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The Hero dating system was extreme on both ends.
It was either other over-confident Heroes coming onto her, or over-attached fans. Over time, she came to the conclusion Heroes of higher popularity hated being rejected; because how dare she – the ungrateful, Rescue Hero – turn them away? There were the few who tried to chat her up and respectfully accepted she wasn’t interested. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a boyfriend; it was the after turning down a number of pursuers, the feeling that maybe, possibly, no one out there would be ‘the one’. She’d never been interested in boys before, so why did it bother her now? Was it all paparazzi spinning every random picture taken into a love story? Was it the fact that most of her friends had dated at least once, and here she was, in her twenties and not even a kiss? Was it her age? The knowledge that time was running by and she had hardly thought of living her life to the fullest.
She’d kept this to herself, until she decided not to, and regretted it.
Toru had tried to introduce her to some of her friends or friends of her friends. Mina was more… invested. She’d set her up with guys from her agency, telling her to go talk to this guy and that guy and that hank. No matter how many times Ochaco insisted it was her life was missing a number of things, it fell in deaf ears.
Now, Mina was pestering her into Speed Dating, of all things.
While Ochaco considered herself an extravert, she was not too how she felt about meeting one person in a limited time before being swapped and doing it all over.
“Pleeeeaaaase? I booked you a seat and everything,” Mina had pressed.
She’d accepted to get Mina off her back about it and originally planned not to show up. Mina had selected a seat for her, though. It felt rude to waste it, even if the whole thing weirded her out. She didn’t know the rules or how it would play out.
It looked like a restaurant, with red carpets and red roses and heart-shaped prints on every surface.
Women’s corner. She was person number seven-five-one, according to her pin. A guide told her to sit at any table. It looked odd. It was a dining table but with a tall divider in the middle. The divider stretched over every table; a wall to blind them from viewing the person on the other side. She wouldn’t even be able to see the person. The women nearby sat facing the wall, looking at nothing. She could see the shadows of men’s shoes swiping by under the table whenever one crossed on the other side. There was a headset and a clipboard on each table.
The speakers squealed to life. “Afternoon, everyone. We’ll be starting in another fifteen minutes.” The man behind the microphone sounded bored out of his mind, breathing a lot and inhaling loudly. His pronunciation of P’s and T’s sounded like rapping with how close the microphone was to his lips. He’d possibly done this multiple times a day for who knows how long. “Please take your seat. If you can’t find it, please ask for directions at the desk or from standing lookouts.” He reminded her of a pilot’s speech before takeoff. “We’ll guide you through the steps as soon as everyone takes their seats. Thank you.”
She gingerly sat down and held her purse on her lap. It occurred to her: these people weren’t Heroes, and possibly a low number of fans. If they didn’t figure out who she was, then they’d flirt like regular people instead of the extremes she got at work. They wouldn’t put up a show of devotion and loyalty for Uravity. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad?
After a few minutes, there was an annoyed huff from the speakers. “Alright. Please, put on your headset. I’ll lay down instructions in a few minutes.” Everyone robotically did as told. Everything about it was awkward. Strange. But then, this whole event was for people who either had no luck with love, like her, or wild people who just liked trying new things.
With the headset on, everything went quiet like the inside of a shoebox. It didn’t take long for the announcer’s voice to surround her. “Okay, then, the list in front of you should have empty spaces so you can write your date’s pin number. No names. Just numbers. Use the red buzzer to end a call and start another. If you’d like to have your partner for a second date, mark the tick box next to their number. Each sitting in five minutes. Your first break is at seven and we start again at seven-thirty. We’re packed full today so there should be a second break just after eight. Aside from your name, share as much as you’d like. If you want it to work, please be as truthful as you can. You’re free to ask and skip questions. For the men, please move one table to your left after every turn. You’ll hear the buzzer at the end of the five-minute mark and your call will automatically disconnect. We’ll begin in five minutes.”
It sounded like a lot for something so obscure. Then again, they had multiple people to focus on at the same time. There was no way it would work for her. But she was already here – might as well enjoy the ride.
…
This was not fun.
This was the fourth guy and she was already tired. So far, they were all fast talkers. One talked about himself for five minutes, one skipped her every question (which included favorite meals, activities, and interests), one had listed out everything he didn’t like in life, and this one was hard to understand. She didn’t recognize most of the jokes and memes he kept throwing.
