When Setsuna woke up this morning, she expected trouble, or perhaps some kind of old prank; after all, she'd never had a father, and according to her mother, it was better that way. Yet, when she'd shown her mother that damned letter, there was no denial. Not a single protest, not even a sarcastic laugh.
Just a long silence.
Too cold, too heavy. Blood-chilling.
Then, to her surprise, her mother encouraged her to attend that damn appointment.
Honestly, she couldn't care less about the man. How could she harbor feelings for a ghost? Or at least, that's what she preferred to tell herself. She wasn't hurt by the news; truthfully, she didn't feel much of anything. No sadness, no relief—just a vague sense of unease.
"What if it's some administrative trap? What if this guy left massive debts behind?"
She was ready for anything except that. The mere idea gave her chills.
However, she hadn't anticipated coming face-to-face with another guy in the waiting room. As soon as she stepped in, her eyes landed on him.
A guy hunched over in his seat, looking completely lost. He held a crumpled letter between his fingers, his eyes vacant, as if haunted by thoughts she could only guess at.
"Another orphan?" she joked before realizing it might be inappropriate.
Suddenly, he looked up at her.
And something shifted. His face froze for a fraction of a second, his gaze drifting over her, stopping, hesitating.
"What a strange look," she thought, inwardly amused.
"I definitely made an impression."
She didn't avert her gaze either. There was something curious about him—an aura of sorts.
Tokage took a few steps forward, settling into a seat with her typical nonchalance, lounging back casually without paying any heed to the tense atmosphere. A distracted hand reached up to play with a rebellious strand of hair, a nervous tic she'd had forever.
"Come on, relax a little, will you?" she teased with a smirk. "I suppose you're also here for some inheritance. By the way, name's Tokage."
It took him a few seconds to recover, his eyes lingering on her with... apprehension.
What a strange guy.
"Uh... yeah. I got a letter telling me to come here at 10:45. And, uh, my name is Midoriya."
Wait—Tokage blinked. "10:45?" she murmured, more to herself than to Midoriya. Her smile faded slightly.
The same time, the same appointment.
She glanced around quickly. Two chairs, one room, one lawyer.
"What the hell is going on here?"
But she quickly dismissed the thought with a disdainful wave. Too absurd. Too ridiculous.
She shrugged, adopting a lighter tone.
"Did your letter say anything interesting?" she asked, crossing her legs and leaning slightly forward. "Relax, mine just gave me a cryptic meeting place, announced my ghost-dad kicked the bucket, and voilà. Almost feels like the intro to some shitty spy flick."
Midoriya looked down, slipped a hand into his pocket, and hesitated briefly before replying. "Oh… mine just told me to come here for more information."
Curious. Very curious. Especially since the boy seemed uncomfortable as he spoke, squirming in his seat to ease his unease before glancing quickly in her direction. She immediately noted this detail.
''He's avoiding eye contact.
He's hesitating way too long before speaking.
He's clearly hiding something.
Come on, play it straight, Midoriya.''
She remained silent for a second until that strange bloke restarted the conversation, curiosity evident in his tone.
"You… have you always lived in Japan, Tokage?" he asked, an uncertain gleam in his green eyes.
It was a personal question—though not invasive. Setsuna knew it wasn't asked casually. He was either fishing for information or subtly trying to share something; either way, it definitely wasn't just small talk over tea.
She raised an eyebrow, still playing idly with her hair. "Yeah, why?"
Izuku stayed quiet. A few seconds passed. Too long. Finally, after a deep breath, he straightened in his seat.
"Me too!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "My dad… he left for the USA when I was four."
Setsuna's eyes widened slightly, a chill running down her spine.
''Wait, what? Hold up a sec.''
That was suspiciously close to what her own mother had told her. This time, her smile disappeared entirely, venom creeping into her voice.
"So what?" she spat, harsher than she intended. "Not trying to be rude, but I don't see how that's my problem."
Izuku, hands resting on his knees, winced before folding them nervously in front of him.
"I never saw him again."
Awkward silence.
Setsuna crossed her arms defensively. This whole situation was way too fucking absurd.
"Okay, that sucks. Sorry to hear that."
The boy didn't respond. Gone was his earlier hesitation and awkwardness. Now he was staring straight at her. Directly.
The eye contact barely lasted a few seconds, but it was enough.
''Oh fuck…
No, no, no!''
Her fingers froze mid-twirl, and her arms dropped limply to her sides.
Freckles scattered across his cheeks.
Curly, messy green hair.
Large green eyes shining vividly.
Setsuna couldn't deny the obvious anymore, no matter how much she wanted to. Her heart lurched into overdrive, panic rising and burning her chest.
"Fuck… no way, this can't be happening!"
She felt as if she'd been swept backward by opposing winds, overcome by a powerful wave of dizziness. Her lips tightened as she brought a hand to her chin, then covered her mouth. How the hell could something like this even be possible?
"You mean…" she started, barely managing a whisper.
Izuku averted his gaze. Then, in a voice as steady as he could muster, he spoke the words that sealed it all.
"My father's first name was Hisashi."
A heavy silence filled the room.
She sat frozen like a statue, a lump swelling painfully in her throat as she stared at Midoriya.
