Chapter 74: The Gravity of a Smile

Izuku Midoriya's existential dilemma smelled of pure cocoa and financial panic. He was standing in the middle of a luxury chocolate shop, a temple of artisanal confectionery so elegant he felt he should have worn a tie just to enter. The air, thick with the scent of dark chocolate, vanilla, and toasted hazelnuts, didn't calm him but only increased the pressure of the decision ahead.

"Okay, it's a date," he repeated to himself for the fifteenth time, his analytical mind spinning at a speed he usually reserved for dismantling his opponents' strategies. "Ochako said a gentleman always brings a gift. It's a basic social rule. But what on earth do you get for a woman like Midnight? Flowers? No, too cliché, too impersonal. Jewelry? I don't have the budget for a titanium paper clip, let alone something that sparkles. Chocolates! It's perfect. It's a classic, elegant gesture, but not too presumptuous."

The problem was that perfection had shattered into a thousand pieces the moment he saw the counter. It was an arsenal of confectionery. Tiny, edible works of art rested on silver trays, each with a description more intimidating than the last.

"Right, variables," he muttered to himself, his eyes darting back and forth as if analyzing a battlefield. "70% dark chocolate with Himalayan sea salt. Too bitter? Does it suggest I see her as a serious, sophisticated, and maybe slightly pretentious person? She could take it as a compliment to her intellect, but also that I think she's… intense. Discarded. Milk chocolate with salted caramel. Too childish? Will she think I see her as simple, lacking complexity? That would be an insult to her intelligence. And her career. Discarded."

His gaze fell on a box of liquor-filled chocolates.

"Cognac cherries? Oh, god, no. It'll look like I'm trying to get her drunk on the first date. That's a villain's move, not a hero's. Completely out of the question."

"Can I help you with something, young man?" a kind voice pulled him from his spiral of overanalysis.

The shopkeeper was an elderly woman with white hair pulled into a neat bun and a smile so warm it could have melted the chocolate on the counter. She looked at him with a mixture of patience and amusement, as if she were used to seeing young men on the verge of a nervous breakdown in her store.

"Ah! Yes, I… I'm looking for a gift," Izuku managed to say, feeling the heat rise in his neck. "It's for… someone special."

"I figured as much," she said, her eyes twinkling. "And from your expression, she must be very, very special. Is it a first date?"

Izuku nodded, feeling as transparent as Toru on a bad day.

"Well, let me give you a piece of advice from a woman who's received a lot of chocolate in her life," the old woman said, leaning on the counter. "Don't try to guess what she likes. That just shows you're trying to impress her. Instead, show her you've considered her."

She pointed to an elegant dark wood box with a glass lid, revealing an incredibly varied selection. There was everything: dark, milk, and white chocolates, some with nuts, fruits, or spices…

"This is our tasting box. It doesn't say, 'I think I know what you like.' It says, 'I don't know what you like, but I want you to have the chance to find out.' You're giving her the power to choose. It's considerate, it's humble, and above all, it's smart."

Izuku stared at her, completely disarmed. The woman's logic was flawless—a perfect tactical solution to an emotional problem.

"It's... strategic," he whispered, a smile of pure relief forming on his lips.

"Exactly," she confirmed, winking at him. "Now, go and have fun. And don't worry so much. If she likes you, she'll love it even if you bring her a candy bar from the convenience store."

Izuku paid for the box, feeling he had bought not just a gift, but a valuable lesson. He left the shop with his heart pounding with a mix of panic and a strange new confidence. The first part of the mission was complete. Now, only the main battle remained.

He arrived at the entrance of the Musutafu amusement park five minutes early, a feat of punctuality that would have made Iida proud. The evening air smelled of popcorn, cotton candy, and the loud joy of hundreds of families. The neon lights of the rides began to flicker against the orange-tinted sky, and the sound of festive music and excited screams was an overwhelming backdrop.

Izuku stood by the entrance fountain, the box of chocolates in one hand and his heart in his throat. He scanned the crowd with the intensity of a radar, searching for a familiar figure. He looked for the long, dark hair, the mask, the whip… He was looking for Midnight.

He couldn't find her anywhere. Panic began to creep back in. What if she doesn't show? What if it was a joke? Or what if she changed her mind? Maybe she realized that going out with a student is weird and unprofessional and…

"Looking for someone, my little strategist?"

