward his bedroom. Everyone must've gone to bed.
But then—
A cough. Small. Dry. Just barely noticeable.
He stopped and turned his head toward the source, blinking into the shadows.
On the couch, tucked beneath a half-folded blanket, was Rimuru.
Still dressed in the same outfit from earlier, her usually bubbly energy was toned down to a quiet stillness. She looked at him, eyes soft, lips curled into a small smile.
"Izuku," she called out gently. "Come sit with me."
He blinked in surprise, but nodded, turning toward her as he stepped closer. He sat down beside her, the couch dipping slightly under their combined weight. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"How was your day?" she asked, her voice quiet—barely above a whisper. There wasn't a hint of jealousy or accusation in her tone. Just... sincerity.
Izuku let out a breath and leaned back, his tired eyes lighting up as he began to speak.
"It was great," he said, smiling. "We got a lot of studying done. Momo had everything planned out so perfectly—notes, textbooks, practice tests. She even helped everyone understand some really complicated stuff. And we even made sandwiches together. I think we all feel more confident now, like we can actually pass."
He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think we've got a real shot."
Rimuru listened closely, watching the way his eyes sparkled when he talked. His voice had that familiar excited tremble—like when he was talking about quirks or heroes or dreams he hadn't told anyone else about.
That passion.
That light.
It was part of what made him so easy to love.
As he spoke, she quietly leaned against his side, resting her head gently on his shoulder. Her hand found his, fingers lightly brushing before slipping between his own.
Their hands locked together, warm and firm.
Izuku glanced at her, slightly startled by the contact, but the look on her face made him stop. It was soft—serene even—but behind her smile was something else.
Melancholy.
"I'm happy for you," Rimuru whispered, her voice like the hush of wind on still water. "Truly. Seeing you happy... being around your friends, growing stronger, smiling like that—it makes me happy too."
He gave her hand a soft squeeze, his smile faltering just slightly as he noticed the way her other hand clutched the edge of the blanket.
She looked up at him again, her eyes just a little dimmer now.
"I just..." she began, pausing as though unsure if she should say it. But then the words came out, tender and honest. "I just hope you never forget about me."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy—but it was still.
Izuku turned to face her more directly, lifting their intertwined hands slightly. His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles.
"Rimuru..." he said softly.
"You don't have to say anything," she added quickly, closing her eyes for a second, laughing softly. "I know you're busy. And I know everything that's happening right now is important. You're important. Everyone needs you."
She looked up again, her voice just a bit more fragile.
"But sometimes I miss you. That's all."
Izuku's heart tightened. He didn't need a villain or a battlefield to feel pressure—it was all right there in the gentle ache of someone he cared about.
He leaned his head gently against hers, their foreheads brushing.
"I'd never forget you," he said, his voice low and steady. "Not ever. You're part of my life. You're my family. My home."
She exhaled, a smile tugging at her lips again. This time, it felt real.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, just like that—her head on his shoulder, his hand in hers. The world was quiet, and for the first time in days, so were they.
Eventually, Rimuru yawned softly.
"You should go to bed," she murmured.
"You too," he whispered back.
But neither of them moved.
Because sometimes, silence was the most comforting sound of all.
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