Chapter 41: Family Dinners and Late-Night Messages

The new normal in the Midoriya apartment smelled like katsudon. The sound of knives chopping vegetables, the cheerful sizzle of oil in the pan, and the laughter that filled the air had become the soundtrack to their evenings. It was no longer a special event; it was the routine. A chaotic, strange, and wonderfully alive routine.

Inko Midoriya ran the kitchen with the efficiency of a five-star general and the warmth of a grandmother. At her side, Ochako Uraraka, wearing a floral apron that was a bit too big for her, followed her instructions with an ear-to-ear grin, learning the secrets to making the pork cutlet crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside.

"Just like that, Ochako-chan! The breading should be a thin but complete layer! Like a bread hug for the meat!" Inko said, gesturing with a spatula.

"Got it, master!" Ochako replied, her enthusiasm seeming to infect the entire room.

On the other side of the counter, Momo Yaoyorozu's culinary adventure was of a very different nature. She was trying to cut carrots, and she was doing it with the precision of a nuclear engineer. She had taken a small metal ruler out of one of her pockets and placed it next to the vegetable.

"According to The Art of Japanese Cuisine, Volume II, consistency in size is crucial for uniform cooking and optimal presentation…" she muttered to herself, her gray eyes fixed on the task. "Each piece must be exactly three millimeters thick."

Ochako turned and watched her for a moment before letting out a laugh.

"Yaomomo, it's just a carrot, not a reactor core! If you keep that up, we'll never have dinner! Just chop it!"

Momo, frustrated by the inherent inaccuracy of manual labor, gripped the knife a little harder than necessary. She felt a tingling in her hand and, to her horror, a tiny, perfect replica of the knife she was holding, made of a gleaming metal, sprouted from her fingertips. She stared at the miniature knife, blushed violently, and quickly hid it in her pocket, as if she had just committed a state crime.

Meanwhile, Toga had finished setting the table. She moved around the apartment with a familiarity that was still jarring. She approached Izuku, who was sitting at the dining table trying to do his math homework amidst the cheerful chaos. She leaned over him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder with a playful smile.

"Hey, Izuku-kun. I've been a very good girl all day. I haven't stabbed anyone or even thought about drinking the mailman's blood. Can I have my supplement?"

Izuku sighed, but a smile of amused resignation formed on his lips. The strange had become his normal. He put down his pencil and pulled a small medical device from his pocket that Momo had created for him the week before. It looked like a glucose meter, but it was far more sophisticated. He pricked the tip of his index finger. A single drop of blood, red and bright, welled up.

Toga took his finger with a delicacy that contradicted her reputation. She brought the finger to her lips and licked the drop with an almost reverential satisfaction.

"Mmm… heroic," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment. "With a hint of trigonometry stress. Delicious."

Inko saw them from the kitchen. She said nothing. There was no judgment in her eyes; she simply shook her head, a small smile forming on her face. The image of a fugitive former villain taking her "dose" of her son's blood at the dinner table no longer alarmed her. It was, simply, part of dinner.

The meal passed with laughter, the sound of chopsticks against bowls, and lively chatter about classes, teachers, and the impending Sports Festival. They talked about strategies, their classmates' Quirks, their fears, and their hopes. At that moment, in that small, warm apartment, they were more than a team of heroes in training: they felt like a real family. A very, very strange family, but a family nonetheless.

That night, the darkness in Izuku's room was comfortable and silent. He was lying in bed, reviewing the notes he had taken on Toru's Quirk. The words "refraction," "visible spectrum," and "latent potential" filled the pages. He was about to turn off the light when his phone, on the nightstand, vibrated with a soft buzz.

He picked it up, expecting it to be a message from his mother reminding him to brush his teeth. But the sender was an unknown number. The profile picture was an adorable and slightly clumsy drawing of a ghost making a peace sign with its little sheet-hands.

Izuku smiled. He knew exactly who it was.

Toru: Hey, Midoriya-kun. It's Hagakure. Did I wake you? 👻

Izuku: Hagakure-san! No, not at all. I was just reviewing some things. Is everything okay? Your Quirk hasn't started acting up again, right?

Izuku waited for the reply, his thumb hovering over the screen. He felt strangely responsible for her.

Toru: No, it's not that… well, it is that. The problem is, it's still not acting up. I'm still visible.

Izuku: Oh. Is that a bad thing? I thought you were happy to be able to… well, to be seen.

