𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧' |𝐭.𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢

43- dates, dates, and dates!

He was sweet. He was kind. He treated you like someone worth admiring.

So why didn't your heart reach for him?

You pulled your coat tighter, the taste of takoyaki still lingering on your tongue. And somewhere in the back of your mind, the echo of a name you should have known scratched faintly at your memory, Tenko.

After your first date with Taishiro, the attention didn't stop. If anything, it grew.

Word must've spread fast that you were out of rehab and moving again because, suddenly, your DMs were full of polite check-ins and awkward flirtations.

You couldn't even walk into the agency without someone stopping you with that half-nervous, half-hopeful look in their eyes.

First it was Taishiro.

Then came Edgeshot—quiet as a breeze, offering a bouquet of protein bars and a sparring invite.

Even Tamaki asked you out with a blush so deep it reached his ears, mumbling about how he'd admired your bravery and how "older women have a quiet kind of power."

But with every date... the same pattern repeated.

They were kind. Funny. Gentle. Strong. You wanted to like them.

But your heart stayed still.

No matter how charming the conversation was, no matter how hard you tried to lean into the moment, every time you smiled, it felt like there was a weight behind your teeth. Like your body was pretending, but your soul was waiting on something it couldn't name.

You were leaning against the window, sipping bad coffee from a paper cup, half-listening to Aizawa and Present Mic talk about patrol shifts. Your mind was somewhere else, as usual.

"You're even more quiet today," Aizawa muttered without looking at you. "Let me guess. Another pro hero just asked you out."

You blinked at him.

"...Might've been two today," You admitted, sheepish.

He let out a tired scoff and shook his head. "You'd think you saved the whole damn world or something."

Present Mic grinned. "She kinda did."

He paused mid-sip, brow twitching.

You gave him a tired half-smile. "That makes six this month, I think. Or seven."

He let out a quiet scoff. "At this point, maybe I should put in an application."

You blinked, turning to look at him. "An application?"

Aizawa leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded but amused. "Sure. I'll take you to a back-alley yakitori place with a broken heater and no seats. Super romantic."

You snorted. "Wow. Really selling it."

He gave you a rare, small smirk. "And I'll even let you have the last skewer. That's how serious I am."

You laughed, the sound breaking through your weariness. "A gentleman."

"Obviously," He deadpanned, before adding, "We can split a protein bar for dessert. That's what all the young heroes are doing these days, right?"

You nudged him with your elbow. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet," He said, tilting his head slightly toward you, "I got you to laugh. Pretty good date so far, huh?"

Your smile lingered longer this time, but it faded gently. You looked back down at your coffee. That familiar hollowness crept in again, slow and quiet.