Her brother.
"Mine too."
She felt her throat tighten dangerously as her stomach twisted painfully.
"I… I guess he just changed his last name every time he hooked up with another woman," she said, voice harsher, more strained. "How old are you, anyway?"
Izuku fell silent, raising an eyebrow slightly—he must have reached the same conclusion as she had. "Fifteen. You?"
"Same."
Well, shit. They both sat quietly, absorbing the shock. Their father had dated their mothers simultaneously, making the whole thing disgustingly messed up. Setsuna had to physically restrain herself from spitting venom on a dead man's name.
What a fucking scumbag—and that wasn't even the half of it yet.
She flung herself abruptly against the chair. "Oh god, we're about to open a fucking Pandora's box."
He nodded slowly. He seemed just as shaken as she was, but his trembling had stopped, his eyes hardened.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Only a few minutes left before they'd meet the lawyer. The magnitude of what had just fallen upon her slammed Setsuna hard. Usually quick with sarcasm, she suddenly couldn't muster a single joke to ease this fucked-up tension.
Whenever shit went sideways—her fault or otherwise—she used humor as her shield. But right now, that shield had a damn big crack.
"If only this was a joke…"
She wanted desperately to burst out laughing, pretend there was a hidden camera or it was just some shitty comedy script.
But nope.
This wasn't a joke. Reality was crashing down hard on her.
An unfamiliar weight pressed heavily against her chest, her stress skyrocketing.
''How long has it been since I've felt this shitty?''
Izuku stayed motionless.
His skin might have turned pale like someone on death row, yet his gaze wasn't frightened. It was calm. Too fucking calm…
And that pissed her off even more.
She wanted to shake him, to see him lose his shit, so she wouldn't be alone drowning in this cynical rage.
She wanted him to snap, just like her!
Because if he could stay calm and collected even through this fucked-up mess, it meant she was the only one spiraling out of control.
"So what the fuck are we exactly? Half-siblings? Results of genetic experiments? Or just the fucking leftovers of some asshole who couldn't keep it in his pants?" she snapped, venom dripping from every word, a bitter laugh masking her genuine outrage.
She expected a chuckle in return, a sarcastic sigh, maybe even an amused eyebrow raise. But all she got was a hurt look filled with pure sadness.
She gritted her teeth slightly, stood up, and began pacing the tiny room. She needed to move, to burn off the negative energy flooding her veins.
She had only one urge: Get the hell out of this place!
But as she walked past Izuku, she took a deep breath.
Because she was a future hero, dammit. And heroes didn't run away from the truth.
Izuku finally reacted, wiping a hand over his face, then speaking in an uncertain voice.
"I… I guess we're really sibling."
Setsuna passed by the antique clock and had to stop herself from smashing the shit out of it—grabbing the damn thing and hurling it several floors below. Instead, she leaned against the white wall, staring blankly out the window.
People were strolling down below, carefree, trouble-free, living their peaceful lives. God, she wished she could just join them…
"Ah, this sucks…"
Her "brother" turned towards her, visibly shaken, and the fragile composure he'd managed to gather nearly collapsed like a goddamn house of cards.
"Why is that so bad?" he asked, with sincerity that could've made even the coldest bastard tear up.
She clenched her fists.
"What do you think dumbass? Because all of this is just another fucking mess he left behind. For all we know, he could've been a villain or some psycho! I don't know about you, but at my place, I wasn't even allowed to ask about him."
The sharpness of her voice dragged a heavy sadness to the surface, anxiety crackling thick in the air.
She looked at Izuku, who seemed to take her words like a whip to the face.
''Shit, that's on me.''
She'd let her emotions get the best of her. She was worlds away from the praise she'd gotten during the UA exam—right now, her behavior was pathetic, nothing less.
"Hey, Midoriya."
"Yeah?"
She briefly closed her eyes, then sighed, drained.
"I'm sorry."
"Oh… I…" he stammered, his facade crumbling.
Setsuna let out a bitter, joyless laugh.
"It's just... this whole thing is a lot to handle, and I feel like I'm dumping everything bottled up inside me onto you, just because you're the only one here. And that's shitty of me."
Izuku didn't respond right away.
Then he reached out his hand toward her. A small, genuine, gentle smile appeared on his face.
"I get it. I've been struggling with it too."
Setsuna took his hand, startled by the strength of his grip; she felt herself effortlessly pulled upright, as though she weighed nothing.
Her gaze lingered on him, intrigued. ''He's stronger than he looks.''
"You know," she murmured softly, "now I'm even angrier at him than before."
He lowered his eyes toward the letter.
"For abandoning us?"
She shook her head. If that was all, their story wouldn't be any different from countless other sob stories.
"No…" she hissed, leaving Izuku in suspense for a brief moment.
"Then, what for?"
She cracked her knuckles, turned fully toward him, and locked eyes.
"For hiding the truth from us. He knew we existed, and look around—it's just the two of us here. Nobody else to claim this inheritance. If he were still alive, we'd never have known we were brother and sister."
He nodded grimly; they probably never would have met.
"We would've just stayed strangers, ignorant forever, and that's what pisses me off the most. We both grew up living a lie."
