Chapter 26: Operation Girls' Day Out!

5,000 + Words

Hot water ran down Yu Takeyama's shoulders as she went over the afternoon's plan for the umpteenth time. Going out with two other heroines had one very clear drawback, and it was that it was impossible not to get overshadowed, unless you knew exactly what you were doing.

Come on, Yu... think. Nemuri looks like a supermodel even when she's just grabbing a coffee, and Rumi... Rumi doesn't even have to try. That athlete's body makes any old hoodie look like a photoshoot.

No, no. If I show up in something too flashy, Nemuri's gonna beat me on elegance. If I go too casual, Rumi'll make it look like I didn't even try.

She ran her hands through her hair, working in the conditioner with the dedication of a craftswoman.

It's gotta be that sweet spot... casual, but expensive. Like I didn't put much thought into my outfit... even though I've actually spent an hour picking it out.

And no letting them hog all the attention. If somebody pulls out their phone to snap a group photo... they'd better notice me too.

She smiled at nothing, very pleased with her own strategy, and kept humming away in the steam.

On the other side of the apartment, Izuku stood in the middle of the living room with a philosophical problem on his hands.

The steady sound of the shower drifted in from the bathroom, and his brain, fueled by years of anime of questionable reputation and light novels he swore he read "for the plot," started making some deeply questionable connections.

Every anime has a hot springs episode... and in that episode the exact same thing always happens. The main character ends up accidentally seeing the girl, a monumental misunderstanding follows, and for some incomprehensible reason, their relationship improves.

He stared at the closed bathroom door with a contemplative expression.

...Could this be my version of the hot springs episode?

There's no hot spring... but there is hot water.

...Technically the genre doesn't specify the type of facilities... or does it?

He frowned.

Is this a sign from destiny? A narrative trial? A mission handed down by the gods of romantic comedy?

He stayed silent for several seconds.

...It would be an insult to decades of anime tradition to ignore such an obvious opportunity.

He took a step forward, until memory stopped him.

Wait. Yu was crystal clear. She told me to ask permission for everything before doing it. If I spy on her without warning, I'd be disobeying her, and a working relationship is built on trust.

Izuku let out a sigh, heavy with moral responsibility, and stepped up to the door to knock.

"Huh? What's up, Izuku? You need something?" Yu answered from the other side of the door, her tone easygoing as the water kept running.

"Hey there, boss. I've got an official request to file."

He waited a second, like it was an actual business meeting.

"Do I have your permission to peep on you while you shower? I promise to do it with total professionalism."

There was silence inside the bathroom. Then the water shut off and Yu cracked the door open just enough to poke her head out, hair soaked and one eyebrow raised so high it nearly climbed off her forehead.

"Are you an idiot, or do you practice this in your free time?" she said, looking at him like some exotic animal. "When you're gonna spy on someone, you don't knock and give them a heads-up. Since when do peeping toms knock and announce their intentions? That's supposed to be the one part they get right."

"So it was a trap," Izuku muttered, taking in the lesson with a frown. "The system was designed to make me look bad from the start."

"You're the system, genius," she shot back. Before he could argue, she gave him a mocking smile and shut the door again.

******

Once Yu finished getting ready, she put on her underwear in front of the mirror and fought for a few seconds with the clasp of her bra, which refused to do the one job it had in life. The garment pulled, stretched, and made a heroic effort to contain what was inside, with debatable results. She threw a robe over her shoulders without fully closing it and stepped out into the hallway, still checking herself out of the corner of her eye, completely delighted with her figure.

Izuku looked up, and the first thing he noticed was the detail that had been living quietly for days in a forgotten corner of his memory.

...Now that I think about it, that's still my handiwork. A proud smile crept onto his face. What a magnificent piece of work I did. I'm an artist. Michelangelo had marble; I had a pair of breasts... I should start signing my work. "Made by Midoriya."

Yu caught where his gaze was aimed and, instead of covering up, pushed her chest out, savoring every second.

"What?" she said, lifting her chin. "Finally realizing how magnificent I am?"

