Enough

Y/N made her way down the quiet halls of U.A. College, her footsteps barely audible against the polished floors. The day had stretched on longer than she expected, but her thoughts lingered on something that wouldn’t let her rest. It wasn’t the usual concerns of training or classes—it was Izuku. After his intense match with Bakugo during the combat exercises, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she should check on him. 

Bakugo had been relentless, as always, and while Izuku held his own, the fight left him visibly battered. She knew how hard Izuku pushed himself, often to the point of breaking. That determination was admirable, but it also worried her. She hadn’t had a chance to approach him during the aftermath, and now, with the halls empty, she finally had the chance.

Stopping outside the infirmary, Y/N hesitated, her hand hovering over the door. A small wave of uncertainty rippled through her. Why was she so worried about him? It wasn’t like she didn’t care about her other classmates, but something about Izuku’s unyielding resolve struck a chord in her. She sighed softly and knocked before stepping inside.

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, its sterile environment quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Izuku sat on one of the beds, his school uniform slightly rumpled and his green hair sticking out in odd directions. He was rubbing his side, wincing slightly as he touched what was likely a forming bruise. Despite this, he looked up and smiled when he saw her.

“Oh, Y/N! Hey…” he greeted, his voice a little shaky, though his smile was genuine. “I didn’t expect you to come by.”

Y/N returned his smile, walking further into the room, her hands casually tucked into her pockets. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Bakugo didn’t exactly hold back today.”

Izuku chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, he never does. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing Recovery Girl can’t handle.”

She could see him downplaying the fight, the way he always did. It was typical of Izuku to minimize his own struggles. He didn’t want to seem weak, even when everyone around him knew how hard he worked.

“Still,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with concern, “you should take it easy. You’ve got nothing to prove. Everyone already knows how strong you are.”

Her words made Izuku’s cheeks flush a light pink. He looked away briefly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a shy smile. “Thanks… that means a lot coming from you.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. She stepped closer, leaning against the side of the bed. “You know, you push yourself harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. But even heroes need to know when to slow down.”

Izuku met her gaze, his green eyes softening. “I just… I want to get stronger, Y/N. I have to. There’s so much riding on this. On me.”

She could feel the weight of his words, the quiet vulnerability hidden beneath them. Izuku’s determination was unshakable, but it came at a cost. He carried the burden of his dreams, of the expectations placed on him, and of the responsibility he felt toward everyone around him.

“You’re already strong, Izuku,” she said firmly, her voice steady. “And it’s not just about how hard you can punch or how fast you can move. It’s about your heart. The way you care about people, the way you keep going even when everything feels impossible. That’s what makes you a hero.”

Izuku stared at her, his eyes widening slightly. Her words seemed to catch him off guard, as if he hadn’t realized just how much she noticed about him. He swallowed hard, his blush deepening.

“Thanks,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, but there was a distant look in her eyes, as though her thoughts were somewhere else entirely. She straightened up slightly, folding her arms across her chest. “What about you? How’s the hero course treating you? Today looked brutal.”

Izuku laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “It’s tough, but I’m getting there. Slowly. Honestly, it’s hard to keep up sometimes, but… I just remind myself why I’m here.”

She nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “You’ve got that fire in you, Izuku. That drive. Don’t lose it.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Then Izuku shifted, looking up at her with a curious expression.

“What about you, Y/N?” he asked. “How’s it been for you? You’re always so composed—it’s like nothing fazes you. But… how are you really doing?”

Y/N blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. She wasn’t used to people asking about her. Most of her classmates assumed she was fine because she rarely showed weakness. But Izuku’s gaze was gentle, genuine, and it made her pause.

“I guess… it’s been challenging,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “But I’ve gotten used to challenges. I just try to keep moving forward. That’s all any of us can do, right?”

Izuku nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You’re amazing, Y/N. The way you handled the villain role today… you had us all on edge. Even All Might was impressed.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “It was just an exercise,” she said modestly. “But it felt good to test myself. To think a few steps ahead.”

Izuku’s admiration was evident in the way he looked at her, and Y/N felt a strange warmth in her chest. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it made her feel… seen.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” Izuku said suddenly, his voice filled with conviction. “Whatever challenges come your way, I know you’ll handle them.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she felt a flutter of something unnameable. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of belief in her. It was unsettling in a way, but not unwelcome.