There was a longer pause this time. Izuku pictured Toru on the other end, maybe in her room full of stuffed animals, biting her lip as she typed.

Toru: It's… weird. Really weird. Guys stare at me on the train. Three of them asked for my number today! THREE! And one of them was from another school! It's super awkward and exhausting. Having to smile and say "no, thank you" when I really want to turn invisible and run away…

Another message arrived immediately after.

Toru: Sometimes… sometimes I miss being invisible. Nobody looks at you. Nobody expects anything from you. You're just… there.

Izuku read the last message and felt a pang of empathy so sharp it almost hurt. He realized that, in his excitement over her Quirk's potential, he hadn't stopped to think about the human consequences of her new visibility.

Izuku: I can imagine. It must be a huge change. Going from being an observer to the center of attention overnight. I'm sorry, I hadn't thought about that.

Izuku: How are you feeling about all this? And… if you don't mind me asking… how did your family react when they saw you for the first time?

He knew it was a very personal question, maybe too personal. But he felt he needed to understand her, not just as a Quirk "project," but as a person. Toru's reply took a little longer to arrive, and when it did, it was tinged with a melancholy he hadn't expected.

Toru: My parents cried a lot. My mom didn't let go of me all night. It was… really nice. She hadn't hugged me like that in years, because she was never sure exactly where I was.

Toru: But now… now they don't stop looking at me. All the time. Like they're afraid I'll disappear again if they blink. I feel like an expensive vase they just got back. Like a weirdo. The 'girl who appeared out of nowhere.'

Another message appeared, changing the tone completely.

Toru: Sorry to dump all this on you… It's just… well… 😅

Toru: You've already seen me completely naked. What dignity do I have left to lose with you? Lol.

Toru: Besides, you described the color of my little green bush like it was a decorative item you had to appreciate. After that, I think there are no more secrets between us. 🤣

Izuku blushed violently in the darkness of his room. But he also smiled. He understood what she was doing: she was using humor, her moment of ultimate humiliation, as a bridge. It was her way of saying, "We've been through the worst, now we can talk about anything." It was brave. And strangely endearing.

Toru was lying on her bed, surrounded by pastel-colored stuffed animals. A smile played on her lips as she looked at her phone screen. The blush on her cheeks wasn't from embarrassment, but from something new, something she didn't quite know how to name.

The conversation stretched on. They talked for hours, well into the early morning. Her honesty had opened a door, and his kindness had invited her to walk through it. They talked about their favorite heroes (she loved underground rescue heroes, because they worked in the dark, just like she used to), funny stories from middle school, and their fears for the Sports Festival.

Izuku: You need to think of your invisibility not as an 'on' or 'off' state, but as a dimmer switch. Like the volume on a radio.

Toru: A dimmer switch?

Izuku: Yeah. Instead of trying to go 100% invisible all at once, try starting with something small. Tomorrow, when you wake up, look at your hand and try to make just the tip of your pinky finger a little translucent. Just 10%. Focus on the feeling. It'll be your first step.

Toru: Wow… that sounds… possible. You're a good coach, Midoriya-kun. Even over text.

Izuku: It's my Quirk, I guess. And call me Izuku. I think after… well, after everything… we can be on a first-name basis.

Toru's heart did a little flutter.

Toru: Okay… Izuku-kun. And you can call me Toru.

Finally, with heavy eyelids and a feeling of warm complicity, they said goodnight.

Izuku: Goodnight, Toru. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a good day.

Toru: Goodnight, Izuku-kun. And… thank you.

Toru placed her phone on her nightstand and stared at the ceiling. The glow from the screen was gone, but the smile remained on her face.

He's… really nice, she thought. She had never talked to a boy like this before. She had never felt so… seen. And heard. The other boys looked at her, at her new body, at her face. But Izuku… he had truly seen her. He had seen her power, her potential, her fear, and her shame, and he hadn't run away. On the contrary, he had offered her a hand.

He didn't look at me like… well, he did look, she corrected herself with an internal giggle, but… not like that. He listened to me. And he made me laugh, even after all the embarrassment. Izuku Midoriya…

A soft, genuine smile formed on her lips, one that, in the darkness of her room, was for her alone.

…is a very, very nice boy.

She remembered his offer in the hallway. The beach. Training with the other girls.

Maybe, she thought, as sleep finally overcame her, I should take him up on his offer to join their training.

The idea no longer scared her. It gave her hope.