Shinkansen
Izuku Midoriya was late. Again.
Trying to brush his teeth while aggressively shoving his heel into a stubborn sneaker, he honestly had no idea how he’d slept through his alarm for the third time this week—and it was only Thursday.
Stumbling into the bathroom, he cupped water into his mouth, rinsed out the minty foam, and bolted downstairs, nearly eating carpet on the bottom step.
His mom’s warm eyes greeted him from the kitchen.
“Good morning!” Izuku gasped, breathlessly hugging her while simultaneously fighting a losing battle with his jacket zipper. “Why didn’t you wake me up?!”
Inko Midoriya just shrugged, a playful smirk touching her lips. “You’ve gotta learn to take care of yourself, Izuku. You’re leaving today. Who’s going to wake you up in Tokyo?”
Izuku laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… you’re probably right.”
“Oh, really? Probably?” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest in mock offense.
Izuku burst into laughter, hugging her again, tighter this time. “Okay, okay, you’re definitely right. Sorry.”
“You better be,” she smiled, her eyes softening as she nudged him toward the front door. “And don’t you dare blame me if you miss your train!”
She waved. He turned and waved back, the weight of the moment suddenly settling over him.
“I’ll be back for for dinner, I promise!” he called out as the door clicked shut.
It was supposed to be a bittersweet morning. He was thrilled to be accepted into a massive Tokyo university, but it also meant leaving home, navigating the city, and sharing an apartment with four total strangers who probably hated mornings just as much as he did.
He jogged toward the station, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as another terrifying truth dawned on him: he wouldn’t be getting home-cooked meals for a long, long time.
Damn.
And then, halfway to the platform, it hit him.
He had forgotten breakfast. How had his mom forgotten to hand him breakfast?!
He stomped his foot in frustration as he joined the crowd waiting for the Shinkansen. He was so distracted by the hollow ache in his stomach that he didn’t notice someone step up beside him until a massive shadow eclipsed the morning sun.
Izuku looked up and jumped.
Big was the first thing his brain registered. Broad shoulders, a bright crimson head of hair, and an easy, wide grin.
“You okay, dude?” the guy asked. “You look startled.” He paused, turning sharply to check behind him, then looked back at Izuku with an awkward scratch of his neck. “Thought someone was creeping up behind me,” he muttered with a laugh.
Izuku tried to return the smile, but his facial muscles weren’t cooperating. He opened his mouth to speak, only for the stranger to recoil in sudden alarm.
“Hey, kid, are you okay? You look like you’re about to die. Literally.”
Izuku turned toward him, trying to form actual words, but the world suddenly decided to tilt on its axis. The guy in front of him fractured into two, then three blurry silhouettes. A high-pitched ringing filled Izuku’s ears. He was dizzy. He was so, so hungry.
The stranger reached out, his brow furrowed in concern. Izuku wanted to say he was fine, to wave him off, but he only managed to blink and stumble backward.
“—hey!” a voice yelled, sounding like it was underwater.
And then, the platform rushed up to meet him, and everything went black.
Izuku was delirious when he finally managed to open his eyes.
His vision was still swimming, and a damning migraine had taken root right behind his temples. He let out a low whimper, squeezing his eyes shut to fight back the ache.
But then, a scent bypassed his headache entirely. Salty, rich broth.
His eyes flew open. A steaming cup of instant noodles sat on the bench directly in front of him, right next to a cold can of beer. He rubbed his eyes and slowly looked up.
There he was. The same guy. Still here.
Izuku’s face instantly caught fire. Maybe I’m still hallucinating...
“Oh, you’re awake,” the redhead noted, sitting up straighter and setting his own beer aside. “Sorry, you looked like you were going to literally waste away on the pavement, so I bought the first thing I saw at the kiosk.”
He smiled—a bright, disarmingly cute expression for someone built like a literal brick wall.
Izuku opened his mouth to politely decline the charity, but his stomach growled so loudly it echoed, betraying him entirely.
The redhead laughed, a warm, booming sound. “Yeah, you definitely need it. Just eat, man.”
Utterly defeated by his own biology, Izuku practically inhaled the food like a man possessed. The guy watched him for the first few minutes with an amused grin before his phone pinged, his attention shifting to the screen.
Izuku couldn’t help but notice how relaxed the guy was, leaving his guard completely down around a total stranger.