Mina, what did you get me into?
She was exhausted. Mentally. They weren’t all bad. Plenty had been easy to get along with, but how would she know love through… all this? Did Speed Dating even work?
The usual comment they greeted her with was: ‘you sound cute’ then complement each thing she mentioned, whether it was her love for mochi, her rigorous exercises, or her friendly disposition. She skipped questions regarding her work, which made a few suspicious as to why she would skip that. She replaced Zero Gravity with Levitation to separate her from Uravity. Over time, she found the buzzer to be her rescuer. The longer she stayed the more disinterested she became.
“So…you come here often? I know I do.”
Next.
“I’m more of a… multi-lady kinda guy, you know what I mean?”
Next.
“So why’s a pretty lady like you here?”
They couldn’t see each other. Next.
“How devoted are you to the lord?”
Next.
“I’m a family man, you see. I was one of twelve kids. I want twelve myself, now.”
Next.
“She buzzed me off! Can you believe that? The nerve of that woman–!”
Next.
“Where would I like to live? Well, how about nestled in you–”
She smacked the buzzer, ending the call with that one. Next.
…
She’d given up. Were all people like this and she never noticed? Or did these types of events just attract this sort of people? It felt… not right, to just sit there and talk to a wall. She was tempted to walk out, but how would that affect the circling chain with her seat empty? They never said if she could leave. Maybe she should ask one of the employees that patrolled behind the guests’ chairs. Frustrated, she groaned and dropped her head against the table.
She was never, ever listening to Mina after this.
“… are… are you okay?” a timid voice asked through the spongy earpads on her headset. “Are you feeling okay? Are you hurt?”
He must’ve felt the table vibrate when she knocked her head on it. She quickly straightened. “Sorry! I’m fine. All good.”
“…Are you sure? We won’t do this if you don’t feel like it.”
How thoughtful. She chuckled lightly and grabbed her clipboard and pen. “No, it’s fine. We can start if you want to.”
“Yeah… yeah. Umm, I’m Mid – I mean, I’m 1227!”
Before she could even right anything, Ochaco unexpectedly snorted. “Did – did you almost say your name?”
He chuckled meekly. “Sorry. I keep doing that.” He sure apologized a lot.
“You’re fine,” she assured him. “So 1227. That right?”
“Yeah. Can I get yours, please?”
“715.”
He was much slower than the others. His nervous demeanor told he wasn’t used to this sort of setting.
“So…uhh… should… should I start or do you want to?”
Should she take the lead? He sounded like how she felt: exhausted. “I can start off. No worries.”
“Okay.”
“What do you do for work?” she’d asked this one a few times. The answers varied from office worker to a celebrity to a long range of words slapped together.
“I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
Okay. Cute. “Oh. You work with kids?”
“Yeah. They all learn differently so I have to figure out what works with who. What about you? What do you do?”
Oh, crud. This one. “Is it okay if I skip this?” She always felt bad when the other spilled the beans but she refused to do the same.
“Yeah, it’s okay. You can skip whenever. I don’t mind.”
“That goes for you, too. Skip if you want, okay?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“I think it’s still your turn cause I skipped. I didn’t answer anything yet,” she admitted.
“Oh… uhh.” There was the sound of rustling paper on his end. He had things written down. He cleared his throat. “If you had one wish, what would it be?”
He was making her think for it. “One wish… one wish… can I wish for more wishes?” she asked, giggling.
His chuckle was a song directly to her ears. “I think you can.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s assume the genie won’t let me break the system. I’d wish… for a comfortable life for my parents. I know they tell me they have everything they need and I’m doing enough and all, but… just feels like I could do more for them.”
“I think that’s a really nice wish.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. I’d want the best for my mom, too.”
“I know, right?”
“Yeah… You can ask if you’re ready.”
Okay. Make this one count. “Is there something you’d want for me to know?”
He sighed on his end. “I’m Quirkless.”
Of all things to confess to, she hadn’t expected that. He sounded guilty, like it – whatever it was – was his fault.
“I… umm… got told it was a deal-breaker. I didn’t want you to think–”
His voice got cut off when the buzzer sounded.
