The door closed with a sharp click that echoed throughout the apartment. Izuku stood motionless, feeling the sound sever the last tie to the outside world.

Yu threw her keys onto the kitchen counter. The metallic clatter was sharp, a burst of violence in the tense silence. She didn’t even take off her jacket.

“Do you want me to make some dinner?” Izuku asked, his voice sounding strange, too formal. It was a stupid question, a peace offering he knew would be rejected.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied without looking at him. Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion other than a cold, sharp disdain.

She started pacing. From the kitchen counter to the large window overlooking the city and back again. The movement was short, repetitive, like a cornered animal searching for a nonexistent escape.

Izuku swallowed. The silence was worse than shouting. He decided he had to try, to use the only tool he truly understood.

“Yu, I know you’re upset,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “From a purely strategic point of view, my proposal maximizes the potential for long-term growth for both of us. If you could just see the cost-benefit analysis…”

“Shut up, Izuku.”

The command was so sharp his words died in his throat. She didn’t stop, didn’t look at him. She just kept pacing, her shoulders rigid and her jaw tight.

He waited a moment, his brain working at full speed, trying to find a new angle. Maybe she didn’t understand the benefits. He had to explain it better.

“But the resources,” he insisted, taking a tentative step toward the living room. “Think about the access we’d have. U.A.’s gyms, their combat simulators, the analytical data they have on every registered Quirk… We could accelerate your training. We could…”

It was as if he had stepped on a landmine.

She stopped dead, halfway to the window, and turned to face him. The mask of cold indifference she had worn since the café had shattered. What lay beneath was a fury so pure, so raw, that it made him step back instinctively.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, her voice a low, poisonous whisper that made the hair on his neck stand up. “Don’t you dare talk to me about resources and damn percentages right now. Not after what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he defended himself, his own frustration starting to bubble up. “Why can’t you see it? This is an incredible opportunity!”

“An opportunity for who, Izuku?” she shot back, taking a step toward him. The distance between them was shrinking dangerously. “For you? Or for ‘us’? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you were offered the job of a lifetime and decided I was just luggage you could check along with you.”

“That’s not true! The plan includes you!”

“Really?” A bitter, joyless laugh escaped her. “Did you ask me? Did you have the decency to mention the idea to me before presenting it as a done deal in front of Nemuri? Or did you just assume I’d be thrilled to become your pet project at U.A.?”

The blow hit its mark. He hadn’t thought to ask her. The solution had occurred to him, and he had executed it. It’s what he always did.

“I was just trying to fix things,” he mumbled.

“Fix my life without asking me?” her voice rose, thick with a painful betrayal. “I pulled you off the street, remember? You were about to get fired for losing three dogs and for… for harassing a hero on her debut. You were a disaster! I gave you a job when no one else would have. I gave you a purpose. I trusted you!”

Her eyes were shining, and it wasn’t just from anger.

“I told you things I haven’t told anyone,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “About how hard it was at U.A., about having to put up with Mirko, about my stupid creams to stay young and my fears of not being good enough. I let you into my life, Izuku. Into my stupid, chaotic life. And what do you do? You go and sell all our secrets, all our plans, to the first person who smiles at you.”

“I didn’t sell anything!” he protested, feeling the injustice of the accusation. “Principal Nezu offered me an opportunity! And Nemuri is my supervisor! It was all professional!”

“There is nothing professional about her!” Yu burst out. “Professional. Nemuri hasn’t been ‘professional’ with me a single day in her life. Her entire existence has been about getting in my way and taking what’s mine! And now… now she has you.”

“Nobody has me!” he insisted, desperate to make her understand. “I’m your assistant! And now I’m also an instructor candidate! I can do both!”

“For how long, Izuku?” she cut him off, and suddenly, all the force vanished from her voice. The anger crumbled, and underneath, exposed and trembling, was the true root of it all: a vulnerability so deep it left him breathless.

The tears she had been holding back with so much fury finally began to fall, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.

“You just… you don’t get it…” she said, looking away, hugging herself as if the room had suddenly gone ice-cold. “Ever since my debut, everything has been a disaster. The press tears me apart, critics say I’m just a pretty face with a one-trick Quirk. Every time I turn on the TV, there’s some expert analyzing why my last rescue was ‘clumsy’ or ‘careless.’ I feel like I’m drowning, Izuku. Every single day.”

She paused, struggling to maintain her composure.

“And then you showed up. With your stupid notebooks and your perverted Quirk and your incredible, irritating habit of analyzing everything. And for the first time… for the first time, something worked. Something in my life went right.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes again. The desperation in them was like a physical blow.

“You’re my only advantage,” she confessed, her voice broken. “You’re my secret weapon. You’re the only thing that’s made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I have a chance in this world. That I’m not destined to be a footnote in the history of heroes.”

The confession hung in the air, fragile and terrible.

“And now… now that U.A. has seen you, that Nezu knows what you can do, that she’s seen your potential… how long do you think it will be before they realize you don’t need me at all? They’ll give you the best students. Kids with incredible Quirks, stronger than mine, more versatile, more interesting. They’ll give you resources I could never dream of offering, a lab, a real salary… And I’ll… I’ll go back to being just Mt. Lady, the clumsy rookie who got lucky for a couple of months.”

A sob escaped her, a choked, painful sound.

“You’re going to leave me behind, Izuku. You’ll find someone better and you’re going to replace me. And I’ll… I’ll be alone again.”

