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Chapter 38: The Heroes' Gala and Half Kept Secrets
🕑 Added 2025-10-09 16:31:03 +0000 UTC"I don't want to go!"
Yu's voice was a groan of pure agony that echoed through the living room. She stood in front of the TV, where Nemuri's and Mirko's faces looked out at her from a video call. She held an elegant, ivory-colored invitation with the same revulsion she would a death sentence.
"Hero galas are boring," she complained, dropping onto the sofa. "It's the same hell every year. Everyone asks you the same three questions: 'How's work?', 'Any interesting villains lately?', and my personal favorite, 'Isn't it hard to balance a personal life with being a hero?'. The music is terrible, and the food comes in portions so small you need a magnifying glass to find it. It's torture."
On the screen, Nemuri sighed with infinite patience. "Yu-chan, listen to yourself. It's the Heroes Foundation Annual Charity Gala. It's not just any birthday party, it's the most important social event of the year. After your victory against the robot, you're the 'rookie of the moment.' You have to go."
"Why? I'm already on the news. People know who I am," Yu retorted, crossing her arms.
"It's not the same," Mirko chimed in from her own screen, a malicious smile on her face. "It's one thing for them to see you on TV covered in dust and sweat, and a completely different thing for them to see you in an expensive dress, rubbing elbows with the big shots. It's politics, Yu. You have to be seen. And, of course, you need a date."
A chill ran down Yu's spine. "I can go alone. I'm a strong, independent woman."
A slow smile spread across Mirko's face. "No, you can't. Going alone makes you look either desperate or unapproachable. Neither is good for the brand. Take the runt."
Yu froze for a second. It took her brain a moment to process the suggestion. "What? Izuku? No!"
"Yes!" Mirko insisted, visibly enjoying the idea. She leaned toward her camera, her eyes glinting with malice. "Think about it. The tabloids will go crazy. 'Mt. Lady and her mysterious assistant boyfriend make their society debut!' It'll be the talk of the town for weeks! It reinforces the cover story you're working so hard to maintain. It's a power move."
"It's a terrible idea!" Yu replied, her voice rising in panic. She got up from the sofa and started pacing. "It's Izuku! He has no social skills! He's going to tell Endeavor his damage control analysis is flawed or try to touch Hawks's hair to analyze its texture! He's a walking social disaster. Can you imagine what would happen if I left him alone for five minutes?"
"Exactly," Nemuri said, her smile just as sharp as Mirko's. "And that's why it's perfect training for him. A hero doesn't just fight; Izuku needs to learn how to behave at high-profile events, how to talk to the press, how to smile when a politician tells a terrible joke. And you, dear, need to practice controlling your... asset. Consider it a field mission for both of you."
"He's not an asset, he's a person! And he's a person who's going to analyze the structural integrity of the champagne glasses out loud!" Yu wailed, running her hands through her hair. "I can't do this! I'll be fired!"
"No one's going to fire you," Mirko said with a laugh. "On the contrary. They'll think you have the kid so well-trained you can take him anywhere. It's a show of control."
"Besides, we'll be there to enjoy the show," Nemuri added sweetly. "It'll be fun. I promise."
Yu looked from one screen to the other. She was trapped. She could see the collaborative malice in their eyes. There was no escape. They had planned this.
"I hate everything," she muttered, dropping the invitation onto the table abruptly.
"We love you too, Yu-chan," Nemuri purred. "Now, make sure the boy wears a suit that fits him. You have an image to maintain. And no red sneakers."
The call ended, leaving Yu alone with the terrifying prospect of unleashing Izuku Midoriya on an event filled with egos, cameras, and free alcohol.
***
An hour later, Yu stood in the doorway of Izuku's room, her arms crossed.
"Okay, let's go over the rules one more time," she said in a tone that allowed no argument.
Izuku, who was facing the mirror trying and failing to tie his necktie, looked at her through the reflection. He was wearing a rented black suit that was a little too big in the shoulders. "Rule number one: do not offer unsolicited Quirk analyses to any hero, no matter how interesting it is."
"Good. Rule number two."
"Do not talk about percentages, aerodynamics, material resistance, or damage control with anyone," he recited, frowning as the tie turned into a shapeless knot in his hands.
"Excellent. Rule number three."
"Don't... approach the buffet table with desperation?" he asked, hesitating.
