⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
chapter 4
masterlist
For the past few weeks, (Y/N) had been following Izuku around at Inko’s request. He didn’t mind; it wasn’t like it was an inconvenience. Izuku, unlike most kids (Y/N) had seen, seemed to have a deep drive to train, to push himself harder each day. (Y/N) wasn’t exactly sure what the boy’s goal was, but he was doing what Inko had asked—keeping an eye on him and making sure he didn’t push himself too far.
Izuku was dedicated to his training, even though no one knew about his secret sessions with All Might. The boy didn’t seem to let anything stop him. Most days, (Y/N) just watched from a distance, staying on the sidelines. He didn’t train, didn’t offer advice, and didn’t try to get involved. He simply observed, letting Izuku do his thing, as the task requested of him. It was simple enough.
Today was no different. Izuku was pushing himself hard, sweat dripping down his face, his breath coming in heavy gasps. (Y/N) remained quiet, watching the boy stretch and catch his breath. It wasn’t until Izuku stopped, his brow furrowing, that (Y/N) took notice. The boy looked over his shoulder, a mix of curiosity and suspicion in his eyes.
“Hey,” Izuku called out. “I’ve been meaning to ask… Why do you always follow me around? You don’t train, you just watch me. Why do you keep tagging along like this?”
(Y/N) didn’t show any signs of surprise, as though the question had been expected. He tilted his head slightly, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Inko asked me to keep an eye on you,” (Y/N) answered, his tone calm and steady, though there was no real warmth to it. “She’s worried you don’t have enough people your age around, so I’m here to make sure you’re alright.”
Izuku blinked, his face a little confused. “So… You’re here just because my mom asked you to? Like, as a favor?”
(Y/N) could sense the hurt starting to settle in Izuku’s voice. There was an undertone of disappointment in the boy’s words that wasn’t hard to miss. Still, (Y/N) didn’t react to it. This was just the way things were, wasn’t it?
“Yeah,” (Y/N) replied, not sugar-coating anything. “She’s just worried about your social life, or the lack of one. Thought it’d be good if you had someone around.”
Izuku’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he stared down at the ground, not saying anything for a moment. His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “So… you’re only here because my mom asked you to? You’re just… a babysitter, huh?”
(Y/N) didn’t respond immediately. He could see Izuku’s discomfort, the hurt settling over him like a heavy blanket. But there was something about the way Izuku asked that made (Y/N) pause. The boy seemed so vulnerable in that moment, even though he was still trying to keep his usual determination intact.
“I guess you could say that,” (Y/N) said, his voice neutral. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. He couldn’t exactly explain the real reason he’d agreed to stay around. It was too complicated for words, and besides, what good would it do to burden Izuku with the details?
Izuku’s eyes were glistening with tears now, his expression wobbling between confusion and sadness. “So… you’re not really here because you want to be my friend? You’re just doing this because my mom told you to?”
The raw emotion in Izuku’s voice almost caught (Y/N) off guard. His instincts told him to brush it off, to not get involved. But he couldn’t ignore the way Izuku’s words cut through the calm exterior.
(Y/N) exhaled sharply, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Inko asked me to keep an eye on you because… well, you’re the first kid my age I’ve seen in a while. Most people I work for don’t have kids my age, so when she mentioned you, I thought… why not? It seemed interesting to me, is all.”
Izuku stared at him, blinking through the tears now falling freely. “You mean… you wanted to hang out with me because… you don’t have anyone else your age around?”
(Y/N) nodded, his gaze shifting away from Izuku for a moment, briefly distracted by the changing clouds in the sky. There was a strange, almost peaceful quality to the moment, but he quickly snapped his attention back to Izuku. “Yeah. Maybe. I thought… it might be good to have someone around my age to talk to.”
Izuku’s breath hitched, and he took a shaky step forward, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That… that would be really nice, you know? I don’t really have any friends. I thought… maybe I was just too weird, too different for anyone to want to be friends with me.” His voice cracked slightly, his tears flowing faster.
(Y/N) was silent, watching the boy’s tears fall in a steady stream. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say anything that would make it better. Izuku was so open, so vulnerable in that moment. And yet, (Y/N) couldn’t bring himself to be the one to comfort him.
“Are you sure?” Izuku whispered, his eyes wide, as if searching for any trace of sincerity. “You really want to be my friend?”
(Y/N) didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to lie outright, but he also didn’t want to hurt the boy. So, instead, he said nothing, merely giving him a small nod, as if it would somehow be enough.
Izuku’s expression softened slightly, his tears still coming, but this time it seemed like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked up at (Y/N), his lips quivering as a small smile formed. “I’d really like that… I really would.”
(Y/N) blinked, an odd sensation settling in his chest. The smile on Izuku’s face was so genuine, so filled with hope that for a moment, he found himself unsure of how to react. There was a tug in his heart, something unfamiliar. It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before.
Izuku continued to cry, but now, it wasn’t out of sadness—it was a relief, a sense of something real, finally. And for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) almost felt the need to pat him on the back, to say something reassuring. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t good at that.
Instead, his gaze drifted upward, and he saw a cloud drifting lazily through the sky. It was a peaceful, slow-moving thing, white and fluffy. “Huh,” (Y/N) muttered, almost to himself, “I wonder what kind of cloud that is.”
Izuku, still sniffling, didn’t respond immediately, as he was lost in his own thoughts. (Y/N) looked at him for a moment longer, his eyes softening just a little, but he quickly turned his attention back to the sky. The cloud had already moved past, leaving nothing but a small memory of its presence.
“Maybe… maybe it’s a sign,” Izuku whispered, his voice still shaky but filled with a small flicker of hope.
(Y/N) didn’t reply. Instead, he just looked at the sky, his mind drifting along with the cloud, unsure of what the future held, but for once, his thoughts weren’t entirely clouded with indifference.
⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
chapter 7
masterlist
The moon hung high in the sky, casting its silvery glow through the partially open window of Izuku’s room. The sounds of the city outside were faint, muffled by the gentle breeze that swayed the curtains. Inside, the room was quiet, save for the scratching of a pencil against paper as Izuku jotted down notes in his hero analysis notebook.
(Y/N) was sprawled out on the floor, leaning against the bedframe with a book in hand, though his focus wasn’t entirely on the pages. He wasn’t much of a reader, but he didn’t mind accompanying Izuku in these late-night study sessions. It was a routine by now—Izuku doing his best to prepare for the future, and (Y/N) being… well, (Y/N).
“Hey, (Y/N)?” Izuku’s voice broke the silence, tentative and soft.
(Y/N) didn’t look up from his book, his gaze still fixed on the words he wasn’t really reading. “Hm?”
Izuku hesitated, tapping his pencil against his notebook. “The UA entrance exams… they’re coming up soon.”
(Y/N) gave a vague grunt in response, neither encouraging nor dismissive. It was just enough to show he was listening.
Izuku took a deep breath, the weight of his nerves evident in the way his voice wavered. “I mean… this is it. UA is the first step toward becoming a real hero. I’ve been working so hard for this, and I know Toshinori believes in me, but…” He trailed off, his hand tightening around the pencil.
(Y/N) finally glanced up, his expression unreadable.
Izuku continued, his words spilling out in a rush. “But what if I mess up? What if all this training wasn’t enough? What if—”
“Stop.” (Y/N)’s voice was firm, cutting through Izuku’s rambling. He didn’t say more, but the single word was enough to make Izuku pause and take a shaky breath.
There was a moment of silence, the kind that felt heavier than words. Then Izuku spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “It’s just… it’s scary, you know? Going alone. I mean, I know I’ll be surrounded by other people, but it’s not the same. You’ve always been there, even when I didn’t ask you to be. So…” He hesitated, then looked up, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze. “Would you… maybe want to come with me?”
A few moments of silence goes by, “For old time’s sake?” Izuku adds rather awkwardly.
(Y/N) didn’t respond right away. He leaned his head back against the bedframe, staring at the ceiling as if deep in thought. Izuku fidgeted, his fingers tapping nervously against the notebook.
After what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) finally spoke. “For old time’s sake, huh?” His tone was unreadable, but there was a hint of something softer beneath his usual indifference.
Izuku nodded quickly. “Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to do anything. Just… be there. Like always.”
(Y/N) closed his book with a soft thud and stood up, stretching lazily. “Fine,” he said, his tone casual as if agreeing to something much smaller than accompanying Izuku to one of the most significant moments of his life. “But if you think I’m gonna hold your hand the whole time, you’re out of your mind.”
Izuku let out a nervous laugh, relief washing over him. “I wasn’t going to ask that! Just having you there is enough.”
(Y/N) smirked faintly, grabbing his sword from where it leaned against the wall. “Good. Because I’ve got better things to do than babysit.”
But as (Y/N) turned away, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Izuku didn’t see it, but it was there—a subtle acknowledgment of their bond.
• timeskip •
The gates of UA were even more imposing in person than they were in the pictures. The massive archway loomed over the crowd of prospective students, each one brimming with a mix of excitement and nerves. Izuku and (Y/N) stood just outside the entrance, taking it all in.
Izuku was practically vibrating with nervous energy, clutching his notebook tightly to his chest. “This is it,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “The start of everything…”
(Y/N), on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He had his hands in the pockets of his maid uniform, his expression as unreadable as ever.
“You’re gonna wear yourself out before you even get inside,” (Y/N) said, glancing at Izuku.
Izuku gave a sheepish laugh. “I can’t help it. This is UA! The number one hero school! I just… I don’t want to mess up.”
“You won’t,” (Y/N) said simply.
Before Izuku could respond, the crowd began to move, and the two of them followed the flow of students through the gates. The atmosphere inside was electric, the air buzzing with anticipation.
As they entered the main hall, a booming voice echoed through the space, drawing everyone’s attention. Present Mic stood at the front of the room, his energetic demeanor instantly filling the room with excitement. He explained the rules of the practical exam, detailing how students would earn points by taking down villain bots while avoiding penalties for harming “civilians.”
Izuku listened intently, scribbling notes in his notebook, while (Y/N) leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he scanned the room. His gaze lingered on a few students who stood out to him but other than that he made no move to interact with them.
When the briefing ended, the students were led to the testing grounds. The large, sprawling cityscape was an impressive sight, with towering buildings and narrow alleyways designed to test the students’ abilities.
(Y/N) and Izuku stood side by side at the starting line, surrounded by other examinees. Izuku was practically shaking, his eyes darting around as he tried to come up with a strategy.
“Relax,” (Y/N) said, his voice calm. “You’ve got this. Just remember what we’ve been training for.”
Izuku nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
Then the signal blared, and chaos erupted.
The students scattered, each one sprinting into the city to hunt down villain bots. Izuku hesitated for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the exam, but (Y/N) gave him a light shove.
“Go,” he said. “Don’t waste time.”
Izuku nodded again and took off, determination replacing his nerves. (Y/N) watched him go, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He didn’t move right away, instead taking his time to assess the situation. The other students were focused on taking down as many bots as possible, but (Y/N) noticed something they didn’t—the subtle patterns in how the bots moved, the way they seemed to respond to the students’ actions.
“Amateurs,” he muttered under his breath, drawing his sword.
With a single swift motion, he launched himself into the fray, his blade slicing through a group of villain bots with precision and ease. He moved like a shadow, his movements almost too fast to follow as he cut through the bots one by one.
Despite the chaos around him, (Y/N) remained calm, his focus unwavering. He didn’t go after the bots for points—he was here for one reason only: to watch over Izuku. And as he moved through the city, taking down any bot that got too close to his friend, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride.
Izuku was doing well, well as well as someone who hasn’t run into any boys And though (Y/N) would never admit it out loud, he was glad he had decided to tag along.
After all, some habits were hard to break.
⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
chapter 16
authors note : this was a Christmas special that I wrote over the course of 3 days, I know Christmas passed but I’ve been busy and having fun :)
masterlist
The warm glow of a fireplace flickered through the kitchen as the lively chatter of friends and family filled the air, blending with the heavenly aroma of baking cookies and simmering hot cocoa. Snow gently fell outside, blanketing the world in pristine white, but inside the Tokitō household, the atmosphere was a blend of warmth, cheer, and just a hint of chaos.
