Enough

The morning sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting soft, golden patterns across the floor as Y/N sat on the couch, her eyes glued to her phone. The world outside was waking up, its rhythm gentle and unhurried. Birds chirped in the distance, and a faint breeze ruffled the curtains. For a moment, it felt like everything was quiet and calm, like the chaos of her life had paused just long enough for her to catch her breath. 

In the kitchen, the sounds of Hawks moving around were faint but comforting. She could hear the sizzle of something in the pan and the soft clink of dishes as he prepared breakfast. The easy hum of his voice, the way he’d occasionally whistle a random tune, had become an oddly grounding presence in the space. His apartment had always felt like a place she could retreat to—a place where she didn’t have to wear her usual mask, where she could just exist without the pressure of pretending to be fine.

But the peace didn’t last long.

Hawks stepped into the living room a few minutes later, his usual playful smirk replaced by a more serious expression. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand, the steam rising from the mug catching the light as he walked. He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze turning toward her, and for the first time since she had arrived at his apartment, Y/N noticed something different in his eyes—a softness that wasn’t there before. It made her stomach tighten, a feeling she couldn’t quite place.

“I’ll be heading back to my agency in Kyushu soon,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that caught her off guard. “I’m only here in Musutafu because of the UA exams. I’ll be back in a few days, but…”

Y/N looked up, meeting his gaze, her stomach knotting. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but the seriousness in his tone made her feel uneasy. She didn’t interrupt him; she just let the silence stretch between them, waiting for him to continue.

Hawks took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. “Look, I know things have been… complicated for you,” he continued, his voice softening as if he was carefully choosing each word. “And I get it, okay? I know you’ve been going through a lot, and I know you haven’t exactly had it easy. But you don’t have to handle all of this alone. If you need a place to stay, you can stay here—in my apartment, for as long as you need. There’s plenty of space, and I’m sure you could use the time to figure things out. It’s not like I’m going to be here much longer anyway. I’ll be back in a few days, but I’m not going to push you to stay if you don’t want to.”

His words hung in the air between them, the offer heavy with unspoken meaning. There was something sincere about his tone, something that made her pause and consider it. Y/N hadn’t expected him to offer this—hadn’t even known if he’d notice how out of place she felt, how much she was struggling just to stay grounded. Staying at his apartment, away from the dangers of her past and the constant pressure to hide herself, seemed like a tempting offer. It felt like an escape, a chance to breathe without fear of looking over her shoulder. But at the same time, a nagging feeling twisted in her chest. 

She didn’t want to be a burden. She didn’t want to need anyone—especially not Hawks. 

“I—” Y/N started, her voice faltering before she could finish her thought. She opened her mouth again, but Hawks cut her off with a gentle, understanding smile. 

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “You’ve got nowhere else to go, do you? You don’t have to make any decisions right now, but just think about it. You’re welcome to stay here, no strings attached. No pressure, no expectations. You won’t be a burden, trust me.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of her jeans, her gaze dropping to her hands. The weight of the decision pressed heavily on her chest. She knew that staying in his apartment would give her the space she needed to breathe. It would give her time to process everything, to escape from the chaos that had followed her so far. But there was always a cost to accepting help, wasn’t there? A price she wasn’t sure she was willing to pay. 

She didn’t want to feel indebted. She didn’t want to feel like she was relying on someone else, not even Hawks, who always seemed so carefree and self-assured. She didn’t want to be weak. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, to know how broken she felt inside.

Still, there was a part of her that couldn’t deny the comfort of the offer. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a safe space, a moment of quiet where she didn’t have to be constantly vigilant. The thought of just being—of not having to hide herself for once—was tempting, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.

“I…” Y/N began again, her voice quieter now. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity. But there was nothing there but kindness, patience, and something else—a quiet understanding she hadn’t expected from him.

“Alright,” she finally said, the words slipping from her lips before she could second-guess herself. “I’ll stay here. But just until I figure things out.”