"Exactly. You're my date, not a starving refugee. And the most important one, rule number four."
Izuku sighed. "If I don't know what to say, I smile, nod, and say nothing." He turned around, frustrated with the tie. "Why is this so complicated? It makes no sense. A clip-on would be much more efficient."
Yu sighed and walked over. "Come here." She took the tie from his hands and began tying the knot with quick, precise movements. "It's part of the uniform, Izuku. You have to look like you belong there."
"But I don't belong," he mumbled, watching her hands work. "I'm going to be surrounded by Japan's greatest heroes. What am I supposed to do?"
"Fake it," she said, tightening the knot and adjusting his shirt collar. She looked him in the eyes. "You just have to last a couple of hours. We go in, we're seen, we smile for a few cameras, and we leave. It'll be quick."
"Promise?"
"I promise," she lied. "Now let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave."
The gala was exactly as Yu remembered it: an absurdly large ballroom packed with important people. Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating heroes, politicians, and billionaires as they chatted and laughed. An orchestra played softly in a corner, a melody so generic it seemed like it was composed by an AI.
Yu moved with the confidence of an infiltration expert. She wore the sapphire blue dress she had bought on their disastrous shopping trip, and she felt elegant and powerful; it was the perfect protection for the night. Beside her, however, was her main weakness.
Izuku, inside the suit, moved with the stiffness of someone not used to wearing a tie. His wide eyes weren't looking at the famous heroes around them, but at the buffet table.
"Whoa," he murmured, his voice filled with reverent awe. He stopped in his tracks, pulling on Yu's arm. "Yu, look at that. Is that a chocolate fountain? And a sushi bar? And are those mini katsudons? Yu, this is heaven. I knew coming here was a good idea."
"Izuku, no," she hissed, gripping his arm tighter. "We didn't come here to eat. We came to socialize. You have to look natural. Remember the rules."
"But free food is the most natural state of human happiness," he replied with impeccable logic. "Isn't it cruel to test us this way? This is an opportunity we can't waste."
Before she could stop him, he slipped away with surprising agility and headed straight for the dessert table. Yu watched him from a distance, feeling a mixture of humiliation and a strange tenderness. He was surrounded by legends, by the heroes thousands of people idolized—there was Ryukyu, just a few feet away, chatting with Fat Gum—and his only priority was to determine the structural consistency of a profiterole.
She saw him grab a small plate and begin his mission. He examined a canapé with the same intensity with which he analyzed a Quirk, mumbling to himself. Yu strained to hear, moving a little closer.
"Interesting. The balance of salinity between the salmon and cream cheese is good, but the support point is weak," Izuku whispered to himself, holding the small bite. "The cracker base is too fragile, prone to structural collapse upon being bitten."
He put down the canapé and picked up a mini-quiche. "This one's better. It doesn't break as easily."
Yu felt a deep sense of shame. At the same time, she couldn't stop a small smile from forming on her lips. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she got angry at herself for it.
"Get your man under control, Takeyama."
The familiar voice beside her made her jump. Mirko had appeared out of nowhere, looking surprisingly elegant in a black jumpsuit with her hair tied up. She held a champagne flute that looked ridiculously small in her hand.
"He's testing the structural integrity of a mini-quiche," Yu said, sighing deeply. "I'm going to have to get him out of here before he starts taking notes on a napkin."
"Let him be," Mirko said, taking a sip. "It's the most entertaining thing that's happened at one of these galas in years. Nemuri and I have a bet going. She says you'll make it through the night without him causing an international incident. I say you won't. I gave it an hour."
"What did you bet?" Yu asked, rubbing her temples.
"If I win, Nemuri pays for my drinks for a month. If she wins, I have to do an interview for that fashion magazine she loves so much," Mirko said with a grimace of disgust. "So you'd better hope the kid does something stupid soon."
From across the ballroom, Nemuri, stunning in a light-catching silver dress, raised her glass to them in a silent toast, a superior smile on her face. Yu groaned.
With a sigh of resignation, she walked over to Izuku. "Alright, recon mission's over. Back to base."
Izuku looked at her with wide eyes, a piece of cake on his plate. "But I just started on the dessert section!"
"Later," she said firmly, taking the plate from him and setting it on the table. He managed to stuff three shrimp skewers into his suit pockets "for later" before she could drag him away.