The voice snapped him out of his search. It was playful, melodic, and dangerously close. He turned, and his brain rebooted.

It was her. But it wasn't Midnight.

It was Nemuri Kayama. She wore elegant, dark-wash jeans that accentuated her curves in a more subtle but equally devastating way. A lavender silk blouse draped softly over her torso, and low-heeled boots gave her a casual yet sophisticated air. Her hair, usually pulled back in that imposing ponytail, was down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Without her mask, her face looked softer, her eyes more expressive. She looked younger, more relaxed, and, if possible, even more beautiful.

Izuku was speechless. He just stared, his mind trying to process the transformation. She laughed, a genuine laugh that had none of the calculated seduction of her public persona.

"Relax, hero. Outside of work, I prefer comfort over spandex. You're going to catch flies if you don't close your mouth."

Izuku snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

"Are those for me?" she asked, her amused gaze landing on the box of chocolates he was holding like an explosive device.

Izuku awkwardly handed them to her, his hand trembling slightly.

"Y-yes. I didn't know what you'd like, so I chose a variety. It's… strategic. It lets you choose."

Nemuri's reaction disarmed him for the second time that day. A genuine, warm smile, without a hint of the R-Rated hero, lit up her face. It was a smile that made her seem incredibly approachable.

"No one's given me chocolates since I was a student at U.A.," she said, her voice soft and full of unexpected gratitude. "Thank you, Izuku-kun. That's a lovely thought."

She opened the box carefully, her eyes lighting up at the selection.

"Wow, you chose well. A true strategist, even with sweets."

She picked up a dark chocolate with raspberry, bringing it to her lips and closing her eyes for a moment in pure bliss. Then, with a gesture that completely broke the ice between them, she picked up another—a hazelnut praline—and offered it to him.

"Here. A reward for your excellent choice."

Almost on instinct, Izuku opened his mouth and accepted the chocolate. His fingers brushed against hers for an instant, a fleeting touch that sent a warm current up his arm. The chocolate melted on his tongue, an explosion of sweet, creamy flavor.

"It's good," he managed to say, his voice a little choked.

"I know," she replied, winking. "Now, what do you say we go win some ridiculous prizes and eat until our stomachs hurt? I have a day off, and I plan to squeeze every last drop out of it."

He looked at her. At the woman, not the hero. For the first time since he'd gotten her message, the knot of panic in his stomach dissolved, replaced by a genuine sense of anticipation.

The afternoon at the park became a blur of lights, laughter, and a camaraderie that grew with each passing minute. The dynamic between them was quickly established: her, with her playful energy and contagious curiosity; him, with his analytical mind that he couldn't help but apply to every game, much to Nemuri's amusement.

Their first stop was a shooting gallery. The grand prize, hanging at the very top, was a ridiculously large stuffed smiling cat.

"Oh, he's adorable!" Nemuri exclaimed, her eyes shining with almost childlike glee. "I've always been terrible at these games. My aim with a whip is legendary, but with an air rifle, I'm a disaster."

"Allow me," Izuku said, seeing an opportunity not to impress her, but to join in her fun.

He paid for three shots. The attendant handed him the rifle with a sly grin. Izuku raised the weapon. It was light, and the sight was visibly crooked. His analyst brain kicked in.

Okay, the sight's deviation is about 2.3 degrees to the right, he thought, firing the first shot intentionally to see where the cork hit. Wind speed is almost zero, but the compressed air pressure is inconsistent. The second shot should give me the final correction factor.

He missed the second shot, though it was closer. Nemuri watched him with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you sure you don't want me to try?"

"Third time's the charm," he replied with a confident smile.

He aimed, not at the center of the target, but at an imaginary point up and to the left. He held his breath and fired. The cork hit the small red dot with a satisfying plink. A bell rang.

The attendant's jaw dropped. Nemuri burst out laughing.

"That's cheating!" she complained, giving him a playful nudge. "You used science! That's not fair!"

"Science is my Quirk!" he retorted, laughing as the attendant handed him the giant cat, which was almost as big as he was. "A hero must use every tool at his disposal."

They argued comically over who should carry the stuffed animal and who should pay for the next snacks. Izuku refused to let her pay.

