Izuku

I watched him drink.

Angrily.

Like the coffee had personally offended him.

...which, honestly, wasn't new.

But this?

This whole situation?

That was.

Because he wasn't supposed to be here like this.

Not pacing.

Not rambling.

Not... seeking something.

And definitely not—

Trying to impress me.

I leaned back against the counter, arms loosely crossed, eyes still on him as he took another sharp sip like it was a challenge instead of a drink.

"...seriously?"

He shot me a glare.

"Don't start."

"I didn't even say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"That's not my fault."

"It is when your face does that."

I huffed quietly.

Fair.

But still.

"...you came all the way here," I said slowly, tilting my head just slightly, "to tell me about a plan."

"Yes."

"And you didn't even order first."

"I did order!"

"After."

"That doesn't matter!"

"It does."

"It doesn't!"

I let the silence stretch for a second after that, watching him simmer, watching the way his fingers twitched against the cup like he needed something to grab onto.

"...you wanted me to say it was good," I said finally.

He froze.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Then scowled.

"...I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

A pause.

"...you came here."

That was enough.

Because he could've gone anywhere.

Told anyone.

Or no one.

But he came here.

To me.

And I still didn't understand why.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair before pushing off the counter and grabbing a cloth again—because of course I did. Needed something to do with my hands.

"...why."

He blinked.

"...what."

"Why me."

The question came out flat.

Simple.

Direct.

Because it didn't make sense.

Not logically.

Not strategically.

Not in any way that fit.

"You could've told anyone," I continued, wiping down a spot that didn't need it. "Or kept it to yourself. Or just done it."

I glanced at him briefly.

"But you came here."

A pause.

"Why."

He didn't answer immediately.

Didn't deflect.

Didn't snap back like usual.

He just—

Looked at me.

And for once?

Didn't have something ready.

"...you get it," he muttered finally.

I stilled slightly.

"...get what."

"Things."

That was vague.

Annoyingly vague.

"You don't just... jump in," he went on, frowning slightly like he was trying to explain something he didn't fully understand himself. "You think. You see what's wrong. What's missing."

I didn't say anything.

He took another sip of his coffee.

Less aggressive this time.

"...you don't lie about it either."

A pause.

"You say when something's bad."

I raised an eyebrow slightly.

"So you came here to get criticized."

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied it."

"I didn't!"

I let out a quiet breath.

"...right."

But that wasn't the whole reason.

It couldn't be.

Because there was something else there.

Something under it.

I just couldn't—

Didn't want to—

Label it.

So I didn't push further.

Instead, I shifted slightly, resting my hands on the counter.

"...your plan."

He tensed immediately.

Defensive.

Waiting.

Good.

"Your idea isn't wrong," I said.

That made him pause.

"...but?"

"There's always a 'but.'"

I ignored that.

"You're thinking in steps," I continued, tapping the counter lightly. "In sequence. First this, then that, then that."

"That's how plans work."

"Basic ones."

That made his eye twitch.

"You want to control the outcome?" I tilted my head slightly. "Then you stop thinking in steps."

A pause.

"You think in layers."

Silence.

Confusion.

Frustration.

I could see it all at once.

"...explain," he said finally.

I didn't answer right away.

Because my mind—

Was somewhere else for a second.

Because this—

This was a problem.

Not him.

Not the plan.

But me.

Because I knew things.

Pieces.

Connections.

That I didn't say out loud.

Dabi.

His brother.

U.A.

Same class, most likely.

Same target.

Same situation.

And here I was—

Standing behind a counter—

Helping someone plan something that could put him right in the middle of it.

I exhaled slowly.

"...this is stupid."

Shigaraki blinked.

"...what."

"Nothing."

Everything.

But I wasn't saying that.

Because this place—

Didn't work like that.

Didn't allow it.

No interference.

No sides.

Just—

Balance.

And I had chosen that.

A long time ago.

Even if it got complicated.

Even if it got messy.

Even if—

I pushed the thought aside.

"...you don't rely on one plan," I said instead, voice steady again. "You build multiple outcomes."

He frowned.

"...like backup plans."

"No."

A pause.

"Like expecting failure."

That made him go still.

"You assume things will go wrong," I continued, watching him carefully now. "That your information is incomplete. That your enemies will react in ways you didn't predict."

Another pause.

"And you prepare for that."

Silence stretched.

He wasn't interrupting anymore.

Wasn't arguing.

Just... listening.

Good.

"You don't just split them," I added. "You control where they go after they split."

A beat.

"You don't just attack."

Another.

"You decide what happens if they survive."

His grip tightened slightly around the cup.

"...that's a lot."

"Yes."

"...that's not just a plan."

"No."

I held his gaze.

"It's control."

Silence.

Longer this time.

He looked down at the coffee.

Then back at me.

"...and you just... think like that."

I shrugged slightly.

"I try."

He stared at me for a second longer.

Then—

"...that's annoying."

I snorted quietly.

"I've been told."

He huffed, leaning back slightly in his seat, running a hand through his hair again.

"...fine."

A pause.

"I'll fix it."

"Good."

Another pause.

"...and then you'll be impressed."

I raised an eyebrow.

"...we'll see."

That earned me another glare.

But it wasn't as sharp as before.

Less frustration.

More... focus.

Which was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

But—

That wasn't my place to stop.

I picked up the cloth again, turning slightly away.

"...finish your coffee."

He scoffed.

"You're obsessed with that."

"It's part of the experience."

"It's coffee."

"It's my café."

"...fair."

Silence settled again after that.

Not tense.

Just... thoughtful.

And as I worked—

As I listened to the quiet behind me—

That same thought came back.

Dabi.

Shoto.

U.A.

And me.

Standing right in the middle of it.

"...yeah."

This was going to get worse.

A lot worse.