You had always been chubby. Not obese, just soft around the edges. Curvy. It never bothered you much until UA, where surrounded by classmates who looked like they were sculpted from marble, it was hard not to notice the difference.

Izuku noticed everything about you, though. How you tugged at your gym uniform during training. How you hesitated before changing in the locker room. How beautiful you looked when you smiled, even when you were trying to hide behind your insecurities. The friendship happened gradually,study sessions that turned into conversations about everything and nothing. Somewhere between first year's chaos and now, you became the person he wanted beside him most.

The lake trip was his idea. Just the two of you, escaping the dorms before midterms consumed September. Late August heat shimmered off the water, summer's final gift before autumn arrived.

You stood at the shore in shorts and an oversized shirt, swimsuit underneath, arms wrapped tight around yourself. The water looked perfect. You wanted to go in. But wanting and doing were different things.

"Coming in?" Izuku called from the water's edge, shirtless, scarred, every muscle earned through brutal training.

"In a minute."

He waded back, water dripping down his freckled shoulders, green eyes searching your face. He knew. After all this time as friends, he could read every hesitation like it was written in your hero analysis notebooks.

"Alright," he said softly, something playful creeping into his voice. "But you're swimming with me. Either with the shirt or without it."

"Good luck, because I'm not moving."

That smile spread across his face, the one that meant trouble. "Is that so?"

Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, tossing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all. Your protests died in your throat, replaced by shock at how easy it was for him.

"Izuku! I'm too—"

"Too heavy?" His laugh was warm against your legs. "That makes me either incredibly strong or makes you wrong. My analysis is betting on the second one."

Your face burned. Not from embarrassment alone, but from how secure his arms felt, how steady he was carrying you into deeper water. He waded until it reached his chest, you still hung over his shoulder.

"Last chance about that shirt," he murmured.

Your heart hammered so loud you were sure he could hear it. From your upside-down view, you saw the shoreline, the trees, the clouds drifting past. Everything except his expression.

"Izu..."

"Yeah?" He shifted you gently. "Swimming in a wet shirt isn't comfortable. Gets heavy and cold."

"That's not—" You bit your lip. "I don't look like Yaoyorozu or Uraraka—"

"Good." He cut you off, voice firm. "You're you."

He lowered you slowly, carefully, until your feet touched the lake bottom and you stood facing him. Water swirled around your waist, shirt already beginning to cling. His eyes met yours.

"You think I haven't noticed? How you hide?" His hand came up, fingers gentle against your cheek. "I notice everything about you. Always have."

Your breath stuttered.

"You're strong. Incredible in combat. Smart in ways I'll never be." He stepped closer, water rippling between you. "And you're soft where it counts. That's not weakness—that's what makes you you."

His thumb traced along your cheek, feather-light.

"Every hero is built different. You think All Might and Eraserhead look the same? You think Fat Gum worries about being lean?" His smile turned softer. "You're built exactly right for the hero you're becoming. And anyone who says otherwise can fight me."

Heat flooded through you, but not from shame. From the way he looked at you—like you were something precious he'd been entrusted to protect.

"So," he tugged gently at your shirt hem, "are you taking this off? Or do I need to carry you deeper until you can't avoid the water anymore?"