The brutal truth made them both tremble—one in rage, the other in disgust. Setsuna finally laughed bitterly, genuine hatred building up toward her father. A man she'd ignored, someone her mother shrouded in mystery, now revealed as a cruel liar. Whatever his reasons, he was nothing more than a sadistic, heartless bastard. She was certain of that.
Suddenly, the office door swung open silently, revealing their gracious host.
His icy gaze swept the room, stopping briefly on Izuku, then Setsuna. It was a cold, mechanical analysis, judgmental and harsh. Setsuna instantly felt the weight of unspoken truths slam down upon her, an oppressive heaviness chasing away any lingering warmth that might've survived in this miserable room.
He cleared his throat before speaking, his deep, gravelly voice resonating in the electrically charged air.
"Greetings. I am Mr. Shimada." He gave them a curt nod—neither friendly nor hostile. "Mr. Midoriya, Miss Tokage. Thank you for coming; please follow me into my office."
With those words, he turned on his heels, opened the door, and gestured toward two leather chairs inside. His piercing eyes scrutinized them, sizing them up like prey in a hunter's crosshairs, filling Setsuna with a savage unease.
He calmly shut the door behind them and walked toward his seat, the rhythmic clack of his shoes striking the floor like a soldier on march.
The black leather chairs looked decrepit, old-fashioned, and distinctly uncomfortable, and when she finally sat down, a chill ran sharply up her spine.
When he finally took his place facing them, Setsuna seized the chance to study this strange man—one of the rare few who possibly knew her father.
He was probably pushing fifty, judging by the silver strands peppered throughout his jet-black hair.
His face was angular, a waxy mask devoid of any warmth, mirroring the icy reflection of his steely eyes: sharp, penetrating, inquisitorial.
He sat silently, placing the enormous folder onto the desk with a weary, delicate gesture, his sleeve sliding back just enough to expose an expensive watch. In a smooth motion, he immediately adjusted his sleeve again, then coughed lightly into his palm as though attempting to erase the sound of the file hitting the desk.
In a calm, almost detached voice, he spoke, "I won't take too much of your time, young people."
"This guy is disturbingly neutral. Creepy. He's like a fucking robot," Setsuna thought, swallowing hard, muscles tensing involuntarily.
"I'll get straight to the point. Your father's estate totals 218 million dollars."
"HOW FUCKING MUCH?!" Setsuna mentally screamed, shock written plainly across her face. She thought she'd be leaving buried under debts; instead, she'd walk out a multimillionaire.
The irony.
A nervous laugh immediately slipped from her lips, earning her a sharp, analytical glance from Mr. Shimada, who intertwined his fingers in front of him.
"Ha… haha! This is bullshit! So, where's your hidden fucking camera?"
Shimada didn't flinch an inch, his voice devoid of any humor, his words cutting deeply into her thick skull. "There is none, Miss Tokage."
Izuku, meanwhile, didn't say a single word.
His gaze was lost in an abyss, his hands clenched so tightly on his knees that his knuckles turned white.
He was completely fucking paralyzed.
But suddenly, a spark ignited in his eyes. Setsuna barely knew him, yet she recognized that look instantly.
The look of someone desperate for answers.
"If I may admit something to you both," Shimada continued smoothly, "your father made certain to bypass the… greedy hands of the government."
A bitter smirk twisted Setsuna's lips. "No shit. A man capable of hiding two kids, leading a double life, probably a tax evasion expert ? Incredi-fucking-ble"
She couldn't care less what kind of magic he'd used to pull off his shady business right under the noses of foreign authorities. This entire surreal story had drained her too much to even fully absorb its meaning.
"Your father was the head of a highly prestigious private academy in America, a training center for the elite."
Izuku slowly raised his head, jolted directly from his thoughts.
"A private academy?"
Shimada gave a slight nod. "He trained military personnel, government operatives, and of course, heroes."
"Holy shit… that wasn't just any ordinary school. Did Mom know about this?"
Shaken, Setsuna sent an urgent glance toward her brother, naively hoping he was handling this revelation better than her. When the ship starts sinking, you grab whatever's floating.
Izuku was clearly rattled, and the horror creeping across his youthful features sent a violent surge of unease crawling through his sister.
He didn't look as stunned as she did—not exactly…
Was that… fear she saw on his face?
"And…" Izuku stammered, inhaling the stale air of the office, "…that's where he was found. Murdered."
Shimada's eyebrows furrowed slightly. Very briefly. A micro-reaction? Yet she saw it clearly.
"I see you've done your homework," he said, keeping his voice deliberately neutral.
But she heard suspicion underneath.
He tugged lightly at his sleeve before once again clasping his hands together, leaning forward subtly—so faintly it could've easily gone unnoticed.
His tone was neutral—or at least intended to be—but Setsuna detected something else lurking beneath: a faint tension, a whisper of worry.
"Let's just say… some students weren't exactly the most stable individuals."
Both teenagers tensed at his words.
"In any case, that's the angle the police are currently investigating. They suspect a small group; even very powerful individuals wouldn't have managed to murder your father without impeccable planning."
He paused, observing their prolonged silence, then added with irritating detachment:
"Unfortunately, that's all I know."
