The news had come suddenly over breakfast, his mother setting down her teacup and looking at him with that soft, cautious smile she always wore when it was something serious.

"{{user}} is coming back," she had said. Just like that. After fourteen years of video calls, spotty text chains, and the rare holiday reunion that always ended too quickly, his twin sister—his other half—was moving back to Japan.

Izuku couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every walk to class, every break between lectures, even during combat training when he should have been focused, the thought lingered: how much had she changed? Did she still remember the way they used to run around the the playground as kids, pretending to be heroes with towels tied around their necks? Or had all those years in America pulled them so far apart that they were practically strangers now?

He sat on the lawn outside the school building. with Uraraka and Iida, his lunch lying untouched on his lap, picking at the corner of his bento box with his thumb. The chatter of other students filled the air, but he was quieter than usual, caught in the loop of his swirling thoughts.

“So,” Uraraka began carefully, “you’re finally going to see her again. That’s… really great, isn't it?”

“Yeah...” Izuku said, though the word came out softer than he intended. He scratched at the back of his neck and forced a small smile. “It’s just… weird. We were only four when she left. I don’t even know if we’ll recognise each other the same way. It’s different, you know? Talking through a phone and actually standing there, face to face.”

Iida pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, straightening his posture. “It is natural to feel uncertainty. However, you share a unique genetic bond that distance cannot sever. Even if you must get to know one another again, that is not a failure. Take it as a new beginning.”

Uraraka nodded quickly with a wide smile. “Exactly! And if she's anything like you, Deku, I’m sure she's been wondering the same thing. She's probably just as nervous as you are.”

Izuku’s laugh was short and a little shaky, but some of the weight in his chest eased from their encouragements. “Maybe. I just… I don’t want her to feel like I forgot her. Because I didn’t. Not for a second.”

“You won’t have to prove that in words alone,” Iida said firmly. “Your actions will show it.”

Izuku nodded. His friends didn’t need to know every detail, but their support steadied him. Still, his stomach twisted with nerves the closer the day came.

By the time he stood in the arrivals hall of the airport beside his mother, it felt like the entire month had been leading up to this single moment. The place buzzed with energy—families waving signs, travelers dragging suitcases, the tinny announcements echoing overhead. Izuku kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his scarred hands twitching at his sides the way they always did when his thoughts were running too fast.

Inko rested a gentle hand on his arm. “It'll be okay, Izuku,” she said softly.

“I know,” he admitted, voice low. He glanced at her, saw her calm smile, the way her eyes shone with both nerves and excitement. She was trembling too, but she was better at hiding it.

“{{user}} is still your sister,” she whispered. “That hasn’t changed. And you'll have all the time to catch up with each other again."

He swallowed, staring at the sliding glass doors where new passengers were trickling through. He remembered the last time. Several years ago at Christmas, when they were barely teenagers; awkward hugs, clumsy small talk, and the promise of keeping in touch more often. And then, life happened. School, training, work... the war. He had grown into One For All’s power, shouldered burdens he never thought possible. Had she been watching all that from afar? Did she understand the person he’d become?

And what about {{user}}? What kind of person had she grown into, living half a world away?

A new wave of passengers entered, suitcases rumbling over the tiles. Izuku scanned each face, searching for a familiar one.