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Spring break had turned out to be far more boring than Izumi originally expected.
When the holidays had first been announced, she thought the break would feel refreshing — a chance to finally rest after months of relentless training, studying, patrol work, and the constant pressure that came with being part of U.A.'s hero course. At the time, the idea of sleeping in her own bed again and spending quiet days at home with her mom had sounded comforting.
But now that she was actually here, the silence felt almost unnatural.
Going from the constant chaos of U.A. to the stillness of her childhood home was a jarring adjustment. At school, there was always noise somewhere — Kaminari yelling down the hallways, Kacchan screaming at someone in the common room, training alarms blaring across the campus, classmates cramming together late into the night for exams. Even during the rare quiet moments, U.A. still felt alive, buzzing constantly with energy and ambition.
Home was different.
Too different.
The apartment felt smaller than she remembered somehow, quieter too. The ticking of the kitchen clock carried through the rooms far louder than it should have, and Izumi found herself instinctively waiting for the usual sounds of the dorms before remembering she was alone. No explosions from Kacchan's room. No Mina barging into someone's space uninvited. No late-night conversations in the common room while everyone fought over snacks.
Just silence.
Not that she minded being home with her mom, of course. She loved her more than anything, and Inko had practically cried tears of relief the second Izumi stepped through the front door for break. The apartment immediately smelled like home-cooked meals again, and every morning Inko fussed over whether Izumi was eating enough, sleeping enough, resting enough.
Still, Izumi couldn't deny that she missed U.A. more than she thought she would.
Missed her friends.
Missed the chaos.
...Missed him.
The thought crept quietly into her mind as she lay sprawled across the sofa, lazily scrolling through the constantly active Class 1-A group chat on her phone.
Everyone had gone home for the break, but somehow the group chat remained just as loud and chaotic as ever. It buzzed constantly with updates from classmates documenting their holidays in real time.
Kaminari had apparently electrocuted his own toaster trying to make breakfast.
Mina kept posting blurry selfies from shopping trips.
Kirishima uploaded approximately twelve gym photos a day with captions about "staying manly over break."
Todoroki's contributions mostly consisted of strangely ominous photos of soba noodles.
Izumi smiled faintly to herself as she scrolled through the messages, warmth settling in her chest despite the boredom lingering around her.
Even separated, Class 1-A somehow still managed to feel together.
A new notification suddenly popped up on screen.
Kacchan:
Kaminari if you blow your damn house up I'm not attending your funeral
Izumi snorted loudly before she could stop herself.
Almost immediately, another message appeared.
Kaminari:
wow. rude.
Kirishima:
bro's cooked
Izumi laughed softly into her pillow, the familiar banter easing some of the restless loneliness she'd been carrying all week.
Then another notification appeared.
Private message.
From Katsuki.
The second she saw his name, her stomach fluttered instinctively.
Kacchan:
You alive over there or what?
The second the message appeared on her screen, a smile spread across Izumi's face before she could stop it.
It happened so naturally now that she barely even noticed herself doing it anymore. One text from him and suddenly the dull boredom hanging over the apartment didn't feel quite as heavy.
Izumi rolled onto her back across the couch, staring up at the ceiling while clutching her phone loosely against her chest. Outside the apartment windows, soft spring rain tapped gently against the glass, the grey afternoon sky casting everything in a sleepy kind of quiet.
She missed him.
The realization settled into her chest with surprising weight.
Not just in the obvious ways either. Not just the big things.
She missed all the little things too.
Missed hearing him yelling at Kaminari from down the dorm hallway. Missed the way he stomped around the common room first thing in the morning looking permanently irritated at the existence of other people. Missed sitting beside him during class while he aggressively pretended not to care if she was tired or stressed before silently shoving snacks toward her anyway.
Honestly, she even missed his awful attitude.
Which probably said something concerning about her at this point.
Katsuki had always been loud and volatile, every emotion he felt bursting out of him at full force whether he intended it to or not. Most people found him exhausting after extended periods of time. Izumi somehow found him comforting. Familiar.
Home felt too quiet without him somewhere nearby causing problems.
Over the past few days, Izumi had mostly spent her break doing absolutely nothing productive. She'd been curled up on the sofa beneath blankets almost constantly, half-heartedly helping her mom around the apartment between marathon sessions of terrible romantic comedies.
At first it had only been one movie.
Then another.
And another.
Now her streaming recommendations were completely flooded with dramatic love confessions, accidental hand touches, airport chases, and couples kissing in the rain while orchestral music swelled in the background.
Izumi wasn't entirely sure when she had suddenly become so obsessed with romance.
Maybe it was because life at U.A. rarely left room for thoughts like that. Their days were usually too packed with training exercises, combat drills, internships, and the looming pressure of becoming future heroes. Romance often felt secondary to survival.
But now that things had finally slowed down — now that there wasn't an immediate crisis waiting around every corner — Izumi found her thoughts drifting toward softer things more often.
Toward love.
Toward relationships.
Toward Katsuki.
Which was... honestly a little terrifying to unpack too deeply.
Especially because every time she imagined romance now, she accidentally pictured him.
Her cheeks warmed slightly at the thought as she tucked her legs beneath herself on the couch. One of the rom-coms currently paused on the television displayed a dramatic confession scene frozen mid-frame, and Izumi immediately grabbed the remote to pause it completely out of embarrassment despite nobody else being in the room.
"This is getting ridiculous," she muttered to herself.
Still, her eyes drifted back down toward her phone almost immediately.
Another message from Katsuki appeared before she even had the chance to respond.
Kacchan:
Or did your mom finally get sick of you and throw you out?
Izumi laughed softly under her breath.
There he was.
The affection buried beneath insults like always.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before she typed back.
Izumi:
Alive unfortunately
Almost immediately, the typing bubble appeared.
Kacchan:
Sounds tragic
Izumi smiled harder, curling slightly into herself against the sofa cushions while warmth spread through her chest.
God.
Maybe she really had become one of those hopeless romance movie girls after all.
The thought made her groan softly into the sleeve of her hoodie as she tossed her phone down beside her. The paused rom-com still lingered silently on the television screen, some overly attractive actor frozen mid-love confession beneath dramatic rain.
Izumi narrowed her eyes at it suspiciously.
"...Okay, maybe I've watched too many of these."
Still, she couldn't deny that lately everything seemed to remind her of romance somehow.
The flowers blooming outside.
Late-night phone calls with her classmates.
The way her stomach flipped embarrassingly every time Katsuki texted her first.
It was honestly getting ridiculous.
With a sigh, Izumi pushed herself up from the couch, stretching lazily before deciding she should probably do something productive for once instead of rotting indoors beneath blankets all day. Her mother had gone out grocery shopping earlier, leaving the apartment quiet except for the faint hum of the television in the background.
Izumi wandered back toward her bedroom absentmindedly, phone still clutched loosely in one hand while the other rubbed tiredly at her eye.
The second she stepped into the room, her attention immediately snagged on something crumpled across the chair near her desk.
A black hoodie.
Kacchan's black hoodie.
Izumi stopped walking altogether.
"...Oh."
For a moment, she simply stared at it.
She had almost forgotten it was there.