Hawks’ expression softened instantly, and the smile he gave her was warm, genuine. “That’s all I ask,” he replied, his voice light, though there was something more to it—something that said he’d already expected her answer. “You don’t have to rush into anything. Take your time. Figure things out at your own pace.”

Y/N nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter, though her mind was still a whirlwind of thoughts. She didn’t know what would come next or how long she’d stay here. She didn’t know how long it would take for her to get her life back together, or even if she could. But for the first time in a long while, she felt like there was space to breathe, space to think, without the constant fear of being caught up in the past. 

She was safe here. And for now, that was enough. 

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/N allowed herself to rest.

Y/N sat on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest, the soft hum of the city filtering through the apartment’s open window. Her laptop rested on the cushion beside her, the screen dark, but her fingers still tapped nervously against the edge of the device. She hated the restless feeling that had taken over her the past few days, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Her mind had been running circles, dragged back to thoughts she didn’t want to entertain. No matter how hard she tried to focus on anything else—movies, books, meaningless internet browsing—there was one name that refused to leave her alone.

Eraserhead.

Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. Why couldn’t she just let it go? She didn’t want to think about him. She didn’t want to care. Yet, here she was, on the verge of doing the very thing she’d been avoiding for weeks.

Her eyes drifted to the laptop, and despite every instinct screaming at her not to, she reached for it. Her fingers hovered over the keys, hesitation weighing her down like lead. This was stupid. Pointless. She knew that looking him up would only make things worse. But it was like her curiosity had a will of its own, dragging her back into the orbit of a world she had no business revisiting.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the laptop and typed his name into the search bar. The results popped up instantly, and her stomach clenched when her eyes landed on the top headline.

“Eraserhead to Teach Heroics at UA This Year.”

Her heart sank. Damn it.

She’d been hoping for something different. Maybe a headline about him taking time off or retreating from the limelight, stepping away from the chaotic world of heroes for a while. But no. There he was, still making waves, still entrenched in the very life she had tried so hard to leave behind. The article had a picture of him—a recent one, judging by the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his face. His expression was the same as always: calm, serious, and just a little intimidating.

Her chest tightened as she stared at the image, a strange mixture of frustration and longing bubbling inside her. She wanted to slam the laptop shut, to erase the name from her mind entirely. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

What was it about him that kept drawing her in? Why couldn’t she just let go? She had no reason to care, no reason to follow his career or keep tabs on him, but here she was. Again. It wasn’t like she was part of his life—or that he was part of hers. But despite everything, he lingered in her thoughts like a ghost she couldn’t exorcise.

She hated how powerless she felt whenever he crossed her mind. It wasn’t just his name or his image—it was the memories. The ones she’d buried, locked away in the farthest corners of her mind. But now, with his name glaring at her from the screen, those memories began to resurface, unbidden and vivid.

She was seven years old again, small and scared, lost in the chaos of a night she could barely comprehend. Her family had been in danger, the kind of danger that turned a child’s world upside down. She could still hear the shouting, the distant sounds of destruction, the way her mother had screamed at her to run. She hadn’t understood what was happening—only that she was alone, helpless, and terrified.

And then he had appeared. Eraserhead.

Even as a child, she’d known there was something different about him. He wasn’t like the flashy heroes she’d seen on TV, the ones with bright smiles and loud voices. He was quiet, calm, and deliberate. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it was like he had stepped into the chaos and absorbed it, grounding everything around him.

She remembered how he had knelt in front of her, his dark eyes meeting hers as he told her she was safe now, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He had saved her that night, shielding her from the destruction, carrying her out of the danger she hadn’t understood. It was a moment that had stayed with her, carved into her memory like a scar.

He probably didn’t even remember her. To him, she was just another kid he’d rescued, another life saved in the endless stream of chaos that came with being a hero. But to her, he was unforgettable.