“Thanks, Izuku,” she said, her voice gentle. “That means a lot.”

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and Y/N realized it was getting late. She pushed off the side of the bed, stretching slightly. “I should get going. Don’t stay too long—you’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

Izuku smiled, giving her a small wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. And… thanks again. For everything.”

As Y/N stepped out of the infirmary, the warmth of his words stayed with her. She walked down the empty halls, her thoughts swirling. There was something about Izuku—his unwavering belief in others, his quiet strength—that made her want to be better. 

For the first time in a while, she felt like she wasn’t just fighting for herself. She was part of something bigger. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Y/N. Her evening was spent in one of Snipe’s rigorous one-on-one sessions, the kind that demanded focus and precision. Snipe, ever meticulous, guided her through drills with sharp commentary, but no matter how much effort she put in, her thoughts kept drifting elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the weight of earlier interactions or the strange tension she’d felt during the training exercise.

When the session finally ended, she gathered her belongings and stepped into the quiet hallways of U.A. High. The dim lighting and echo of her footsteps were oddly soothing, but as she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with someone.

Her heart jumped as she looked up. Standing before her was Aizawa, his perpetually tired expression unreadable but his dark eyes focused on her.

“Sensei,” she greeted, her voice soft, uncertain. 

Aizawa nodded slightly, his gaze lingering on her. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said evenly, his tone as calm as ever. After a moment, he added, “I was heading home. I could walk you back if you’d like.”

The offer caught Y/N off guard. She hesitated, searching his face for any sign of ulterior motive, but his expression remained neutral. It wasn’t unusual for teachers to accompany students, especially this late, but with Aizawa, it felt... different. After a moment, she nodded. “Sure. I’d appreciate it.”

Without another word, Aizawa fell into step beside her, his presence quiet but commanding. They walked in silence for a while, the crisp night air brushing against their skin. Y/N kept her gaze forward, unsure of what to say, while Aizawa’s mind was anything but quiet.

He had spent part of the afternoon reviewing the combat training footage, something he often did to assess his students’ performance. Watching Y/N’s match had been particularly captivating. There was something about the way she fought—so fluid and composed, yet razor-sharp in her precision. When she played the villain, she had commanded the stage effortlessly, her movements calculated and deliberate. It wasn’t just skill; it was something more. There was a quiet confidence to her, an intensity he found himself admiring... and, to his own surprise, something about it was undeniably attractive.

He cleared his throat, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered, unbidden.

“You performed well in the training exercise,” he said finally, his voice steady, breaking the silence between them. “You’re a natural at playing the part.”

Y/N glanced at him, caught off guard by the comment. “You watched it?” 

“I review everyone’s footage,” he replied, his tone even. “It’s part of my job.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable, and the two fell silent again. Aizawa couldn’t help but sneak another glance at her. Despite her quiet demeanor, there was something magnetic about her presence. Her confidence in battle contrasted with the reserved way she carried herself outside of it, and he found the juxtaposition intriguing. No, not just intriguing—compelling.

They continued walking, the streetlights casting long shadows ahead of them. After a moment, Aizawa spoke again, his voice low. “Do you live far from campus?”

Y/N hesitated, her steps slowing just slightly. “Not really,” she said finally, though her tone was guarded. 

Aizawa noted the subtle shift in her posture, the way her shoulders tensed just slightly. She was holding something back, though he didn’t press her on it. “Do you live alone?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

There was a brief pause before Y/N responded, her voice carefully neutral. “Yeah. It’s just easier that way.”

He didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered to the ground as she spoke. There was more to the story, he was sure of it, but it was clear she didn’t want to elaborate. He respected her privacy, even if a part of him—one he rarely acknowledged—wanted to understand her better. 

As they walked, the silence between them grew heavier, but not uncomfortable. Aizawa found his gaze drifting to her again. The way she carried herself, even now, was striking. Her strength was subtle but undeniable, and there was a quiet intensity in her that he couldn’t ignore. It was rare for someone to catch his attention like this, and rarer still for him to find it attractive. Yet here he was, walking beside her, trying to keep his thoughts in check.