The memory resurfaced immediately afterward — one particularly cold evening a few weeks ago when Class 1-A had been studying together late into the night in the dorm common room. Izumi had been shivering half to death because she refused to admit she was cold, and Katsuki eventually got so irritated watching her stubbornly suffer that he practically threw the hoodie at her face.
"Put the damn thing on before you catch hypothermia or something."
And when she smiled at him too softly afterward and thanked him, he'd immediately looked away and grumbled something about her being annoying. Izumi smiled faintly at the memory now as she crossed the room toward the chair.
The hoodie still smelled faintly like him. Smoky and something warm she could never properly describe. Something unmistakably him.
Without really thinking about it, she slipped it over her head. The sleeves swallowed her hands instantly.
Way too big.
Way too comfortable.
Izumi curled slightly into herself inside the fabric, cheeks warming despite being completely alone.
"This is definitely embarrassing," she muttered quietly.
And yet... she didn't take it off.
Instead, she wandered over toward her bedroom mirror, absentmindedly adjusting the sleeves while staring at her reflection. The hoodie hung loosely past her thighs, the dark fabric making her curls look even messier than usual.
Katsuki would probably yell at her for stretching it out. The thought made her smile again. Then another thought followed almost immediately afterward.
She could just... bring it back to him.
Izumi blinked at herself in the mirror.
Her heart skipped stupidly at the idea. I mean, it was technically his hoodie. Returning it would be normal. Totally normal. Not weird at all.
Except she'd had plenty of chances to return it already.
And somehow... she hadn't wanted to.
Because wearing something that belonged to Kacchan felt strangely comforting in his absence. Like carrying around a small piece of him while he was away.
Her face immediately burned hotter at the realization.
"Oh my god," she whispered in horror. "I am a rom-com protagonist now."
Still...
The boredom gnawing at her all week suddenly eased slightly at the possibility of seeing him.
Even just for a little while.
Izumi glanced back toward her phone lying abandoned on the bed. Then back at the mirror. Then down at the hoodie sleeves swallowing her hands again. Her stomach fluttered. Before she could overthink herself out of it, Izumi quickly grabbed her bag from beside the desk.
"I'll just drop it off," she reasoned aloud while hurriedly shoving essentials into the bag. "That's all. Totally casual."
Even she didn't sound convinced.
Twenty minutes later, after changing into actual outdoor clothes and fixing her hair approximately three separate times for absolutely no reason whatsoever, Izumi stood outside her apartment door nervously putting on her shoes while her mother watched from the kitchen with suspicious amusement.
"Mom," Izumi said immediately, pointing accusingly. "Don't."
"I didn't say anything," Inko replied innocently as she chopped vegetables recently bought from the grocery trip.
"You were thinking things."
"I wonder who taught you to overanalyse everything?"
Izumi groaned dramatically while grabbing the hoodie carefully from where she'd folded it in her bag.
"I'm just returning something he lent me."
"Mhm."
"That's it."
"Mhm."
"Mom."
Inko smiled. "Have fun, sweetheart."
Izumi's cheeks burned all the way out the front door.
The walk to Katsuki's house wasn't particularly long, but it was long enough for Izumi to repeatedly question whether this had actually been a good idea.
Spring sunlight filtered softly through the streets as she made her way across town, the gentle afternoon breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass through the air. Her hands remained shoved nervously into the sleeves of her cardigan while Katsuki's folded hoodie sat carefully tucked inside her bag.
Every few minutes, she caught herself overthinking again.
Maybe she should've texted first.
Maybe just randomly showing up at his house was weird.
Maybe he'd think she was making excuses to see him.
...Which, unfortunately, she probably was.
Izumi groaned quietly to herself at the realization before immediately picking up her pace as if physically outrunning her embarrassment might somehow help.
The scenery gradually shifted the farther she walked from her own neighbourhood. Buildings became larger, cleaner, more polished. The sidewalks widened, lined with carefully maintained hedges and flowering trees whose petals drifted lazily across the pavement whenever the wind blew. Even the streets themselves seemed quieter somehow, calmer in a way that came with wealth.
Katsuki lived in the nicer part of town.
Not extravagantly rich or anything ridiculous like that, but undeniably comfortable. The houses here stood tall and spacious behind neat fences and trimmed gardens, each one looking carefully maintained. Expensive cars sat parked in driveways, and the entire neighbourhood carried the sort of polished atmosphere Izumi always noticed immediately whenever she visited.
It was different from where she grew up.
Izumi slowed slightly as she crossed another quiet street, her thoughts drifting back toward home automatically. Toward the apartment she shared with her mother.
Their place was small.
The wallpaper peeled slightly near the kitchen ceiling, the pipes occasionally made strange noises at night, and the elevator in the building broke down often enough that neither of them even reacted anymore when it happened. But despite all of that, Izumi loved it deeply.
That apartment was home in every sense of the word.
It was where her mother held her after difficult days. Where they celebrated birthdays together with homemade cake and cheap decorations from discount stores. Where her mom had built a safe space for her.
It was the place where the two of them built a life together out of love instead of money.
And honestly? Izumi never once felt deprived growing up there.
Still...
As she walked deeper into Katsuki's neighbourhood, she couldn't deny the contrast between their situations.
Katsuki grew up differently than she did.
His house was bigger. His family had more money. His childhood carried opportunities and comforts Izumi simply hadn't experienced in the same way. Even back when they were children, she remembered quietly noticing things like how easily the Bakugos could replace broken appliances or afford expensive hero merchandise without needing to carefully budget around it.
None of it had ever made her jealous exactly.
But she noticed. Izumi had always noticed things.
Before long, she finally spotted the familiar Bakugo residence waiting at the end of the street. And suddenly, all the confidence she'd built up during the walk immediately disappeared.
Izumi stopped dead on the sidewalk.
"Oh god," she whispered under her breath, clutching the strap of her bag tighter. "Why am I nervous?"
Because this wasn't just returning a hoodie anymore and she knew it. That was the problem. Izumi knew she was lying to herself.
The hoodie had only been an excuse.
Because if this visit were truly just about returning borrowed clothes, she wouldn't have spent nearly an hour standing in front of her mirror beforehand trying to decide what to wear. She wouldn't have changed outfits three separate times before settling on the soft cream sweater and cute skirt she was wearing now. She definitely wouldn't have straightened her hair so carefully only to end up nervously running her fingers through it every five minutes afterward.
No, the truth was embarrassingly obvious.
She simply wanted to see Kacchan.
The realization sat heavily in her chest as she stood outside the Bakugo residence clutching the strap of her bag tightly enough for her knuckles to pale.
Her heart was beating far too fast for someone supposedly "just returning a hoodie."
Izumi inhaled slowly through her nose, trying to steady herself before making her way up the path toward the front door. The familiar house suddenly felt far more intimidating than it ever had during childhood.
Which was ridiculous.
She'd been here countless times before.
Back when they were kids, she used to visit so often that Mitsuki practically treated her like a second child. She remembered afternoons spent sitting cross-legged on the Bakugo living room floor while Katsuki aggressively argued with her over hero rankings. remembered sleepovers where Mitsuki yelled at Katsuki to stop screaming before midnight. remembered being offered snacks and dinner so many times that eventually she stopped feeling nervous accepting them altogether.
The Bakugo house had never felt unfamiliar to her.
And yet now, standing here as a teenage girl painfully aware of her own feelings, everything suddenly felt different.