Y/N closed the laptop, the screen going dark as she leaned back against the couch. Her gaze drifted up to the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths as she tried to push the memories back down.

But they wouldn’t go.

Damn it. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The truth was staring her in the face now, undeniable and impossible to ignore. She had a crush on him. She had tried to deny it for years, tried to bury it under layers of indifference and distractions. But every time she saw his name, every time she thought about him, that familiar ache returned, twisting in her chest like a knife.

It was ridiculous. She didn’t even know him—not really. She knew the hero, the calm and composed man who had saved her when she was a scared little girl. But she didn’t know the person behind the mask, the man behind the tired eyes. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from caring, from wondering, from hoping for something that could never happen.

She hated it. She hated how vulnerable it made her feel, how stupid and childish it was to be hung up on someone who probably didn’t even remember her.

Y/N ran a hand over her face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m an idiot,” she muttered to herself. “I’m just… obsessed with him.”

But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren’t entirely true. It wasn’t just an obsession. It was more than that. He had been her lifeline in a moment of darkness, a beacon of safety when her world had been falling apart. That kind of thing didn’t just disappear. It stayed with you. It became part of who you were.

And now, eleven years later, it still held her in its grip.

Y/N pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to block out the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She didn’t know what to do with any of it—with the memories, the feelings, the impossible crush on a man who was so far out of her reach it was laughable.

All she knew was that she couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep looking him up, couldn’t keep letting herself get drawn back into his world. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t fair—to her or to him.

But even as she told herself that, she knew it wouldn’t be the last time. She would try to stay away, to focus on her own life, but he would always be there, lingering in the back of her mind. A part of her would always be drawn to him, no matter how much she hated herself for it.

Because Eraserhead wasn’t just a hero to her.

He was the reason she was still here. And no matter how much time passed, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget that.

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint rustle of fabric as Hawks moved about, tossing the last of his things into a sleek black duffel bag. Y/N stood in the doorway, her fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe as she watched him. It felt strange—almost surreal—seeing him get ready to leave. They’d fallen into a temporary rhythm over the past few days, a makeshift routine that made her feel a little more grounded despite the storm of uncertainty swirling around her. But now, watching him prepare to head back to his agency, the reality of his departure was starting to sink in.

“Here,” Hawks said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. She blinked as he crossed the room toward her, holding out two items. In one hand was a sleek black credit card, the silver logo glinting under the light. In the other, a single pristine feather. His feather.  

Y/N stared at the items, hesitant to take them. The card felt impersonal, but the feather? That was something else entirely. It wasn’t just a tool or a symbol of his power—it was a part of him, a piece of himself that he was now offering to her. 

She slowly reached out, the coolness of the card a sharp contrast to the gentle warmth radiating from the feather. She hadn’t expected it to feel so… alive.  

“Use the card for whatever you need,” Hawks said, his usual carefree grin spreading across his face. “And keep the feather with you. You know, just in case.”  

“In case of what?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.  

“In case you need me,” he said simply, his tone softer now. He leaned casually against the doorframe, but there was something serious behind the golden glint of his eyes. “If you ever feel like you’re in danger, or if something happens and you don’t know what to do… you destroy the feather. No hesitation. I’ll come. No matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing. Got it?”

Y/N stared down at the feather in her hand, her thumb brushing against its edge. It felt impossibly light, yet the weight of his words made it heavy. “You don’t have to do this,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

Hawks let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Y/N, we’ve known each other for almost a year now. Do you really think I’m just going to let you fend for yourself? You should know me better than that by now.”  

Her lips parted slightly at his words. A year. She hadn’t realized it had been that long. Time had blurred together in a strange way since they’d first met, back when she had stumbled into his world—figuratively and literally. He’d taken her under his wing, in more ways than one, and despite how independent she tried to be, he always found a way to remind her that she didn’t have to face things alone.  

“But this… it’s too much,” she insisted, holding the card and the feather out toward him as if to give them back.  