In that instant, the entire logical structure in Izuku’s mind came crashing down.

He finally understood.

It wasn’t about logistics. It wasn’t about schedules or resources. It wasn’t about a career opportunity.

It was about fear.

Her fear of being abandoned. Her terror of being found insufficient once again. It was about him, the only solid piece in the chaotic puzzle of her career, slipping through her fingers. And he, in his stupid, enthusiastic quest for a “perfect solution,” had been the one pushing her off the cliff.

The guilt hit him with brutal force. He felt like an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. How could he have been so blind?

He took a step toward her, closing the distance his anger had created. She flinched back out of instinct, an invisible barrier still between them, but he took another step, slow and deliberate, until he was right in front of her, close enough to see the tremble of her lips.

“You’re right,” he said. His voice was so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

Yu looked at him, confused, tears still streaming down her face. She had expected him to argue, to defend his logic, to tell her she was being irrational. She hadn’t expected a surrender.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he continued, the sincerity in his voice absolute, devoid of any excuses. “I was so excited about the idea, about the possibility… about the feeling that I could finally do something important… that I didn’t think. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I didn’t think that it would look like I was abandoning you. I didn’t think about you. And that was wrong. I’m so sorry, Yu.”

He raised a hand, slowly, with a hesitation she had never seen from him. With a delicacy that contradicted the intensity of his mind, he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. His touch was incredibly gentle, almost reverent.

“I would never leave you behind,” he said, his green eyes locked on hers. “You’re the starting point for all of this. You’re the reason.”

His voice filled with the same feverish passion he had shown in Nezu’s office, but this time, it wasn’t directed at a principal or a famous hero. It was just for her.

“The U.A. idea… the only reason it’s a good idea, the only reason it would work… is because it’s for us. I don’t want a job at U.A. and to leave you here. I want us to be at U.A. I want to have access to their weight rooms so I can design a strength regimen that supports your gigantification without fatigue. I want to use their simulators to test you against threats we can’t replicate in the city. I want to steal their secrets, their teaching methods, their combat analyses… for you.”

He looked at her, his expression reflecting his desperation to make her understand.

“We’re a team, Yu. You and me. It’s always been that way, since that alley. The plan wasn’t to leave you. The plan was to bring you to the top with me.”

The intensity of his words, the absolute, clumsy sincerity of his motivation, completely disarmed her. The anger, the fear, the insecurity that had been consuming her… it all began to dissolve under the warmth of his declaration. She had completely misunderstood his intention. It wasn’t the selfish ambition of a budding genius.

A sob escaped her, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from a relief so pure and overwhelming that her knees buckled. She covered her face with her hands, too embarrassed for him to see her fall apart completely.

She felt his arms wrap around her. It wasn’t a smooth or expert hug, but a clumsy attempt to hold her up, to keep her from falling.

After a long moment, which could have been seconds or minutes, she pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt completely drained, empty, but also… lighter. The pressure in her chest was gone.

“It’s still the craziest, stupidest, most completely insane idea I’ve ever heard in my life,” she said, her voice still shaky, but the venom was gone. In its place was an undertone of exhausted amazement.

He managed a small, relieved smile. “I know.”

“And just so we’re clear, I’m not going to be a teacher at U.A.,” she added, with a firmness that sounded more like herself. “I don’t have the patience.”

“Understood,” he replied without hesitation.

They stood in silence for a moment, a new kind of silence. It wasn’t tense or oppressive. It was a space to breathe, an understanding settling between them. The crisis had passed. Their strange, dysfunctional partnership, which had been on the verge of breaking, now felt more solid than ever.

“But…” she said, and he looked at her, expectant, ready for any condition. “If you’re going to do this crazy thing… if you’re really going to try this suicidal plan at U.A….” She paused, making a decision that would change everything. “You’re not doing it alone.”

Izuku’s smile widened, genuine and bright. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good. Because we’re going to set some ground rules,” she continued, her tone shifting to that of a business partner laying out the terms of a crucial contract. She sat on the couch, motioning to the coffee table for him to do the same. “Rule number one: no more surprises. Ever. If you come up with a life-altering plan, I’m the first person you tell, not the last.”

“Okay,” he nodded, with absolute seriousness.

“Rule number two: Full disclosure. You will tell me everything,” her gaze was intense. “Every meeting with Nezu. Every student you consider for your stupid class. Every conversation you have with Nemuri, especially with her. I don’t want summaries. I want the details. We’re a team, right? Then we’ll act like one.”

“A team,” he confirmed, his voice firm.

“And rule number three,” she said, leaning forward. “If she tries anything, anything at all, to pull you away from my agency or to turn you against me… you tell me immediately. Don’t try to ‘handle it’ yourself. Don’t try to ‘fix it’ with logic. You come and you tell me.”

She leaned back on the couch, and the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to her. She was exhausted, as if she had run an emotional marathon. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t leave me out of this again, Izuku,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

He got up and went to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and offered it to her. A simple, mundane gesture. She took it, her fingers brushing against his.

Izuku sat down again at the coffee table, right across from her, his expression soft and serious. There was no trace of the clueless boy from an hour ago. He had learned his lesson the hard way.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice quiet and steady, a certainty in the chaos of her life.

And for the first time since she had walked out of that café, Yu believed him without a single shred of doubt.

*****
Author’s Note: This is the only emotional drama chapter I’ll be doing. I honestly hate drama and that kind of stuff, but I felt it was necessary this time. From now on, I’m not touching drama; I prefer comedy.