ShuraZero
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Chapter 26: A Fated Encounter
🕑 Added 2025-09-26 01:14:26 +0000 UTCTwo days passed. Two days in which Izuku diligently tried to purge the memory of a mouth full of strawberry cake and the image of the stupefied faces of three of Japan's most formidable heroines. The "girls' outing" had been, in his analytical terms, a social disaster, but a surprisingly successful data-gathering mission. He had compiled a list of useful observations. Data point one: Mirko had a weakness for high-quality leather, evaluating jackets with a seriousness she normally reserved for combat. Data point two: Nemuri Kayama could be dangerously persuasive when it came to buying shoes, employing a twisted logic that made a pair of stilettos seem like a strategic investment. Data point three: Yu Takeyama had a tolerance threshold for secondhand embarrassment that, once surpassed, turned her into a force of nature with impeccable aim for throwing bread rolls.
He was sitting alone on a bench in a large, quiet park, deliberately far from the city's noise. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the large trees, painting patches of light and shadow on the path. He needed to think.
His tablet rested on his lap, the ominous list of U.A. applicants open once again. He scrolled through the profiles, but his mind was blank, his eyes seeing without really registering. He saw arrogant faces and confident smiles, like Katsuki Bakugo's. He saw flashy Quirks, explosions, lightning, monstrous transformations.
"Too much collateral damage," he muttered to himself, dismissing a boy whose Quirk was "Sweat Detonation." "Control is low, blast radius is unpredictable."
He moved on to the next one. A girl who could generate blades from her elbows.
"Limited to close-quarters combat. Requires dangerous proximity and offers no long-range rescue or defense options."
I'm not looking for the strongest. I already work with the strongest, and I know that strength isn't everything. Brute force is just one variable; it takes more than that. I'm looking for the right one. Someone who can not only handle a power boost but can grow with it. Someone who needs more than just a simple push of energy. Someone who needs confidence. Someone who can give it to me and in whom I can place mine. But how do you find that in a file?
He sighed, frustrated. This was impossible. The information was superficial, limited to power demonstrations and statements of intent drafted to impress. He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The pressure was immense.
Defeated, Izuku looked up from the bright screen, letting his eyes adjust to the natural light. The world came back into focus. The chirping of birds, the distant hum of traffic, the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. And then he saw her.
On the other side of a small pond with ducks, there she was.
He saw her like a picture, a perfectly composed scene that immediately caught his attention. She had the most extraordinary hair he had ever seen in his life: a cascade of thick, vibrant green vines that fell down her back. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of her hair, creating a natural halo around her.
She moved with a serene and deliberate grace. She was talking to an elderly gardener who was struggling to secure a rebellious vine on a trellis. The man was pulling at the plant with trembling hands, clearly frustrated. With a kind smile, she raised a hand and, discreetly using her Quirk, thin strands of her own hair extended. They gently guided the wayward plant back into place and secured it on the trellis without breaking a single leaf. There was a kindness, a peace, and a harmony with nature in her actions that made her stand out more than any explosion or bolt of energy he had seen on the tablet.
It was then that Izuku felt a pull. His "coach" instinct, the part of him that had recently awakened, whispered a single, clear word in the stillness of his mind: "Her."
He didn't understand it, but he didn't question it. It was a conclusion he had reached without analyzing any data, but it felt undeniably correct. He felt inexplicably compelled to talk to her.
He put his tablet in his backpack with a sharp, decisive gesture. He stood up and began to walk around the pond. The ducks squawked as he passed, but he barely heard them.
She had just bid the gardener farewell with a small nod when he reached her side. He stopped at a respectful distance.
"Excuse me," he said, and was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded.
The girl turned. Up close, she was even more striking. Her eyes were a deep, peaceful green, and her face had a serene quality. She looked at him with quiet curiosity, without the alarm or annoyance a girl might show at a complete stranger approaching her in a park.
"Your hair..." he continued, his sincerity his only weapon, the only tool he had on hand. "It's incredible. Is it your Quirk?"
A small, gentle smile curved her lips. She brought a hand to her hair, touching one of the vines with a natural, affectionate gesture.
"It is," she replied, her voice as calm and melodious as her appearance. "It is a blessing that has been granted to me."
Izuku blinked. "Blessing." It was a way of speaking he had never heard. People described their Quirks as "powers," "abilities," sometimes even "curses." But "blessing" implied a gratitude and a perspective that threw him off.
"I'm Izuku Midoriya," he managed to say, offering a small, awkward bow.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Midoriya-san. I am Ibara Shiozaki." Her way of speaking was formal, almost poetic.
"The way you helped that gardener... it was amazing," Izuku said, searching for the words, his mind trying to process what he had seen. "You could have forced it, I guess, but you didn't. It's... an interesting philosophy."