He didn’t take them. Instead, he smirked and crossed his arms, the trademark ease in his posture making her chest tighten. “Nah, it’s not too much. You deserve this. And honestly, it’s nothing for me. After all, as your hero, it’s my job to take care of you.”  

The words were light, teasing, but there was something underneath them—something genuine. He shifted, the grin fading slightly as his gaze softened. “And it’s not just about being your hero. I like you, Y/N. You mean something to me. That’s why I’m doing this. Because I care about you.”  

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt heat rise to her face as the weight of his words settled over her. He likes me? She blinked, unsure how to respond. He’d always been kind, always gone out of his way to help her, but she hadn’t expected him to say it outright.  

“I…” she started, but her voice faltered. She looked down at the feather in her hand, the warmth of it grounding her as she tried to make sense of what she was feeling. “I don’t know what to say.”  

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hawks said gently. “Just promise me you’ll keep it with you. And if you need me, you call. No matter what. Okay?”  

She nodded slowly, the sincerity in his voice making it impossible to argue. “Okay,” she whispered.  

His grin returned, though it was softer this time. “Good. Now, do me a favor and don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, alright? I don’t want to come back and find out you’ve been causing trouble.”  

Despite herself, Y/N let out a small laugh. “I’ll try not to.”  

Hawks raised an eyebrow, his expression playful but tinged with concern. “I’m serious, Y/N. Take care of yourself. I don’t want you struggling or trying to handle everything on your own. You matter, and I want you to be okay. Got it?”  

The intensity in his voice caught her off guard, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words to respond. She nodded again, her grip tightening around the feather.  

Satisfied, Hawks stepped back, his wings spreading out behind him in a graceful arc. “Alright, I’m off. Don’t miss me too much,” he said with a wink, the teasing edge back in his tone.  

Before she could respond, he launched himself into the air, the soft sound of his wings fading as he disappeared into the sky. The apartment felt quieter now, the emptiness settling around her like a heavy blanket.  

Y/N stood in the doorway for a moment longer, her gaze fixed on the spot where he’d been. In her hand, the feather seemed to hum faintly, as if responding to her touch. It felt like a lifeline, a connection to him even when he wasn’t there.  

She stepped back into the apartment, closing the door behind her. The card and feather felt heavier now, not physically but emotionally. She set the card on the counter, but the feather… she couldn’t let it go. Her fingers traced its edges as she sank onto the couch, her thoughts swirling.  

Why was he doing all this for her? Why did he care so much? She didn’t doubt his sincerity—Hawks was too straightforward for that—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t deserve it.  

As she stared at the feather, his words echoed in her mind. *Don’t hesitate.*  

She didn’t know what the future held or why he insisted on giving her such a powerful symbol of his trust. But deep down, she felt something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time: hope.  

“I’ll take care of myself, Hawks,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over the feather one last time. “For now.”  

But as she sat there, the quiet of the apartment pressing in around her, she couldn’t deny the strange longing that lingered in her chest. She wasn’t sure what it meant or where it would lead, but the feather in her hand felt like more than just a promise.  

It felt like the beginning of something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

The apartment was silent, the soft hum of the city outside barely audible. Y/N sat on the couch, Hawks’ feather still in her hand, the warmth of it grounding her thoughts. Then, her phone buzzed, cutting through the stillness. She glanced at the screen and saw Izuku’s name flash across it.  

Swiping to answer, she pressed the phone to her ear. “Izuku?” she greeted, her voice a little strained but laced with warmth.  

“Y/N!” Izuku’s voice burst through, brimming with excitement. “You won’t believe it! I got in! I got into the UA hero course! I made it! Can you believe it?”  

Y/N’s heart lifted at his words, a genuine smile spreading across her face. She knew how much this meant to him. “Izuku, that’s incredible! I’m so proud of you!”  

“I can’t believe it’s real,” he gushed, his words rushing out in an excited flurry. “I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, and now it’s actually happening! I can’t wait to start!”  