"I already knew that from the day your butt landed on me back in the alley," Izuku replied without a moment's hesitation. "Today's just a nice reminder, nothing more."

The comment wiped the pose right off her. Yu felt her cheeks flush and hated herself for it, so she changed the subject immediately.

"Anyway, the point is everything's spilling out of my bra," she grumbled, adjusting her robe. "This one was my favorite."

"Oh, right," Izuku said, catching on. "With all the U.A. stuff, it completely slipped my mind. Give me a second and I'll fix it for you."

Yu, on the other hand, turned her head toward the wrecked mattress in the corner, which had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the apartment, and muttered something in its direction.

"Leave it like that."

"Sorry? I didn't catch that."

"I said I like how they turned out, okay?" Yu blurted, whirling around with red cheeks and an accusing finger raised. "Is it a crime for a beautiful woman to wanna feel even more attractive? Huh? It's a professional decision! Think about the covers!"

Izuku's face lit up as he caught her meaning.

"They're really staying?" He shot up a thumbs-up with a conviction worthy of better causes. "Don't worry about a thing, boss. I'll help you find a bra that fits you perfectly myself. Consider it my new personal mission."

Yu stared at him for a long moment, caught between flattered and resigned.

"I wish you'd put that kind of conviction into more important things in life," she muttered, turning away so he wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her smile.

Izuku watched her go, still floating on his cloud of artistic pride.

"W-wait, boss," he said, raising a finger with sudden shyness. "Since they're gonna stay like that... will you let me sign them?"

Yu went still.

She slowly turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.

"L-let you... what?"

"Sign them," he repeated. "An artist signs his work, it's only right. Just my initials, okay? Teeny tiny, in a nice discreet corner. Nobody would ever see them except you and me."

Yu opened her mouth to respond and couldn't find a single word to throw at him. Red climbed from her neck to her forehead in an instant.

"Do you hear yourself?! No, absolutely not!" she exploded, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield. "Nobody's signing anything around here, you perverted broccoli with legs! Not even in pencil!"

"A washable marker, then," Izuku negotiated, not losing hope. "It comes off in the shower and everybody's happy."

"I said no!" Yu pointed him toward the door, her face burning. "Grab your stuff and let's go already, before I fire you and sign your death certificate myself."

Izuku let out a resigned sigh while she snatched up her purse.

A real shame. The world still isn't ready to recognize its great artists.

******

Saturday afternoon, the entrance to the biggest mall in the prefecture was packed. Families, couples, and groups of teenagers streamed through the glass doors nonstop. For almost everyone, it was the perfect way to spend the day. For three pro heroines and their assistant, it was a mission there was no escaping.

The outfits already told the whole story. Nemuri looked flawless in a summery silk dress worth more than Izuku's rent, designer sunglasses, and heels that looked more like weapons than footwear. Yu had executed her plan to the letter, with perfectly cut jeans that showed off her legs, a cropped knit top that bared a strip of waist, and a light jacket draped over her shoulders with studied indifference. Everything looked like she'd grabbed it out of the closet without thinking, and everything was chosen so that any camera in the mall would find her first. Rumi didn't bother hiding her contempt for the place, in athletic wear, running shoes in loud colors, and a face that screamed she'd rather be fighting an army. And bringing up the rear came Izuku, in his usual T-shirt, jeans, and red sneakers, looking like a kid dragged along by his mom and his two aunts.

Rumi was the first to break the silence.

"I hate malls," she growled. "Too many people crammed together and too many lights everywhere, it's torture on the nerves. How long is this gonna last? I'm about ready to start using shoppers as punching bags."

"Relax, Rumi. Think of it as an educational outing," Nemuri said with a serene smile, adjusting her sunglasses. "Besides, I need a new pair of shoes. And you, Yu..." she continued, gesturing toward her elegantly, "you're going to need a dress for the next hero gala. Public image is part of a heroine's job too."

"Huh?! I don't need a dress!" Yu grumbled, crossing her arms. "And what if I just... don't go to that gala?"

Nemuri let out a laugh.

"What an adorable idea... but no, dear. It's an official event; attendance isn't optional."