Ochaco wanted to scream ‘No, wait! He had more to say!’ something she never thought she’d think of saying just moments ago.
He hadn’t been as talkative as the others. He hadn’t been trying to impress her. Heck, he threw his insecurity out there for her to judge. He didn’t seem the type to be here, but so far, he was the only one to keep her interested. When she walked in here, she hadn’t planned to mark any number on the paper.
1227 got a tick mark from her.
…
Izuku slumped in defeat in the lobby, waiting for Denki and Minoru. He was beyond exhausted. It took mental strength to speak to one new person. This was a chain of new people constantly switching faster than his mind could adjust to the situation. Why did he let those two drag him into this? He’d met Denki at an electronics store. Izuku had recognized Chargebolt. He’d gushed at the Hero, asked for an autograph, and listed the many facts he knew about Denki and his friends. One thing led to another and Denki had managed to convince him into ‘socializing with girls’ because it was clear Izuku had no skills in that department.
Looking down at his hands, he rubbed at the dry pigments leftover from finger paint. That stuff stuck to the corners of his nails easily. It was clear when he held the pen to draw a checkmark near 715. She was probably not interested. He just felt like she deserved the ‘yes’ mark.
An arm hooked him by the neck.
“Hey!” Denki greeted enthusiastically. “How’d it go? I think I got a match this time for sure. But sheeesh, was it long this time.”
“It’s all worth it,” Minoru said to himself, looking down at his open palms with possessed eyes. “All worth it. This time. This time for sure.” His fingers twitched like cockroach legs.
“Is… he okay?” Izuku asked.
“Don’t worry about him,” Denki laughed. “Happens all the time.”
The electric Hero led him to what looked like a receptionist’s desk and they all handed the man their pins. The man clicked on his computer and announced Minoru had–
“NO ONE?” the short fella screamed. It looked like he was ready to cry blood out of his eyes. “Nothing? After all that?”
Denki had a wide smirk on his face as he tsked fake pity at his friend. “Isn’t that too bad? Should’ve upped your game. I, on the other hand, have been practicing my lines.”
The man behind the desk said, “Nothing.” Again.
Denki’s jaw hung so low Izuku feared he might’ve dislocated his jaw. “Nothing?” he yelped.
“Yes. You can try again tomorrow. Same time. Would you like to book now?” the man asked lazily.
Denki turned away, too hurt to answer the man.
The man continued with the last pin. “Midoriya Izuku? 1227?”
“Ah – it’s me.” Izuku had almost forgotten he’d handed his pin over.
The computer buzzed and spat out a curly paper. “You have one match. 715 gave you her phone number.”
Denki and Minoru lost their shit. Izuku stood stunned for an eternity.
…
He had a habit of going kid-to-kid and asking random questions. They got bored easily, especially if what they were working on wasn’t acknowledged.
“What are you making here?” Izuku knelt to the little boy’s level.
“’m making pie!” the kid said, kneading the blue playdough into shape in the plastic cup.
Izuku pretended to sound impressed. “Wow. What kind of pie?”
“Blueberry.”
Kids without Quirks (as of yet) were easier to redirect. Most of the Quirk manifestations happened by accident and if it were something not-so-obvious the kid usually panicked. He had to be there to calm them with kind words and easy-to-follow instructions and, if need be, a calming blanket. The common harmless ones were tiny physical changes where the kid would just touch the changed parts instead of burn things. There would always be those silent few who tended to sit and do nothing. While the rest of the children loved Music Time and the outdoor grassy field, the more mallow kids stayed by his side for adult protection.
At the end of everything, he and his fellow coworkers helped instruct the herd of children to tidy up and get ready to go home. He watched the little ones push kiddie chairs back to where they’d been before and collect scattered toys to place in the toy box. The ones playing by the colorful sandbox usually struggled to get their thin raincoat over their heads. Some kids helped each other with that. For those who hadn’t been noticed flapping their sleeves around in an attempt to escape, Izuku came to their rescue.
“Alright, alright. Don’t spin. Can you give me your hands?”
The little girl put her hands up. He pinched the end of the droopy sleeves and pulled it up in one swoop. Her hair had puffed up. She reached for the coat to fold it and put it back in the collapsible mesh laundry basket. He knew which bag belonged to whom. He also knew whose family member tended to come late.