“Don’t forget to sift the flour, Muichiro!” (Y/N) instructed, carefully pouring brown sugar into a mixing bowl. His movements were calm and deliberate, in stark contrast to his younger brother, whose attention seemed to drift as he stared out the window, mesmerized by the falling snow.
“I know, I know,” Muichiro replied absentmindedly, though his hands mechanically sifted the flour into the bowl. He was quiet as always, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.
(Y/N) shook his head, amused. “If you zone out and mix this wrong, we’ll have rocks instead of cookies.”
From across the kitchen, Tanjiro Kamado chuckled as he stirred a pot of steaming hot cocoa on the stove. “You two make a good team. Nezuko, don’t forget the marshmallows!”
Nezuko, her pink ribbon tied neatly in her hair, grinned brightly as she placed a jar of marshmallows on the counter. Though she didn’t speak, her expression radiated holiday cheer as she handed the jar to Tanjiro.
“Wow, you’re really on top of things, Nezuko,” complimented Suma, one of Tengen Uzui’s wives. Her cheerful voice cut through the bustling kitchen, where she stood alongside Makio and Hinatsuru. “Unlike Tengen, who somehow managed to burn toast this morning!”
“Hey, hey, don’t ruin my reputation in front of the kids!” Tengen retorted dramatically, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the counter. “Besides, I’m just here to supervise all this ‘flamboyant’ holiday spirit.”
Makio rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sure you are.”
“Can you all focus? These cookies won’t bake themselves,” (Y/N) said with a hint of exasperation, though his tone remained light. He passed Muichiro a whisk before moving to grab the chocolate chips.
Muichiro blinked, his gaze following his older brother. “What’s Christmas even about again?”
(Y/N) paused mid-step, turning to his brother with a rare softness in his gaze. “It’s about spending time with the people you care about and creating memories together. Like this.”
Muichiro tilted his head, pondering his brother’s words, while Tanjiro beamed. “Exactly! It’s about giving, kindness, and sharing joy.”
The door to the kitchen swung open suddenly, letting in a burst of cold air and raucous laughter. In walked Izuku Midoriya, his cheeks flushed from the cold, followed by Eijiro Kirishima and Katsuki Bakugo.
“Man, it smells amazing in here!” Kirishima exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. He immediately gravitated toward the tray of cookies waiting to go into the oven. “What are you guys making?”
“Cookies,” Muichiro said plainly, stirring the batter in the bowl.
“Hot cocoa too,” Tanjiro added with a warm smile, motioning to the pot.
“Hands off the tray, Kirishima,” (Y/N) said without looking up, his tone firm but not unkind. “They’re not done yet.”
“Aw, come on, man! You’re making it impossible not to sneak one.”
“Focus on not breaking the tray with your manly enthusiasm,” (Y/N) retorted dryly, earning a laugh from Tengen.
“Oi, quit fooling around!” Bakugo barked, scowling at the scene. “If we’re eating, we’re eating now. I didn’t come here to stand around!”
“Bakugo!” Izuku scolded, his hands flailing nervously. “Don’t be rude!”
“You guys just got here,” (Y/N) said coolly, leveling Bakugo with a sharp look. “You’ll wait like everyone else.”
The tension between the two boys was palpable until Muichiro suddenly held out a spoon covered in cookie dough to Bakugo. “Want some?”
Caught off guard, Bakugo blinked at the offering before grumbling and snatching the spoon. “Tch. Fine.”
As the laughter and chatter resumed, the kitchen once again filled with the comforting sounds of holiday preparation. Tengen clapped his hands together, his voice booming over the noise. “Alright, let’s wrap this up, people! We’ve got a feast to prepare, and it better be as flamboyant as it gets!”
(Y/N) rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. For now, all was peaceful, and the warmth of the season brought everyone together, even if only for a little while.
The camaraderie in the kitchen spread like wildfire, spilling into the adjoining rooms where the rest of the guests had gathered. Snow continued to fall outside, but inside, the festive energy was unmatched. The gentle clinking of plates, the hum of cheerful conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter created an ambiance that was both comforting and nostalgic.
As (Y/N) slid a tray of freshly prepared cookies into the oven, he turned to find Nezuko holding a small tray of marshmallows toward him. She gestured to the pot of hot cocoa, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Fine, fine,” (Y/N) said, relenting to her silent request. He carefully picked up a handful of marshmallows and dropped them into the mugs Tanjiro was filling. “Happy now?”
Nezuko nodded enthusiastically before scurrying back to Tanjiro’s side.
“Man, she’s adorable,” Kirishima said, leaning against the counter. “This whole scene feels like one of those picture-perfect holiday movies. Makes me want to do this every year.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bakugo muttered, though he was still munching on the cookie dough Muichiro had handed him earlier.
Just then, a crash echoed from the living room, followed by Zenitsu’s panicked voice. “I-I swear I didn’t mean to do it!”
“Zenitsu!” Inosuke’s boisterous yell followed. “You broke the star, you idiot!”
(Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. “What did they do now?”
Tanjiro sighed but smiled apologetically. “I’ll go check.”
Before he could take a step, Tengen raised a hand. “Let me handle it. I’ve got three wives; I’m used to cleaning up chaos.” He winked, and his wives all rolled their eyes in unison.
As Tengen strode out of the kitchen to handle the mess, Muichiro turned to (Y/N), his expression as calm as ever. “Do you think they’ll actually fix it, or should we just expect more noise?”
“More noise,” (Y/N) replied without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Izuku stood awkwardly by the counter, observing the cheerful scene with a soft smile. “It’s amazing how close you all are. It’s like… you’ve always been a family.”
(Y/N) glanced at him, his expression neutral but not unkind. “That’s what happens when you fight to protect one another. Bonds are forged through fire.”
Izuku nodded thoughtfully, taking those words to heart.
“Alright, enough standing around!” Tengen’s voice boomed as he returned, dragging Zenitsu and Inosuke behind him. “The star’s fixed, and the tree looks flamboyant! Now let’s eat!”
Cheers erupted as the cookies were finally placed on a large platter, the hot cocoa poured into mugs, and everyone gathered around the table. The room was filled with a harmonious mix of voices from different walks of life—Hashira, students, and heroes alike.
As they all sat together, Tanjiro raised his mug. “To family, friends, and the bonds we share. Merry Christmas, everyone!”
A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” followed, and for that moment, all worries and struggles were forgotten.
From the corner of the room, (Y/N) quietly sipped his cocoa, a rare smile tugging at his lips. Muichiro sat beside him, leaning against his older brother, his expression peaceful.
For once, everything felt right… or maybe not.
The peace didn’t last long.
It started innocently enough—a stray spark from the fireplace, unnoticed amidst the laughter and clinking mugs. But then Inosuke, in his boundless enthusiasm, decided to show off his “decorating skills” by trying to climb the Christmas tree to hang an extra ornament at the very top.
“Get down from there, you idiot!” Zenitsu screeched, flailing his arms.
“You’re just jealous of my superior skills!” Inosuke roared back, one foot kicking wildly against the garland.
Before anyone could intervene, his reckless movement knocked over a lit candle from the nearby mantle. Time seemed to slow as the flame met the tree, the dry pine needles catching in an instant.
“FIRE!” Kaminari shouted, pointing dramatically.
The room descended into chaos. Nezuko jumped up, Tanjiro desperately fanned the flames with his hands, and Tengen shouted, “Grab the extinguisher!” But it was too late—the tree was engulfed, and the smoke alarm blared overhead.
“Everyone out!” Aizawa’s voice cut through the panic. His scarf whipped out, pulling Kaminari and Zenitsu by the backs of their shirts and dragging them toward the door.
Outside in the snow, everyone shivered as they watched the tree collapse into a smoldering heap.
“Well,” Tengen said, clapping his hands together. “There goes Christmas.”
“Not on my watch!” Kirishima said, his voice brimming with determination. “We can save this! We just need a new tree, more decorations, and maybe some extra food.”
“I’ll drive,” Tengen declared confidently, pulling out his keys.
“No, you’ll just make it worse,” Aizawa deadpanned. “We’ll split into teams. Divide and conquer.”
“Great idea!” Tanjiro agreed. “We can each take a different car and get what we need.”
The group quickly organized into teams:
• Team 1 (Tree Squad): Tanjiro, Inosuke, Bakugo, and Tengen. Their mission? Find the biggest and most flamboyant tree available.
• Team 2 (Decor Squad): Momo, Nezuko, Kirishima, and Present Mic. They were in charge of ornaments, garlands, and lights.
• Team 3 (Food Squad): (Y/N), Muichiro, Aizawa, and Zenitsu. Their task was to restock on snacks, hot cocoa, and anything else that had been ruined in the chaos.
The teams piled into separate cars, the adults taking the driver’s seats.
“Let’s make this the manliest Christmas ever!” Kirishima shouted, fist-pumping from the passenger seat of Present Mic’s van.
“I’LL FIND THE BEST TREE!” Inosuke bellowed from the back of Tengen’s flashy SUV.
“I don’t trust any of you,” Aizawa muttered, rubbing his temple as he turned the key in the ignition. (Y/N) sat silently beside him, arms crossed, while Muichiro leaned against the window, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos.
As the cars sped off in different directions, the snow fell heavier, and the countdown to saving Christmas officially began.
⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
chapter 10
masterlist
The first day at UA was finally here, and the buzz of excitement in the air was nearly overwhelming. Students crowded the gates, some whispering in awe, others loudly boasting about their performance in the entrance exams. Izuku Midoriya was among them, his nerves bubbling over as he clutched his bag tightly. For him, this day had been a lifelong dream, but now that he was here, the sheer magnitude of it was almost too much to handle.
Standing beside him, (Y/N) was the polar opposite. His posture was relaxed, his gaze detached as if the massive gates and prestigious reputation of UA were just another backdrop in his otherwise mundane life.
“You’re doing that nervous thing with your hands again,” (Y/N) muttered, not even looking at Izuku.
Izuku immediately flinched, shoving his fidgeting hands into his pockets. “I can’t help it! I mean, this is UA! The UA! What if I mess up on the first day? What if someone—”
“Chill,” (Y/N) interrupted flatly. “No one cares as much as you think they do. You passed, didn’t you? You’re here, aren’t you? Just don’t trip over your own feet, and you’ll be fine.”
Izuku blinked at him, his mouth opening to argue but closing just as quickly. He knew (Y/N) wasn’t wrong, but the bluntness was still jarring.
The classroom for Class 1-A was huge, with desks neatly arranged and a commanding podium at the front. The moment Izuku stepped inside, his nerves spiked. Students were scattered around the room, chatting, sizing each other up, or silently observing.
“Move,” (Y/N) said, brushing past him to take a seat near the back by the window. He sank into his chair as if it had been waiting specifically for him, resting his chin on his hand with a far-off look in his eyes.
Izuku scrambled to find a seat nearby, eventually settling in the one directly in front of (Y/N). His hands gripped his bag tightly as he tried not to make eye contact with anyone.
The noise in the room grew louder as more students arrived, some conversations growing heated. A tall boy with glasses and a rigid posture was confronting someone at the front of the room—a boy with ash-blonde hair and a permanent scowl.
“You need to check your attitude!” the boy with glasses barked, his hand slicing the air dramatically.
“Shut the hell up, extra,” Bakugo snarled, his crimson eyes blazing with irritation. He leaned back in his chair, smirking arrogantly. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to waste my time on losers like you. Go sit down before you embarrass yourself.”
The glasses-wearing boy turned red but seemed to decide it wasn’t worth pushing further. He stormed off to his seat, muttering under his breath.
Bakugo’s sharp gaze swept the room, landing on Izuku. His smirk widened into something far more menacing. “Deku,” he growled, practically spitting the nickname.
Izuku tensed in his seat, clutching his bag as if it could shield him.
Bakugo’s eyes shifted to (Y/N), who hadn’t even glanced his way. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”
(Y/N) finally turned his head, his expression unreadable. “Someone who doesn’t have time for whatever daddy issues,”
The ash haired boy growls— something (Y/N) notes down, “Mommy issues it is, and childhood drama you’re trying to stir up,” he said, his voice calm but laced with a subtle edge.
Bakugo bristled, his smirk faltering for a split second. “What’d you just say, you—”
Before he could finish, the door slid open, and a disheveled man in a yellow sleeping bag shuffled into the room.