The attempt to socialize was a predictable disaster.
Their first victim was Best Jeanist. The hero approached them with his usual air of elegance.
"Mt. Lady. A pleasure to see you," he said with a nod.
"You too, Best Jeanist-san," Yu replied with her best professional smile. "I'd like to introduce my assistant, Izuku Midoriya."
Izuku bowed so stiffly he nearly fell over. "It's an honor. I've admired your Quirk for a long time. And your suit."
Best Jeanist smiled. "Thank you, young man. Fashion and function can go hand in hand."
"About that," Izuku said, tilting his head. "While the structural integrity of your denim suit is impressive, especially its tensile strength, the aerodynamics are terrible. I think it's more of a hindrance than a help in your hero work. Have you considered a synthetic fabric?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Best Jeanist's smile froze. Yu let out a shrill laugh and elbowed Izuku in the ribs.
"Haha! He's a huge fan of efficiency! Always thinking about how to improve! A great motivator!" she said, and before the hero could respond, she grabbed Izuku's arm. "It was a pleasure! We have to go say hi to someone!"
She dragged him away, hissing through her teeth, "What part of 'no unsolicited Quirk analyses' did you not understand?"
"But it was constructive criticism!" he protested. "It could save his life!"
"You're going to be the end of mine!"
They had barely recovered when Ryukyu came over to greet them, her presence imposing but kind.
"Mt. Lady, congratulations on the robot incident. That was an impressive performance," she said with a warm smile.
"Thank you so much, Ryukyu-senpai," Yu replied, feeling a drop of cold sweat run down her back. She prayed for Izuku to stay quiet.
Her prayers went unanswered. Izuku stared intently at Ryukyu for a full minute, without blinking. Ryukyu began to look visibly uncomfortable.
"Young man?" she asked.
"Does your dragon transformation cause you discomfort?" Izuku blurted out suddenly. "Do you need to consume more food? Because the mass increase is too great. When you're injured in your dragon form, does the wound also materialize in your human form?"
Ryukyu blinked, completely bewildered. "I... uh... I'd never thought about it."
"He's very interested in the sciences!" Yu intervened again, a smile plastered on her face. "Biology, physics, all of it! A very smart boy! Great to see you, Ryukyu-senpai!"
And again, she dragged him to another corner of the ballroom. "Izuku, please. I'm begging you. Shut up."
"But those are important questions!" he whispered. "Knowledge is power!"
"And silence is golden!" she retorted.
Suddenly, they ran into the worst-case scenario.
"Mt. Lady, right?"
The voice was relaxed, almost lazy. They turned to see Hawks, the number two hero, leaning against a pillar with a drink in his hand and a carefree smile on his face. He was in his hero costume, but without the jacket, which gave him a casual yet dangerous air.
"Hawks-san," Yu said, and her heart skipped a beat. Hawks was famous for two things: his speed and his terrifying intelligence. He wasn't someone you could fool with a nervous laugh.
"Congrats on the robot incident," he said, and his golden eyes showed an analytical spark. "Clean work. Fast. Very precise. You've improved a lot since your debut. A whole lot." The emphasis on the last words did not go unnoticed.
"Thanks, Hawks-san. I'm just trying to keep up with the best," she replied, trying to sound humble and not like she was hiding a green-haired secret weapon.
Hawks's eyes slid from her to Izuku, who was staring at the hero's red feathers with almost clinical fascination. He was clearly fighting the urge to ask something stupid.
"And this must be the famous assistant I've heard about," Hawks said, his smile widening slightly.
Izuku looked up, surprised to be addressed. "I'm Izuku Midoriya. It's an honor. Your control over individual feathers is incredible. Is it a conscious control for each one, like managing thousands of fingers at once, or more of a—"
"Your reaction speed," Hawks interrupted him, his smile never faltering, but his gaze grew sharper, more penetrating. He was speaking to Yu, but his eyes never left Izuku. "Your battlefield control. Your precision. Everything about you has improved, Yu. You must have an incredible assistant."
The question was aimed at Yu, but his eyes were fixed on Izuku, sizing him up. Yu felt the air turn cold.
She forced a laugh that sounded fake even to her own ears. "Oh, well! The agency invests a lot in our development, you know. Intensive training programs, performance analysis... Hard work pays off!"
