He arrived home, shutting the door behind him. The house was quiet except for the faint sound of movement upstairs.

In her room, Inko stood in front of the mirror, fastening the last clasp of her earrings. She tilted her head slightly, appraising her reflection.

The deep green high-split dress hugged her curves perfectly, the slit revealing a long, toned thigh with each shift of her weight. Her hair was swept up into an elegant bun, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and the bold red lipstick added a striking contrast to her warm features.

She gave a small smile to herself.

' When was the last time I got this dolled up?' she wondered, running her fingers lightly over the fabric at her hip.

Tonight, she wasn't just putting on a dress — she was making a statement.

The sound of the front door opening made her pulse quicken. ' He's here.' She thought.

Kicking her heels against the carpet to settle them more comfortably, she stepped out into the hallway and moved toward the stairs. The click of her heels echoed softly, a rhythm that drew closer and closer until she reached the top of the staircase.

Izuku, halfway up, slowed at the sound. When he looked up, his breath caught.

The sight of her made his mind go blank. The dress clung in all the right places, the slit showing just enough skin to be dangerous. The earrings framed her face perfectly, and the bun made her look… effortlessly regal.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she smiled faintly, a pink flush dusting her cheeks. "What do you think?"

His voice came out slower than he intended. "Oh… you look beautiful."

The sincerity in his tone made her blush deepen.

He broke into a grin to cover the moment. "Let me just get changed real quick."

Without waiting for a reply, he jogged up the remaining steps and slipped into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Inko lingered at the top of the stairs for a moment longer, one hand brushing against her thigh where the slit ended. She could still feel the weight of his gaze. And strangely enough… she didn't mind it. This is exactly what she wanted.

Izuku stood in the middle of his room, buttoning the cuff of his shirt as his reflection stared back at him from the mirror. The crisp white shirt was tucked neatly into dark fitted trousers, the sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms. A black blazer hung over his shoulders casually, giving him a clean yet effortlessly confident look.

A slow smirk crept onto his face.

' To think I almost let her get away… Man, what was I thinking?' He thought.

He turned slightly, checking the fit from the side. The faint scent of his cologne drifted up — subtle, but sharp enough to make an impression.

He ran a hand through his hair once more, making sure it was just messy enough to look natural. Nodding to himself, he straightened up.

"Yeah… I'm ready."

Grabbing his wallet and phone, he stepped toward the door.

Downstairs, the two stood in the warm glow of the hallway light, both fully ready for their night out. Inko looked flawless, her green high-slit dress catching the faint shimmer of the chandelier above, while Izuku's crisp shirt and blazer gave him an effortless, clean-cut charm.

Without another word, they stepped out into the cool evening air, the faint sound of crickets in the distance. The car was already waiting, its polished black paint reflecting the streetlights. Izuku opened the door for her first — a small gesture, but one that made her heart skip just a little.

The ride was quiet but not awkward. Inko found herself stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking. The way he sat — relaxed, one arm resting against the door — wasn't how her "little boy" used to carry himself. Izuku, meanwhile, kept his gaze forward, but in the reflection of the window, he caught every glance she sent his way.

They pulled up to their destination, and even Inko had to gasp.

The building loomed above them like a monument of glass and steel — the tallest restaurant in Musutafu, so high that its top floors brushed the clouds.

"When… did you book this?" she asked, almost incredulous.

Izuku smirked. "Don't ask questions. Even I don't know the answer to that one."

[A/N: Plothole detected. ]

The elevator ride to the top was slow, giving them a moment to stand side by side as the city lights climbed up beneath them.

The soft hum of the elevator was the only sound until the doors opened, revealing the restaurant's penthouse floor.

A waiter led them to the balcony, where a single dinner table was waiting. The entire city stretched out beneath them, bathed in golden streetlights and crowned by a massive, glowing full moon. A cool breeze rolled across the balcony, carrying with it the faint aroma of the dishes from inside.

"Wow… it's so nice," Inko breathed, her voice soft with awe.

"Yeah…" Izuku leaned slightly on the back of her chair, his eyes not on the city, but on her. "It's even nicer than I thought."

He pulled the chair out for her, his fingers brushing against her arm as she sat down. She tried to ignore the warmth that crept up her neck.

Taking his seat across from her, she folded her hands lightly. "So… how was school?"

Izuku chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Let's talk about something else. For tonight… let's pretend we're not mother and son."

Inko froze for just a moment. Her heart gave an unsteady thump at his tone — calm, confident, just a little too intentional. She looked down, hiding a faint blush, then nodded.

"Okay… I'll try," she said softly.

Izuku's smirk didn't fade.

The waiter arrived with menus, laying them down on the table with a polite bow. Izuku thanked him casually, flipping his open. Inko, however, kept her eyes on the skyline for a moment longer, as if afraid looking directly at him would make her blush again.

"You know…" Izuku began, glancing up from his menu, "green really is your color. Brings out your eyes."

Inko blinked, caught off guard. "You're only saying that because the dress is green."

He smirked. "No. I'm saying it because you look incredible in it. If you'd worn red, I'd have said the same about that too."

Her lips curved into a smile despite herself, and she shook her head. "You've gotten… smooth."

"Maybe I was always smooth," he replied, leaning forward slightly, "you just never noticed."

A laugh slipped past her lips. "Or maybe you're just trying too hard tonight."

"Trying too hard?" he echoed, setting the menu down. " Maybe I am"

The waiter returned, taking their orders. Once he left again, the balcony was theirs alone, with only the hum of the city below.

"So," Inko said, resting her chin in her palm, "if we're not mother and son tonight, who are we?"

Izuku pretended to think. "Two people getting to know each other… on a date. The kind where you can ask me anything and I'll give you an honest answer."

"Oh? Anything?"

"Anything," he confirmed, his gaze steady on hers.

She tilted her head. "Then… what's the first thing you thought when you saw me tonight?"

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "That I'd made the right choice asking you out."

Her breath caught, but she masked it with a sip of water. "And here I thought you'd say something about my earrings or the dress."

"Oh, I noticed those too," he admitted, "but I wasn't about to waste my first answer on something that small."

Her cheeks warmed again, and she had to glance away toward the moonlit city. "You really have changed, Izuku."

He chuckled. "Change is good. Sometimes."

Their food arrived, steaming and fragrant, but neither was in a hurry to start eating. Between bites, they kept talking — about the view, about funny things that happened when Izuku was younger, even about completely random topics like which hero had the worst costume.

Every so often, their fingers brushed when one of them reached for something on the table. The first time, Inko pulled her hand back quickly. The second time… she didn't.

"You're staring," she said softly after a while.

"I'm allowed to," he replied without missing a beat.

She shook her head, but there was no real protest in her eyes — only that same quickened pulse she'd felt earlier.

By the time dessert came, the conversation had grown quieter, more personal. There were pauses now — not awkward ones, but the kind filled with shared glances and unspoken thoughts.

TO BE CONTINUED