Bullshit.
She felt the lie in every fiber of her being.
Her instincts weren't wrong—this guy knew something. Whatever his reasons, he was treating them like fools by hiding the truth.
"Students?" she asked slowly, deliberately infusing her voice with mistrust. "Doesn't sound like any ordinary school, no matter how prestigious."
Shimada sighed softly before giving a cold, distant half-smile, sending another wave of tension rippling through the cramped office.
"Such establishments," he hissed, raising his left arm in a smooth, controlled gesture, "however prestigious they appear, have only one clear objective."
He was toying with their nerves, their emotions, and especially their patience.
"And what objective is that?" she asked sharply, raising an eyebrow.
His gaze flicked across both of them before finally delivering a brutally blunt answer: "To create obedient soldiers for their masters. That's what soldiers, spies, even heroes truly are: mere tools."
Setsuna's stomach twisted painfully, bile rising bitterly in her throat. An unpleasant shiver ran down her spine.
''A tool?!''
It was revolting! She opened her mouth, ready to spit venom, but Izuku suddenly sprang from his seat, eyes blazing with incendiary passion.
"Heroes aren't people you can use like—!" he shouted defiantly, a bravery far from the usual crippling shyness he projected.
Shimada silenced him with a single, decisive gesture: a palm raised calmly into the air.
"Don't misunderstand me, young man. They're good people. Generally."
He paused yet again, giving them a moment to absorb his words.
"But they're still tools—and tools must be forged. That's exactly what your father was.
A blacksmith.
Now, please sit down so I can distribute the legal documents."
The words were cruelly accurate. Setsuna knew it—she'd been around heroes her entire life; they wanted to do good at all costs, and that was what mattered. It didn't matter who was giving orders, as long as it maintained the peace.
She believed that with all her heart, yet the cold brutality of the lawyer made her grimace.
Shimada didn't give them time to protest, or even recover. With skeletal hands, he reached for a folder, sliding two stacks of papers toward them.
"Now, if you would kindly sign these legal documents. Sign here and there."
Tokage felt a surge of disgust and guilt rise in her throat. She knew exactly what would follow, and she felt utterly powerless to stop it.
Legal documents, proof of their inheritance.
Confirmation they were accepting a fortune they'd never asked for, that they'd always ignored.
Her gaze fell numbly onto the figures, a wave of dizziness nearly knocking her off balance.
She'd grown up broke.
Starving.
Cold, without electricity or hot water.
Every day fearing eviction.
And now?
Now she was being handed a fortune so immense she'd never dared even dream of it. Money she couldn't reasonably refuse. She couldn't go back to poverty.
Yet, as she grasped the pen, the black ink seemed to bleed red before her eyes.
The red of her father's blood. Of the suffering he surely inflicted to amass such wealth.
Of the decisions she'd now made.
Would she become just another tool, herself?
''What a disgrace!''
She forced her trembling fingers to grip the luxurious fountain pen, and signed.
Without joy, without even a hint of a smile.
Izuku did the same, his hand shaking slightly.
With a firmness that betrayed her internal torment, she handed the papers back to Shimada, who swiftly collected them with a calm, assured grasp.
He glanced at them briefly, emitted a small, satisfied sound, then…
He offered them a smile that seemed sincere.
But it was merely an illusion.
Cleverly, Shimada's demeanor shifted slightly, relaxing into his chair. "I have a request," he announced casually as he gave the documents one last glance. ''Or let's say an advice for you two...''
If she could physically raise her guard, she would have.
His voice took on a lower, self-satisfied note—a proud benevolence, almost paternal. Yet like everything else he'd said before, it felt horrifically empty.
"You have everything to gain by accepting this inheritance as a gift and turning the page. Let justice run its course and stay out of it. This is a complicated matter, and nobody should get involved."
This wasn't advice; it was a damn threat.
"We're standing on thin ice, and we'd better keep our mouths shut. We can dig later, far away from him," she thought quickly, biting back the venom rising inside her.
Izuku, as she would painfully learn, didn't give two shits about even basic caution.
"And what if we want answers?" he declared rather than asked, his voice full of heroic bravery.
Shimada remained utterly unimpressed, tilting his head slightly, his gaze never leaving the young man's eyes.
"Let's be frank: the answers you seek will only lead to trouble. Sometimes, knowledge chains you to the past and prevents you from moving forward."
Setsuna felt exasperated—and more than that, worried.
Worried about losing even more control of the situation, worried about stepping deeper into barely concealed danger. They needed to get the hell out of there, and fast!
"I think we're done here, Mr. Philosopher."
He let out a sly little chuckle, then pointed towards the door, adjusting that damn sleeve again. "Then I wish you luck—you'll surely need it."
She shoved back her chair, stood, and spun on her heels.
Izuku followed silently.
She opened the door. Stepped out. Took a deep breath.
Her heart was racing way too fast.
She slammed the door shut behind her.
She exhaled.
It was over. Well… at least for now.
"Let's get the fuck out of here. Coffee's on me."
"Uh…"
"My company that unpleasant? And here I thought my own brother might enjoy hanging out with me."
He shook off his hesitation and nodded. "Okay… I'll come."