When they finally reached her apartment building, Y/N stopped at the entrance, turning to face him. 

“Thanks for walking me home,” she said, her tone polite but distant, as if drawing a clear boundary between them.

Aizawa nodded, his dark eyes lingering on her for a moment. “Be careful walking around this late,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “There are parts of the city that aren’t as safe as they seem.”

Y/N offered him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Sensei.”

She turned and walked inside, leaving him standing at the entrance. For a moment, he didn’t move, his thoughts swirling. There was something about her, something he couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just her skill or her demeanor—it was the way she seemed to carry a weight that she wouldn’t let anyone else see. And, against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to know more. 

He lingered for a moment longer before turning to leave, his steps slow as he made his way back down the street. The cool night air wrapped around him, but it felt different now, charged with the tension that had formed between them.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to the training video. He could see her movements clearly in his mind—the precision, the grace, the way she seemed completely in control. It wasn’t just her skill that stood out; it was the way she seemed to pour herself into the role, commanding attention without even trying. And then there was the way she carried herself outside of training—reserved, thoughtful, but with a quiet strength that he found... alluring.

Aizawa frowned to himself, frustrated by the direction of his thoughts. He was her teacher, and it wasn’t appropriate to think of her in this way. But no matter how much he tried to push it aside, the image of her—her confidence, her composure, her quiet intensity—kept creeping back into his mind.

Aizawa was still lost in thought. He told himself it was just curiosity, that he was simply trying to understand her better as a student. But deep down, he knew there was more to it than that. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Y/N was someone who had managed to get under his skin in a way he hadn’t expected—and wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to face.

Aizawa leaned against the lamppost at the corner. He exhaled a long breath, his gaze lingering on the lit window before he turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets.  

This wasn’t about responsibility anymore, was it? He’d told himself it was—just keeping an eye on a student. But the quiet pull in his chest told another story.  

Walking her home had become a routine, though she didn’t know it.  

Whether it was for her safety or his own selfish curiosity, that was between him and whatever god still tolerated him.

Hizashi Yamada, better known as Present Mic, leaned back in his chair, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a quieter, sharper focus. Something had been bugging him lately—a subtle shift in Shouta Aizawa’s behavior that he couldn’t ignore. Aizawa wasn’t one for sentimentality or playing favorites, yet there was one student who seemed to have his undivided attention: Y/N L/N.  

Aizawa’s actions were strange enough. He wasn’t the type to go easy on anyone, much less a student whose path into the Hero Course had been anything but conventional. But what really caught Hizashi’s attention was the way Principal Nezu himself seemed to take a special interest in Y/N. During training exercises, Hizashi had noticed the principal observing her with an unusual intensity, his beady eyes focused and calculating. That level of scrutiny wasn’t common, even for standout students, and it set Hizashi’s curiosity alight.  

Sitting at his desk, he pulled up Y/N’s student file on his screen, expecting to find something that justified the attention she was getting. But what he found only deepened the mystery.  

The file was almost empty.  

Her academic history listed only that she had attended an online school—no specifics, no affiliations with hero preparatory programs, no extracurriculars. Most students in U.A.'s Hero Course had years of training or affiliations with professional heroes, but Y/N’s record was blank. It was as if she’d appeared out of nowhere.  

Hizashi’s fingers tapped a steady rhythm on his desk as he scanned the rest of the file. Then he noticed something else. There were no family members listed. No emergency contacts. No next of kin. Nothing. She was, on paper, completely alone.  

“Online school, no family…” Hizashi muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes. “This is getting weirder.”  

The bare file offered little explanation for why Y/N was at U.A., but a few details stood out. First, her perfect score on the Hero Business Exam—a test notorious for its complexity and difficulty. Not a single question wrong. That wasn’t just impressive; it was extraordinary. It suggested a mind as sharp as Nezu’s.  

Then there was the letter of recommendation. Hizashi clicked on it, and his eyes widened when Hawks’ name appeared at the top. The number three pro hero had personally written a glowing letter, commending Y/N’s intelligence, resourcefulness, and potential. The tone was strikingly serious—uncharacteristic of Hawks, who was usually laid-back and casual about everything.  