The room fell silent as the man unzipped himself and stood, his tired eyes sweeping over the class.
“It took you eight seconds to quiet down,” he said flatly. “That won’t cut it.”
Izuku whispered, “Is that… Eraser Head?”
(Y/N) tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on the man with mild curiosity.
“I’m Shota Aizawa, your homeroom teacher,” the man continued. “Put these on and meet me outside.” He dropped a pile of gym uniforms onto the podium and walked out without another word.
The quirk assessment test was going to be grueling to say the least, or at least that’s what some of the students were thinking. Aizawa didn’t waste time with pleasantries or introductions, instead throwing the students into trial after trial to gauge their abilities.
The 50-meter dash was up first, and the students lined up to showcase their speed. Bakugo, as usual, was itching to show off. When his turn came, he launched himself forward with a burst of explosions from his palms, rocketing down the track and finishing with an impressive time.
“4.13 seconds. Not bad,” Aizawa said lazily, jotting it down.
Bakugo smirked, throwing a cocky glance at the others. “Let’s see any of you extras beat that.”
(Y/N) approached the starting line, his expression as blank as always. He didn’t react to Bakugo’s words or the murmurs from the class, his body language relaxed and unhurried, almost as though he were bored.
“Let’s see what the so-called maid boy’s got,” Bakugo muttered, smirking again.
Did Bakugo remember who (Y/N) was in class? Yes— in what world would even bother to forget that maid boy who he challenged back in middle school just to get his ass handed back to him on a silver platter. It was embarrassing but it was also a lesson bakugo would never forget— so he trained.
He trained and trained, and strained his muscles. There were days he’ll pass out and his father would carry him inside and lay a cold rag on his forehead to cool him off, days when he’ll have to rest his hands in buckets of ice water to cool off as his mother yelled and berated him for being a brat and overworking himself, he’ll yell back but the argument would never go on for long.
It was simply his mother’s way of showing her love for him— though aggressive, as for him he simply wouldn’t have the energy to spare.
His only thoughts were to beat that ‘maid ass extra’ and be Number 1.
But— don’t get it twisted just because (Y/N) more or less was in the boys mind 24/7; it’s giving fanboy. He wouldn’t give that extra the satisfaction of knowing he remembered him.
When the signal went off, (Y/N) moved—and the world seemed to blur around him.
He wasn’t just fast—he was blinding. His feet didn’t pound the ground so much as skim across it, as if gravity barely applied to him. Each step was a fluid, seamless motion, too swift for the eye to fully follow. To the students, it was like he vanished, leaving only faint traces of movement in his wake. The rush of air trailing behind him felt almost deafening, as though the sound itself was trying to catch up and failing miserably.
The timer beeped sharply at the finish line. Aizawa stared at the time displayed for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in intrigue. “0.43 seconds.”
There was dead silence. Even Bakugo, who had been smug only moments before, froze mid-sneer. The other students’ mouths hung open, their disbelief written across their faces.
“What?” Bakugo barked, his hands sparking with irritation. “No way in hell that’s right!”
(Y/N) walked back toward the group, not sparing anyone so much as a glance. His breathing was steady, his expression as calm and detached as ever. To him, it was as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
As he passed Bakugo, he lazily adjusted his gloves and muttered under his breath, “Huh. Felt slow.”
The explosive blonde’s face turned a furious shade of red. “What did you say, you damn extra?!”
But (Y/N) was already walking away, his eyes fixed on the horizon, clearly uninterested in engaging.
“Interesting,” Aizawa murmured, jotting something down. He didn’t say anything else, but his gaze lingered on (Y/N) for a moment longer than usual, as though piecing together a puzzle no one else could see.
⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
chapter 14
masterlist
The machine calculating (Y/N)’s throw began to whir and beep, its internal mechanisms straining as if it couldn’t process what had just happened. Then, with a loud sputter, it froze, the screen flashing a single word in bold, blinking letters: ERROR.
The class erupted.
“Holy crap, he broke the machine!” Kaminari shouted, eyes wide with awe. “That’s insane! What kind of Quirk does he even have?”
“That was so manly!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands on his hips as he beamed at (Y/N). “You gotta tell me your secret, dude! That’s next-level strength right there!”
“Manly?!” Bakugo snapped, his voice cutting through the excitement like a blade. He stomped toward (Y/N), fury blazing in his eyes. “That wasn’t manly! That was freakish! What the hell was that, huh?! You think you’re hot shit just ‘cause you broke a stupid machine?”
(Y/N), as calm as ever, ignored him completely. The faint traces of mist that lingered around his shoulders continued to dissipate as he walked back to his place beside Izuku, the stick still loosely balanced in his hand. As Bakugo’s tirade grew louder, (Y/N) cast him a sidelong glance and muttered, “Focus on yourself, brat.”
The low, steady tone carried enough weight to cut through Bakugo’s yelling, silencing him momentarily. His face twisted in anger, but he didn’t move, his hands trembling with frustration as (Y/N) continued walking without looking back.
“Dude…” Kaminari muttered again, still staring at the broken machine. “Is he even human?”
Momo stood silently, her gaze fixed on (Y/N). Unlike the others, her awe was tempered with thought, her mind racing as she replayed the moment of his throw. “That technique,” she whispered to herself, her brows furrowing in confusion. “That wasn’t a quirk… Was it?”
Her words went unheard amid the excited chatter of their classmates, but her thoughts continued to spiral. There was something eerily familiar about his movements—the precision, the fluidity, the power. She wasn’t certain, but her instincts told her that this wasn’t a result of some flashy, powerful quirk. This was something else entirely.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she pondered the possibilities. Could he be… a descendant of the Mist Hashira? The thought felt absurd, yet it lingered, refusing to leave her mind. If that were the case, it explained the refined, almost ancient technique, but it also raised even more questions.
As the class buzzed with speculation, Momo stayed rooted in place, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze followed (Y/N), her admiration and confusion growing in equal measure. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was far more to him than what he let on.
Her eyes lingered on his retreating figure as a thought surfaced in her mind, clear and resolute :
Tokitō (Y/N)… you’re a mystery I can’t wait to solve.
• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •
The teachers’ lounge was abuzz with discussion, the usual hum of casual banter replaced by something far more focused. Gathered around a large screen displaying the recorded footage from Aizawa’s training session, UA’s teaching staff sat in rapt attention, each of them visibly intrigued by what they had just witnessed.
On the screen, Tokitō (Y/N) stood poised, mist curling around his frame, the ball flying into the horizon with an otherworldly precision and power. The footage paused on that moment, the faint remnants of mist still visible, clinging to him like a cloak.
Principal Nezu, perched comfortably on a chair far too large for his small frame, clasped his paws together. His sharp, intelligent eyes swept over the room. “Thoughts?” he asked, his calm yet curious voice breaking the silence. “I think we can all agree that this was… unconventional.”
“It’s not a Quirk,” Midnight said confidently, leaning back in her chair with arms crossed. “At least not in any way I’ve seen before. The way he moved—it was like something out of a martial arts film.”
“Yeah, but did you see that ball fly?” Present Mic added, leaning forward with an exaggerated motion. “That wasn’t just skill; that was raw power. So what gives? Is he Quirkless, or are we missing something here?” He turned to Aizawa with a grin. “Well, what’s your take on the kid, Shota?”
Aizawa shot his best friend a tired look, his tone flat but edged with irritation. “Hizashi, use my last name at work.”
Present Mic raised his hands defensively, grinning sheepishly. “Right, right. My bad.”
Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “From what I observed today, the kid doesn’t use a Quirk. His physical ability is well beyond that of a normal person, but I didn’t detect any trace of quirk, I admit I did use my quirk on him to test my own theory. He completed all the tests without showing any signs of external augmentation—no visible abilities, no mutations. I’m just as surprised as you all but the kids actually quirkless.”
”The way he moved though, it wasn’t that of a few months of training— the way he reacted to the tests, how he handled and overcame them with better scores than even All Might in his younger days here at UA, it was refined to a degree I’ve never seen in someone his age.”
Ectoplasm tilted his head thoughtfully. “If he doesn’t have a Quirk, how is he capable of something like that?”
“That’s the mystery,” Aizawa said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s deliberate, precise. He doesn’t waste movements or energy, and he doesn’t react to provocation like most students would. I wouldn’t say he’s unapproachable, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from everyone, even when they’re trying to connect with him. There’s a discipline about him I don’t see often.”
“Discipline like that comes from somewhere,” Snipe chimed in, his voice steady. “I’d bet money he’s had some kind of training long before he stepped foot in UA.”
“Not just any training,” Power Loader added, adjusting his helmet. “Whatever he’s learned, it’s leagues ahead of what most pros know. That technique with the mist—it wasn’t just a fluke. That was mastery.”
“Do you think it’s possible he’s holding back?” Cementoss asked, his deep voice rumbling through the room. “If he’s capable of that much, who’s to say we’ve seen his full potential?”
“I don’t think he’s holding back in the way you’re imagining,” Aizawa replied, crossing his arms. “He’s careful, methodical. If anything, I’d say he’s hiding something, but not out of malice. More like… necessity. He knows exactly what he’s capable of, and he chooses to act only when necessary.”
Nezu steepled his paws, his expression unreadable as he contemplated the reports and the footage. “It’s rare for someone Quirkless to achieve such a level of mastery, especially at such a young age. But it’s not impossible. Humanity’s potential often surprises me.”
“So, what do we do?” Sekijiro Kan asked, his arms crossed over his massive chest. “The kid’s clearly not ordinary, Quirk or no Quirk.”
“We keep an eye on him,” Nezu said decisively, his tone calm but firm. “There’s more to Tokitō (Y/N) than meets the eye. If he truly is Quirkless, then he’s a remarkable anomaly. If he’s not… well, we need to know. Either way, his presence here at UA warrants close observation.”
Midnight smirked, leaning forward. “And if he’s hiding something?”
“Then we’ll find out in due time,” Nezu replied with a faint smile. “But for now, let’s allow him the chance to show us who he is on his own terms. Patience, everyone. Patience.”
As the teachers nodded in agreement, Present Mic leaned closer to Aizawa, lowering his voice. “Man, Shota, you’ve got a real puzzle on your hands this year.”
Aizawa gave a faint, almost imperceptible shrug. “I’ve dealt with worse. Let’s just hope he doesn’t blow up half the school before the semester ends. Lord knows I don’t need any more problem children under my eye.”
The room chuckled lightly, but the intrigue surrounding (Y/N) remained palpable. As the discussion wrapped up, Nezu’s sharp gaze lingered on the frozen image of (Y/N) on the screen, his expression thoughtful.
“Tokitō (Y/N),” he murmured softly to himself. “A mystery worth unraveling.”
✧・゚: ✧・゚: WELCOME TO MY HOMEPAGE :・゚✧:・゚✧
ᵔᴗᵔ hello, here is a guide for you or rather in this case a navigation on what's to come ᝰ.ᐟ
✶ about :
african-american / 22 fem writer / multi-fandom & original ideas / requests are open
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multi-fandom & original works | AUs galore l open to requests and collaborations
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epic crossovers, haunting themes, and characters who thrive in the chaos
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Follow for creativity, chaos, and the occasional overly dramatic monologue.
⬐ All Jack wanted was a quite place to rest his head after a encounter with a monster on his mission that left him wary and muscles aching for relief, what he receives is what he’s wanted and possibly something more.
authors note : this was a story requested by @princeasimdiya12
warning : this story is an 18+ one shot story between men. If you find men on men action to be something not of your taste I ask that you click off and not read please
The valley reeked of smoke and death. A soft wind carried the ash of what once had been a thriving village, brushing against Samurai Jack’s face as he stood at the edge of a scorched cliff. His katana hung loosely in his grip, its polished blade catching the faint light of the setting sun. Below him, blackened structures jutted out like broken teeth, the remains of homes reduced to cinders.
This wasn’t the first time Jack had arrived too late. And as much as he tried to steel himself, it never got any easier.
A low rumble shook the ground beneath him, drawing his attention to the heart of the destruction. Standing there amidst the rubble was a hulking figure, half-machine, half-sorcery. Its body gleamed like molten iron, patched with cracks that glowed green, pulsating like a diseased heartbeat. Its head swiveled unnaturally, glowing eyes locking onto him with a mechanical whirr.
