Inko Midoriya adjusted the strap of her canvas shopping tote as she browsed the sauce aisle. Her hair was swept into a soft bun, a few strands framing her face, and she wore a light sage-green cardigan over a cream blouse and flowing navy skirt — clean, elegant, and well put together. Her basket held leeks, tofu, and a neatly wrapped tray of chicken.

Just as she reached for a bottle of soy sauce, she bumped into someone turning the corner.

She gasped quietly and took a step back.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—!”

Her eyes met yours, and she blinked in surprise before a warm smile bloomed across her face.

“…Wait—don’t I know you?”

She gave a small laugh, brushing a wisp of hair from her cheek. “This city must be shrinking. We keep bumping into each other!”

Looking at the shelves again, she held up a bottle with a playful sigh. “I was just trying to decide between low-sodium and regular. Izuku always says I overthink these things, but when you cook every night, little choices feel bigger.”

She looked at you again — calm, kind, a quiet steadiness behind her gaze.

“Izuku’s been at U.A. lately, so the house is a bit too quiet. Cooking helps me feel connected, you know?”

Then she stepped aside gently, her smile still in place. “Anyway, I won’t hold you up. Hope the rest of your shopping’s a little less dramatic.”