"A hero never lets a lady pay on a date!" he declared with mock seriousness. "Even if the lady could take me down with a single glance and probably has more money than my entire neighborhood combined!"

"You're an adorable old-fashioned guy, Izuku-kun," she said, finally relenting with a smile.

They ate strawberry crepes and cotton candy that stuck to their fingers, talking about everything and nothing. He told her about the chaos of his class and the rivalry between Bakugo and Todoroki. She told him funny anecdotes about other pro heroes, harmless gossip that made him laugh and see the legends he admired as real people.

Finally, as sunset approached, they got on the Ferris wheel. The car rose slowly, the noise of the park fading until only the soft whisper of the wind remained. At the very top, the city of Musutafu spread out below them, a tapestry of lights awakening in the twilight.

"It's beautiful," Izuku said, his gaze lost on the horizon.

"It is," Nemuri replied, but she wasn't looking at the city. She was looking at him. The silence between them was comfortable and intimate.

"Nemuri-san," he began, his voice a little more serious. "What was U.A. like back in your day? Was it always so… intense?"

She smiled nostalgically.

"More or less. Though I think we were more chaotic and less strategic than you all. There was a boy in my class, Hizashi Yamada… you know him as Present Mic. He had the most annoying voice in the world, but a heart of gold. And another, Shota Aizawa… he was just as lazy and sleepy as he is now. Hasn't changed in twenty years."

She settled into her seat, the giant cat squished between them.

"The three of us were a disastrous trio. One time, during a stealth drill, Hizashi tried to whisper a warning to me. The problem is, Hizashi doesn't know how to whisper. He accidentally activated his Quirk, a shriek that broke every window in a three-block radius. Aizawa, meanwhile, fell asleep in his sleeping bag in the middle of the exercise. He hid so well he was almost run over by a garbage truck."

Izuku laughed, picturing the scene.

"And you?" he asked.

"And I… I put our combat teacher to sleep," she admitted with a small laugh. "I was supposed to neutralize a target, but he got in the way and… well, he took a three-hour nap in the middle of the battlefield. We were a mess. But we had each other's backs. Just like you and your friends do. That's the part that hasn't changed. The part that matters."

The anecdote made her incredibly relatable. She was no longer the legendary R-Rated hero, but a former student who had also been young, foolish, and loyal to her friends.

The Ferris wheel completed its rotation and returned them to solid ground. They walked slowly toward the exit, Izuku carrying the ridiculously large stuffed cat. The atmosphere between them was no longer that of a teacher and student, or even a first date. It was warm and comfortable, as if they had known each other for years.

"I haven't had this much fun in years, Izuku-kun," Nemuri said. "Thank you. You made me forget about reports, faculty meetings… and my age."

"Me too," he replied, with a sincerity that surprised himself. "It's been… the best day."

They reached the exit. A comfortable silence, filled with the unspoken words of a perfect day, fell between them.

"Well…" Izuku began, unsure of what to say.

"The night is still young," Nemuri interrupted, a new warmth in her voice. "I'm a pretty decent cook, you know? And I just bought some excellent Hokkaido salmon that's begging to be cooked. Would you like to… come to my place for dinner? I can teach you how to make a perfect miso glaze."

The invitation was unexpected and incredibly intimate. It wasn't a proposition; there was no seduction in her tone. It was a gesture of trust, of wanting to extend their time together. An offer that elevated their relationship from a simple "date" to a genuine friendship in the making.

Izuku's breath hitched for a second. His heart leaped, not from nervousness, but from pure, simple joy. Then, he smiled.

"I'd love that, Nemuri-san."

They started walking toward the taxi stand. The giant cat, now a trophy from their strange and wonderful afternoon, swayed between them. Izuku remembered one of Ochako's tips, one he had dismissed as too bold. But now, feeling more confident than ever, he made a bold but gentlemanly move.

With the hand that wasn't holding the cat, the same one that had felt the warmth of her skin, he gently took Nemuri's hand.

She was surprised. Her step faltered for a fraction of a second. She looked down at their joined hands. Izuku held his breath, prepared for her to pull away. But she didn't.

Instead, a warm, grateful smile spread across her face. She laced her fingers with his. Her hand was soft and fit in his with a naturalness that took his breath away.

"A strategist and a gentleman," she said, her voice a warm murmur in the night. "You're full of surprises, Izuku Midoriya."