And just like that, he was back to stammering as if everything were a goddamn trial.
Though, in fairness, that wasn't totally wrong—at least in their fucked-up case.
A little while later:
Setsuna hadn't looked for anywhere specific—she just wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. She didn't even know what was around the neighborhood, but frankly, she didn't give a shit.
Izuku didn't protest and followed quietly, clearly spaced out, mumbling his thoughts out loud.
''Man, could this guy brood!''
He was so lost in his own head that he nearly walked straight into a pole.
His strangled shout echoed down the street as Setsuna reached out her arm at the last moment, preventing the collision.
He instantly turned pale, and goddamn, it was hilarious!
"Something touched me!"
Alarmed, he started frantically looking around, spinning and scanning the old houses with panicked eyes, as though hunting an invisible assailant.
Setsuna laughed like an overly excited kid, hiding her left arm behind her back. He momentarily missed this little detail.
''How far should I push this prank?''
"As if anyone else would be wandering around here. This place looks… abandoned," she hissed, stopping abruptly, planting her feet firmly on the ground, and turning dramatically to face him. She stared into his eyes with all the intensity of a psychic on a hallucinogenic trip.
"As if there were gh–ghosts?!" she burst out, practically screaming the last word as she struck a dramatic pose, her arm still hidden behind her back.
A ridiculous joke.
"Gh–ghosts?" he stammered, eyes wide.
A ridiculously successful joke.
He felt a pinch on his shoulder and reacted with incredible speed, slapping his hand over the spot instantly, grabbing… something.
"A floating hand!!"
Several windows creaked open, revealing irritated elderly faces clearly annoyed by the racket Setsuna had created. But honestly, who could resist?
As Izuku stood there, utterly stunned and nearly falling backward as he stumbled two steps away, she finally revealed the trick.
The 'ghostly' hand floated gracefully back toward her, seamlessly reconnecting with her arm.
Naturally, Izuku short-circuited briefly, then his brain exploded with realization. His excitement skyrocketed, and he rushed toward her, fumbling around in his pockets until he found an old notebook.
It didn't take long for him to start scribbling madly.
"Is that your Quirk?!"
"Are you on cocaïne or something?"
He ignored her comment with alarming nonchalance. "What exactly can you do? Just move your hands? Or other parts of your body? How far can you send them? How does it work?!"
"Whoa, calm down a bit!" she tried, placing both hands defensively in front of her.
But it was pointless—he'd entered full-blown nerd mode.
"I see… Just watch this."
She focused her Quirk, flexing it like one would a sore muscle, drawing forth a familiar, comforting sensation. Her limbs detached effortlessly, floating freely around her. Her arms rose to levitate playfully above her head, and her legs performed a slow, graceful spin that Izuku watched with open admiration.
His jaw practically hit the ground, and he scribbled even faster, murmuring a flood of words comprehensible only to himself. She found it amusing—if a little odd.
Quirks were still a massive scientific mystery, and no one truly understood how her body or internal organs continued to function when detached.
"I can even command my body to move around without my head attached."
He raised an impressed eyebrow, immediately jotting down this detail.
"That's amazing! A Quirk like that could be incredibly powerful for a hero! Imagine the infiltration potential, or surprise attack capabilities!"
She grinned, pleased to be recognized, and effortlessly returned her body parts to their natural positions.
Setsuna flashed a wide smile, letting out a small sigh of relief.
Honestly, people usually reacted awkwardly to her abilities. Some even told her outright she was creepy.
But Izuku—like a rare few—clearly saw things differently.
''If I'm getting compliments, might as well strike a pose!'' she thought, puffing out her chest and planting her hands proudly on her hips.
"And that's exactly why I'm gonna become a hero!" she declared triumphantly, basking in the warm glow of the midday sun.
"Oh!" Izuku exclaimed, a genuine, overflowing joy lighting up his smile as he jotted down one final note.
Eventually, they spotted a small, secluded café at the end of the street and made their way toward it. Settling into their seats, they ordered their drinks, and continued their conversation in a much lighter, friendlier tone.
The waiter placed the steaming cups down, and Setsuna immediately grabbed hers, blowing on it lightly.
Izuku, however, still seemed a bit lost. "So, you want to become a hero?" he finally asked, his voice calmer now.
She set her cup down, crossing her arms with an amused smirk.
"Yeah, I trained like hell, but I managed to pass UA's entrance exam—on recommendation," she declared proudly.
Izuku, holding his coffee, nearly burned his fingers in surprise. His entire demeanor suddenly brightened as his green eyes locked onto hers.
"You're going to UA too?!"
Yet another coincidence—though a much happier one this time.
Setsuna couldn't hide her surprise either. "Wait, what do you mean 'too'? You wanna be a hero as well?"
Izuku smiled, completely in his element now. "Yeah! I just passed the entrance exam a few days ago."
He paused briefly, drifting into thought, his gaze darkening slightly. Was he remembering something? Maybe that damned letter?
After all, she'd received her acceptance letter the very same day as that cursed inheritance news. Probably the same was true for him.
She took a sip of her coffee. "Wow. So, we're both going to the same high school—the most prestigious in the country. What are the odds, huh?"