“Goodbye!” Izuku said, waving.
“Bye byyye!” the final kid waved back at them.
After a while, it was his turn to leave. He’d added the new number to his contacts without trying it out. It was the first time a lady gave him her number, well, other than when he had to work in groups for college class assignments.
She’d been nice. Even if it didn’t work, which was the most likely scenario, she gave him her number, which meant she wanted to contact again. She had his as well if they’d given her her results. He hadn’t thought they’d actually mark each other for another date. She wanted contact even after he informed her of his Quirkless status.
Okay. Calm down. You can do this.
…
“You can do this, just dial it!” Mina begged on the other side of the line.
The phone threatened to fall from where Ochaco held it: wedged between her ear and shoulder. She had to have her hands free to continue undressing out of her Hero Costume.
“I –” Ochaco sighed. “I’m nervous. I didn’t think I’d leave with someone’s phone number!”
“He’s interested. Give him a chance,” Mina insisted.
“I don’t know… He didn’t see me. What if…” What if he knew she was Uravity? Would he start acting like everyone else? But then… he told her his secret. It only seemed fair to tell him hers.
“Okay,” she said in defeat, placing her wrist guards in her locker and reached for her civilian clothes, ready to end today’s shift. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll give him a call.” She’d never been on a date before. She expected it to go embarrassingly bad.
“Yessss!” Mina hissed, victorious. There was another voice in the background. “Gotta go. Tell me how it goes. Bye!” she hung up before Ochaco could finish saying her own ‘bye’.
She had planned to call him, just hadn’t figured out when to do so. Her phone rang its usual melody the moment she stepped out of the building. She’d temporarily named him 1227.
Okay. Here it goes…
“Hi!”
“Hey.” That was his voice again. Clearer. Cleaner, almost as though the microphones they’d used had a slight filter, hiding the lighter layers of their voices. “Hello, I – ah… I hope it’s not a bad time.”
“Not a bad time – just got off work,” she told him.
“That’s good,” he sounded glad. “Umm… I… do you… do-you-want-to-go-out?” he said it in one go, then added, “with me, I mean…”
She had to slow down what he’d said to make sure it was what she thought he’d said. She giggled. “I’d love to go out with you.”
…
She was underdressed. She hadn’t expected everyone in the restaurant to dress formally. Maybe that was a good thing. She didn’t want eyes on her. It was best no one pointed out Uravity was present. He’d reserved a table for them, but she had no way of knowing which man he’d be. She’d have to see who was at Table 5-18 and see if he’d respond to the number she knew him as.
“Right this way,” the employee walked between tables.
Ochaco tried to not shake. This was her first date, and she had no idea what he’d look like. Was he that one? No – not their table. Him? Table 5-10, so no. Okay, calm down. He was probably as nervous as her.
“Here, ma’am.” The waiter showed her her table: it was one of the ones next to the window with a clear view of the city. The vase in the center of the table held a rose. One chair was empty, in the other sat a man, also in casual clothes, with curly dark green hair and rounded eyes blinking up at her, processing. That look on his face reminded her of a lost puppy.
She was about to sit, then remembered, “Are you 1227?” If he wasn’t then she must’ve sounded like an idiot.
“Yeah,” he whispered, cleared his throat, and tried louder this time. “Yeah.”
It was his voice aright. She finally sat down. “715, or Uraraka Ochaco. Nice to finally see you!”
His eyes kept getting wider by the second. “You… you’re…” you’re Uravity.
She held a finger to her lips and whispered, “Yes, yes – I know. I should’ve told you sooner!”
He slapped his hands over his mouth in an attempt to silence himself, wanting to explode into words but also wanting to respect her wishes.
It looked too funny. She dropped her head and snorted.
He slowly pried his shaky hands off his face. He was blushing madly. “I… uh… I’m being rude. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku.”
She finally got his name. Act casual… even if it seemed impossible at this point. If someone from another table inspected her face, her cover would be blown.
“So…” she began awkwardly, flipping the menu open. “What made you go dating there?”
He saw her grab the menu and mimicked her, not actually reading. “Oh, friends dragged me into it,” he admitted shyly.