“Another pest crawling to meet its end,” the construct snarled, its voice layered with malice and static.
Jack narrowed his eyes. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t reply. There was no need.
The construct—a creation of Aku, no doubt—rose to its full height. It had to be at least twenty feet tall, its limbs reinforced with jagged plating. With each step it took, the earth groaned beneath its weight. This thing had destroyed the village and its people, not out of necessity, but out of cruelty. Jack could feel it. He could always sense the twisted fingerprints of Aku’s darkness.
“You’ve come to die like the rest,” it said, raising an arm that ended in a massive blade. “I’ll make it quick.”
Jack moved.
The construct swung its blade down with the force of a falling tree, splitting the earth where Jack had stood a moment before. The shockwave sent chunks of rock flying in every direction, but Jack was already gone, darting to the side and closing the distance. His katana flashed in the dim light, striking the creature’s leg with precision. Sparks flew as the blade bit into metal, carving a shallow groove before Jack leapt back to avoid the counterattack.
The golem roared, slashing horizontally. Jack ducked low, the blade slicing just above his head. He countered with a series of quick strikes, his movements sharp and efficient, each one aimed at vulnerable joints and exposed mechanisms. But the creature was fast—faster than something its size had any right to be.
A heavy fist came crashing down, forcing Jack to roll out of the way. He came to his feet in one fluid motion, his breathing steady despite the intensity of the battle. He studied his opponent, looking for an opening.
“You’re nimble, samurai,” the golem sneered, its glowing core flickering as it spoke. “But your blade is useless against me. You cannot destroy what is unbreakable.”
Jack wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Everything breaks,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm.
The construct roared again, its core flaring brighter as it unleashed a barrage of energy bolts. They screamed through the air, leaving trails of smoke in their wake. Jack dodged, his sandals barely touching the ground as he moved. One bolt grazed his shoulder, singing the fabric of his gi, but he pressed on, ignoring the searing pain.
He closed the distance once more, darting under the construct’s arm and leaping onto its back. His katana struck true, severing a bundle of cables that ran along its spine. The creature staggered, sparks erupting from the wound.
“You little—” It spun wildly, trying to shake him off.
Jack jumped clear, landing in a crouch a few feet away. He could see the damage now—the flickering core, the uneven movements. It was weakening. But he knew better than to get careless.
The creature raised its remaining arm, dark energy coalescing into a massive, crackling orb. Jack stood his ground, waiting. The energy surged forward, a blinding wave of destruction aimed directly at him. At the last second, he sidestepped, the attack missing him by inches and carving a deep trench into the earth.
Before the construct could recover, Jack charged. He sprinted up a piece of fallen debris, using it as a ramp to propel himself high into the air. With a cry that echoed through the ruined valley, he brought his katana down in a two-handed strike.
The blade pierced the construct’s core.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Then the light within the creature flared violently before fading altogether. Its body shuddered, joints seizing, before it collapsed to the ground in a heap of twisted metal.
Jack landed softly beside it, his katana already sheathed. He stood there for a moment, the only sound his steady breathing and the distant crackle of dying flames. The battle was over, but the weight of the loss lingered in the air.
He turned toward the horizon, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. There was no one left to save here. But there were others—other villages, other lives that Aku sought to destroy.
Jack adjusted the strap of his sword and began walking.
The road stretched long and empty ahead of Jack, framed by distant hills and thick clusters of trees. Each step was measured, his sandals brushing against loose dirt, the faint sound of birdsong filling the quiet spaces in his mind. The fight earlier had left his muscles tense and his spirit heavier than usual, though he kept his composure as always.
The sun hung high in the sky when he reached the outskirts of a small town nestled in the valley below. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the hum of daily life buzzed faintly in the air—a blacksmith pounding steel, children laughing somewhere nearby, and the muffled conversations of townsfolk trading goods. Jack paused on a ridge, taking it all in.
It wasn’t much, this town, but it was alive. That alone was enough to soothe him.
As he stepped onto the main road, his presence drew the occasional curious glance. His attire—worn from travel and battle—marked him as an outsider, his katana slung at his side a clear testament to his purpose. Yet most people went about their business, leaving him to his own path.
The scent of cooking fish drifted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of fresh-cut hay. Jack followed the aroma to a modest restaurant with wide-open windows and a simple wooden sign swaying in the breeze. His stomach tightened, reminding him how long it had been since his last meal.
Inside, the restaurant was quiet but welcoming. Lanterns hung from the low wooden beams, casting a warm glow over the small crowd of patrons. Jack found a seat in the corner and rested his katana against the wall beside him. His movements were deliberate and respectful, as if the weight of his journey carried into every gesture.
When the server approached, Jack gave a small bow of thanks and ordered a plate of grilled fish, rice, and tea. He didn’t ask for anything more; simplicity had long been his way.
As he waited, the soft murmur of nearby conversations floated through the room. A table of women sat not far from him, their voices carrying just enough for Jack to catch snippets of their conversation. He wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but something about their words drew his attention.
“The Lucid Dreams Inn,” one of them said, her tone hushed but eager. “Have you been yet? It’s just outside of town, through the woods.”
“Not yet,” another replied, a wistful note in her voice. “But my sister went last week. She said it was like paradise—baths so warm you feel weightless and staff that treat you like royalty. It’s a dream.”
Jack kept his gaze on the table in front of him, but his focus shifted to their words. He didn’t often indulge in luxuries. His path was one of duty, not leisure. Yet the mention of a spa—a place of peace, even for a short while—stirred something in him.
“You should see the themed rooms,” another chimed in, laughing softly. “They make you feel like you’re in another world. And the massages…” She trailed off, sighing dramatically, which drew laughter from the group.
Jack’s food arrived, and he ate slowly, savoring each bite. The fish was perfectly cooked, the rice soft and steaming. He felt his body relax just slightly, as if the meal itself was a small act of kindness.
When he finished, he stood and approached the women’s table, bowing his head respectfully. “Forgive my intrusion,” he said, his voice calm and polite. “But I couldn’t help overhearing. Could you tell me where this Lucid Dreams Inn is located?”
The women exchanged surprised looks before one of them smiled warmly. “It’s not far,” she said. “Just follow the eastern road out of town until you reach the edge of the woods. You’ll see a path lined with lanterns—it’ll take you straight there.”
Jack gave a small bow of thanks. “I appreciate your guidance.”
With his meal paid for, he left the restaurant and followed the directions he’d been given. The eastern road was quieter than the bustling town, flanked by trees that swayed gently in the breeze. As he walked, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lighten slightly. The idea of a spa—a chance to rest, even briefly—felt indulgent, but perhaps it was something he needed.
It wasn’t long before he reached the woods. Just as the women had said, lanterns lined a narrow path, their warm glow cutting through the shade. Jack followed them, the soft crunch of dirt under his sandals blending with the rustle of leaves overhead.
The woods eventually opened to reveal the inn, and Jack stopped in his tracks. It was breathtaking—an elegant structure that seemed to glow in the fading sunlight, its carved arches and intricate patterns whispering of distant lands. Soft golden light spilled from its windows, and the gentle hum of a nearby stream added to its tranquil aura. It wasn’t just a building; it was a promise of peace, a refuge from the chaos that had defined his journey. For a moment, Jack allowed himself to simply stand there, taking in the stillness. Then, adjusting his katana at his side, he stepped forward. Perhaps, for just one night, he could leave the weight of his remaining mission behind.
The soft sound of the flowing stream faded as Jack crossed the threshold of the inn. The air inside was warm and fragrant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and sandalwood. A tranquil ambiance enveloped the space, with low lantern light casting a golden glow across the polished wood floors and richly woven rugs.
Jack was immediately greeted by the sight of a staff gathered near the front, a diverse group of young men and women. They moved with an effortless grace, each dressed in elegant yet modest attire that complimented their features. Their bright smiles and welcoming demeanor immediately put Jack at ease.
However, it was the group of men by the front desk that caught his attention. A handful of them lounged casually against the counter, clearly enjoying a break. Their voices carried across the room, drawing Jack’s gaze in spite of himself.
“Too rough,” one of them groaned dramatically, rolling his shoulders. “I’ve still got bruises!”
“That’s nothing,” another cut in, laughing. “Mine was too soft! If you’re gonna pay for time like that, at least make it memorable.”
The others burst into laughter, their easy camaraderie filling the air. Jack found himself averting his eyes, but not before sneaking a quick glance their way. They were striking, each in their own way—tall and lean, or broad-shouldered and strong, their features as varied as the stars in the sky. A faint blush warmed Jack’s face as he cleared his throat, silently admonishing himself for his wandering thoughts.
Still, curiosity gnawed at him. The conversation wasn’t exactly what he’d expected in a place like this, and it left him wondering about the services the inn provided. Steeling himself, Jack approached the main counter where one of the women was smiling warmly at him. But before he could speak, the group of men noticed him. Their conversation stopped mid-laugh as they turned to look at him—really look at him.
The shift was almost palpable. Their gazes swept over him with a mixture of intrigue and appreciation, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the quiet intensity that seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was clear, without a word exchanged, that they all had the same thought: they wanted him.
“Excuse me,” Jack said, his voice soft yet deliberate. “I was curious… What kind of services does this inn provide?”
The question hung in the air for a moment, and the group exchanged knowing glances, small smirks curling at the corners of their lips. One of them, a tall man with chestnut hair and a confident air, stepped forward.
“We offer all kinds of services,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “Massages, baths, private rooms for relaxation… Whatever you need to ease your mind and body.”
Another man chimed in, his tone playful. “And we do our best to make sure every client leaves completely… satisfied.”
Jack’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, his usual composure faltering. “I see,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing faintly.
The group chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect their words had on him. “Don’t worry,” the first man said, his smile widening. “You’re in good hands here. Why don’t you let us take care of you for a while?”
Jack hesitated, torn between his curiosity and the unfamiliar heat rising in his chest. This place was unlike any he had ever encountered, and for a moment, he wondered if stepping through its doors had been a mistake. But the thought was fleeting. Perhaps, just this once, he could indulge in something beyond his usual discipline and duty.
Jack followed the group of men as they led him down a dimly lit corridor. The soft glow of lanterns and the delicate hum of distant music created an intimate and relaxing atmosphere. The men chatted casually among themselves, their confidence and playful energy drawing Jack in despite his initial apprehension.
They came to a stop in front of an ornate door. One of the attendants, a tall man with striking amber eyes, gestured toward it with a flourish. “This is one of our special service rooms,” he said, his voice smooth as silk.
Jack stepped inside and took in the lavish setting. One side of the room held a heart-shaped bed draped in luxurious crimson sheets, surrounded by soft golden lighting. On the other side was a bathing area separated by a carved wooden screen. The bath itself was a work of art—an oversized tub made of polished stone, filled with steaming water that shimmered with faintly glowing herbs and oils.
“Relax, Samurai,” one of the men said with a teasing smile, placing a hand lightly on Jack’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything.”
Jack hesitated for a moment, unused to such attention. “Perhaps you gentlemen can step out for a moment while I undress.”
One of the men tilt his head towards jack, “But whyyy,” whines the man.
“We’re all friends here, no need to be shy.”
Jack hesitated for a moment before nodding his head, as he shrugged off his outer robe and stepped toward the bath, he felt a rare sense of ease begin to settle over him. The warm water enveloped him as he sank into the tub, sighing deeply as the tension in his muscles started to melt away.
The harem boys moved with practiced grace, gathering around the bath with sponges and towels in hand. They began to gently wash him, their hands skimming over his shoulders and arms, tracing the lines of his taut muscles. Their touch was firm yet soothing, accompanied by lighthearted laughter and conversation that kept the mood light.
Jack’s body sat slouched in the tub full of water and scented oils, he hunched over almost as if he was cowering in on himself. It was his way of hiding himself from these men - hiding from their view.
One of the younger attendants, a slim boy with mischievous green eyes, perched on the edge of the tub. “You’ve got some serious muscle,” he commented, poking Jack’s bicep with a grin. “What do you eat to stay like this?”
Jack still nervous chuckled softy, in a nervous manner almost— shaking his head. “Mostly rice and vegetables. Simple food.”
The group laughed, some jokingly telling him that’s not enough for a man of his size and another chimed in, “Well, tonight you’ll have to try something a little more exciting.”