Ibara seemed pleasantly surprised by his observation. Her eyes widened slightly, and a spark of genuine interest shone in them.
"You are very perceptive, Midoriya-san. Many see my Quirk and only think of how it could be used to tie up villains. Or to make walls. But I believe that all power is a test. A tool given to us to cultivate the spirit. It can be used to create or to destroy, to protect or to harm. True heroism, in my opinion, lies in the wisdom of knowing how and when to use our blessings."
The conversation flowed with surprising ease. There were no awkward silences, no misunderstandings. They spoke of Quirks and heroism, and though their words were different, Izuku realized they were speaking the same language. He saw it in terms of efficiency and applicability; she saw it in terms of morality and purpose. But the conclusion was the same.
"I understand exactly what you mean," Izuku said, his own passion surfacing, momentarily forgetting his awkwardness. "It took me a long time to understand my power's purpose, too. For years I thought it was useless, but I recently discovered that my path wasn't to empower myself, but to help others find their true potential. In fact, I found my own philosophical epiphany, to be precise, on the butt of a professional heroine who smelled like strawberries."
The sheer absurdity of his last sentence, spoken with such pure sincerity, was too much for Ibara's composure. A small, clear, and genuine laugh escaped her. She covered her mouth with her hand, her cheeks turning a soft pink, embarrassed by her own reaction.
"I apologize," she said, trying to regain her composure, though her eyes still shone with amusement. "I didn't mean to be rude. It's just... your way of expressing yourself is very... unique."
"Don't worry," Izuku said, a small smile forming on his face. "I get that a lot."
She told him of her aspiration to get into U.A. because she saw heroism as a "sacred service." Her goal, she said, was "to prune the branches of evil so that the light of hope can reach everyone."
As she spoke, Izuku listened, fascinated. And the feeling inside him, that whisper from his Quirk, grew stronger.
For her part, Ibara was experiencing her own surprise. She was normally a reserved and cautious person, especially with strangers. And being honest with herself, she didn't like it when boys approached her out of the blue; their intentions were often shallow and made her uncomfortable. But talking to this green-haired young man felt... natural. There was no arrogance or hidden intent in his gaze. Just genuine curiosity and respect. The anxiety she normally felt in social situations simply wasn't there. His presence was calming; he had a tranquility that was contagious.
The conversation reached a natural pause. The sun was beginning to set, stretching the shadows. Izuku felt a pang of panic. He didn't want it to end. He didn't want this serene, fascinating girl to just walk away and disappear from his life. The impulse that had led him to speak to her returned with force.
Acting on that impulse, he pointed to a small, brightly colored kiosk selling cold drinks and ice cream on the other side of the path.
"I'd like to... keep hearing about your philosophy on heroism. It's... refreshing," he said, his sincerity disarming any potential awkwardness. "Would you like a slushie? My treat."
Ibara looked at him, and the smile she gave him this time was wider, her cheeks an adorable shade of pink. She was accepting an invitation from a boy she had just met. It was something she never did. But with him... it felt right.
"It would be a pleasure, Midoriya-san."
They walked to the kiosk. The vendor, an older man with a bushy mustache, smiled at them.
"What can I get for you, kids?" he asked.
"I'll have a lemon one, please," Izuku said, opting for something simple.
"A grape one for me, if you would be so kind," Ibara said with her usual politeness.
Izuku paid, insisting when she tried to take out her coin purse. They sat on an empty bench under a large maple tree, the vibrant colors of their drinks contrasting with the golden evening light.
The impromptu "date" was simple and sweet. The conversation turned lighter.
"So..." Izuku began, stirring his slushie with the straw. "Besides having a very well-structured heroic philosophy, what else do you do? Any hobbies?"
Ibara took a moment to think, as if seriously weighing the question.
"I enjoy gardening, as you might have guessed. And I like to read. Mostly philosophical texts and scriptures. They help to center the spirit."
"Oh, cool. I like to read too," Izuku said, brightening. "Technical manuals, hero analyses, Quirk application studies... anything I can break down and analyze."
She smiled at him. "Our reading tastes seem to reflect our personalities, don't you think?"
"I guess so," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "What about school? Any subjects you find difficult?"
"Mathematics can sometimes present a challenge," she confessed. "I find more comfort in the certainty of words than in that of numbers. And you, Midoriya-san?"
"You can call me Izuku," he said. "And for me, it's the opposite. Numbers make sense. They follow rules. Language can be... ambiguous. Especially in classic literature. Sometimes I feel like the authors complicate things on purpose."
"Perhaps the intention isn't to complicate, but to invite reflection," Ibara suggested softly. "Discovering the meaning is part of the journey."
They talked about the pressure of the U.A. entrance exams. Ibara, for her part, told him she was preparing with physical training and a lot of prayer, trusting that providence would guide her if it was her path.
