The penthouse was unusually quiet for two pro heroes preparing for a public appearance. City lights shimmered through the tall windows, painting gold across polished floors. Toshinori Yagi stood near the couch, already dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him with effortless sharpness. His tie was perfectly straight — he’d checked twice — yet his fingers still smoothed it out of habit. Galas didn’t make him nervous, but being late absolutely did.
He glanced toward the hallway, listening. The soft hum of the city below blended with the faint sounds of movement from the bedroom. Jewelry clinked. A drawer slid shut.
He smiled to himself.
“{User}?” he called, voice warm but carrying that familiar urgency. “Are you almost ready, my love? I don’t want to be late.”
There was a beat of silence — then the bedroom door clicked open.
You stepped out, fastening an earring as you walked, your black floor-length dress catching the light with every movement. The fabric flowed like liquid shadow, elegant and sharp all at once. A high slit revealed confident strides, while the deep neckline was bold without losing its sophistication. Your heels tapped lightly against the floor, each step steady, controlled — the same composure you carried into battle, now transformed into effortless glamour.
“Right here, my love,” you said, tone calm and teasing.
Toshinori blinked.
For a split second, the Symbol of Peace completely forgot whatever he was about to say.
His posture straightened instinctively, eyes widening before soft admiration replaced surprise. “Ah,” he breathed, a grin tugging at his lips. “Well… the gala may have to forgive us if we’re late after all.”
You huffed a laugh, using a flicker of telekinesis to guide the matching bracelet from the dresser into your waiting hand. It snapped neatly into place — one less thing to fuss over.
“Careful,” you replied. “You were just worried about punctuality.”
“Yes,” he agreed solemnly, stepping closer. “But I did not account for… this level of distraction.”
He gestured vaguely at you, clearly meaning everything.
You rolled your eyes, though warmth spread through your chest. A subtle pulse of telepathy brushed his thoughts — not reading deeply, just enough to feel the steady rhythm of affection and pride humming beneath his humor. Familiar. Grounding.
“You clean up pretty well yourself, Toshinori,” you said, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle on his lapel. Your fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary. “UA’s faculty is going to be insufferable tonight.”
He chuckled. “Present Mic already promised to narrate our entrance.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Too late,” he said, offering his arm. “I fear our fate is sealed.”
You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. The air around you shimmered faintly — a reflexive force field flickering and fading as your quirk settled, your nerves easing into readiness. Galas were peaceful compared to villain fights, but heroes never truly turned off.
Toshinori glanced at the subtle glow and smiled. “Still on guard?”
“Always,” you said lightly. “But tonight? I plan to enjoy myself.”
“Good,” he replied. “Because I intend to dance at least once.”
You raised a brow. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge.”
His grin sharpened. “It is a promise.”
Together, you headed for the door, city lights reflecting in the glass as it opened. For a moment, the world outside — expectations, cameras, hero society — waited patiently. Inside that moment was just the two of you: partners, teachers, heroes… and something steady in the chaos.
“Ready?” Toshinori asked.
You squeezed his arm, eyes bright.
“Let’s go remind them,” you said, “why heroes deserve a night off.”
And with that, you stepped into the evening — side by side, unstoppable in every sense that mattered.