His enthusiasm was contagious, and Y/N found herself laughing softly. But then his tone shifted, softening slightly. “But… what about you? Did you hear back from the business school yet?”  

Her smile faltered, and the uncertainty she’d been pushing aside returned, settling heavily on her chest. “Not yet,” she admitted. “I haven’t gotten a letter or anything to tell me if I made it or not.”  

There was a brief pause on the other end, and she could almost picture Izuku frowning in concern. But his optimism returned quickly. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re going to get in. I know it. You’ve worked so hard for this, and you deserve it.”  

His unwavering confidence in her made her chest tighten, and she let out a soft sigh. “Thanks, Izuku. I really hope you’re right.” She paused for a moment, then an idea came to her. “Hey, how about we meet up to celebrate? Even if I haven’t heard back yet, you deserve to celebrate your acceptance. I’d love to cheer you on in person.”  

“Really?” Izuku’s voice brightened again, his excitement bubbling back to the surface. “That sounds amazing! I’d love to celebrate with you. Let’s meet at our usual spot!”  

“Perfect,” Y/N said, her smile returning. “I’ll see you soon, then.”  

After the call ended, Y/N set her phone down, leaning back into the couch. The conversation with Izuku had eased some of the unease she’d been feeling, his enthusiasm reminding her that there was still so much to look forward to.  

No matter what happened with her application, she knew she could count on Izuku’s support. And for now, that was enough to keep her going.

Y/N stood before the small mirror in Hawks’ apartment, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the feather-shaped earring in her hand. The faint glow of the early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a pale hue over the room. Her ear was still raw from where the wound had been reopened, but she knew this was necessary. If she didn’t do this now, the piercing would close up, and she couldn’t afford that—not now, not with everything that was happening.  

Taking a steadying breath, she pressed the metal back into her ear, wincing as the tender skin stretched to accommodate it. The sting was sharp, but it didn’t last long. The wound began to heal almost instantly, the flesh knitting back together with an almost unnatural efficiency. Y/N swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on her reflection.  

The feather was more than an earring. It was a lifeline, a symbol of Hawks’ trust, and a reminder of how far she had come. She ran her fingers over the sleek, metallic shape, ensuring it was secure before stepping back to take in her full reflection.  

She looked… tired.  

Y/N adjusted the oversized shirt she wore—one of Hawks’—that hung loosely off her frame, its sleeves so long they nearly covered her hands. The scent of him still lingered faintly on the fabric, a mix of sandalwood and fresh air, but instead of comforting her, it felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. It was a reminder of what she was running from, of the chaos she was trying to leave behind.  

Her eyes fell to the skirt she had pulled from the back of her closet. It was one of the few things she had salvaged from the wreckage her brother’s rage had left behind. Sliding it on, she adjusted it carefully, smoothing the fabric over her hips. The material felt foreign against her skin, like it belonged to someone she used to be, someone she no longer recognized.  

Finally, she slipped into her worn-out shoes—the only pair that had survived her brother’s destructive outburst. They weren’t much, but they were functional, and for now, that was enough.  

One last glance in the mirror, and she was ready.  

With a sigh, Y/N grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and stepped out into the crisp morning air. The city was already awake, the distant hum of traffic and chatter filling the streets. She kept her head down as she walked, her thoughts swirling with memories of the past few weeks. Everything felt heavy—too heavy—but she pushed forward.  

When she arrived at the small udon shop she and Izuku frequented, she hesitated outside the door. The familiar smell of broth and noodles wafted out, stirring something warm in her chest. She pulled out her phone and typed a quick message.  

Y/N:I’m here.

Hitting send, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to steady herself.  

The sound of her name being called broke through her thoughts. She looked up and spotted Izuku approaching the shop. Relief flooded her chest at the sight of his familiar green curls and bright smile. But her relief was short-lived.  

He wasn’t alone.  