He nodded, though his eyes lingered on the coffee cup. "Yeah, it's all pretty unbelievable."
"We've got more in common than I'd thought."
He nodded again, reflecting on her words as he took another sip. Suddenly, a spark of curiosity flashed in his eyes.
"Wait a sec—what class are you in?"
"1-A," he said, clearly hoping she'd say the same.
She huffed softly through her nose. "Ah shit, I'm in 1-B."
"Oh, so we're not in the same class."
He looked… disappointed, almost saddened.
Setsuna was a little surprised, but shrugged lightly, trying to ease the tension.
"Hey, come on. Our classrooms are probably right next to each other, so don't worry. Seriously though, what are the odds of us both becoming hero students?" she repeated thoughtfully.
Pretty high—but far less likely they'd both succeeded at UA.
He nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah… it's crazy. Almost feels like…"
And there he went again, stammering nervously…
"Feels like what?" she calmly asked, taking another sip. She had an idea where this was heading, and frankly, she wasn't thrilled.
He hesitated. Then murmured:
"Like… fate."
She froze, staring at him incredulously for a moment. Then she rolled her eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Fate?"
She placed her elbows firmly on the table and sighed dramatically.
"That's a load of bullshit. No offense, but I can't believe everything that happened today was somehow 'fate.'"
"Maybe," he admitted thoughtfully, "but it definitely wasn't just random chance."
She slowly swirled what remained of her coffee, watching the dark liquid spin hypnotically in slow circles. It wasn't hard to guess what he was implying—what he felt. Something she'd also wondered.
"You think he set this up?"
He glanced up, briefly confused as evidenced by his knitted brows. Then realization dawned. He tried to smile innocently, though it barely fooled her.
''Does he think he's All Might or something?'' she thought, crossing her arms, a mocking grin tugging at her lips.
"Our… father?" he eventually asked carefully, as if saying the words would somehow make them undeniably real.
Setsuna sighed again, leaned back into her chair, and stretched out her legs beneath the table.
"What a ridiculous idea! How the hell could he have forced both of us to become heroes? You're just making shit up, Midoriya. It's just that… we've grown up idolizing heroes, wanting to be like them.
But still—
it's weird we both got accepted."
Izuku's face darkened noticeably, as though he was reliving old nightmares. He stopped drinking his coffee, staring numbly at its rippling surface, exactly as she had moments before.
''Did he take that as an insult? Man, he's sensitive.''
The silence was becoming heavy, and her gut told her she'd just fucked up.
She cleared her throat, softer now:
"I mean… I'm not questioning your skills, y'know? I didn't mean it like that at all. I bet you're really strong." She offered him a sincere little smile. "All I meant was that passing the UA entrance exam is practically a miracle—it's insanely elite."
He slowly lifted his head, trying to return her smile… but she could see through it.
It was just a facade.
She'd had it rough, sure. But him? He must've lived through hell.
"My… my power… how do I say this…"
She raised an eyebrow, placing her hands on the table and watching him with a carefully casual expression. "Whoa, chill. I'm not here to judge."
Izuku let out a long breath, her words visibly lifting an invisible weight from his shoulders, shoulders which now visibly relaxed. He ran a hand through his messy hair, hesitated again, then finally confessed:
"It's not that. I didn't have a Quirk until the exam."
She remained skeptical—normally she could smell bullshit from a mile away—but he had no reason to lie to her. He seemed honest enough.
"How's that even possible?" she asked seriously.
''Hell? That's an understatement. Growing up Quirkless, he must've been bullied relentlessly.''
Izuku stared down at his hands, tracing the lingering injuries he'd earned that day. They weren't fully healed yet, but he was proud of them.
"There was this girl… she was in danger, trapped, unable to escape from the zero-point robot. So I charged in."
Shock. Disbelief. Admiration.
A whirlwind of emotions swept through her as her brother's story took shape in her mind.
"Wow… that takes some guts," she murmured aloud, earning an embarrassed blush from the poor boy.
"I wanted to save her, and that's when I felt something awaken inside me—a huge surge of strength. I tapped into it without even knowing how."
He let out an awkward laugh before wincing at the memory.
"I broke both legs just activating my power. Then I smashed the robot in one punch… breaking every bone all the way up to my shoulder."
It was utterly absurd. She opened her mouth but struggled to form coherent words.
A Quirk shouldn't hurt its user. Yet his had shredded his body! He could've accidentally killed himself!
"A Quirk isn't supposed to harm its user…" she murmured, sending him a sad, concerned glance. This wasn't fair, wasn't right.
That was the first thing kids were taught, and it was almost always true.
Except for Izuku.
Activating a Quirk after six years old was already incredibly rare—but at fifteen?
She didn't even want to imagine the odds. Again.
Then, a thought occurred to her.
"Maybe… that's why your Quirk didn't awaken earlier. You probably would've died instantly," she said softly, a chill of worry running through her body as her fingers traced the warm edge of her cup, seeking comfort.
He nodded, clearly pleased by her reaction. "Yeah, that's exactly what the school nurse told me."
"Still, attacking an enemy with no Quirk… I'm not sure if that's bravery or sheer madness," she said, shaking her head half-amused, half-exasperated.