Izumi slowed near the front step, throat going slightly dry as nervousness curled tightly in her stomach.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
Maybe she was being weird.
Maybe Katsuki would immediately realize she came all this way because she missed him after only a few days apart, and then she would simply have to throw herself directly into traffic from embarrassment.
Izumi hesitated.
For one dangerous second, she genuinely considered turning around and walking home before anyone noticed she'd been here at all.
But despite every anxious thought screaming at her to retreat, she forced herself to lift her hand and press the doorbell.
The chime echoed softly through the house.
Immediately, panic settled in.
"Oh god," she muttered quietly under her breath, instinctively taking a small step backward from the door like that would somehow save her now.
Too late.
Footsteps approached from inside the house.
Izumi's heartbeat jumped directly into her throat.
Then the front door swung open.
Mitsuki Bakugo stood there, dressed casually in home clothes with one hand still resting against the doorframe. For half a second she looked mildly confused about who could possibly be visiting.
Then recognition crossed her face instantly.
"Izumi!"
A bright grin spread across Mitsuki's features so quickly and warmly that some of Izumi's nervous tension eased almost immediately.
"What a nice surprise!" Mitsuki stepped aside slightly, eyes flicking quickly over Izumi's appearance with unmistakable amusement. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"
Izumi smiled shyly despite herself.
"I'm doing good," she replied softly. "Sorry for showing up randomly."
"Please, you know you never have to apologise for that." Mitsuki waved the concern away instantly before narrowing her eyes slightly in playful suspicion. "Though I gotta say, this is a pretty dressed-up look for a casual visit."
Izumi nearly choked.
"N-no it's not!"
Mitsuki's grin widened immediately.
Oh no.
She knew that look.
It was the same expression Mitsuki always wore whenever she sensed something entertaining.
"Hm," Mitsuki hummed knowingly, leaning casually against the doorway. "Cute skirt. Hair done all nice. Little bit of lip gloss too?"
Izumi felt heat explode across her face.
"I was already dressed before I came here!" she defended immediately.
"Mhm."
"I was!"
"Sweetheart, I didn't even say anything yet."
Izumi wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
Mitsuki laughed loudly at her reaction before finally taking pity on her. "Relax, kid, I'm just teasing."
Except the amused glint in her eyes suggested she absolutely was not done teasing.
Izumi cleared her throat awkwardly while adjusting the strap of her bag again, a nervous habit Mitsuki noticed immediately.
"I actually just came to return something Kacchan lent me," she explained quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."
At the mention of her son, Mitsuki's expression shifted into something almost smug.
"Oh, Katsuki's home alright."
The way she said it made Izumi's stomach flutter nervously all over again.
Then Mitsuki suddenly turned her head toward somewhere deeper inside the house and yelled loud enough to shake the walls:
"KATSUKI! YOUR GIRL'S HERE!"
Silence.
Then, distantly from upstairs:
"WHAT THE HELL—"
A loud crashing noise interrupted him immediately afterward.
Mitsuki burst into laughter.
And despite her overwhelming embarrassment, Izumi couldn't stop smiling.
"Come on, get inside." Mitsuki stepped aside from the doorway, gesturing firmly for Izumi to enter like there was absolutely no room for argument.
Izumi immediately lifted her hands in panic. "Oh— no, I don't want to bother you, really, I was just dropping something off and then—"
"Don't be ridiculous." Mitsuki cut her off instantly. "You came all this way, you're not standing awkwardly on the doorstep like some delivery person."
Before Izumi could protest further, Mitsuki lightly grabbed her by the wrist and guided her inside with the kind of effortless authority only Katsuki's mother seemed capable of possessing. Izumi stumbled in with a startled laugh.
"Mitsuki-san—"
"Nope. Too late. You're here now."
The front door shut behind her with a soft click, and Izumi quickly realised she had never truly stood a chance of escaping politely in the first place.
Warmth wrapped around her almost instantly compared to the cool spring air outside. The Bakugo house smelled faintly of expensive shampoo, clean laundry, and something savoury cooking somewhere deeper inside the kitchen. It was familiar in a strangely comforting way, enough that some of the nervous tension in Izumi's chest eased automatically despite herself.
Still, her heart continued beating far too fast.
Especially now that she was actually inside.
Izumi hurried to slip off her shoes neatly beside the front door, suddenly hyperaware of herself all over again. Her skirt. Her hair. The fact she had absolutely dressed up for this.
Oh god.
The thought had barely finished crossing her mind before movement at the end of the hallway caught her attention.
Izumi looked up.
And immediately forgot how to function properly for a second.
Katsuki stood at the bottom of the stairs, very clearly having just come down from his room after being publicly humiliated by his mother moments earlier.
He wore a loose black t-shirt and grey shorts, casual enough that he looked painfully domestic compared to how Izumi usually saw him at U.A. His hair was messier than normal, like he'd run his hands through it repeatedly, and there were faint creases on his shirt that suggested he'd probably been lying on his bed before she arrived.
For one dangerous second, Izumi's brain completely short-circuited over how unfairly attractive he looked like this.
Then Katsuki's red eyes landed on her.
And stopped.
The irritation already sitting on his face visibly faltered for the briefest moment as he properly took her in.
The straightened hair.
The cute skirt.
The nervous expression.
The way she immediately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when he looked at her too long.
Katsuki's brain stalled just as hard as hers did.
"...The hell are you doing here?" he asked finally, voice rougher than usual.
The question came out with his typical bluntness, but Izumi noticed immediately that he hadn't stopped staring yet. Not even slightly. Suddenly aware of literally everything about herself, Izumi gripped the strap of her bag tighter.
"I— uh..."
Why were words suddenly so difficult?
"I came to bring your hoodie back," she managed eventually, pulling the folded black hoodie from her bag almost like evidence supporting her reason for existing there. "You left it with me."
Katsuki's gaze dropped briefly toward the hoodie before flicking immediately back up toward her face again.
"...Oh."
Very intelligent response.
Mitsuki looked between the two of them and immediately seemed to sense the unbearable awkward tension radiating off both teenagers.
Her grin became downright dangerous.
"You know," she said casually, "Izumi got all dressed up just to return that hoodie."
"N-no! I didn't- "
"What? Am I wrong?"
Izumi looked moments away from spontaneously combusting. Meanwhile, Katsuki's ears had gone unmistakably pink.
"Shut up, old hag."
"I'm just saying," Mitsuki continued smugly while wandering back toward the kitchen, "if a girl straightens her hair for you, you should probably appreciate the effort."
The silence afterward was catastrophic.
Izumi stared directly at the floor in horror.
Katsuki looked like he wanted to die.
Somewhere from the kitchen, Mitsuki laughed loudly to herself while leaving them alone in the hallway together.
For a few painfully awkward seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck roughly before muttering, quieter this time:
"You came all the way here just to bring my hoodie back?"
Katsuki's expression carried that same familiar edge of annoyance it almost always did, though Izumi had long since learned how to read the emotions hiding underneath it. To most people, he probably looked irritated by her presence.
Izumi knew better.
He leaned lazily against the staircase banister, folding his arms across his chest while he looked at her expectantly. The casual posture should've made him seem relaxed, but there was still an intensity to the way his eyes stayed fixed on her that made warmth crawl embarrassingly up Izumi's neck again.