A man walked beside him, taller and lean, his frame unremarkable but his presence oddly unsettling. His dark, sharp eyes scanned the area with a detached air, but when they landed on Y/N, something flickered in his gaze—curiosity, perhaps. Or something darker.  

Izuku waved enthusiastically as he closed the distance between them. “Y/N! Sorry to keep you waiting!” he called out, his voice filled with excitement.  

Y/N offered a small smile but kept her eyes on the stranger beside him. There was something off about him. She couldn’t quite place it, but the faint, metallic scent of blood seemed to cling to him, sharp and out of place.  

“Hey,” she said, her tone carefully neutral as her gaze flickered back to Izuku. “Who’s this?”  

Izuku hesitated, his hands fidgeting nervously. “Oh, um, this is—uh—he’s…” He stumbled over his words, clearly unsure how to introduce the man.  

The stranger took a step forward, his voice cutting through Izuku’s awkwardness. “I’m his teacher. You can call me Yagi”  

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. His posture was calm, his tone polite, but there was an edge to his presence that set her on high alert. She noticed the way his sharp gaze lingered on her ear for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, his lips pressing into a faint line. He’d seen the feather.  

But he said nothing.  

Izuku, oblivious to the tension, smiled nervously. “Yagi-sensei has been helping me prepare for UA. He’s… really great.”  

Y/N glanced between them, her unease growing. She didn’t know what kind of teacher this man was, but something about him didn’t sit right with her. Still, she forced a polite smile and nodded. “Well, if you’re with Izuku, I guess you can join us. I’m not exactly busy.”  

Yagi’s lips curved into a faint smile—polite, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you,” he said simply, stepping aside to let her lead the way.  

Izuku beamed, clearly relieved that Y/N was being accommodating. “Let’s go inside! The food here is amazing!”  

Y/N nodded, her steps steady but her mind racing as she entered the shop. She kept a subtle distance between herself and Yagi, her senses on high alert.  

 As they settled into a booth, Yagi’s gaze flickered to her ear once more. “That’s an interesting earring,” he said finally, his tone casual but probing.  

Y/N’s hand instinctively went to the feather, her fingers brushing against it. “Thanks,” she said evenly, refusing to elaborate.  

Yagi didn’t push, but she could feel his curiosity lingering like a shadow.  

Izuku, blissfully unaware, began chatting about his acceptance into UA and how excited he was to start. Y/N tried to focus on him, letting his enthusiasm pull her out of her thoughts. But every so often, her gaze would flicker to Yagi, her instincts screaming that there was more to him than he let on.  

For now, though, she’d play along. She needed to figure out who this man really was—and why he seemed so interested in her.  

Y/N sat quietly at the small table, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee, though she had yet to take more than a few sips. The sharp bitterness of the drink lingered on her tongue, but it was a dull contrast to the tumult of thoughts swirling in her mind. Across from her, Izuku was bursting with energy, his hands moving in quick, animated gestures as he spoke, his green eyes shining with excitement.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Y/N!” Izuku exclaimed, leaning forward as if to pull her into his world of triumphs and challenges. “The training was intense. I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but there were days I thought I wouldn’t make it. And Yagi—” He paused, glancing sideways at the man sitting beside him. “Well, he helped me a lot with… everything.”

Izuku’s smile widened, his enthusiasm almost contagious. Almost. Y/N forced herself to smile back, though it felt like a thin veneer masking the weight pressing against her chest. She wanted to be happy for him—she really did. But the effort to stay present in the moment felt exhausting. Her gaze drifted briefly to Yagi, who sat with a composed demeanor, quietly observing the conversation. His sharp, calculating eyes occasionally flicked toward Y/N, and each time, she felt the weight of his scrutiny.

Yagi hadn’t said much since they’d arrived, and yet his presence was impossible to ignore. He was like a shadow stretching over the table, quiet but undeniable. His movements were precise, his gaze steady, and though he gave no outward sign of hostility, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was studying her—watching her far too closely. She met his eyes briefly, her expression impassive, before turning her attention back to her coffee.  