Then she turned her gaze to Izuku and smiled warmly.

"And you, young man, stay close to us. Today you'll have a very important mission: carrying all our shopping. Consider it excellent endurance training."

Izuku let out a sigh.

"Perfect. Promoted to pack mule," he said flatly. "Every assistant's dream. Well, I guess it beats being the decoy."

"That defeatist attitude doesn't suit you, kid," Rumi said, giving him a slap on the back that nearly sent him to the floor. "At least you're getting paid to be here. I came because they dragged me... and I'm not gonna get a single yen out of any of this."

"Oh, Rumi... you're forgetting one small detail," Nemuri cut in with a mischievous smile. "You're not just going to make no money... you're going to lose some. After all, this whole expedition is to update your wardrobe."

Rumi made an annoyed face and clicked her tongue.

"Tch... don't remind me. Every time I walk into a store, I feel like my wallet's losing a fight."

With that grim pact sealed, the group headed into the loud, glittering heart of the mall.

The assault on the shops began with the ferocity of a full-blown battle. Nemuri dragged them from one luxury boutique to the next, all elegant names and price tags that made your head spin. The first stop was a store so exclusive it didn't even display prices; asking how much something cost in there was a rookie mistake.

Rumi snorted and crossed her arms in front of the marble entrance.

"No way in hell I'm going in there. That place reeks of people who pay a fortune just to brag they can. If I need a map to find the price tag, I already know it's not worth it."

Nemuri gave an amused laugh, not taking her eyes off a tiny handbag she was examining with all the calm in the world.

"Oh, Rumi, don't be such a brute. Nobody's making you mortgage your life. Come, enjoy the show for a bit. Besides..." she lifted the little bag between two fingers with a mischievous smile, "look at this. It's so small it barely fits your keys... but I have to admit it's adorable."

While Nemuri wavered between a cream-colored bag and a bone-colored one, Rumi decided that waiting around with her arms crossed was for the weak and launched into a series of explosive squats right there in the entrance, powerful enough to make the floor tremble a little. The other shoppers watched her in fear, and a group of teenagers passing by blushed, unsure whether to feel intimidated or whether they just had perverted taste.

"Could you please stop?" Yu hissed, trying to act like a normal customer while the floor shook. "People are staring at us."

"Let them stare, it's a great glute workout," Rumi answered between reps. "You should try it, Yu. Your kicks could use more power."

"I'm perfectly happy with the power of my kicks, thank you very much," Yu shot back.

Nemuri came back with three glossy paper bags that she handed to Izuku without so much as a glance.

"Done. Let's go."

At the second store, things went from bad to worse. Izuku, already loaded down with Nemuri's shopping, misjudged a corner and crashed into a display case. The bags swung, he tried to catch his balance, and all he managed to do was knock over a mannequin draped in silk scarves, which in turn toppled a pyramid of perfume bottles. The crash of shattering glass turned every head in the place.

"Oh no!" Izuku exclaimed, crouching down to pick up the pieces as the staff rushed toward him like a herd.

Yu had to step in, pull out her hero license, and apologize with what dignity she had left.

"It's fine, we'll cover every cent of the damage," she told the manager. "He's a little clumsy, he's in training. We're supervising him very closely."

While Yu negotiated, Nemuri just sighed.

"Izuku, dear, your talent for chaos is first-rate. Nobody destroys a store with such accidental elegance."

Rumi, on the other hand, was laughing her head off without an ounce of shame.

"That was awesome, ten points for the kid! Did you see the face on the guy in the suit? Looked like his soul was leaving his body."

"You're not helping at all," Yu snapped, glaring at her.

The third stop was a shoe store, and they only convinced Rumi to go in because she wanted to prove a point.

"You see this?" she said, picking up a stiletto heel and bending it between her fingers until the metal creaked. "Who designed this piece of junk? One jump and you snap your ankle, it's a death trap disguised as fashion."

The salesman, a pale, terrified young guy, couldn't get out a single word.

"Rumi, you're not supposed to jump in those, they're for walking elegantly," Nemuri explained, at the end of her patience.

