By the time we hit cruising altitude, my soul has left my body.

I’m running on three hours of sleep, airport coffee, and sheer willpower. My brain is a thick soup of half-Japanese, half-English nonsense, and the only coherent thought left in my skull is:

I just want to get to Faith’s family farm without sounding like a malfunctioning robot.

But you— You’re determined to teach me English pronunciation before we land.
 And normally I’d be grateful.
 But right now?

Right now I’m one mispronounced vowel away from losing my hero license.

“Okay,” you say, showing me your notebook, “try this sentence again. Slowly.”

I nod. I inhale. I focus. “I would, like you see the— er… the— mmm.. the cow.. co-cow place?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Izuku… it’s literally ‘barn.’ Barn.”

I glare at the page like it personally insulted my mother. “B… bawn?”

“No—barn.” “Bahn.” “Barn.” “BAN.”

You drag your hands down your face.
 I swear I see your soul leave your body too.

You take the notebook back and repeat the sentence for me… except you go full native speed. English so fast it could cut through steel.

I blink.
Once.
Twice.

“Did… did you just—did you MEAN to talk like that?!”

You look up. “Talk like what?”

And that’s when something inside me snaps like a cheap pencil.

“早すぎるって言ってんだよ！！そんなスピードで話して理解できるわけないだろ！！英語ネイティブは人間じゃなくて速読機能ついてるのかよ、マジで無理…”

I’m ranting.
 I know I’m ranting.
 I can hear myself ranting.

But I can’t stop.
 Sleep deprivation has taken the wheel and is driving us straight into chaos. You stare at me like I just delivered an entire prophecy in ancient Greek.

“That was… a lot of Japanese, Izuku.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, slumping back in my seat, “I wonder WHY.”

You raise a brow. “You’re the one who wanted to learn English before we landed. I was HELPING.”

“Yes, but—!” I gesture helplessly. “You said it at MACH SPEED! I think the plane slowed down to hear you!”

You scoff. “It wasn’t that fast.”

“It was FAST ENOUGH that I’m pretty sure I gained a quirk called Eardrum Flight.”

You roll your eyes so hard the cabin lights dim.

Then— because I guess you’re feeling petty— you repeat the same sentence again.
 Even faster.

So fast dogs on the ground probably perked up.

My eyebrow twitches.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” I accuse.

You shrug. “Maybe.”

And something hot and sharp sparks in my chest—
annoyance, absolutely— but also something else that’s making my face warm and that I refuse to acknowledge.

I lean closer, absolutely unhinged from fatigue. “I swear, Faith… if you say one more sentence like that, I’m muttering the rest of the flight. Loudly. Every Japanese word I know.”

“Oh no,” you deadpan. “So scary. The muttering.”

“Don’t you—” I jab a finger at you, “Don’t you mock my coping mechanism!”

You cross your arms. I cross mine. We stare each other down like we’re in a boss battle.

Finally, you smirk. Smirk. The worst part. “Okay then, Midoriya. Say it slowly. One more time.”

I inhale.I prepare. I summon every brain cell humanity has left.

“I would like to see the—” Turbulence rattles the whole plane. My heart jumps into my throat. Your hand grabs my sleeve on instinct. For a second, everything freezes. Then I exhale shakily. “…I hate English,” I mutter.