"Doesn't it make you nervous?" Izuku asked, genuinely curious. "The practical exam. There are giant robots, other applicants... It's a high-stress environment."
"Of course it does," she replied, and for the first time, Izuku saw a hint of vulnerability in her serene countenance. "But fear is just another test. An opportunity to strengthen one's faith in oneself and in the path one has chosen."
As Izuku watched her speak, the sunlight dappling her face through the maple leaves, everything clicked into place in his mind. It was as clear as solving an equation.
It was her.
She was the perfect candidate. Her spirit was unbreakable, her serenity a form of strength he had never considered before. Her intentions were pure; she didn't seek personal glory, but to serve others. Her Quirk, those living vines, had nearly limitless defensive, offensive, and rescue potential that, he was sure, everyone was underestimating, seeing it only as a tool for immobilization.
And most importantly of all: he felt he could trust her. And, somehow, he felt that she, in time, could come to trust him completely. The Trust Equation wasn't just a theory. It was an instinct. And his instinct was screaming.
It's her, his internal monologue confirmed, a wave of certainty washing away any remaining doubt. She's the one I have to help. She isn't the one with the flashiest power, nor the most aggressive. But she has the strongest heart. And with my help... she can become someone incredibly strong.
When they finished their slushies, they stood up. The sun was already low on the horizon, painting the sky orange and purple. The air felt cooler.
"Thank you for the conversation, Midoriya-san," Ibara said, giving a small bow. "This has been the most providential encounter I have had in a long time."
"Call me Izuku," he said, smiling. "And the pleasure was all mine, Shiozaki-san."
"Then please, call me Ibara."
The conversation seemed to be over, and panic returned to Izuku. It couldn't end like this.
"Hey, it's getting late," he said, the words coming out a little faster than he intended. "I don't know where you live, but... if you want, I could walk you home. To... you know, make sure you get there safely."
Ibara blinked, surprised by the offer. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks again, visible in the twilight.
"Oh, that's not necessary. I wouldn't want to be a bother."
"It's no bother at all," Izuku insisted, with a firmness that surprised himself. "Really. I'd like to."
She looked at him for a moment, gauging his sincerity. Then, a genuine, warm smile lit up her face.
"In that case, I would appreciate it very much, Izuku-san."
They walked out of the park together, their steps nearly in sync on the quiet path. The conversation started up again, softer this time.
"Are you sure I'm not taking you too far out of your way?" Ibara asked as they turned a corner onto a quiet residential street.
"Not at all," Izuku replied honestly. "My path today was... undefined. I didn't have a fixed destination. So this is technically an improvement."
She let out a small laugh. "Always so analytical."
Finally, they stopped in front of a modest but impeccably kept apartment building, with flower pots on every balcony.
"Well, this is it," she said, turning to face him. "Thank you so much for walking me home, Izuku-san."
"You're welcome, Ibara-san," he replied.
They stood there for a moment, in that awkward space where a goodbye lingers. And then, a terrible idea, based entirely on fiction, took hold of him.
"So..." he began, his voice a little strained. He cleared his throat. "I've been watching a lot of movies lately. For research purposes on human social interaction. And the statistics from my observation indicate that at the end of a... date... there is often a kiss."
Ibara froze. Her green eyes went wide, and her mouth fell slightly open. The blush on her cheeks exploded, going from a rosy hue to a deep crimson.
Izuku suddenly remembered the scoldings from Yu, Nemuri, and Rumi. In conclusion, asking for a kiss was not a normal thing to do.
"I mean!" he exclaimed, waving his hands frantically. "Not that I'm expecting one! It was just an observation! Forget I said it, I...!"
To his total and utter astonishment, Ibara let out a small laugh. She covered her mouth, but she couldn't hide the sound. She looked up at him, her eyes still bright with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.
"Izuku-san," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "you are the strangest person I have ever met."
And before he could process that statement, she stood on her tiptoes, leaned forward, and gave him a soft, quick kiss on the cheek. The contact was brief, barely a second, but it sent an electric shock through Izuku's entire nervous system.
She pulled back, her face as red as a beet.
"I also very much enjoyed our... date," she said, using the word deliberately. She gave him one last shy smile before turning quickly, entering the building, and closing the door behind her.
Izuku was left alone on the sidewalk, completely motionless, one hand on the cheek where she had kissed him.
After what felt like an eternity, a slow smile spread across his face. A smile of absolute certainty.
The search was over.
He turned and started walking, feeling lighter than air. He took out his phone, but he didn't open his contacts to save her number just yet. He opened a new email message.
To: Nemuri Kayama Subject: Candidate Selection - Potential Development Project
His fingers moved with a new and firm resolve, typing the first sentence in the body of the message.
"Dear Nemuri-san,
I have made my decision."
The real work was about to begin.