Izuku’s voice carried on, filling the space between them with his recounting of the grueling journey that had earned him a place at UA. “I had to clean the entire beach, Y/N. The entire thing!” He laughed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I thought my arms were going to fall off. But Yaga-sensei told me I couldn’t give up, so I pushed through. And now—” His smile grew wider, pride evident in every word. “Now I’m here. I made it.”  

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of genuine admiration for him. Izuku’s determination and optimism were qualities she had always respected, even when the world seemed intent on crushing him. His dreams of becoming a hero had been a constant light in his life, and she knew how much this moment meant to him.  

“That’s amazing, Izuku,” she said softly, her voice steady but lacking the energy she wished she could muster. “You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m really proud of you.”  

Her words seemed to brighten Izuku’s already glowing expression. “Thanks, Y/N! That means a lot. You’ve always believed in me, and I…” His words trailed off, his gaze shifting slightly as if he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.  

Yagi, who had been silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the lighthearted chatter. “You’re not eating.”  

The statement wasn’t accusatory, but it carried a weight that made Y/N tense. She glanced down at the untouched bowl of udon in front of her, the steam curling lazily into the air. The scent of broth and noodles filled the room, but to her, it was meaningless—just another reminder of what she could no longer have.  

Y/N’s grip on her coffee tightened slightly as she considered how to respond. She couldn’t very well explain the truth, that her body simply couldn’t process human food anymore, that even a single bite would make her violently ill. She didn’t want to get into it, especially not with Yagi, whose piercing gaze seemed to strip away any pretense she tried to maintain.  

Before she could come up with a deflection, Izuku jumped in, his voice light but earnest. “Oh, that’s normal for Y/N,” he said quickly, as if trying to smooth over the moment. “She doesn’t always eat much, especially when she’s distracted or not feeling great. It’s just how she is.”  

Y/N glanced at Izuku, a small flicker of gratitude in her eyes for his unintentional cover. She took another sip of her coffee, letting the warmth spread through her as she tried to ground herself in the moment.  

Yagi didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, and then it shifted, his attention returning to his own meal. He didn’t press the issue, but Y/N could feel his unspoken questions hanging in the air.  

Izuku, ever the optimist, dove back into his story, his excitement undiminished by the brief tension. “So, Yagi-sensei gave me this crazy workout plan,” he continued, gesturing wildly. “And at first, I thought there was no way I could handle it, but he kept pushing me. He said, ‘If you want to be a hero, you have to be prepared for anything.’” Izuku’s impression of Yagi’s gruff tone was spot-on, drawing a faint chuckle from Y/N despite herself.  

She allowed herself to relax, if only a little, as she listened to Izuku. His passion and determination were infectious, and for a brief moment, she felt a flicker of normalcy. But even as she tried to focus on him, she couldn’t shake the feeling of Yagi’s eyes on her. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was as though he was searching for something, trying to unravel a puzzle only he could see.  

And then there was the feather.  

She caught him looking at it again, the small earring that now adorned her ear. His gaze lingered for just a fraction of a second too long, and she could almost see the questions forming in his mind. But he said nothing.  

The silence between them was louder than any words he could have spoken.  

Y/N resisted the urge to touch the earring, to draw attention to it. Instead, she focused on Izuku, nodding along to his words and letting his voice pull her back into the conversation. She didn’t want to think about Yagi, or what he might know—or suspect.  

For now, she would stay quiet, keep her secrets close, and focus on the one thing that mattered: being here for Izuku.  

The conversation ebbed and flowed, Izuku’s laughter filling the room as he recounted another story of his training. Y/N smiled faintly, her hands still wrapped around the now-cooling cup of coffee. She didn’t know what the future held, or how long she could keep her secrets hidden. But for this moment, she would hold on to the fragile sense of normalcy that Izuku brought into her life.  

Even if it was fleeting.