He could've died—all for a simple exam.
His expression softened, but pride still shone in his eyes. "I've always wanted to be a hero. It's my dream, and… I did everything I could to achieve it."
She whistled, impressed yet worried. "Tch. I just discovered I have a brother, and turns out he's completely nuts! You know what? I'll buy you another drink. Hey, waiter!"
Might as well enjoy being newly rich!
Before, she'd never been able to afford being picky, or ordering something expensive simply because it was… well, expensive.
The waiter took her order with a polite smile before she dismissed him proudly, satisfied.
Across the table, Izuku clasped his hands and lowered his head, clearly exasperated.
"You realize we won't have the money right away?"
She raised her eyebrows dangerously, clicking her tongue against her palate. "What are you talking about?"
He pressed his lips together nervously, the embarrassment gradually reddening his cheeks.
"Well… the lawyer needs to send documents to the bank, and since he lived overseas, the money has to move through international banks. Especially for such a huge amount."
Uh-oh.
A cold chill ran down her spine as her mind frantically sought a solution.
"Hold up…" she sighed, leaning forward slightly, elbows on the table. "Are you saying I ordered something for 8,000 yen…? Shit! I don't even have a quarter of that!"
Midoriya nodded very slowly, eyes drifting sideways, clearly hoping to distance himself from his sister's idiocy.
An idiocy Setsuna was now painfully aware of.
"So… what now?"
Their ship was sinking, and both of them were stranded at sea. Blub, blub…
A flash of panic jolted through young Midoriya, contorting his face into an awful grimace.
Setsuna leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a falsely innocent pout.
"Don't you have someone who can lend us cash? It's not much, just 8,000 yen."
Or about fifty measly dollars, if she wanted a humiliating comparison.
He stared at her incredulously, as if she'd suggested he commit a robbery.
"I… I…" he wrung his hands anxiously, clearly exhausted by all this foolishness.
Setsuna flashed her best, adorably apologetic smile, driving the final nail into the coffin. "Because I don't have anyone to ask. You'll have to be today's hero, Midoriya."
His face drained of all color, leaving him ghostly pale. He resigned himself, thoroughly ashamed.
"I only know one person who could help us." He took a shaky breath. "But please, please be serious with him!"
She blinked, feigning outrage. "Me? Not serious?! How dare you!"
He looked at her, dead inside.
She reluctantly dropped the humor in front of… well, his utter silence. "Okay, fine. I promise."
Izuku gravely pulled out his phone. He quickly scanned the café, making sure they were isolated enough from other customers, scrolled nervously through his contacts, and finally swallowed hard.
One… two… three rings. The silence dragged on just long enough to become uncomfortable, until a timid voice finally answered.
"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"
Her brother instantly sat up straight, posture snapping into military precision.
"Yes, sir! Nothing serious, but… I've got a small problem. This might sound ridiculous, but I ended up ordering something I can't pay for. I'm really sorry!"
The enthusiasm and respect dripping from his voice were impressive. ''Whoever this guy is, Izuku definitely likes him.''
"Oh…" came the timid voice, quickly erupting into deep, hearty laughter. "I see! I didn't realize you were taking girls out to restaurants now, my boy!"
Setsuna nearly choked on her own saliva, while Izuku immediately turned a bright shade of scarlet.
"Well, just send me the address and I'll be there soon. I'm a bit tied up at the moment, so sit tight."
"Thank you very much! I'll wait as long as you need!"
Setsuna slumped onto the table, resting her chin comfortably on her joined hands. She fixed Izuku with a predatory grin, patiently waiting for him to end his call with their miraculous savior.
Then, in a voice heavy with implication, she teased:
"Oh my, young love is so sweet!"
Izuku's face twisted into an expression of pure disgust. She could practically hear his soul screaming for mercy.
She chuckled darkly, but how could she stop there?
Tapping her chin with feigned thoughtfulness, she added slyly, "Come on, I don't know who he is, but he can't be that ugly."
Izuku nearly choked in outrage, crossing his arms with the sulky pout of a kid deprived of candy.
"Don't talk like that about him! He's…" He suddenly halted, stumbling over his words. "He's… I… He… Argh! He's just… a good person!"
"So who is this mysterious stud, anyway? You talk about him like he's All Might or something!"
Izuku froze, pretending not to hear—but far too late.
Finally, the waiter returned, balancing a lavish tray expertly. Upon it were desserts so obscenely lavish, overflowing with cream, chocolate, and basically everything one could order here.
The princess—Setsuna, as she liked to see herself—gave him a triumphant smile, inclining her head graciously, before arrogantly snapping her fingers.
"Oh, and of course, I expect your finest drinks as well. Naturally, they'll be the most expensive ones…"
The man bowed respectfully, somehow maintaining his professionalism, though it wasn't hard to notice the slight twitch of his eyelid.
A subtle annoyance, unlike her brother's overt exasperation.
"How could you do that, Tokage?!" Izuku gasped, scandalized, pointing an accusing finger at her as if he'd witnessed someone banging a grave.
She giggled softly, replying innocently, "You should've told him exactly how much we needed. But hey, he'll never know and… it's not every day you get to feast for free."