"If you can't fight in them, they're useless," Rumi declared, dropping the ruined shoe on the counter. "Bring me the next one, let's see if it holds up."

Somewhere between the fourth and fifth store, the girls discovered a new toy, and that toy was Izuku. Nemuri planted him in front of a mirror, threw a light-colored jacket over him, and she and Yu started debating cuts and colors over his poor body like he was a mannequin with opinions.

"That collar makes his shoulders look broader," Yu said, tilting her head with a professional eye.

"And the color brightens up his face, just look at that," Nemuri added, turning him by the elbow.

Izuku, in the middle of all the hands fussing over him, felt pride swell in his chest.

All those harem anime I watched till dawn ended up preparing me for this exact moment. He lifted his chin a little as Nemuri straightened his shirt collar. I knew it. It wasn't filth or a waste of time, I was studying for my future hero life.

He looked at himself in the mirror, secretly delighted with the attention.

If Nezu-san had access to my thoughts right now, I'm sure he'd be proud of me too. He might even give me a promotion.

A while later, over in the dress section, Yu held two hangers up against her body and took bites of a chocolate bun she'd bought along the way, in open rebellion against her diet. Nemuri and Rumi had wandered off to another part of the store, and he'd stayed by her side as her advisor.

"What do you think? The white or the purple?" she asked, turning to him with a smile.

Izuku scratched his head. Decisions like these called for deep judgment, worthy of a professional assistant.

"The purple, I think it suits you more," he said after a serious inspection. "The white looks good on you, but the purple makes people turn their heads to look at you."

She smiled, very pleased.

"I knew you had good taste."

Just then a tall, elegant young man walked over, in designer clothes and a smile far too sure of itself.

"Sorry to intrude," he said, completely ignoring Izuku. "I've been watching you for a while now and I couldn't leave without saying it. You are, by far, the most beautiful woman in this entire place. Can I buy you a coffee? I know a lovely spot on the top floor."

Yu knew this kind of approach by heart. All her life she'd loved being the center of attention, and part of her was already gearing up for the usual little game. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Izuku take a step back to give her space, his gaze lowered a bit and his expression a little uncomfortable, though he didn't say anything.

And for some reason she couldn't quite understand, that sight warmed her chest more than any compliment from some handsome, rich guy ever could. A soft, sincere smile appeared on her face.

"I appreciate it, I really do," she told the young man, shaking her head. "But I already have someone important to spend the day with."

Before the young man could insist, Yu stepped over to Izuku and, completely naturally, hooked herself onto his arm.

The young man blinked, looking the boy up and down.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Not yet," Yu answered, and pulled him away before the poor guy could process the answer.

They walked a few steps through the racks while Izuku thought about what had just happened.

"Ahem, ahem, uhmmm, Yu," he started, with a cough that fooled nobody. "Hey, so, uh, what exactly do you mean by 'not yet' your boyfriend? Like, um... I mean... does that mean I've got a shot? You know, when a man and a woman spend so much time together and one of them starts to..."

Yu didn't let him finish, shoving the piece of chocolate bun she'd been eating into his mouth, shutting him up without making a big deal of it.

"Walk, Nemuri and Rumi are gonna think we got lost," she said, striding ahead with her chin up and a smile she didn't bother hiding.

When they reached the crown jewel of Nemuri's itinerary, a boutique so spacious and minimalist it looked like an art gallery, the mood finally settled. Nemuri and Yu disappeared into the evening gowns section. Rumi, after the monumental scolding she'd caught back at the shoe store, dropped onto a plush velvet ottoman in the middle of the room with a sigh of exasperation, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes, with the clear intention of hibernating until the whole thing was over.

Izuku, surrounded by a growing mountain of bags, held out standing in the middle of the store for a good while, until his muscles started to seriously complain. He looked at the ottoman, looked at Rumi, bored and grumpy, and his brain, governed by social rules that bore no resemblance to the rest of humanity's, arrived at a perfectly logical solution. He walked over quietly.

"Do you mind if...?" he asked in a low voice.

Rumi opened one eye and eyed him warily.