Did he really look that unthreatening?
After draining the last of the broth, Izuku leaned back, a contented sigh escaping him. But reality crashed back down, too fast it gave him whiplash.
“F—fuck! The train!” Izuku vaulted upward, his eyes wide with panic.
The redhead looked up, unbothered. “We missed it while you were passed out, dude. Chill.”
Chill?! Izuku shook his head rapidly, his hands flying up to grip his messy curls. “No, no, no, I can’t! I’m going to miss orientation!” He slumped back down onto the bench in absolute despair, dragging his hands down his face. “Noooooooo. This is so bad.”
A heavy finger tapped his exposed forearm. Izuku peeked through his fingers to see the redhead leaning toward him.
“Where are you headed?” the guy asked.
Izuku lowered his hands, eyeing him warily. “Shinagawa Station. Why?”
“Me too.” The redhead’s grin returned, his eyes lighting up. “Didn’t think I’d find another schoolmate from this side of town! I knew you looked like a university student, though. I’m Kirishima Eijirou.”
A massive wave of relief flooded Izuku’s chest. He wasn’t alone.
He reached out, taking the offered hand. His grip was surprisingly calloused.
“Izuku Midoriya. Nice to meet you.”
Kirishima leaned back against the bench, offering a casual shrug. “We definitely missed the main orientation, but a buddy of mine told me the apartment placements are still being processed this afternoon. We can still make it in time to get our keys.”
Izuku let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Thank you, Kirishima. For the food, and for waiting. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
Kirishima blinked, then laughed, rubbing the back of his red hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got extra cash right now, and honestly? It felt nice to spend it on someone, especially someone as cute as you.”
Izuku choked on his own spit, launching into a violent coughing fit.
Cute?! Who casually calls another guy cute?!
Kirishima stood up, completely oblivious to the fact that Izuku was currently melting into a puddle of gay panic on the station bench. He nodded toward the unopened beer.
“You don’t drink?”
Izuku snapped out of it, coughing into his fist as he looked at the can. He hadn’t even processed it was there. “Ah, not really. I like sweet stuff. This is… a little beyond my palette.” He chuckled apologetically. “Plus, I’m still nineteen. But thank you. It’s the thought that counts.”
Kirishima paused, a thoughtful look crossing his features. Then, he smirked and snatched the beer back up. “Hold a seat for me. I’ll be right back!”
And he took off sprinting toward the vending machines, leaving Izuku frozen in absolute confusion.
The PA system crackled to life, a melodic chime echoing across the platform announcing the arrival of the next Shinkansen. Izuku bounced anxiously on his heels, grabbing his duffel bag and joining the boarding line. He craned his neck, scanning the crowd frantically.
“Kirishima! Where are you?!” he whispered desperately, clutching his ticket as the sleek train pulled into the station.
Finally—movement. Kirishima waved wildly above the crowd, jogging toward the platform just as the departure buzzer began to sound. Their eyes locked in shared, wide-eyed panic.
Kirishima put his massive shoulders to work, parting the crowd like water. He grabbed Izuku by the strap of his backpack, hauling him forward like he weighed absolutely nothing, and they slid through the doors right as they hissed shut.
They stood in the vestibule of the train car, Kirishima gripping an overhead handle and exhaling sharply. If they had missed this one, it would have been another three-hour wait.
Their eyes met, the sheer adrenaline of the near-miss hanging in the air for a split second before they both burst out laughing. It was loud, breathless, and hysterical.
“I really don’t like the Tohoku trip,” Izuku shuddered dramatically, leaning against the train doors. “It gives me terrible anxiety.”
Kirishima recovered first, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “Right?!” Then, he held his free hand out.
“Here. Since you prefer sweet over tipsy.”
Izuku stared down at the ice-cold can of peach soda in Kirishima’s massive hand. A steady, violent beat thudded against his ribs. He reached out to take it, his fingers brushing against Kirishima’s knuckles.
“Thank you…” Izuku murmured, his voice suddenly a little softer.
“Is that why you’ve never been on the Shinkansen before? Because you hate the trip—”
Kirishima kept talking, leading the way down to their seats, his voice an easy, comforting rumble over the sound of the train on the tracks. But Izuku was already far gone. His heart was beating so loud in his own ears he could barely hear anything else.
And that, above everything else today, terrified him to the bone.