"I-I just thought you'd want it back," Izumi replied quickly, hating how flustered she sounded. "You wear this one all the time."
Why did her voice always betray her around him?
Izumi focused desperately on calming the heat spreading across her face while carefully pulling the folded black hoodie from her bag again. She held it out toward him awkwardly with both hands, fingers tightening slightly around the soft fabric.
The moment stretched strangely between them. Katsuki didn't take it immediately. Instead, his eyes flicked briefly from the hoodie... back up to her face.
And lingered there.
Izumi immediately became hyperaware of herself all over again. The straightened hair. The lip gloss she absolutely did not wear normally. The fact she'd spent twenty minutes trying to decide if this skirt looked "cute but casual" before realizing she sounded insane.
Her stomach twisted nervously. Maybe this really had been obvious the entire time.
Katsuki finally scoffed softly under his breath before pushing himself away from the banister.
"I've got, like, a million hoodies," he muttered as he stepped closer.
The distance between them shrank enough that Izumi caught the familiar scent of something so distinctively him, and suddenly her brain stopped functioning properly for a second.
Katsuki reached out and took the hoodie from her hands, though his fingers brushed briefly against hers in the process.
It was accidental. Probably.
Still, Izumi's breath caught anyway.
Katsuki noticed immediately. Of course he did.
His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to figure something out.
"...You wore it a lot, didn't you?" he asked suddenly.
Izumi nearly short-circuited.
"What?!"
"The hoodie." Katsuki held it loosely over one shoulder now, watching her reaction far too carefully for her comfort. "You wore it. Smells all girly now."
"N-no I didn't!"
That answer came far too fast. Katsuki's mouth twitched instantly.
"You're a terrible liar."
"I wore it like..." Izumi scrambled desperately for a believable answer. "...Twice."
"Twice," Katsuki repeated flatly.
"...Maybe more than twice."
A quiet huff of amusement escaped him before he could stop it. Not a full laugh — Katsuki almost never laughed openly — but enough that Izumi noticed immediately. And unfortunately, noticing that only made her heart worse.
"I knew it," he muttered.
Izumi crossed her arms defensively despite still burning alive from embarrassment. "Well, you gave it to me!"
"Yeah, so you'd stop complainin' about bein' cold."
"I was not complaining."
"You were shivering like a damn chihuahua."
Izumi gasped in mock offence. "That's so rude."
"Tch. It's true."
The easy back-and-forth settled naturally between them, familiar in a way that made something warm bloom quietly in Izumi's chest. She hadn't realised how much she missed this until now. Just talking to him face-to-face without the noise of school around them.
Katsuki glanced down briefly at the hoodie in his hand again before looking back at her.
"...You could've kept it, y'know."
The words were muttered casually, almost like they didn't matter. But Izumi's heart stumbled hard against her ribs anyway.
"What?"
"I said you could've kept it." Katsuki looked mildly annoyed now, probably because he'd been forced to repeat something soft aloud. "Not like I care."
That was a lie.
Izumi could tell it was a lie because he absolutely cared. Katsuki cared about everything intensely — he just acted like he didn't because vulnerability still made him uncomfortable.
Warmth spread through her chest so suddenly it almost hurt.
"Oh."
Very eloquent response, Izumi.
Katsuki rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck before suddenly looking away toward the kitchen. "The old hag'll probably force you to stay for dinner now that you're here."
Almost on cue, Mitsuki yelled from the other room:
"Damn right I will!"
Izumi startled while Katsuki groaned dramatically.
Izumi shook her head quickly, letting out a small nervous laugh as she adjusted the strap of her bag again.
"I really did just come to drop the hoodie off," she insisted. Even to her own ears, the excuse sounded weaker now. Especially considering she was still standing in Katsuki's hallway dressed like she'd put actual effort into her appearance.
Katsuki looked unconvinced too. Not that he said anything about it.
He just leaned against the wall near the staircase with his arms folded, watching her with that same sharp-eyed expression that always made Izumi feel like he noticed far more than he let on. The black hoodie still hung loosely from one of his hands while his thumb absentmindedly rubbed across the fabric.
Before either of them could continue the conversation, footsteps sounded from the kitchen again.
Then Mitsuki reappeared, still wearing her cooking apron and carrying the overwhelming energy of someone who had already decided exactly how the rest of the evening was going to go.
"Nonsense," she declared immediately. "You're staying for dinner. No arguments."
There was absolutely no room for negotiation in her tone whatsoever.
Izumi opened her mouth instinctively anyway. "Oh, I really don't want to impose—"
"You're not imposing." Mitsuki waved the concern away like it physically offended her. "I'm already cooking enough food to feed an army because this idiot eats like he's preparing for hibernation."
"Oi."
"And," Mitsuki continued, ignoring Katsuki entirely, "your mother already texted me."
Izumi blinked in confusion. "Wait... what?"
Mitsuki grinned smugly. "Told her you stopped by. She said to make sure you eat properly because apparently you've been surviving off instant noodles and movie snacks all week."
Izumi felt pure betrayal shoot through her entire body.
"Mom sold me out?!"
"Damn right she did," Mitsuki laughed. "Mothers talk, sweetheart."
Izumi groaned dramatically while Katsuki snorted quietly beside her. Then Mitsuki's expression suddenly sharpened as she turned toward her son.
"And you," she said, pointing a warning finger directly at Katsuki's face, "better be nice."
Katsuki looked genuinely offended immediately.
"I am nice!" he barked in defense. Izumi couldn't stop the snicker that escaped her. Katsuki's head whipped toward her instantly. "The hell's that supposed to mean?!"
"N-Nothing!" she laughed quickly, though the smile spreading across her face betrayed her completely.
Because honestly, "nice" wasn't exactly the first word most people would use to describe Katsuki Bakugo.
Intense? Definitely.
Aggressive? Absolutely.
Terrifying when angry? Without question.
But nice?
Izumi's laughter only grew when Katsuki narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her reaction.
"Oh, so you're makin' fun of me now too?"
"I didn't say anything!"
"You laughed!"
"Because you yelled 'I'm nice' like you were trying to convince yourself!"
Katsuki looked personally attacked by that observation.
Mitsuki burst out laughing loudly from the kitchen entrance. "Ha! Could've fooled me."
"Tch." Katsuki grunted under his breath, glaring at both of them now like they'd formed a personal conspiracy against him. But Izumi noticed the faint pink dusting the tips of his ears again.
And more importantly—He wasn't actually angry. If anything, there was something strangely relaxed about him right now.
Softer than usual.
Izumi realised she didn't think she'd ever really seen Katsuki at home properly as a teenager before. Not like this. Not outside the pressure of school and training and hero expectations constantly hanging over them.
Here, standing barefoot in his hallway arguing with his mother while holding a hoodie over one shoulder, he felt oddly... normal.
Domestic.
The thought made warmth bloom unexpectedly in her chest.
Then Katsuki suddenly caught her staring again.
"...What?" he asked immediately.
Izumi startled. "Nothing!"
"You keep makin' weird faces at me."
"I am not."
"You are, weirdo."
Izumi's cheeks heated instantly while Katsuki stared at her with visible suspicion. Mitsuki looked between the two of them once before immediately grinning like she'd just uncovered priceless gossip.