From a nearby tray, the green-eyed boy grabbed a delicate glass filled with amber liquid. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is one of our specialties. Sweet, smooth, and perfect after a long day. You have to try it.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he admitted.
“Just a sip,” the boy coaxed, offering the glass. “I promise you’ll like it.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jack took the glass and brought it to his lips. The liquor was surprisingly sweet, with a hint of fruit and spice. It slid down easily, warming him from the inside. He nodded approvingly and took another sip—then another.
Before long, Jack had finished the glass and reached for another, the smooth sweetness of the drink luring him in. The harem boys exchanged knowing glances, their smiles growing wider as Jack unknowingly indulged.
It wasn’t until he set the glass down and leaned back in the water that one of them, a lean man with a cheeky grin, pointed out, “Well, would you look at that.”
Jack followed the direction of his gaze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what they were referring to. The warm water and the liquor’s effects had left him in an unmistakably compromising state, and he quickly shifted to sit up straighter, his cheeks flushing a faint red.
The group of men burst into laughter, though their tone was more playful than mocking. “Don’t worry, Samurai,” one of them said with a wink. “It happens to everyone here. Think of it as… part of the experience.”
Jack cleared his throat, feeling both embarrassed and strangely amused by their casual demeanor. He wasn’t sure whether to blame the liquor, the bath, or the harem boys themselves, but one thing was certain—this was a night unlike any other he’d experienced.
The harem boys guided Jack from the bath to the heart-shaped bed, their movements fluid and practiced. The room was filled with a soft, golden glow that seemed to pulse in time with the distant hum of the inn’s music. Jack, now dressed in a light robe provided by the attendants, sat down hesitantly, his damp hair falling loosely over his shoulders.
“Lie down, Samurai,” one of the men said softly, gesturing to the bed. His voice was calm, soothing, and Jack found himself complying without hesitation.
As he stretched out on the plush bed, the boys moved around him with care. One began to massage his arms, kneading away the tension that had been building for what felt like years. Another worked on his back, his strong hands expertly pressing into the tight muscles along Jack’s shoulders and spine. His legs, feet, and even his hands weren’t spared the attention, each boy ensuring every part of him was thoroughly tended to.
Another attendant, a younger man with soft features, approached with a small jar of a fragrant cream. He leaned over Jack, spreading the mask gently across his face. “This will help with the wear and tear of your travels,” he said with a smile.
As Jack relaxed under their care, the boys began to ask him questions. Their voices were gentle, curious. “Tell us about your life, Samurai,” one of them asked, his hands still working over Jack’s calves. “What brings you here?”
Jack hesitated at first, but the liquor had loosened his tongue. “My life has been… a long battle,” he began, his voice heavy. “I fight to return to my home, to undo the evil that has taken everything from me. Every day is a struggle—another fight, another challenge.”
The boys listened intently, their hands never ceasing their work. One of them, the man massaging Jack’s shoulders, frowned slightly. “It sounds exhausting,” he said softly. “To live with such a burden. Have you ever thought of letting it go?”
Jack’s brow furrowed, but before he could respond, another boy—a playful one with a mischievous smile—spoke up. “You could stay here,” he suggested. “Achieve peace. This place could be your refuge.”
Jack opened his mouth to respond, but a soft, melodic tone interrupted him. One of the boys had retrieved a singing bowl, its rim gliding under his practiced touch. The sound filled the room, vibrating softly through the air and into Jack’s very core. It was unlike anything he’d ever heard, a sound that seemed to strip away the layers of tension and pain he had carried for so long.
His thoughts grew hazy as the boys guided him to another part of the room. This area was set up for grooming, with mirrors framed in gold and trays of combs, oils, and brushes neatly arranged. One of the attendants began brushing Jack’s damp hair, while another trimmed his beard with precise care.
As they worked, the questions continued. “What else do you remember about your life?” one of them asked gently.
Jack’s eyes softened, his defenses slipping further. “The hardships,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “The battles, the loss… I’ve been fighting for so long, I don’t know what peace even feels like anymore.”
One of the boys, who had been running his fingers through Jack’s freshly combed hair, spoke softly. “Then perhaps it’s time to stop fighting.”
The words lingered in the air, carried by the soft hum of the singing bowl. Jack couldn’t help but consider them. The longer he stayed here, the more the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift. Time felt strange in this place; what had been hours felt like mere moments. The thought of staying—just for a little longer—grew more tempting.
Jack glanced at the group of attendants, their serene smiles and gentle hands easing him into a state of complete relaxation. His heart, which had long been hardened by the trials of his journey, softened slightly. Perhaps, just for now, he could allow himself this peace.
Finally, he closed his eyes and gave a slight nod. “I will stay.”
The first boy, Takeshi, with his raven hair and piercing blue eyes, had a smile that could charm the toughest of warriors. His little form was wrapped in a kimono of deep midnight blue, adorned with delicate silver threads that shimmered like stars in the candlelight.
The second, Akihiro, had skin as pale as the moon and hair as gold as the sun, with eyes that held the warmth of a summer's embrace. His kimono was a soft shade of ivory, with intricate gold embroidery that mirrored the patterns of cherry blossoms. Next to him, Satoru's emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, his crimson kimono a stark contrast to his raven hair, hinting at the passion that lay within.
The remaining four introduced themselves as well: Ryuu, whose kimono was as fiery as his spirit; Kaito, whose eyes were the color of the stormy sea and whose demeanor was as mysterious as the depths of the ocean; Yukito, whose kimono of gentle lavender whispered of his tender soul; and finally, Hiro, whose kimono was the color of freshly fallen snow, reflecting the purity and innocence that seemed to radiate from his very being.
The boys' gazes held a hint of something more than mere welcoming, something that sent a shiver down Jack’s spine. They spoke in soft, hypnotic tones, their voices laced with urges of desire that seemed to fill the very air around him. The harem of men had two conditions for his acceptance into their fold, they explained.
Firstly, he must agree to lock away his manhood in a chastity cage, a symbol of his commitment to their unique form of service. Secondly, he must engage in an unbridled orgy, allowing the hypnotic tunes of a singing bowl to guide him through the evening's carnally ecstatic ritual.
Jack's brow furrowed in protest, his hand reflexively moving to the sword at his side. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice a low growl of discomfort. The thought of such a restriction was foreign to his warrior's spirit, and the idea of an orgy, though not entirely unwelcome, was certainly unexpected. Yet, the allure of the harem's beauty and the mysterious aura of the mansion made his resolve waver like the flame of a candle in the breeze.
Takeshi stepped forward, his smile never faltering. His eyes locked onto Jack's, and his hand reached out to lightly touch the samurai's cheek. "Do not fear, warrior," he cooed, his voice a velvety caress. "The cage is a symbol of your dedication to us, to the experiences that await you here. It is not a prison, but a gateway to new pleasures." As the other boys closed in, their fingertips grazed jack’s skin, sending shivers of unfamiliar sensations through his body. He felt a gentle pull, as if the very air was coaxing him to comply.
Akihiro offered the chastity cage, its golden metal gleaming in the soft glow of the candles. It was an intricate piece of craftsmanship, adorned with delicate engravings of entwined lovers and blooming flowers. The warmth of the metal seemed to pulse with the promise of pleasure. Jack hesitated, but the hypnotic allure of their touch grew stronger, his thoughts swirling like leaves in a tempest.
The surrounding walls around them began to morph, its walls shifting and flowing like a living tapestry. The grand hall dissolved into a surreal dreamscape, an erotic playground that seemed to exist solely to tantalize the senses. The air grew thick with the scent of jasmine, and the floor became a soft, velvet sea beneath his feet. The harem boys flitted around him like ethereal beings, each one more enticing than the last, whispering sweet nothings that danced around the edges of his consciousness.
Jack's hand hovered over the chastity cage, his mind racing with thoughts of rebellion and curiosity. Yet, the gentle yet insistent pressure of the harem's touch washed away his resistance like sand before the tide. He felt his body relax, his will bending to the seductive power of their words and touch. His eyes grew heavy, and his breathing slowed as their hypnotic whispers painted a vivid picture of the unbridled pleasure that awaited him.
With trembling fingers, Jack unbuckled his obi, allowing the heavy layers of his hakama to fall away. The cool metal of the chastity cage was a stark contrast to the heat rising within him. As Akihiro guided the cage over his erection, Jack couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement. The cage clicked into place, locking his arousal within its embrace, a stark symbol of his surrender to the harem's will.
The moment the cage was secured, the harem boys broke into a fit of giggles, their laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. They led Jack to the center of the room where a large, plush futon had appeared, surrounded by a sea of velvet pillows. The singing bowl, which had been silently watching the exchange from the shadows, began to hum. The vibrations grew louder, resonating through the air and into Jack's very bones. The sound was mesmerizing, a siren's call that he could not resist. His eyes grew heavy, and his body felt as if it were made of liquid, swaying to the bowl's hypnotic melody.
The boys began to undress, each revealing their own unique beauty. Satoru's muscular chest rippled as he removed his kimono, his cock already erect and bobbing with excitement. Kaito's body was lean and toned, with a trail of hair leading from his navel to the base of his cock, which stood proudly at attention. Yukito, the delicate one, had skin softer than silk, his small, firm nipples pebbling with anticipation. Hiro's innocent gaze belied the fiery passion that lurked within, his body a canvas of untouched perfection.
The hypnotic hum of the singing bowl grew more intense, wrapping around Jack like a warm embrace, dissolving the last of his inhibitions. He could feel his own cock strain against the confines of the chastity cage, begging for release. The harem boys lay down on the futon, creating a sensual mosaic of skin and fabric.
The bowl's vibrations grew stronger, resonating through Jack's body as if he were a living instrument. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a low moan as the music took hold of his very soul. The air grew electric with desire, and he felt the mattress shift beneath him as the boys arranged themselves around him. He was the center of their attention, the object of their collective lust and admiration.
Ryuu, the fiery one, was the first to act. He straddled Jack's chest, his cock a vibrant shade of coral against the samurai's tanned skin. Leaning down, he captured Jack's mouth in a kiss that was both fiery and tender. The taste of him was like a spark that ignited Jack's passion, making him ache to feel more.
The other boys followed suit, their hands exploring every inch of Jack's body. They were like skilled artisans, each one knowing exactly where to touch, where to kiss, to elicit the most exquisite reactions. Akihiro's gentle caress of his cheek was as comforting as a mother's touch, while Satoru's rough grip on his thigh was like the bite of a lover eager to claim him.
Kaito's stormy eyes searched his own.
The hypnotic vibrations of the singing bowl grew more insistent, the music resonating with the beating of Jack's heart. He felt as if he were floating in a warm, velvet embrace, the weight of his body forgotten amidst the swirling pleasure. The boys' hands danced over his skin, tracing the lines of his chest, his abs, and finally the bulge of his cock, trapped and pulsing within the chastity cage. They paid homage to his manhood, their lips and fingers worshipping the metal that contained his desire.
Yukito, the tender soul, began to kiss a trail down Jack's body, his soft, full lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. Each press of his mouth sent a shiver through the samurai's frame, his body arching in silent plea. When Yukito reached the base of the cage, he paused, looking up with eyes filled with a mix of innocence and lust. With a gentle touch, he traced the outline of Jack's trapped erection, eliciting a moan that seemed to resonate with the very air around them.
Takeshi, the master of seduction, took hold of the singing bowl, its vibrations now a deep, resonating bass that seemed to echo the pounding of Jack's heart. The other boys began to kiss and touch each other, their bodies moving in a sensual dance as old as time itself. The sight of their passion was almost too much for Jack to bear, his cock straining against the unforgiving metal. The cage grew warm from his arousal.
The air grew thick with the scent of desire as the harem's hands moved in unison, teasing and stroking Jack's body. Their lips and tongues found every sensitive spot, leaving no inch untouched. The heat of their breath against his skin sent waves of pleasure crashing through him. He could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building, a pressure that grew with each stroke, each kiss, each whispered word of encouragement.
Hiro, the youngest, approached shyly, his snow-white kimono fluttering like the petals of a cherry blossom. He knelt beside the futon and took Jack's hand, placing it on the cage. The samurai's grip tightened, his knuckles turning white as the pressure grew. Hiro looked into his eyes, his own filled with a gentle warmth that seemed to pierce the haze of lust that clouded Jack's mind. With a soft smile, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on the padlock that kept Jack's cock imprisoned. The metal grew hot, as if responding to the touch of his lips.