"If what?"

"The floor's clean, but it's uncomfortable, and you've got a good amount of cushioned surface available," he explained, pointing at her lap without a hint of shame. "I was thinking of using part of your living room as a cushion."

Rumi stared at him for a second, like she was trying to decipher a lost language. Then she let out a sigh.

"Do whatever you want. But if you snore, I'm slamming you into the wall."

With the ease of someone who'd long since crossed every imaginable boundary of personal space, Izuku sat down on the carpet, leaned back, and rested his head on her thigh. He let out a satisfied sigh and closed his eyes.

Rumi's reaction was a string of small expressions that went from surprise to lazy acceptance; the weight of that head was, much to her dismay, strangely comfortable.

After a few seconds, her hand ended up resting on the boy's green hair. She started stroking it absentmindedly, with slow, unconscious movements. By the time she realized what she was doing, it was already too late to pretend she didn't like having him there.

At that exact moment, the curtains of two facing fitting rooms opened at once. Yu was wearing an elegant sapphire-blue evening gown that hugged her curves, and Nemuri had come out in a daring scarlet-red dress. Both froze, stunned at the scene, because right in the middle of the flawless boutique, Izuku Midoriya was dozing in the lap of the number five heroine while she stroked his hair with an absentminded air.

Nemuri was the first to react, and a slow, delighted smile spread across her face at finding such an unexpected gem. Yu, on the other hand, felt something very different, a strange pang in her chest that looked suspiciously like jealousy, and Rumi's hand tangled in Izuku's hair stirred up an irritation she couldn't trace to any source. She got mad at herself instantly.

Jealous? Me? Of what, exactly? Because my assistant is using another heroine as a pillow like the shameless guy he is? How ridiculous, Yu, get a grip.

And the feeling, annoying and sour, stuck around anyway.

"Well, well, looks like someone got nice and comfortable," Nemuri said.

Izuku opened one eye, looked at Yu, then at Nemuri, and from his comfortable position delivered his verdict.

"That blue looks good on you, Yu," he said, his voice a little drowsy. "It shows off your figure without shouting about it. Though the slit in the skirt is badly thought out, it's way too low and it'd limit your movement for a high kick. Always think about functionality, boss."

Then he turned his head toward Nemuri.

"Nemuri-san, that red is striking and the neckline is very attractive, I won't deny it. The problem is that fabric looks dangerously flammable. One villain with a fire Quirk and you'd be in trouble. I'd add some kind of protective layer before going out in it."

Yu's jaw dropped. Nemuri burst out laughing.

"Fashion critic and combat strategist, all in one package," Nemuri said, delighted. "And since you're the group's new expert, tell us, what do you think our dear Rumi should wear?"

The challenge hung in the air. Izuku opened both eyes and looked at the rabbit, who up until that moment had completely ignored the fashion show. His expression turned serious.

"Nothing here," he said with total certainty. "All these clothes are decorative, they say nothing about her. Rumi isn't an ornament."

Rumi raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his words. Izuku sat up a little, propping himself on one elbow against her thigh.

"She needs something that speaks of strength and style at the same time. I'm picturing some well-cut tactical pants, in a material that can take a hit but still lets her move freely. Good-quality combat boots, reinforced soles, light so they don't cost her any agility. And most important..." he paused dramatically, "a leather jacket made to fit her, white or black, cut so her shoulders stay free to attack. Reinforced at the elbows and back, but comfortable on the inside. Something where, the second she walks into a room, everyone instantly knows she's the one in charge."

The idea reached Rumi through a side that vanity never could have. He wasn't trying to make her pretty for a photo. He was speaking to the warrior, in the language she respected, and that's why it worked. The rabbit, who'd been about to fall asleep, found herself listening with her full attention.

"I hate trying on clothes," she growled. "But the jacket thing doesn't sound half bad."

"It's not at all," Izuku affirmed. "It'd give an iconic signature to your hero costume and your public image."

"All right, smart guy," Nemuri said, crossing her arms. "And where do you propose we find this haute couture armor?"

Izuku smiled.