"Oh my god," she breathed dramatically. "You two are hopeless."
"MOM."
Izumi wanted to disappear into the floorboards.
But despite the embarrassment curling through her chest, despite Katsuki's loud complaining and Mitsuki's relentless teasing... She couldn't remember the last time she felt this comfortable somewhere outside of home.
Izumi had insisted on helping Mitsuki make dinner almost immediately after being dragged fully into the house.
Partly because she genuinely wanted to help, and partly because sitting awkwardly while the Bakugos cooked for her made her feel strangely guilty.
"I can help chop vegetables or something," she offered quickly while following Mitsuki toward the kitchen. "Really, I don't mind."
Unfortunately, Katsuki reacted to that statement with immediate alarm.
"The hell you are."
Izumi blinked at him in offense. "Excuse me?!"
Katsuki looked genuinely horrified by the suggestion. "Old hag, don't let her anywhere near a knife."
"I know how to use a knife!"
"Barely."
"I do not barely know how to use a knife!"
"You almost sliced your damn finger off making curry last semester."
"That happened one time!"
"It happened three times."
Izumi's jaw dropped in betrayal while Mitsuki burst into loud laughter beside the stove.
"Oh my god, she's really that bad?"
"She's a disaster," Katsuki said immediately, folding his arms with complete confidence. "Don't trust her with anything sharper than a spoon."
Izumi pointed accusingly at him. "You are so dramatic."
"Am I wrong?"
"...That's not the point."
Unfortunately, the problem was that Katsuki wasn't entirely wrong.
There were many things Izumi excelled at. Strategy. Analysis. Studying. Hero work. She could break down combat patterns in seconds and memorise information faster than most people she knew.
Cooking, however...
Cooking was an entirely different story.
Izumi had tried. Really tried.
But somehow every attempt turned into chaos. Burnt rice. Over-salted soup. One memorable incident involving smoke alarms and a pan that had to be thrown away entirely afterward.
The curry disaster Katsuki mentioned had been especially humiliating because he'd walked into the dorm kitchen just in time to witness her standing there in complete panic while bleeding dramatically onto the countertop over a tiny cut.
Instead of being sympathetic, he'd called her an idiot before wordlessly bandaging her hand himself.
"You can still help set the table," Mitsuki offered kindly, clearly trying not to laugh too hard at Izumi's wounded pride.
"I can absolutely do that," Izumi replied immediately.
Katsuki snorted under his breath. "Low-risk task."
Izumi kicked him lightly in the shin.
"The hell was that for?!"
"You're being mean!"
"You are bad at cooking!"
"That doesn't mean you have to announce it like it's public information!"
"It is public information!"
Masaru quietly sipped his tea from the table like this entire argument was a completely normal occurrence. Which, considering these were the Bakugos, it probably was.
Eventually, after being thoroughly bullied out of kitchen duties by Katsuki, Izumi ended up seated at the dining table beside Masaru while Mitsuki and Katsuki cooked together nearby.
Well.
"Cooked together" was a generous description. It was more like aggressively yelling while preparing food simultaneously.
"You're cutting those too thick!" Mitsuki snapped from across the kitchen.
"They're fine!" Katsuki barked back immediately.
"Your knife skills are sloppy."
"Says the woman who almost set oil on fire last week."
"That happened once!"
"You almost burned the damn kitchen down!"
Izumi hid a laugh behind her cup while Masaru smiled tiredly beside her.
"They really are exactly the same," she whispered quietly.
Masaru sighed softly into his tea. "Unfortunately."
Despite the constant yelling, though, there was something strangely warm about the atmosphere in the house. Comfortable. Lived-in. Izumi found herself relaxing more and more as the evening went on.
She chatted quietly with Masaru while the sounds of cooking — and arguing — continued in the background. They spoke about school mostly. About U.A., internships, upcoming exams after spring break. Masaru listened attentively while Izumi rambled slightly about training schedules and dorm life, occasionally nodding along with gentle amusement.
Another burst of yelling came from the kitchen.
"Katsuki, stop burning the garlic!"
"I'm not burning it!"
"It's smoking!"
"That's flavor, old hag!"
Izumi laughed so suddenly she nearly snorted tea through her nose.
Katsuki looked over instantly. "The hell are you laughing at?"
"Nothing." Izumi stated, but struggled to hide her amusement.
By the time dinner was finally ready, the entire house smelled incredible.
Warm spices and cooked vegetables filled the kitchen while steam curled softly from the dishes Mitsuki carried over to the table with practiced ease. Katsuki followed behind her carrying additional plates, grumbling under his breath about "doing everything around here" despite the fact nobody had actually asked him to help.
Izumi found herself smiling again as she helped set the final glasses onto the table.
Something about this felt strangely domestic in a way that made warmth settle heavily in her chest.
For a moment, it almost felt like she belonged here.
Everyone eventually gathered around the dining table together, the atmosphere loud and familiar almost immediately. Mitsuki sat at the head of the table while Masaru poured drinks quietly beside her, and Katsuki dropped heavily into the chair across from Izumi with his usual dramatic lack of grace.
The second the food was placed down, Izumi's eyes widened slightly.
"Mitsuki-san, this looks amazing..."
"Well, obviously," Mitsuki said proudly. "Unlike my son, I actually know what I'm doing in a kitchen."
"The hell's that supposed to mean?"
"It means your knife skills are trash."
"My knife skills are perfect."
Izumi laughed softly while the argument continued automatically beside her.
Then she bowed her head slightly toward Mitsuki. "Thank you for making all this. You really didn't have to go through all the trouble."
Almost instantly, Katsuki groaned loudly from across the table.
"Would you stop bein' so damn polite and just eat the food already?"
Izumi blinked at him. "I'm trying to say thank you!"
"You already said it like five times."
"Because I'm grateful!"
"You sound like you're writing a formal apology letter."
Mitsuki burst into laughter while Masaru shook his head fondly.
"Leave the poor girl alone," Mitsuki said. "At least one of you has manners."
"Tch." Katsuki immediately shoved more food into his mouth in protest.
Despite the bickering, though, Izumi noticed something small. Katsuki had already quietly shifted one of the dishes closer toward her side of the table before anyone even started eating. The one with her favourite food in it.
He didn't mention it. Didn't even look at her while doing it.
But Izumi noticed anyway. Her chest warmed instantly.
Dinner quickly dissolved into easy conversation after that. The kind of loud, overlapping discussion that felt natural rather than forced. Mitsuki told stories dramatically while Masaru occasionally added quieter details, and before long the conversation somehow shifted toward childhood memories.
Which immediately became dangerous territory.
"Oh my god," Mitsuki laughed suddenly, pointing her chopsticks toward Katsuki. "Remember how attached you two were when you were little?"
Katsuki visibly stiffened. "Don't start."
"You cried once because Izumi went home early from a playdate," Mitsuki continued mercilessly.
"I DID NOT."
"You absolutely did," Masaru said gently, betraying him instantly.
Izumi nearly choked laughing. "Kacchan cried?!"
Katsuki looked ready to flip the table over. "I was, like, four!"
"That's even funnier," Mitsuki replied.
The stories only escalated from there.
There were tales about the two of them running around the neighbourhood together as children, arguing over hero rankings before either of them could even properly read. Stories about Katsuki getting irrationally angry anytime another kid tried monopolising Izumi's attention during playdates. About Izumi following him around endlessly with starry-eyed admiration while he loudly pretended it annoyed him.