The singing bowl reached a crescendo, the vibrations resonating through the room and into Jack's soul. The harem's movements grew more frenzied, their bodies tangling together in a passionate display of eroticism. The sight was overwhelming, Jack could feel the beginnings of an orgasm, a storm gathering on the horizon of his consciousness. His hips bucked, seeking relief from the relentless teasing.
Akihiro took mercy on him, sliding his hand between the bars of the chastity cage. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips dancing over the sensitive head of Jack's cock. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through Jack's body. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a guttural moan, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The other boys took turns, each one offering their own brand of torturous pleasure, their hands moving in perfect harmony with the bowl's pulsating rhythm.
The pressure grew unbearable, and Jack felt as though he was on the precipice of something profound. He could feel the beginnings of his climax, a coil of ecstasy winding tightly within him. The cage grew slick with pre-cum, a testament to his desperate need for release.
Yet, the lock remained steadfast.
Akihiro, one of the harem men who had been watching Jack sends a quiet smile his way. His eyes were gentle, yet there was something mysterious about them. He spoke in a soft, reassuring tone, “You’ve done enough, Jack. You’ve showed that you are indeed promising for us all. Your mission is over. All your struggles, all your pain… they’ll be gone by morning. You can rest now.”
Jack blinked slowly, his exhaustion overcoming him. Akihiro’s words felt like a balm to his soul, a promise of peace he had longed for but never believed he would see. His head felt heavy, his eyelids drooping. He gave a small nod. “I can rest… at last…” he whispered.
Akihiro placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack collapses back onto the bed, and within moments, the weight of sleep consumed him. His breathing steadied, and the room fell still.
But as Jack slept, the world around him began to change. The inn, once a place of comfort, began to shimmer and twist. The walls cracked, the wooden floor groaned and splintered, and the warm air turned cold and thick. The peaceful atmosphere had been an illusion, one crafted to deceive the weary traveler. As the illusion broke, the truth revealed itself.
The harem men, now no longer hidden in human forms, transformed into creatures of darkness. Akihiro’s body lengthened, his skin turning scaly as his eyes glowed bright red. He was no longer the charming man who had spoken to Jack, but a serpent-like beast, coiled and ready. The others, once handsome and gentle, now revealed their true monstrous yet beautiful forms, each one a creature that thrived on human desire.
The world around them was no longer the inn, but a vast, desolate desert. The sands stretched endlessly in all directions, and the sky above was an oppressive shade of deep orange. This was the true world — the one hidden beneath the illusion, a world where they had lured countless souls over the centuries.
Akihiro grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. “We’ve finally found him. A worthy mate after all this time,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
Another of the harem men, Yukito, who appeared as a towering, majestic wolf, shook his head. “Let him rest, Akihiro. He’s been through enough. We’ll have plenty of time to enjoy our new companion when he wakes.”
Akihiro clicked his tongue but conceded. “Fine. But the wait is almost unbearable.”
The men gathered around Jack’s sleeping form, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. As they watched, Jack’s appearance began to shift. The weariness left his body, replaced with something more regal. His clothes changed, too, from the familiar samurai armor to flowing white robes with purple accents. The outfit looked almost like something from an ancient kingdom, regal and princely. It was as if the weight of his past life had been shed, and something new, something more fitting for his transformation, had taken its place.
At the center of the desert, a figure appeared — one that towered over the harem men. His name was Hed, their leader, the one who had controlled them all for centuries. Hed stood tall and imposing, his wild black hair spreading out like a storm. His tanned skin gleamed under the desert sun, and his powerful, muscular frame was on full display. He wore golden cuffs on his wrists and a dark green vest that hung open to reveal his well-defined chest. His pants were wide and billowed out at the cuffs, tied with a golden-brown belt, and he stood barefoot, his feet firmly planted in the sand.
Hed’s presence was overwhelming, his gaze locking onto the harem men with a knowing smirk. “Akihiro, it seems you were right. Jack is a worthy mate,” he said, his voice low and powerful.
Akihiro nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Yes, master. He is the one we’ve been searching for.”
Hed’s smile was almost predatory. “Let him rest. When he wakes, he will join us in this world. And then, we shall see if he is truly ready for the life we’ve prepared for him.”
The harem men stepped back, watching Jack as he slept peacefully, unaware of the transformation that had taken place around him. The desert stretched on, endless and barren, and the harem men, though monstrous in form, stood silently, waiting for the moment when Jack would awaken and face the truth of his new life.
As the night stretched on, the desert was still, the only sound the quiet shifting of the sands. Jack’s fate, sealed by the harem’s dark desires, would unfold in the morning. But for now, he slept, unaware of the world that had changed around him.
⬐ U.A. High School is known for producing Japan’s greatest heroes. With legends like All Might and Endeavor paving the way, Class 1-A is expected to uphold that legacy. They train, they fight, they grow stronger every day. And then there’s (Y/N). No one really talks about (Y/N). Not because they’re weak—oh, no. If anything, they might be the strongest in the class. But there’s just… something off about them. The way they tilt their head just a little too far. The way they appear in places they shouldn’t be. The way they say things that don’t make sense—until they do.
⬐ anothers note : full story is here on my quotev page, A Totally Normal Student
⬐ fandom : MHA x Duolingo Reader ᓀ ᵥ ᓂ
masterlist
chapter 1
In the past…
The playground buzzed with the sound of children playing, their laughter ringing through the air. The warm scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint burn of rubber from the swings. A perfect afternoon—if not for the scene unfolding beneath the jungle gym.
A young Izuku Midoriya stood trembling, his tiny fists clenched at his sides.
Across from him, Katsuki Bakugo sneered, tiny explosions crackling at his palms. Behind Izuku, a smaller boy sniffled, rubbing at his eyes, too afraid to run.
“You seriously think you can play hero, Deku?” Katsuki scoffed. “You don’t even have a Quirk.”
Izuku’s breath hitched. His throat felt tight. But still, he stood firm, swallowing back his fear.
“I-I don’t have to have a Quirk t-to help others—”
His own voice betrayed him, stumbling over the words, his fear making them weak.
Katsuki’s smirk widened. “Pathetic.” He stepped forward;
Snap.
A branch broke.
The sound wasn’t close.
The kids froze. The crack had come from the treeline just beyond the playground, where the trees grew thick and dark.
Shadows pooled unnaturally between the trunks, too deep for the time of day.
Katsuki barely spared it a glance before turning back to Izuku. “Tch. Whatever.” He shoved past him, motioning for his friends to follow.
Izuku exhaled shakily, watching them leave. Then, as he turned to check on the boy behind him—
He felt it.
That prickling sensation creeping up his neck. The kind that told him—he wasn’t alone.
His gaze drifted back to the trees.
And there, perched among the twisted branches—something watched him.
It wasn’t an animal. Wasn’t a person. It was both—and neither.
The air around it rippled, warped, twisted—as if reality itself bent to accommodate its presence.
One massive, unblinking eye stared at him from the shadows.
Izuku’s breath caught.
Then it multiplied.
One became two.
Two became four.
Each set of eyes stacked atop the others—a grotesque, staring tower of sight.
Izuku staggered back, his little hands gripping his sleeves. He wanted to run. Wanted to scream. But his voice—his legs—wouldn’t work.
The eyes blinked.
And just like that—they were gone.
A rustle of leaves. A shift of wind.
Nothing more.
Izuku gasped, his tiny heart hammering against his ribs. He blinked, rubbed his eyes—
Had he imagined it?
“Zuku?”
His mother’s voice, soft and distant. Calling him from the park entrance.
Izuku swallowed, forcing himself to turn. “C-Coming, Mom!”
Still shaking, he ran toward her—never looking back.
Because deep in the trees, hidden where no sunlight reached—something was still watching.
And it would never stop.
In the present…
A news broadcast played somewhere in the background, the familiar report echoing through the streets.
“It all started in Qing Qing City, China—when a newborn baby was born aglow with a radiant light. The phenomenon spread across the world, and soon, the majority of the population developed supernatural abilities. These powers, known as ‘Quirks,’ shaped society as we know it. With power came conflict, but also—heroes.”
The city buzzed with excitement as a massive villain rampaged through the streets, his towering form knocking over lampposts and crushing pavement beneath his weight.
“Stay back!” a Pro Hero shouted, holding civilians at bay.
Izuku Midoriya, now a third-year junior high student, pushed his way through the crowd, notebook in hand, eyes wide with anticipation.
“No way—it’s Kamui Woods!”
The sleek Pro Hero leaped into action, twisting through the air as he extended wooden tendrils from his arms.
“The villain has used his Quirk for illegal activity!” Kamui Woods announced, his voice sharp and commanding. “I’ll put an end to this quickly!”
With a flick of his wrist, he launched Lacquered Chain Prison, binding the massive villain in place.
Izuku’s grip on his notebook tightened, scribbling furiously. First appearance of Lacquered Chain Prison—restraint-based Quirk, likely strong against brute force opponents!
A thunderous crash echoed across the block.
“CANYON CANNON!”
A blur of red and white streaked across the scene. In an instant, the giant villain was sent crashing to the pavement, knocked out cold.
From the dust emerged a tall, curvaceous woman, hands on her hips, a confident smirk gracing her face.
“Cameras ready, boys? I’m taking over from here!” Mt. Lady declared, flashing a grin at the reporters.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Photographers rushed forward, snapping shots of the new heroine’s grand debut.
Izuku barely noticed. He was still writing, absorbing, analyzing. His eyes darted between heroes, his mind racing.
“Are you aiming to be a hero, kid?” A bystander chuckled beside him.
Izuku looked up, startled, before laughing nervously. “Ah—w-well, yeah! I mean—I’ll do my best!”
His fingers clenched around the pen.
“Even if I don’t have a Quirk, I—”
His thoughts trailed off.
Somewhere in the back of the crowd—someone was watching.
Not cheering. Not taking pictures. Not reacting.
Just watching.
A figure, dressed in the same junior high uniform as Izuku, lingered near the edge of the scene. Their posture was relaxed, yet their head tilted ever so slightly—like an owl tracking its prey.
Their gaze, dark and unreadable, flickered in the sunlight.
And then—they were gone.
Izuku never noticed.
But had he turned—had he looked just a second longer—he might’ve recognized them.
Might’ve remembered their name.
But he didn’t.
Because nobody ever did.
⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
breathing forms (not a chapter)
1. First Form: Mist Bloom : The First Form, Mist Bloom, is the foundation of (Y/N)’s Mist Breathing techniques. It emphasizes precision and overwhelming speed to confuse and disorient opponents.
Description : When (Y/N) uses Mist Bloom, his movements blur, creating an illusion of multiple afterimages around him. The technique involves a flurry of swift, shallow strikes delivered in rapid succession, each strike seemingly coming from a different angle. This creates the visual effect of “blooming mist,” where his attacks are as unpredictable and ephemeral as mist itself.
Capabilities Include :
Speed and Deception : Mist Bloom leverages blinding speed to make it difficult for opponents to track (Y/N)’s movements. The afterimages confuse and distract, making it almost impossible for them to anticipate where the real attack will land.
Precision Attacks : The strikes are not random—they are carefully aimed at the opponent’s weak points or openings, ensuring maximum damage while minimizing energy expenditure.
Utility in Combat : Mist Bloom is ideal for overwhelming opponents or defending against multiple attackers. It also works well as a countermeasure, exploiting the smallest mistakes in an enemy’s defense.
•••
2. Second Form: Mist Crescent : The Second Form, Mist Crescent, is a more direct and offensive technique compared to Mist Bloom, focusing on delivering a single, devastating strike.
Description : In Mist Crescent, (Y/N) channels his breathing into a fluid, arcing swing of his weapon (or in this case, a stick). The arc of the strike generates a concentrated wave of mist-like energy that travels outward in a crescent shape. The mist created by this technique is so dense that it obscures the user’s position while simultaneously disorienting the enemy.
Capabilities Include :
Ranged Attack : The crescent-shaped wave of energy travels several meters, making this an effective mid-range attack. It is powerful enough to cut through obstacles or even strike multiple targets in its path.