"There's an import shop on the third floor that specializes in designer tactical gear. We walked past it a while ago and I caught a glimpse. Trust me."

Of course he'd seen it.

******

An hour and three stores later, the shopping day had come to an end. The group sat on the terrace of a fancy patisserie, surrounded by a mountain of bags. Even Rumi seemed content, showing off her new and very expensive black leather jacket over her athletic wear. The exhaustion of the battle against consumerism was starting to weigh on everyone.

"I can't wrap my head around you actually paying that much for that jacket," Yu commented, looking Rumi up and down with a smile. "My own wallet almost hurt just watching it go through the register."

"The kid was right," Rumi admitted, shrugging as she took a huge bite of a piece of chocolate cake. "It's comfortable and I can move perfectly in it. Plus I look great, no point denying it."

Nemuri calmly brought her cup to her lips before speaking up.

"Though I have to admit it flatters you quite a bit. It's rare to see you buy something you wouldn't pick solely because it can withstand a kick."

"As long as it doesn't break, it works for me."

Nemuri smiled and turned her gaze to Yu.

"And speaking of looking good... that blue dress was a real winner. It gave you a much more refined image. You looked gorgeous."

Yu lowered her eyes to her iced tea, stirring the ice with her straw to hide a smile.

"Really...? Thanks... The truth is... I liked it quite a bit too. Though I'll try not to let it go to my head... too much."

Izuku had spent a while watching the group in silence, his mind turning the day over through his own particular and terribly flawed filter.

Yeah... I get where we are now.

His brain flipped through the pages of hundreds of romantic comedies at an absurd speed.

Now comes the kiss.

The reasoning rolled down its rails with impeccable and disastrous logic. He waited several seconds, but nothing happened.

...Weird. They're skipping the script.

He frowned.

Well, maybe they just forgot.

So he decided to help.

"Hey... so, are you gonna kiss me?"

Time stopped. Yu, who was taking a sip of her tea, choked and started coughing, her face gone a furious red that fought against her blonde hair. Rumi froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, staring at Izuku like he was some new kind of insect. And Nemuri, who up until that moment had been stirring her coffee, dropped her spoon, and the clink of metal against porcelain rang out across the terrace and turned several heads at nearby tables.

Before the three of them could get their voices back, Izuku, noticing the general confusion, proceeded to explain his reasoning.

"It's just... well... in the movie Love in the Age of Heroes it happened exactly like this. When the date goes well, the girl kisses the guy. I thought it was... some kind of... protocol."

The expressions in front of him ranged from Yu's panic to Rumi's total disbelief, by way of an amusement that threatened to leave Nemuri breathless.

"But of course," he continued, proving he'd considered everything, "since there are three of you, I understand it could turn into a competitive or awkward situation. Don't worry, I have a solution. I'm not the jealous type, and to be fair and avoid arguments or resentment that might affect the team dynamic, I'm willing to kiss all three of you."

It was the boldest, stupidest, and most incredibly sincere proposal they'd ever heard in their lives.

Yu was the first to react. Her brain, overloaded and on the verge of collapse, focused on one single thing: minimizing the damage before it escalated. Her eyes flew to the enormous piece of strawberry cake that Rumi still held on her fork, suspended in the air, and then to Izuku's mouth, open as he finished off his flawless, catastrophic reasoning. Necessity was the mother of invention.

In a move that would've made any rescue hero proud, she lunged across the table, closed her hand around Rumi's fork with desperate aim, and in one thrust shoved the entire piece of cake, cream and strawberries and all, straight into Izuku's open mouth.

The fun girls' day out had ended the only way it could have: in chaos with Izuku Midoriya's personal signature all over it.

*******

Nemuri: I'll be closing out the chapter, darlings. I have the better handwriting.

Rumi: You've got the better nothin', gimme that.

Nemuri: Anyway. Thank you all so much for reading, sweethearts. If you enjoyed the chapter, do let us know down below.

Rumi: And if you didn't like it, say so too, but keep it respectful or I'm sending you flying.

Nemuri: …What she means to say is that we read every one of them with love.

*******

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