"You two were inseparable," Masaru said warmly at one point, smiling faintly into his tea. "Honestly, it was strange seeing one of you without the other."
Izumi smiled softly at first. Because the memories themselves weren't painful. Her childhood memories with Katsuki before middle school were some of the happiest she had.
But then Mitsuki spoke again.
"Though we didn't really see Izumi much once you both started middle school."
The warmth in Izumi's chest faltered immediately. Sharp and sudden. Like hitting a bruise she tried hard not to touch.
Across the table, Katsuki went very still. The atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly.
Izumi lowered her gaze toward her plate quickly, fingers tightening slightly around her chopsticks while old memories pushed unpleasantly against the surface of her mind.
Middle school.
God.
She hated thinking about middle school.
Hated remembering the distance that slowly grew between them. The cruelty. The anger. The way Katsuki's words could cut sharper than anything else because they came from someone she once trusted completely.
Back then, every interaction felt painful.
Katsuki pushed her away constantly, lashing out harder the more she tried to stay close to him. Izumi remembered the humiliation of classmates laughing while he snapped at her to stop following him around. Remembered pretending his words didn't hurt nearly as much as they actually did.
And worst of all...
She remembered missing him the entire time anyway.
The thought still made something ache deep inside her chest even now. Silence lingered for one uncomfortable second too long. Then Izumi smiled quickly before anyone could dwell on it further.
"Well," she said lightly, forcing brightness back into her voice, "middle school was kind of awkward for everyone, right?"
Her laugh sounded just a little too rehearsed. Katsuki noticed immediately. Of course he did.
Izumi pushed forward before the conversation could settle again.
"But you know what was worse?" she continued quickly. "Kacchan's terrible haircut phase in second year."
Katsuki's head snapped upward in outrage. "I DIDN'T HAVE A BAD HAIRCUT."
"Yes you did!" Izumi laughed instantly, grateful for the change in mood. "Your bangs were way too long!"
"They looked cool!"
"They looked ridiculous!"
Mitsuki immediately burst into hysterical laughter while Masaru quietly hid a smile behind his tea cup again.
And just like that, the tension dissolved back into noise and teasing and familiar chaos.
But later, when Izumi glanced up briefly from across the table...
She caught Katsuki already looking at her.
Not annoyed. Not teasing. Just quiet.
Like he knew exactly why she changed the subject. And maybe, judging by the faint guilt hidden behind his eyes... He hated those memories too.
Dinner carried on for a while after that, the earlier tension gradually dissolving back into laughter and loud conversation. Thankfully, Mitsuki seemed more than happy to keep embarrassing Katsuki distracted from anything remotely serious.
At one point she pulled out an old photo album from a nearby shelf and nearly caused Izumi to fall out of her chair laughing after revealing a picture of four-year-old Katsuki wearing tiny suspenders and glaring furiously at the camera.
"The photographer told him to smile," Mitsuki explained through tears of laughter.
"I'm gonna burn that damn photo."
"You say that every time."
Izumi wiped tears from her eyes while Katsuki sulked aggressively beside her, ears noticeably pink again.
"You were adorable," she laughed.
"I was terrifying."
"You were the size of a garden gnome."
"The hell!?"
By the end of the meal, Izumi's stomach hurt from laughing so much. The nervousness she'd felt earlier about showing up unexpectedly had almost completely faded now, replaced by a comfortable warmth that settled deeply into her chest.
Once dinner was finally finished, Izumi immediately stood to help gather plates before Mitsuki could stop her.
"At least let me help clean up," she insisted.
"You're the guest."
"And you cooked."
"That's true," Masaru nodded wisely. "Fair is fair."
Mitsuki pointed at him accusingly. "You just don't want to wash dishes."
"...Correct."
Izumi laughed softly while beginning to stack bowls together carefully. Katsuki clicked his tongue like the entire thing annoyed him, but still automatically grabbed half the plates from her hands before she could carry too many at once.
"You're slow," he muttered.
"You literally took them from me."
"Yeah, because you were about to drop something."
"I was not!"
"You absolutely were."
Their bickering continued naturally while they cleaned the kitchen together.
Izumi rinsed dishes while Katsuki dried them beside her, shoulders occasionally bumping whenever they moved around the sink at the same time. Neither of them really acknowledged it anymore.
At one point, Izumi reached for a plate at the exact same moment Katsuki did.
Their hands brushed. Both of them paused for the briefest second. Then Katsuki quietly handed her the plate without a word.
The tiny interaction shouldn't have felt nearly as intimate as it did.
But somehow, with Katsuki, even the smallest things carried weight.
Especially now.
Especially with the way he kept glancing toward her when he thought she wasn't looking.
By the time the kitchen was finally cleaned, Mitsuki practically shoved both teenagers away from the sink.
"Alright, enough," she said. "You two are making me nauseous."
Izumi blinked. "What did we do?"
"You keep staring at each other like a pair of idiots."
"Shut up, we are not!" Katsuki snapped immediately.
Mitsuki looked unconvinced.
Very unconvinced.
Then Katsuki suddenly shoved his hands into his pockets awkwardly before glancing toward the hallway.
"...Oi."
Izumi looked up at him immediately. "Hm?"
Katsuki avoided eye contact for approximately two seconds before speaking again.
"You wanna hang out upstairs for a bit?"
The invitation itself sounded casual enough. The delivery, however, was painfully Katsuki.
"Or whatever," he added quickly, like he physically couldn't allow himself to sound too sincere. "Since you're already here."
Izumi had to fight the immediate smile threatening to spread across her face. Because beneath the roughness, she could hear it clearly.
He wanted her to stay longer.
"Okay," she replied softly.
Katsuki nodded once like that settled everything, though Izumi caught the faintest hint of relief flash across his expression before he turned away.
"C'mon then."
As they started toward the stairs together, Mitsuki suddenly called after them loudly from the kitchen.
"KEEP THE DOOR OPEN!"
Izumi nearly tripped over her own feet.
"MOM?!" Katsuki whipped around instantly, looking utterly scandalised.
"What?!" Mitsuki yelled back unapologetically. "I know what teenagers are like!"
"WE AREN'T—" Katsuki looked seconds away from spontaneous combustion. "THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Masaru quietly sipped tea in the background like this conversation was none of his business whatsoever.
Meanwhile, Izumi's face had gone nuclear.
Mitsuki only laughed harder while waving them away dramatically. "I'm just saying! Door stays open!"
"This house is a nightmare," Katsuki muttered furiously while marching upstairs two steps at a time out of pure embarrassment.
Izumi followed behind him trying — and failing — to stop laughing.
"You're smiling too much," Katsuki accused the second they reached the top of the stairs.
"I can't help it!" she giggled. "Your mom is terrifying."
"She's insane."
"She's funny."
"She's evil."
Despite his complaints, though, Izumi noticed the way Katsuki slowed slightly near his bedroom door to make sure she caught up beside him.
And when he finally pushed the door open and gestured for her to go inside first... There was something strangely nervous about him too.
Katsuki's room looked exactly the way Izumi remembered it.
Perfectly organised. Almost unnervingly so.