Obscuring Mist : The dense mist released by the swing cloaks (Y/N)’s immediate area, making it hard for opponents to see or pinpoint his location. This mist can linger momentarily, offering both offensive and defensive utility.
Raw Power : Mist Crescent is less about speed and more about sheer destructive power. The swing carries enough force to break through defenses or knock opponents off balance.
Shockwave Effect: The strike’s force generates a shockwave that can destabilize the terrain or send debris flying, further adding to its disorienting effect.
•••
3. Third Form: Mist Flash : The Third Form: Mist Flash is a high-speed, single-target offensive technique that combines incredible agility with precise execution. It is designed for situations where (Y/N) needs to close the distance between himself and his opponent in the blink of an eye, delivering a critical strike before they even have a chance to react.
Description : When activating Mist Flash, (Y/N)’s body vanishes from view, shrouded in a sudden burst of mist. The technique allows him to move at an explosive speed toward his opponent, seemingly “flashing” from one point to another. The move is completed with a single, calculated strike aimed at a vital point, leaving behind a lingering trail of mist in his wake.
Capabilities Include :
Blinding Speed : Mist Flash allows (Y/N) to travel short distances almost instantaneously, making it difficult for enemies to track his movement. It is ideal for ambushing opponents or evading an incoming attack before countering with a precise strike.
Pinpoint Accuracy : The technique focuses on delivering a single, powerful strike to the enemy’s weak point, ensuring maximum damage with minimal effort. It is particularly effective against enemies with slower reaction times or those caught off-guard.
Disorienting Mist : The sudden burst of mist that accompanies the move not only conceals (Y/N)’s position but also disrupts the enemy’s vision and focus. The mist lingers momentarily, obscuring (Y/N)’s location even after the strike is complete, allowing him to retreat or set up another attack.
Utility in Combat : Mist Flash is excellent for one-on-one combat, especially against stronger opponents who rely on brute force. It can also be used to bypass enemy defenses or barriers, enabling (Y/N) to land a decisive blow.
•••
4. Fourth Form: Blessed Mist : The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique in the Mist Breathing style, which (Y/N) has mastered through rigorous training. Mist Breathing is known for its reliance on swift, unpredictable movements and creating illusions to disorient opponents. Blessed Mist embodies these principles by blending immense speed with precise, controlled force to enhance attacks or actions.
Description : The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique designed to amplify both speed and control by cloaking the user in a dense, swirling mist that obscures their exact movements. The technique creates the illusion that the user is moving in multiple directions at once, making them difficult to track. While primarily a combat technique, it is highly adaptable and can enhance the effectiveness of various physical tasks.
Capabilities of Fourth Form: Blessed Mist:
Burst of Speed : The user generates a sudden surge of speed that makes their movements almost imperceptible to the naked eye. This burst is not only visually disorienting but also allows for rapid and powerful actions to be executed in an instant.
Control over Momentum : The swirling mist doesn’t just serve as a visual distraction—it allows the user to channel their movements with incredible precision. This ensures that every ounce of effort is directed toward the intended target, whether it’s cutting down an opponent.
Illusion of Multiplicity : The mist creates afterimages of the user’s movements, making it seem as though they are striking or acting from multiple directions at once. This effect confuses opponents or observers, leaving them unsure of the user’s exact location.
Force Amplification : The momentum generated by the user during this technique is highly concentrated. By combining speed and precision, the user’s attacks—or in this case, the throw—carry much more force than what is physically apparent.
•••
5. Fifth Form: Shrouded Tempest : Shrouded Tempest : Creates a swirling mist vortex that blinds and disorients enemies while providing (Y/N) with enhanced perception. It is both a defensive barrier and an offensive tool, overwhelming multiple enemies simultaneously.
Description : Shrouded Tempest is a defensive and offensive technique that creates a swirling vortex of mist around (Y/N). This mist obscures visibility for his enemies while enhancing his ability to perceive movements within it. The technique is particularly useful in overwhelming groups of enemies or turning the tide of battle when outnumbered.
Capabilities Include :
360-Degree Defense : The swirling mist acts as a protective barrier, deflecting weaker projectiles and disorienting enemies trying to close the distance.
Enhanced Perception : While enemies are blinded by the thick mist, (Y/N) gains heightened awareness of movements within the vortex, allowing him to predict and counter attacks.
Group Suppression : The expanding vortex spreads rapidly, enveloping multiple enemies at once and making it nearly impossible for them to pinpoint (Y/N)’s location.
Debilitating Mist : The swirling mist is infused with high-speed strikes as (Y/N) moves unpredictably within it, landing precise cuts that slowly whittle down his opponents.
•••
6. Sixth Form: Lunar Drift : Focuses on evasive, fluid movements that allow (Y/N) to dodge and counter with precision. Its unpredictable gliding motion confuses enemies, turning their aggression into openings for devastating counterattacks.
Description : Lunar Drift focuses on evasion and counterattack. (Y/N) appears to “glide” across the battlefield like moonlight on water, moving unpredictably to dodge enemy strikes while setting up his counterattack. This form embodies the ethereal grace of Mist Breathing, allowing him to outmaneuver even the most relentless foes.
Capabilities Include :
Unpredictable Movement : (Y/N)’s movements are smooth and erratic, making it almost impossible for enemies to predict his position.
Perfect Counters : Lunar Drift creates opportunities to exploit enemy openings, as (Y/N) can flow effortlessly into precise counterattacks after dodging.
Momentum Control : The technique uses the enemy’s aggression against them by redirecting their momentum into devastating strikes.
Sustained Evasion : (Y/N) can maintain this form for extended periods, allowing him to outlast opponents who rely on stamina or brute strength.
•••
7. Seventh Form: Ethereal Shroud : Cloaks (Y/N) in a dense, luminous mist that makes him nearly invisible and silent. This form creates afterimages and illusions, allowing him to strike from hidden angles with lethal precision while evading detection.
Description : Ethereal Shroud is a high-level technique that envelops (Y/N) in a thick, luminous mist that distorts both his appearance and presence. Within the shroud, (Y/N) becomes nearly impossible to detect, allowing him to strike from unexpected angles with unparalleled precision. This form is ideal for assassinations or turning the tide in a difficult battle.
Capabilities Include :
Invisibility in Motion : The luminous mist refracts light and sound, rendering (Y/N) almost invisible and silent as he moves.
Untraceable Strikes : Attacks launched from within the shroud are nearly impossible to predict or counter, as enemies can’t locate the source.
Overwhelming Illusions : The mist creates afterimages and phantom attacks, confusing opponents and forcing them to waste energy defending against feints.
Enhanced Lethality : The form allows (Y/N) to focus all his energy into swift, precise strikes that target vital points, maximizing damage with minimal effort.
⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
chapter 3
masterlist
It had been a few days since (Y/N) started working at the Midoriya household. The routine had become familiar—waking up early to clean the house, prepare meals, and help Inko with whatever she needed. The tasks were simple enough, and the house had a warm, cozy feel to it. Izuku still found it strange to have a maid, but he quickly grew used to the idea. What he didn’t know, however, was that there was more to (Y/N) than just the quiet, graceful maid who served him tea and washed the dishes.
One afternoon, after coming home from school, Izuku walked through the front door with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day filled with quirk training and lessons, and he was looking forward to some peace and quiet. As he kicked off his shoes by the door, he noticed something that struck him as odd: the house was unusually silent.
He called out, “Mom?” but received no answer.
Inko was usually downstairs, bustling around, or doing something around the house. Izuku figured she must have been napping upstairs. But where was (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen them all day, and that wasn’t normal.
Izuku wandered through the house, searching for (Y/N). It wasn’t like him to be out of sight for so long.
He finally headed towards the backdoor, the sound of something strange drifting to his ears—a whooshing sound, followed by the scrape of something heavy hitting the ground. Curiosity got the better of him as he pushed the door open, and what he saw immediately stopped him in his tracks.
In the backyard, (Y/N) was swinging a broomstick around, moving fluidly as he spun and twirled. His movements were precise, as if he were wielding a real sword. Izuku’s eyes widened. The way (Y/N) moved was almost mesmerizing. Every swing of the broomstick looked so calculated, so skilled—it was like something out of a martial arts movie.
Izuku watched in awe, unable to look away, even as (Y/N) performed a series of complex movements that seemed to flow perfectly one after the other. His feet didn’t falter, his posture was perfect, and the broomstick sliced through the air as if it were an extension of his body.
Then, with a swift swing, (Y/N) broke the broomstick in half. The wooden handle cracked with a sharp snap and fell to the ground.
Izuku blinked, speechless. His brain was trying to process what he had just witnessed.
“Wait… what was that?!” Izuku whispered to himself. His mind raced as he stared at (Y/N), who was now casually placing the broken broomstick aside, as if nothing had happened.
Before Izuku could even react, he rushed toward (Y/N), his excitement getting the better of him. “That was amazing!” he exclaimed, his voice high with excitement. “What did you just do?!”
(Y/N) turned to him, a calm and collected look on his face as usual, though he couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at his lips. Izuku was always so animated, so easily impressed. It was almost funny how easily he could be swept up in a moment.
“Well, it’s just something I learned a while ago,” (Y/N) said, choosing his words carefully. “A family friend taught me some basic moves for self-defense. I didn’t really have a quirk, so I had to find other ways to defend myself.” He avoided mentioning the specific training he’d undergone—he didn’t want to reveal too much.
Izuku nodded enthusiastically, eyes still wide with admiration. “Self-defense?! That’s awesome! But… what about that last move? I saw something—I don’t know, it looked like—like slashes or something? It was like… a mist appeared out of nowhere even though it’s a perfectly sunny day or something!”
(Y/N) blinked, surprised by the mention of mist but quickly masked his reaction. He needed to stay calm, not give anything away. He had to be careful not to reveal too much.
“Huh?” (Y/N) said, his expression thoughtful as if trying to understand what Izuku was talking about. “Must? I’m not sure what you mean.” He gave a light shrug, his calm demeanor not changing. “You probably just imagined it. You know, the wind can play tricks on your eyes sometimes, especially when you’re excited.”
Izuku blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “But it really looked like something… like the mist rolled in from no where and everywhere at once! I swear it was—”
(Y/N) smiled softly, cutting him off with a gentle laugh. “Izuku, you’re probably just seeing things. You know how your mind can play tricks on you when you’re so focused on something? You’re probably just a little too excited. No big deal.”
Izuku hesitated, his excitement quickly fading as he processed (Y/N)’s words. He felt a little embarrassed for making such a big deal out of it. “Oh… yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Maybe I did just imagine it. It looked so real, though…”
(Y/N) gave him an assuring smile, his voice smooth as ever. “It happens to the best of us. No harm in it.”
Izuku’s frown softened, and he nodded, still feeling a bit sheepish but ultimately convinced. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, (Y/N).”
“No problem,” (Y/N) replied, his expression unchanged. He quickly picked up the broken broomstick and gave Izuku a small nod before heading toward the house.
Izuku stood there for a moment, scratching his head, still not fully sure about what he’d seen, but trusting (Y/N)’s explanation. For now, he was just happy to have witnessed something so impressive.
As always, (Y/N) had managed to keep his secrets intact, and Izuku was none the wiser.
⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.
chapter 17
masterlist
The snow crunched underfoot as Team 1—now dubbed the Tree Squad—stepped into the bustling Christmas tree lot. Twinkling string lights illuminated rows of firs dusted with fresh snow, and the crisp scent of pine hung in the air. For most people, picking out a tree was a joyous occasion. For this group, it was a mission.
“Alright, we’re here to get the biggest and flashiest tree this place has to offer,” Tengen declared, his voice booming with his usual flamboyance. He adjusted his fur-lined coat, standing tall and ready to conquer the holiday season.
“It has to be one that screams Merry Christmas!” Tanjiro added, holding a carefully curated list of tree requirements. His warm smile contrasted with the chaos brewing behind him.
“Who cares about screaming? Let’s get the one that looks the toughest!” Inosuke yelled, his wild demeanor drawing a few curious looks from passersby.
Bakugo, walking slightly behind the group, scowled. “This whole thing is stupid. Just grab one and let’s get out of here.”