Izuku pressed a palm to his face, utterly mortified and ashamed. He desperately hoped no one else had noticed Setsuna's little show, but naturally, they had become the café's main attraction.
He had to be wondering how on earth he'd ended up in this situation.
Setsuna, however, felt no guilt or remorse whatsoever. Honestly, this wasn't even a big deal.
She made a show of eating slowly, theatrically savoring each bite just to further rile him, punctuating her performance with exaggerated exclamations of "This is amazing!" and "Maybe I'll order one more!"
Once she finished her dessert, she pointed at the untouched treat in front of Izuku.
"If you don't touch it, I'll tell your mysterious gentleman caller that you were the one who ordered everything."
"Hey! That's not fair!"
She nearly burst out laughing—his innocence was adorable. "Come on, just eat it, and stop whining like a kid."
Defeated, he stared at the dish and realized he wouldn't win this battle. Picking up his spoon, he reluctantly began attacking the chocolate cake, guilt filling every bite.
And finally…
He ate the whole damn thing.
A few minutes passed as Setsuna sampled every drink imaginable, while Izuku nervously scribbled notes into his notebook.
Their mystery guest was certainly taking his sweet time, and the wait was becoming frustrating.
Until finally, the café door swung open.
A man stepped inside.
Thin, lanky, sickly-looking.
His blonde hair was messy, deep shadows under his eyes emphasizing their strikingly intense blue color.
He wore an old brown coat, clearly battered by time and neglect, over a dingy off-white T-shirt so crumpled it seemed freshly excavated from a manure pit.
"This guy's supposed to save us? Yikes, what a mess! And what's up with that disgusting old T-shirt? Looks like he hasn't changed it in days!"
And yet… beneath this skeletal exterior, there was something indescribable—something quietly powerful, lying dormant beneath calm waters.
A reassuring presence…
Setsuna raised an eyebrow, unsettled by what she could see and sense. She dismissed her frivolous thoughts with a weary wave of her hand, giving him one last critical look up and down.
She glanced sideways at her brother, who was grinning like a child on Christmas morning.
"Sir! Over here! Please come sit!"
"Seriously??? Is this guy your sugar daddy or something?"
The older man smiled, revealing teeth astonishingly bright and clean for someone with such a wretched appearance. He approached, casting a gentle gaze towards Izuku before turning towards her.
With graceful courtesy, he inclined his head slightly.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Toshinori Yagi. You must be a friend of young Midoriya?"
She smiled mysteriously and accepted his handshake. "You could say that. I'm Setsuna Tokage."
As their hands touched, she immediately sensed the innate strength within this stranger. His grip was firm, yet gentle.
Strangely enough, he radiated an unmistakable warmth.
He sat down across from Izuku and eyed the piled-up plates. One eyebrow arched in amusement.
"Well, I see you certainly didn't hold back on spending," he remarked lightly, chuckling.
He didn't seem bothered by having to cover their idiotic spree, but Izuku cringed visibly, his cheeks discovering new depths of redness.
"I'm really sorry, sir. Things got a little out of control today and… here we are."
The man laughed softly and placed a large, comforting hand on the teen's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, my boy."
Then, with a smooth, swift motion, he discreetly slid a handful of bills into Izuku's hand. "I won't intrude on your date any longer—I'm sure you'll tell me everything later if you feel like it."
"Enjoy what's left, go to the arcade or watch a movie. You should make the most of it before school starts, my boy!"
Tokage narrowed her eyes, a peculiar feeling rising within her. This guy was way too kind, but she felt grateful.
She smiled at the older man, curiosity brightening her voice. "You're really generous, sir. Honestly, I ordered all this just to mess with Midoriya."
He chuckled gently as he stood from the bench. "Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun. Just make sure you don't end up in debt."
"Soon that won't be a problem anymore," she thought while Izuku and the older man exchanged a few quiet words.
"Well, I'll be going now. Take care!"
And just as mysteriously as he appeared, he vanished—through the café's front door.
Setsuna watched him leave with puzzled fascination, releasing a gentle sigh.
"What a strange guy."
Meanwhile, Izuku nervously clutched his notebook, his thumb absently running over its scorched cover.
Suddenly, Setsuna's phone beeped, pulling her abruptly back to reality. She glanced at the screen—a message from her mother.
"I need to head home," she announced, standing, her expression suddenly darker.
He noticed immediately, though he couldn't know why.
"Oh, right. Yeah, we've been out for a long time. My mom will probably worry too if I don't get back soon… She's not used to me being out on weekends."
Setsuna nodded and held her phone out to Izuku. "Here, take my number. We can talk more once I'm home."
He quickly accepted, clearly pleased.
"He probably doesn't have many friends," she thought, recalling his earlier words. Quirkless people were often ostracized…
They paid the bill under the waiter's pointed glare, then stepped out of the café. Setsuna paused briefly to admire the grey clouds.
It was going to rain.
But before the downpour hit, a final ray of sunlight pierced through, bathing the empty street in a gentle glow.
She squinted against the brightness, said goodbye to Izuku, and stepped forward with newfound confidence—ready to face whatever came next.
To be continued…