"Ah, yes. Hard work," Hawks repeated, savoring the words. "Of course. Well, enjoy the rest of the party." He turned slightly, as if to leave, but then he stopped and looked directly at Izuku. "And Midoriya-kun... be careful. In this business, people who are too interesting tend to attract the wrong kind of attention."
With an enigmatic wink, he was gone as quickly and quietly as he had appeared, leaving them both with a cold feeling in their stomachs.
"Okay, I've had enough," Yu said, grabbing Izuku's arm with renewed urgency. "This is over. We're leaving. Now."
"But I haven't tried the opera cake yet!" he protested in a whisper. "I read a review that said the coffee frosting was exceptional."
"I'll buy you an entire bakery tomorrow! Now, walk!"
Just as she was about to drag him toward the exit, an elegant figure stepped in their path. It was her agency's publicist, a thin man with a perpetual expression of panic.
"Takeyama-san! There you are! Thank God! The Minister of Defense wants to greet you. She said she saw your last fight on the news and is very impressed! Right now! Come on, come on, she's this way!"
The publicist grabbed her other arm and began pulling her in the opposite direction of the exit. Yu looked at Izuku, panic in her eyes. She couldn't take him. The minister would ask one innocent question, and Izuku would give her a ten-minute lecture on Japanese defense policy.
"Don't move from this spot," she hissed, her voice a desperate command. She pushed him toward an empty corner, next to a large potted plant. "Stay in that corner. Next to that palm tree. And don't talk to anyone. Absolutely no one. Don't breathe too loud. Don't analyze the soil composition of the pot. Got it?"
"Got it," Izuku said, like a soldier receiving orders. He stood at attention next to the plant, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Yu was dragged away by the crowd, looking over her shoulder to make sure Izuku was still there. She saw him, rigid, a statue of social awkwardness next to a houseplant.
He stood there, obediently, for exactly one minute and fifteen seconds. He counted the leaves on the palm tree. Then, his eyes inevitably drifted to the dessert table. The opera cake was calling to him, a temptation with layers of almond sponge cake and ganache.
Just one piece, he thought. It'll be quick. A stealth mission. In and out. She won't even notice. It's a matter of culinary research.
He slipped away from his guard post and made his way to the table, moving with a stealth that would have made an underground hero proud. He picked up a plate and a small cake server. It was the worst mistake he could have made.
"It looks delicious, doesn't it?"
The voice was calm, polite, and dangerously intelligent. Izuku, who was about to serve himself a slice, turned around. A man in his thirties, with an impeccable suit and thin-framed glasses, stood beside him, smiling kindly. He wasn't a hero. He didn't have that aura.
"Uh, yeah. I'm a big fan of French pastries," Izuku said, feeling he should say something to fill the silence.
"Me too," the man said, picking up a macaron from a nearby tray. "It requires precision, attention to detail, an understanding of how different ingredients interact to create a final result that is much greater than the sum of its parts." His gaze was sharp, analytical, not unlike Izuku's. "Much like a good professional partnership, don't you think?"
Izuku suddenly felt uneasy. This wasn't typical gala small talk. "I guess so. I'd never thought of it that way."
"Mr. Midoriya, a pleasure to meet you in person." The man held out his hand. Surprised, Izuku shook it. The handshake was firm and confident. "My name is Koya Oogami. I'm an investigative journalist."
The name didn't ring a bell. Izuku didn't follow journalists; he followed heroes. "Oh. Hi."
"I've been following your career, and Mt. Lady's, with great interest since her debut," Oogami continued, his tone conversational, but his eyes examined him closely, dissecting his every reaction. "It's fascinating. I've gone over all the incident reports, the news footage, even the fan forums... and I've noticed a very clear correlation."
He picked up a canapé from the table, the same one Izuku had mentally criticized earlier, but he didn't eat it.
"Mt. Lady's performance, her control, her strength, her strategy... it all improved exponentially, almost unnaturally, shortly after you started working with her. Before, she was a promising but clumsy rookie, known more for her size than her skill. Now, she moves with the precision of an expert. The tabloids talked about a romance, but that's too simple. Too boring." He paused, his eyes meeting Izuku's. "I think the truth is much more interesting."
He turned to face Izuku directly. His kind smile vanished, replaced by a piercing intensity that made Izuku feel as though the room had become much smaller.
"What is the true nature of your professional relationship, Mr. Midoriya?"