“Hawks?” Hizashi murmured, leaning back in his chair with a raised eyebrow. “What’s your connection to her?”  

Despite her impressive test results and Hawks’ backing, the rest of her file remained an enigma. There was no mention of her Quirk. No explanation for her lack of formal hero training or familial ties. And, perhaps most telling, no clue as to why someone like Aizawa would go out of his way to keep her in the Hero Course.  

Hizashi closed the file with a sigh, his curiosity far from satisfied. “She’s definitely not your average student,” he muttered, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Guess I’ll just have to watch and find out what makes you tick, Y/N L/N.”  

The atmosphere in Class 1-A’s homeroom was buzzing with anticipation and a touch of competitive energy. Students leaned forward in their seats, grinning and jostling each other, all eager for the announcement that had just escaped their homeroom teacher’s lips. Shota Aizawa, looking as uninterested as ever, remained wrapped in his sleeping bag near the front of the room, addressing them in his usual monotone voice.

“Today, you’ll be electing a class representative,” he said, his words dragging slightly as if the entire affair was a chore. “Try not to make it a circus.”

Predictably, the class devolved into chaos almost immediately. Nearly every hand shot into the air, accompanied by a cacophony of voices. Students shouted their names, some nominating themselves with enthusiasm, while others argued over who would be the best leader. In the middle of the noise, Y/N L/N sat quietly at the back of the room, her chin resting on her hand.

She rolled her eyes at the display, her expression unimpressed. They really think this matters? It’s not like this is going on their résumés.

Amid the chaos, Tenya Iida suddenly stood, cutting through the noise with his commanding voice. “Classmates! This is a serious matter! As future heroes, we must handle this responsibly and democratically. We should put it to a vote to ensure the best candidate is chosen for the role!”

The room quieted for a moment, and a few students nodded in agreement.

Aizawa, still half-buried in his sleeping bag, muttered, “Fine. Votes it is.”

Quickly, scraps of paper were passed around, and students scribbled their choices. Y/N watched the process unfold with mild disinterest, lazily writing a name before folding her paper and tossing it onto Momo Yaoyorozu’s desk. Momo, ever efficient, collected and tallied the votes while the rest of the class waited with bated breath.

When Momo finally spoke, her voice carried a tone of respect and mild surprise. “Our class representative will be… Y/N L/N. She received three votes.”

The room went silent.

Y/N blinked, her posture straightening as she processed what she’d just heard. “Wait, what?”

Murmurs spread like wildfire through the class, with students turning to each other, trying to figure out how the votes had landed that way.

From the front row, Izuku Midoriya’s face turned crimson as he nervously scratched the back of his neck, avoiding Y/N’s glare. She squinted at him, already piecing together what had happened.

Oh no. You didn’t.

She groaned audibly, leaning back in her chair. “Look, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not doing it.”

Aizawa, who had been watching the proceedings with mild interest, finally stood up, his eyes peeking out from behind his scarf. “You can’t decline,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “You were voted in.”

“Of course, I can decline,” Y/N argued, crossing her arms. “This is a terrible idea. I didn’t even vote for myself. I voted for—” She stopped mid-sentence, turning her glare back toward Izuku, who seemed to shrink in his seat. “Never mind.”

Aizawa raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “If you think you can argue your way out of this, go ahead. But I’m telling you now, you’re not getting out of it.”

“Seriously?” Y/N exclaimed, incredulous. “Why me? I’m not exactly… leadership material. Besides, I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

“You’re doing it,” Aizawa said simply, his tone final. “The votes were cast. That’s the decision.”

Y/N groaned loudly, slumping further into her seat. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath, “but only because I don’t want to waste more time arguing with you.”

“Great,” Aizawa said without missing a beat. He turned back to the class. “And your deputy representative will be Momo Yaoyorozu.”

Momo nodded gracefully, offering a small smile. “I’ll do my best to support Y/N in this role.”

The class erupted into applause, though a few students exchanged amused glances at Y/N’s visible discomfort.

Denki Kaminari leaned over his desk with a grin. “Congrats, class rep! What’s your first decree gonna be?”

Y/N shot him a withering look. “Decree? I decree that someone else does this next time.”

