Upstairs, Izuku opened the door, stepping back into the room. Katsuki was still seated, gripping the controller, but his eyes weren't focused on the game anymore. They flicked over to Izuku with a strange look—one that tried to mask bitterness behind indifference.

"You were gone a while," Katsuki muttered.

"Yeah, your mom talks a lot," Izuku replied casually as he flopped onto his bed, resting his head against a pillow.

"Tch," Katsuki clicked his tongue. "She probably thinks you're some kind of prince now."

Izuku raised a brow. "Why, because I'm not living in a shoebox anymore?"

Katsuki's jaw clenched. He didn't respond right away, pretending to be focused on the game, but his grip on the controller tightened.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, voice low.

Izuku smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Sure you didn't."

The tension in the room lingered for a moment. The sound of digital gunfire and explosions from the screen filled the silence until Katsuki broke it again.

"...Your room's nice," he said grudgingly, scanning the space.

Posters of famous pro-heroes lined the walls—some vintage All Might ones, some newer, sleeker designs of current top heroes. A sleek computer setup with glowing LEDs rested on the desk, surrounded by top-tier gaming gear. His bed was king-sized, covered with black and green sheets, and there was a full shelf of trophies and books.

"Thanks. Got most of this last year." Izuku sat up and stretched his arms. "Mom kind of went all out after things got better."

Katsuki huffed. "Must be nice, having everything just handed to you."

That made Izuku pause. He slowly stood, walked over to his desk, and picked up a small photo frame. In it was a picture of him and Inko, smiling in front of a run-down apartment with peeling paint and a cracked window.

"Nothing was handed to me, Kacchan," he said quietly. "You just weren't there to see what it took."

Katsuki looked away, biting back a response. Deep down, he knew it was true. He'd seen Izuku bruised, humiliated, and alone more times than he could count—but he always thought the guy would stay there. Weak. Quiet. Forgettable.

Now he stood taller, shoulders broader, voice calmer. And worse—he forgave too easily.

"You ain't even mad, huh?" Katsuki muttered. "After all the crap I put you through?"

Izuku turned, his green eyes steady and unreadable for a moment.

"I was mad," he said honestly. "I cried. I hated myself. I hated you."

He sat back down, leaned back on his arms.

"But I'm not that scared kid anymore. I've got people who believe in me. I believe in me." A small smirk tugged at his lips. "Besides, I figured beating you at COD today will be way more satisfying than holding a grudge."

Katsuki scoffed, trying to hide how deeply the words cut.

"You cocky nerd."

Izuku laughed. "Better a cocky nerd than an insecure gremlin."

Their bickering softened the tension, just a little.

---

Downstairs, the moms were deep in conversation. Mitsuki swirled her wine glass, cheeks slightly flushed—not just from the alcohol.

"I swear," she said, exhaling, "that boy of yours… he's not just good-looking, Inko. He carries himself like a man."

Inko blushed, sipping her own wine. "Trust me, I see it every day and still don't believe it. The way women look at him, it's like they're trying to undress him with their eyes."

Mitsuki laughed loudly. "Well, I don't blame them. If I didn't know better, I'd think you raised a future heartbreaker."

Inko shook her head, smiling. "He's respectful though. Never even brings a girl home. But I see it—how he opens doors, carries bags, and that way he speaks."

"That boy could charm a nun out her habits," Mitsuki said, eyes glittering mischievously. She leaned in. "You ever get jealous of the attention he gets?"

Inko snorted. "Please, I'm his mother."

"Still. Must feel weird when women your age blush around him. Makes you wonder, right?"

Inko gave her a sidelong glance. "Don't you get any ideas, Mitsuki."

Mitsuki grinned. "Hey, I'm just saying. If I was ten years younger and divorced…"

"...You're still married."

"Tragically," Mitsuki replied with a sigh.

They both burst into laughter.

---

Back upstairs, the game had turned competitive. They were yelling, laughing, tossing popcorn at each other as they fought for top score.

And for once, Katsuki didn't feel like punching him. Not yet anyway.

Time passed, and the moon climbed high into the sky. The city outside was quiet, painted in silver light, and the hum of nighttime stillness filled the air. Mitsuki and Katsuki stayed the night since it was too late and she was too tipsy to drive.

---

Inside the Midoriya apartment, laughter and chatter from earlier had faded, leaving only the faint sound of the TV playing reruns in the living room.

Mitsuki had drunk more than she expected—half a bottle of wine with Inko and maybe a few too many playful dares from their card game. Her cheeks flushed with residual warmth as she lay next to Inko on the bed. Her friend had already passed out, snoring softly.

"Hell," Mitsuki muttered, sitting up slowly. "Too much wine."

She gently climbed off the bed, stretching her arms above her head with a soft groan before padding toward the door. The hallway was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the kitchen light. She rubbed her eyes.

Meanwhile, Izuku stirred awake. Half-asleep and thirsty, he got up to grab a snack. As he stepped into the hallway, he nearly bumped into someone—Mitsuki.

"Whoa—!" she gasped, stumbling slightly.

Instinctively, Izuku's hand shot out, gripping her waist to steady her. His fingers brushed against her bare skin—her pajama shirt had ridden up a bit. She froze for a moment, blinking up at him.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Bakugo?" he asked, his voice calm, casual, but his emerald eyes gleamed in the low light.

She blinked again, as if surprised by how close he was. "Y-Yeah. Thanks, kid. Guess I wasn't watching my step."

He slowly let go of her waist, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"Bathroom?" she asked after clearing her throat.

"Use mine. It's closer than the one down the hall," he said. "I'll show you."

He led her inside his room. It was neat—cleaner than she expected for a teenage boy. Posters of video games and sci-fi movies were on the walls, a few weights by the corner, and a glowing monitor still displayed a paused game.

"Wow," she said, glancing around. "Your room is really nice. I'm sure Katsuki showed his annoyance. Jealous little brat."

Izuku chuckled. "Really? I didn't notice."

She gave him a side glance. "Mhm. Sure you didn't," she said knowingly, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Izuku leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly as he looked toward the door.

When she stepped out, her hair was slightly messy, her lips a little parted as if she'd rinsed her mouth. She caught him looking.

"Where were you going, anyway?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes curious.

"Just to the kitchen. I was up playing something and needed snacks," he said.

"Well, I could use some too," she smiled, walking closer. Without warning, she gently wrapped her arm around his. "Mind if I tag along?"

Izuku raised a brow but didn't pull away.

"Sure," he said.

As they walked down the hallway, her hand softly gripping his bicep, she thought to herself:

'He's grown up so fast. And those arms… damn.'

TO BE CONTINUED