Despite their wildly different approaches, the group’s eyes locked on the tree almost simultaneously. It was a towering, perfectly symmetrical spruce with thick, lush branches and a snowy coating that shimmered under the lights. It was the tree of all trees.
“That’s it,” Tengen said, his voice reverent. “That’s our tree.”
The squad began making their way toward it when another group—a family of four armed with determined holiday cheer—stepped in from the other side.
“Oh no, no, no,” the mother of the family said, eyeing the tree. “We saw this one first.”
Tanjiro hesitated, a polite smile on his face. “Oh, um, actually, I think we—”
The father stepped forward, cutting him off. “This tree’s perfect for us. It’s just the right size for our living room.”
Inosuke growled, stomping forward. “What do you mean it’s yours?! I claimed it first!”
“You didn’t even see it until two seconds ago!” one of the kids shot back.
“Kid, don’t test me!” Inosuke yelled, crouching slightly like he was about to charge.
Tanjiro quickly stepped between them, waving his hands. “Wait, wait, wait! There’s no need to fight. I’m sure we can come to an agreement—”
“There’s no agreement,” the mom said, her hands on her hips. “This tree is ours.”
“That’s not happening,” Bakugo growled, his hands starting to spark. “Back off before I make you.”
“Bakugo, no!” Tanjiro said, his eyes wide.
Tengen let out a dramatic sigh, stepping forward to take control of the situation. “Alright, enough of this squabbling. This is a matter that requires finesse.” He glanced at Tanjiro, who looked hopeful, then at Inosuke, who was itching for a fight, and finally at Bakugo, who looked moments away from blowing something up.
“Bakugo,” Tengen said with a sly smile. “Handle it.”
Bakugo’s grin was immediate and sinister. “Gladly.”
Before anyone could react, Bakugo stomped toward the family, hands sparking dangerously as he glared at them. “You’ve got ten seconds to walk away, or I’m lighting this whole tree lot up!”
The family gasped, immediately backing away in a panic.
“Okay, okay! Take it! Just don’t blow anything up!” the mom yelled as they quickly retreated, dragging their kids along.
Bakugo stood triumphantly next to the tree, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. “That’s how you get stuff done.”
Tanjiro buried his face in his hands. “That wasn’t very Christmas-like…”
“Maybe not,” Tengen said, already lifting the tree over his shoulder. “But it was flamboyant. Excellent work, Bakugo.”
“Damn right it was,” Bakugo said, still grinning.
The drive back home was quieter than expected, the massive tree tied securely to the roof of the car. Tanjiro sat in the passenger seat, his list crumpled in his hands as he replayed the events of the tree lot.
• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •
The Decor Squad—Momo, Nezuko, Kirishima, and Present Mic—pulled into the parking lot of their fifth store, frustration thick in the air. Nezuko quietly nibbled on a candy cane she had picked up at the first store, while Present Mic drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to a beat no one else could hear. Momo sat in the backseat, meticulously organizing a list of decorations they were supposed to pick up: ornaments, garlands, and lights. Kirishima, sitting beside her, looked out the window, trying to stay optimistic.
“I’m sure this one will have what we need!” he said with a grin, though even his unbreakable positivity was beginning to falter.
“It better,” Momo muttered under her breath, peeking at her phone’s map to confirm they hadn’t strayed too far from the previous store. “We’ve already wasted so much time.”
“Wasted time? Nah! It’s all part of the holiday adventure, baby!” Present Mic exclaimed from the driver’s seat, throwing the car into park. He turned to the group, his signature sunglasses reflecting the store’s neon sign. “C’mon, let’s make this the one!”
They climbed out of the car, Nezuko trailing behind them, clutching her candy cane. As they walked into the store, a wave of despair washed over the group.
The shelves were bare.
“Are you kidding me?!” Momo exclaimed, staring at the nearly empty aisle where garlands should have been. A single, tattered strand of silver tinsel dangled from a hook as if mocking them.
“This is worse than the last store,” Kirishima said, scratching the back of his head. He picked up a cracked bauble from the ornament section and frowned. “I mean, we can’t put this on the tree. It’d look so… unmanly.”
Nezuko tugged on Momo’s sleeve, pointing at a section of lights, only to reveal that they were all mismatched and half the boxes were open.
“I don’t think any of those will even work,” Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Alright! On to the next one!” Present Mic shouted, his energy unwavering. He spun on his heel and marched back toward the car, his long scarf trailing behind him like a banner of hope.
The group piled back into the car, exhaustion starting to set in. Nezuko, now curled up with her knees against her chest, peeked at the others as if wondering how long this would go on.
By the time they hit their eighth store, the mood in the car had shifted from frustration to quiet defeat. Kirishima slouched in his seat, staring out the window. Present Mic hummed softly to himself, trying to keep morale up, while Momo furiously scribbled notes in her notebook, trying to strategize their next move.
Finally, Kirishima sat up abruptly, his eyes wide as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. He turned to Momo, staring at her with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization.
“Momo,” he said slowly, “why didn’t you just make ornaments with your quirk?”
The car fell silent.
Momo blinked, her pencil hovering over her notebook. “…What?”
“You can literally create stuff,” Kirishima continued, gesturing wildly. “Like, you can make a cannon, but you can’t make a Christmas ornament? Why are we even driving around when you’ve got the solution inside you?”
Momo stared at him, her expression blank at first. Then, the weight of his words hit her like a freight train. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You’re right.”
Present Mic slammed the brakes (even though they were already parked). “Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me we’ve been running all over town for no reason?!”
Nezuko, ever the quiet observer, tilted her head in mild confusion, as if to say, You’re just realizing this now?
“I—I didn’t even think about it,” Momo stammered, her cheeks flushing red. “I was so focused on the list and making sure we got everything we needed that I—”
“—forgot you’re basically a walking Christmas factory,” Kirishima finished, leaning back in his seat with an exasperated laugh.
Present Mic threw his hands in the air. “Alright, problem solved! Back to HQ we go!”
On the drive back, Momo sat quietly, her embarrassment still evident. She had already started sketching designs for ornaments, garlands, and even a star for the top of the tree in her notebook.
Kirishima, now fully back to his cheerful self, leaned over to peek at her drawings. “Those look awesome! See? We didn’t need those stores anyway.”
Present Mic turned up the radio, a Christmas song blaring through the car as he drove. “Let’s just pretend this was the plan all along, yeah? No one has to know!”
Nezuko, now munching on a fresh candy cane she had somehow acquired, nodded sagely in agreement.
As they pulled up to the house, Kirishima grinned at Momo. “Hey, at least we got to bond, right? And now you’re gonna make the most manly decorations ever.”
Momo couldn’t help but smile, despite herself. “Thanks, Kirishima. Next time, I’ll try to think things through a bit more.”
“Next time,” Present Mic chimed in, “let’s just stay home and skip the wild goose chase altogether!”
The group laughed as they grabbed their things and headed inside, ready to make up for lost time and finish decorating.
• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •
Team 3—(Y/N), Muichiro, Aizawa, and Zenitsu—piled into the car with their mission clear: replenish the snacks, restock the hot cocoa, and salvage the holiday cheer. As the car rumbled down the snowy road, the atmosphere was a mix of determination and quiet dread, mostly fueled by Zenitsu’s near-constant rambling.
“Why me? Why do I have to go? Hot cocoa isn’t even my thing! What if we get attacked by a demon on the way? Or worse, we run into a Karen in the grocery store?” Zenitsu wailed from the backseat, clutching the headrest in front of him like it was a lifeline.
Aizawa, in the driver’s seat, groaned. His scarf was lazily wrapped around his neck, and he was already regretting agreeing to this task. “Zenitsu, there are no demons here. Only stressed-out shoppers.”
“And that’s even worse!” Zenitsu shot back. “Have you seen people at the store during the holidays? It’s a madhouse!”
Muichiro, sitting beside him, stared out the window, his expression calm as ever. “If we’re attacked, (Y/N) can handle it. They’ve got Bakugo-level chaos energy when needed.”
(Y/N), sitting in the passenger seat, smirked and glanced back at their brother. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Muichiro. But let’s try not to start any fights. We just need snacks, not a showdown in the frozen food aisle.”
“Yeah, try telling that to Zenitsu,” Muichiro muttered under his breath, earning a dramatic gasp from Zenitsu.
The first grocery store was exactly as chaotic as Zenitsu had feared. People swarmed the aisles like vultures, snatching up the last of the holiday goodies. The shelves looked as though a tornado had passed through, with half-empty boxes of candy canes and torn-open hot cocoa packets scattered everywhere.
“Great,” (Y/N) muttered, surveying the wreckage. “This is worse than I expected.”
“I told you!” Zenitsu whispered urgently, sticking close to Aizawa like a nervous child. “This is a nightmare! We’ll never find what we need here!”
Muichiro wandered ahead, his expression unreadable as he scanned the shelves. He picked up a lone bag of marshmallows and held it up for inspection. “At least we’ve got these,” he said.
(Y/N) shook their head. “We’re going to need more than just marshmallows, Muichiro.”
By the time they reached the third store, tensions were high. Zenitsu was on edge, clutching a shopping basket like it was a weapon. Muichiro had taken it upon himself to grab anything that looked remotely useful, including an industrial-sized canister of whipped cream that no one asked for. Aizawa trailed behind them, looking like he was seconds away from curling up in the pet food aisle and taking a nap.
“Okay,” (Y/N) said, clapping their hands together. “We’re dividing and conquering. Zenitsu, you grab the hot cocoa mix. Muichiro, find the snacks. I’ll get the drinks. Aizawa… supervise.”
Aizawa gave a half-hearted nod, his scarf twitching slightly as if to say, Fine.
Zenitsu darted off, weaving through the crowd like his life depended on it. He reappeared minutes later, clutching not one, but four boxes of hot cocoa mix. “Just in case!” he said defensively when (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.
Meanwhile, Muichiro’s “snack collection” turned out to be both impressive and baffling. He returned with chips, cookies, and what appeared to be an entire section of Japanese candy. “I thought it would be fun to mix things up,” he said when Aizawa gave him a tired look.
The chaos truly began at the checkout line. Zenitsu, jittery as ever, managed to drop one of the boxes of cocoa mix, sending packets skidding across the floor. (Y/N) sighed, kneeling to gather them up, only to be cut off by a harried shopper trying to push their cart through.
“Excuse me!” the shopper snapped, glaring down at (Y/N).
Zenitsu’s eyes went wide, and he backed up, muttering, “Oh no, oh no, it’s happening. It’s happening!”
Muichiro stepped in, his calm demeanor masking the slight edge to his tone. “You could at least wait a moment. We’ll be out of your way soon enough.”
The shopper scoffed. “Kids these days have no respect.”
(Y/N) rose to their feet, cocoa packets in hand, and offered a tight-lipped smile. “We’re just trying to finish our shopping like everyone else. How about a little holiday spirit, huh?”
The shopper opened their mouth to retort, but Aizawa appeared behind (Y/N), his towering presence and perpetually tired expression enough to make anyone think twice. “Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice low and firm.
The shopper huffed and pushed their cart away, leaving Zenitsu to collapse against a nearby shelf in relief. “I thought we were done for,” he whispered dramatically.
(Y/N) rolled their eyes. “It’s hot cocoa, Zenitsu, not the apocalypse.”
By the time they made it back to the car, the group was weighed down with bags of snacks, drinks, and more whipped cream than anyone could reasonably use. As Aizawa started the engine, (Y/N) glanced back at their brother.
“You know, Muichiro,” they said, holding up the massive canister of whipped cream, “this is a bit overkill.”
Muichiro shrugged. “It’s festive.”
Zenitsu, now munching on a candy bar he had snagged during checkout, nodded in agreement. “Honestly, it’s the most useful thing we got. What’s hot cocoa without whipped cream?”
Aizawa sighed deeply as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Remind me never to agree to this again.”
“Aw, c’mon, Aizawa-sensei,” (Y/N) said with a grin. “We crushed it. Snacks secured. Cocoa stocked. Mission accomplished.”
Zenitsu leaned forward, pointing at the road ahead. “Yeah, and we didn’t even have to fight anyone! Well, not really.”
Aizawa groaned. “I need coffee.”
The group chuckled as they drove back home, their bags full and their spirits — well mostly intact. The Food Squad had succeeded, chaos and all.