The class burst into laughter, and even Aizawa allowed the faintest smirk to tug at the corner of his lips. But beneath his usual stoic demeanor, he couldn’t deny that this outcome pleased him more than he cared to admit.

For Aizawa, Y/N’s election as class representative wasn’t just a matter of letting democracy take its course. Her appointment meant more time spent working directly with her—more opportunities to observe her, to figure her out. Y/N intrigued him in a way few students did. She wasn’t the loudest or the most obvious standout in the class, but there was something about her that demanded his attention.

She had potential. He could see it in the way she approached challenges—not with flashy displays or overwhelming force, but with a quiet, calculated determination. She didn’t seek the spotlight, but when it found her, she handled it with a surprising composure. And now, as class rep, she’d have to step into that spotlight whether she liked it or not.

Aizawa would be there to guide her if necessary—not that she’d ask for help. She was independent to a fault, something he respected but also found slightly concerning. This role would test her, force her to rely on others, and he was curious to see how she would handle it.

As the class settled down and returned to their usual chatter, Aizawa’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment longer. She was leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, her expression one of mild annoyance.

“This is going to be a disaster,” she muttered to herself.

Maybe, Aizawa thought, his smirk deepening just slightly. Or maybe it’ll be exactly what you need.

The day carried on, but in the back of Aizawa’s mind, he was already thinking ahead. Y/N would be coming to him with questions, requests, and updates—more interactions, more chances to understand what made her tick. And if that meant spending a little extra time with her? Well, that was something between him and his conscience.

Y/N might not have asked for this role, but Aizawa had a feeling she’d rise to the occasion. And he, whether she realized it or not, would be watching closely every step of the way.

The lunch bell rang, signaling a break in the day’s chaos as students from Class 1-A began filing out of the room. The chatter of excited voices spilled into the hallways, blending with the usual lunchtime hustle. Y/N L/N remained seated, moving at her own pace as she packed her belongings. She wasn’t in the mood to navigate the cafeteria rush, preferring the quiet of an empty classroom for just a moment longer.  

As she adjusted her bag on her desk, a soft voice interrupted her thoughts. “Y/N?”  

She glanced up to see Momo Yaoyorozu standing in the doorway, her warm smile a gentle contrast to the usual buzz of the class. Momo stepped closer, her poise as natural as ever. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch today. It would be nice to get to know each other better, especially now that we’re working together as class representatives.”  

Y/N hesitated for a moment, guilt flickering briefly in her eyes. Momo was so polite, so earnest, and Y/N didn’t particularly enjoy turning people down—especially not someone as genuinely kind as her. But she had a perfectly valid reason.  

“I’d love to,” Y/N began, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “but I actually have class during lunch today.”  

Momo tilted her head, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Class? During lunch? That’s… unusual.”  

Y/N let out a soft chuckle, her smile hinting at something playful. “Yeah, my schedule’s a little unconventional. But…” She paused, reaching into her bag and pulling out a pen. Taking Momo’s hand gently, she began to write on her palm with careful precision.  

Momo blinked in mild confusion as the bold digits took shape.  

“But how about this?” Y/N capped the pen and met her eyes with a small, almost mischievous grin. “Call me later, and we’ll do dinner instead. My treat.”  

Momo glanced down at the neat handwriting on her hand, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the warmth of Y/N’s easy confidence catching her off balance. “Oh! That sounds wonderful,” she said, recovering quickly. “Are you sure you don’t mind treating me?”  

“Not at all,” Y/N replied smoothly, her grin softening into something more genuine. She winked. “Just think of it as me making up for ditching you at lunch.”  

Momo let out a soft laugh, her earlier surprise melting into a relaxed smile. “Alright, then. I’ll call you after school.”  

“Looking forward to it,” Y/N said, hoisting her bag over her shoulder as she made her way to the door. “Don’t forget now.”  

“I won’t,” Momo promised, watching as Y/N disappeared into the hallway.  

Left alone in the now-empty room, Momo glanced down at the numbers scrawled across her palm once more. A small smile lingered on her lips, unbidden but undeniable. Y/N had a way of catching people off guard, and Momo couldn’t help but feel she was looking forward to dinner just as much as Y/N seemed to be.