The second she stepped inside, she was greeted by neat shelves, an immaculately made bed, and a desk so clean and structured it looked like something out of a catalogue. Everything had a place. Nothing sat out of line. Even the shoes near the wall were arranged with irritating precision.
It was painfully Katsuki.
Izumi smiled faintly to herself as she wandered a little farther into the room, careful not to touch anything unnecessarily.
Despite how pristine everything looked at first glance, though, there were still pieces of him scattered everywhere once you actually paid attention. Little fragments of Katsuki hidden beneath all the order.
Stacks of hero magazines sat neatly arranged on one shelf, corners worn from being reread countless times. Strategy notebooks covered in sharp handwriting were piled carefully across his desk, pages stuffed with combat observations and training ideas. A collection of old hero trading cards sat displayed near the window, some clearly far older than others.
There were even tiny burn marks scattered across the edge of the desk from explosions he'd probably caused absentmindedly while studying.
The room was clean, yes. But it still felt lived in. Still felt undeniably him.
Izumi's chest tightened strangely at the sight of it all. Because this wasn't the version of Katsuki most people got to see.
At school, he was loud and explosive and intimidating enough that most people never looked past the surface. But standing here, surrounded by years of carefully organised interests and ambitions and habits... Izumi was reminded all over again that Katsuki was just a teenage boy too.
A brilliant one. A stubborn one. A deeply complicated one.
But still just a boy trying to figure himself out beneath all the anger and ambition. And suddenly, standing alone in his bedroom while he lingered behind her near the doorway, Izumi became overwhelmingly aware of where she was.
Katsuki's room. His private space.
The realization hit her all at once and immediately made her feel weirdly nervous.
Aware of the fact that she'd spent years thinking about him in ways she tried very hard not to unpack too deeply. Aware that her heart was already beating faster than normal simply because she was standing somewhere so deeply personal to him.
It felt strangely intimate being here. Especially because Katsuki didn't really let people into his space easily.
Izumi glanced back over her shoulder toward him. Katsuki still stood near the open doorway with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, watching her quietly while pretending not to.
The hallway light behind him framed the sharp edges of his silhouette for a moment before he clicked his tongue softly under his breath.
"Quit standin' there lookin' so awkward," he muttered. "You've been in here before."
"Not really," Izumi admitted.
Which was true.
Not like this, anyway.
As children, she'd barged into his room countless times without thinking twice about it. Back then it had just been Kacchan's room — another familiar part of her childhood. Somewhere they played games and argued over heroes and traded cards on the floor together.
But now they were older. And somewhere along the way, things had changed. Izumi tucked a strand of straightened hair nervously behind her ear while glancing around the room again.
"It's weird," she admitted quietly.
Katsuki frowned slightly. "What is?"
"Being here." She laughed softly at herself. "I dunno. It feels different now."
For a second, Katsuki didn't answer. His eyes lingered on her carefully, expression unreadable. Then, quieter this time, he muttered:
"...Yeah."
The simple agreement made Izumi's stomach flutter instantly. Because it meant he felt it too.
The strange tension hanging softly between them now. The awareness. The shift from childhood familiarity into something newer and infinitely more dangerous.
Izumi cleared her throat quickly before her thoughts could spiral any further.
Her eyes drifted toward the shelves again, landing on an old All Might figurine sitting near the edge of his desk. And just like that, warmth softened her expression again.
"You still have this?" she asked with a laugh, carefully picking it up. "Kacchan, this thing is ancient."
Katsuki immediately looked defensive. "So?"
"You used to carry it around everywhere when we were kids."
"No I didn't."
"You absolutely did."
"Tch."
Izumi smiled brighter, turning the figurine over carefully in her hands. The paint was chipped slightly around the edges from age.
"You cried when someone at school broke the original one," she reminded him teasingly.
"I did not cry."
"You did too."
"I threatened to beat their ass."
"...And then cried."
Katsuki groaned dramatically while Izumi laughed softly again, the tension easing slightly between them.
Still...
Even while joking, Izumi remained hyperaware of him nearby. Of the way he leaned against the doorway watching her move around his room. Of how close he suddenly felt in such a small space.
And most dangerously of all— of how badly she didn't want to leave yet.
Somehow, the awkwardness faded surprisingly quickly after that. Maybe because this had always been easy for them underneath everything else.
Even after all the years of complicated feelings and distance and unresolved history between them, there was still something natural about simply existing in the same space together.
Before long, Izumi found herself sitting cross-legged on Katsuki's bedroom floor while he dug through one of the lower shelves beside his desk.
"You still keep all of these?" she laughed softly as he dropped an entire stack of old hero magazines beside her.
"They've got useful articles in 'em."
"Kacchan, this one is from like... five years ago."
"And?"
"And All Might's ranked number one on the cover like it's breaking news."
"Tch. He deserved it."
Warmth flickered across Izumi's expression at the familiar defensiveness in his voice whenever All Might was involved. She carefully flipped through the pages while Katsuki settled onto the floor nearby beside his bed, one knee bent lazily upward as he leaned back against the mattress.
At first, they mostly just talked. About hero rankings. Internships. People from school. Kaminari's latest disaster involving a microwave.
The conversation drifted easily from topic to topic while magazine pages shuffled softly between them. Occasionally Katsuki would lean over to aggressively point out a stupid article headline while Izumi laughed beside him. Other times she'd ramble excitedly about support gear upgrades while he listened with that same quiet attentiveness he only ever seemed to have around her.
And somewhere along the way...
Hours passed without either of them noticing.Izumi had long since abandoned sitting properly.
Now she lay stretched out comfortably on her stomach across the carpet with one of the magazines open in front of her, ankles kicking lazily in the air behind her while she skimmed through an article comparing hero combat styles.
"This ranking is terrible," she muttered. "There's no way they put Best Jeanist above Mirko in close combat."
"They're idiots," Katsuki replied automatically.
But honestly?
He barely even registered what she was saying anymore.
Because his attention kept drifting.
Against his better judgment.
Against his very better judgment.
Izumi's skirt had ridden up slightly from the position she was laying in, exposing more of her thighs than Katsuki was emotionally prepared to deal with in the privacy of his own bedroom.
And unfortunately, his brain had apparently stopped functioning normally about twenty minutes ago.
Katsuki stared for exactly half a second too long before immediately jerking his eyes back toward the magazine in his own hands like he'd been personally attacked.
Jesus Christ.
He aggressively flipped a page without absorbing a single word on it.
Don't look again.
Very simple instruction.
Extremely achievable.
Then Izumi shifted slightly on the floor beside him, absentmindedly brushing her hair behind her ear while continuing to ramble about hero rankings, and Katsuki's eyes betrayed him instantly.
Goddammit.
The worst part was how completely unaware she seemed.
Izumi looked comfortable here now. Relaxed. Completely at ease laying on his bedroom floor like she belonged there. The sight did dangerous things to his chest.
Katsuki rubbed a hand roughly down his face before forcing himself to focus on literally anything else. Unfortunately, "anything else" still somehow became Izumi.
The soft curve of her smile while reading. The quiet sound of her laughter. The way she kept stealing glances toward him whenever she thought he wasn't paying attention either.
Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose.
He was screwed.
Completely and utterly screwed.
"...You've been staring at the same page for like five minutes," Izumi suddenly said without looking up from her magazine.
Katsuki nearly had a heart attack.
"I'm reading."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"Kacchan," she laughed softly, finally glancing up at him, "the magazine's upside down."
Silence.
Katsuki looked down slowly.
It was, in fact, upside down.
Izumi burst into helpless laughter immediately while Katsuki groaned like the universe itself had betrayed him personally.
"Shut up."
"You weren't even trying!"
"I was distracted!"
"By what?"
Katsuki's brain short-circuited instantly.
"...Nothin'."
The suspicious little smile Izumi gave him afterward suggested she absolutely did not believe that answer.
Still, thankfully, she let it go.
Eventually, though, Izumi finally glanced toward the clock sitting on Katsuki's bedside table — and immediately sat upright in alarm.
"Oh my god."
Katsuki blinked. "What?"
"It's almost ten."
"...So?"
"So?!" Izumi stared at him. "I didn't realise I'd been here that long!"
The realization hit her all at once then. The darkened sky outside the window. The fact she'd completely lost track of time sitting here with him.
Warm embarrassment flooded through her instantly.
"Oh no, your parents probably think I've moved in."
Katsuki snorted quietly. "The old hag already likes you more than me anyway."
Izumi rolled her eyes fondly before finally beginning to gather her things together off the floor.
"I should probably get going before my mom starts worrying."
The second the words left her mouth, Katsuki's expression tightened slightly.
Not enough for most people to notice.
But Izumi noticed.
"...I'll walk you home."
The response came immediately. Matter-of-fact. Like there wasn't even another option.
Izumi blinked. "Kacchan, you really don't have to—"
"I know." He stood from the floor already, tossing the magazine aside carelessly. "Still doing it."
"But it's late and you'll have to walk all the way back here after—"
"Tch." Katsuki grabbed his hoodie from the chair near his desk. "You think I'm lettin' you walk home alone this late?"
The protective irritation in his voice made something warm unfurl quietly in Izumi's chest.
Because he said it like it was obvious. Like taking care of her was simply second nature to him now.
Izumi smiled softly before she could stop herself.
"...Okay."
Katsuki looked away immediately after she agreed, though Izumi caught the faint pink dusting his ears again while he pulled his hoodie over his head.
And as he held the bedroom door open for her to leave first... Izumi realised she really, really didn't want the night to end yet either.
The house was quieter by the time they made their way back downstairs.
Mitsuki yelled a dramatic "Don't do anything stupid!" from the living room the second she saw them putting their shoes back on, which immediately earned her an outraged "WE'RE JUST WALKING" from Katsuki.
Masaru simply smiled warmly and told Izumi to visit again soon.
And honestly? The sincerity in his voice made her think she probably would.
A few minutes later, the two of them stepped back out into the cool spring night together.
The air had grown colder since earlier, the warmth of the afternoon long gone now that the sun had fully disappeared. Streetlights glowed softly along the sidewalks while the occasional cherry blossom petal drifted lazily through the breeze around them. The neighbourhood was quiet this late, peaceful in a way the dorms at U.A. almost never were.
For the first few minutes of the walk, neither of them spoke much.
Not awkwardly.
Just... comfortably.
Izumi walked beside Katsuki with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater while the events of the evening replayed softly in her mind. Dinner. Laughing with his family. Sitting on his bedroom floor together for hours without noticing time passing.
Her chest still felt warm from all of it.
"You're shivering."
Izumi blinked, startled from her thoughts.
"I'm not."
Katsuki gave her a flat look. "Your teeth literally just chattered."
Immediately betrayed by her own body.
Izumi huffed quietly. "It's just a little cold."
Without another word, Katsuki reached up and tugged his hoodie over his head.
Izumi stared.
"Kacchan—"
"Take it."
"You'll freeze."
"I run around making explosions all day, dumbass. I'm fine."
Before she could argue further, he shoved the hoodie toward her impatiently.
Izumi hesitated only briefly before taking it from him carefully. The fabric was still warm from his body heat.
And somehow that fact alone made her stomach flutter stupidly.
"You really don't have to keep giving me your hoodies," she laughed softly while pulling it over her head.
The sleeves swallowed her hands immediately again.
Katsuki looked at her for one dangerous second too long.
Because honestly?
Seeing Izumi wearing his clothes might actually kill him someday.
The oversized black hoodie against her skirt. The sleeves covering half her hands. The faint smile pulling at her mouth while she adjusted the fabric.
Jesus Christ.
Katsuki aggressively looked away before his brain could betray him any further.
"...It's fine," he muttered roughly.
Izumi smiled to herself at his reaction but thankfully didn't tease him about it this time.
The rest of the walk passed quietly after that.
Every now and then their shoulders bumped lightly together on the sidewalk. Neither of them moved away afterward.
At one point Izumi started laughing halfway through telling a story about Kaminari accidentally setting off the dorm smoke alarms again, and Katsuki found himself staring at her instead of the road ahead.
The sound of her laughter settled somewhere deep in his chest in a way that felt dangerously permanent.
Before long, the familiar apartment building came into view at the end of the street.
And suddenly, both of them slowed slightly.
Like neither of them wanted to acknowledge they'd arrived yet.
Izumi stopped near the front entrance and turned toward him, fingers curled slightly into the sleeves of his hoodie.
"Well..." she said softly.
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved immediately.
God, this was stupid.
Katsuki had walked her home hundreds of times growing up. So why did this suddenly feel so different now?
The silence stretched for a second too long before Izumi smiled shyly up at him.
"Thanks for walking me home."
"Tch. Obviously."
"And dinner too."
"You thanked 'em like twenty times already."
"I know." She laughed quietly. "Still."
The soft look in her eyes made Katsuki's chest tighten uncomfortably.
Then Izumi glanced down briefly at the hoodie she was wearing. "I should probably give this back before I accidentally steal another one."
Katsuki shrugged immediately. "Keep it for now."
Izumi blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah." He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets awkwardly. "S'cold anyway."
The truth was he didn't really want it back yet.
Not if it meant she'd wear it a little longer.
Warmth spread visibly across Izumi's expression before she smiled again. Smaller this time. Softer.
"...Okay."
For a second, Katsuki thought maybe he should say something else.
Something important.
Because the way she was looking at him right now beneath the streetlights made his pulse feel unsteady in a way he hated.
But before he could force any coherent thought together, Izumi stepped backward toward the apartment entrance.
"Goodnight, Kacchan."
"...Night."
She lingered for one tiny second longer before finally turning and disappearing inside the building.
And Katsuki stood there like an idiot watching the door long after she was already gone.
Only once he was certain she'd gotten inside safely did he finally turn around and start walking home himself.
The entire walk back, his chest felt weirdly light.
Annoyingly light.
By the time he got back to his room later that night, the house had mostly gone quiet. Mitsuki shouted something teasing at him from downstairs that he ignored completely before shutting himself inside his bedroom with a tired sigh.
And immediately froze.
Something small glittered faintly near the edge of the carpet beside his desk.
Katsuki frowned before crouching down to pick it up.
An earring.
Tiny. Silver. Delicate.
Izumi's.
For a second, he just stared at it sitting in the palm of his hand.
Then slowly...
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Well," Katsuki muttered quietly to himself, turning the earring carefully between his fingers.
Looks like he suddenly had his own excuse now too.