“You, too? Same thing on my side.” She giggled. “I’m sorry I surprised you like this. I…” Just rip it off in one go, like a Band-Aid. “I guess I got tired of people pretending. They liked me for what I was, not who I am.” People loved Uravity. Hardly anyone loved Ochaco.
Izuku’s eyes turned soft. A look of understanding and an “Oh” of sympathy. “It must’ve been hard, with what you work as.”
“I… I know I should’ve told you sooner. I must’ve scared you there.”
“I’m surprised. I love Heroes and… I’ve always wanted to be one. Would’ve tried if I wasn’t… you know.”
He was Quirkless. She was a Pro Hero.
“But, you know,” he lowered his menu top look at her. “Hearing you and seeing you like this, I forget you’re… you know,” he whispered the last part and mimicked the motion she used when canceling her Quirk. Best not say it here.
“Yeah?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah… can I get to know you? As Uraraka?”
No one had asked her that before.
“I’d like that.”
…
They had appetizers and wine, slices of sauce-covered lamb and pasta with shrimp. Jazz music played over their heads.
“Sorry if this place is too much,” he said. “I didn’t think it’d be like… this.”
“I figured when I saw you dressed like that,” she joked, gesturing to him with her fork.
“I never went on a date before and… my friend recommended this to me.”
“Never?” she asked, surprised. He was plain. A cute plain. “You’re… twenty-something.” That particular event held participants between the ages of ages twenty-one and thirty-five. He looked fairly young.
“Twenty four,” he said.
Twenty four and never went on a date. But then she was – “Twenty three.” – not far behind. “Never dated either before now. Gosh, I just got so busy and… I spent more time turning people away and never thought to look around.”
It was his turn to confess. “I… didn’t think I’d ever end up with someone. I just studied and went home. Worked, went to the gym, went home. Visited Mom, went home. Went to Hero conventions, went home” He chuckled at himself. “I’m not very interesting.”
“Trust me, you’ve been interesting since yesterday,” she told him the truth.
His face turned pink and he quickly gulped down his wine for a boost of courage.
She found him to be a sweetheart.
“I didn’t know what I wanted to be in the future if I couldn’t be a Hero. I didn’t like my childhood. No one protected me then, so… I thought, maybe I can protect the little ones,” he’d said.
A gentle sweetheart. She couldn’t imagine him ever harming anyone. Food was mostly ignored. She had to steer the conversation a lot of the time, but when he talk, he sure talked.
And she loved it.
He coughed, tried to hold it in, and couched again before going for a drink.
“Are you okay?” she panicked for a minute.
He waved his hand for her to pause. “Pepper-in-throat,” he managed. “I’m good.”
She chuckled. “How long were you holding that in?”
“I didn’t want to sound rude…”
What a dork.
…
“Wait – it’s okay. I’ll pay!” He was already reaching for his wallet.
“It's fine, I’ll do it,” she insisted.
“Are you sure? I can–”
“Trust me, you don’t want to see the bills.”
“…how much is it?”
“You don’t have to worry. I can do it.” Even if a portion of her salary went to her parents, she figured it would a larger sum than whatever earned as a teacher.
“…can I at least pitch in?”
She let him, only because the guilty look on his face melted her heart.
“Hey, Midoriya? Thanks for tonight. I had fun,” she said shyly.
She blushed. “I… I had fun, too. You’re really nice.”
A genuine compliment. No pretending there.
“Is it okay if we do this more often?”
He looked surprised. Happy. “I – ah – yeah! I mean, yeah, I’d… I’d love – I’d like another date with you.”
She walked with him out of the building and they both stood there.
“So… I’ll see you?” he asked awkwardly.
For some reason, she was still high on happiness. After the many guys who’d either expected her to behave a certain way, it was nice to finally feel safe enough to love.
“Actually,” she started, messing with the straps of her purse. “Would you like to come over to my place?”
The dust of pink on his cheeks reached down his neck.
…
She had to sloppily reach down the side of her bed and blindly dig out her ringing phone. Who was calling at… what time was it? Ochaco checked. “Mina, it’s past eleven,” she complained, her voice tired.
“No offense, but you don’t exactly have a scheduled bedtime.” They’d had conversations at one in the morning. “Anyway,” she sang. “How’d it go?”
A naked Izuku lifted his head off the other end of her pillow, his eyes squinting. “Wha…” He yawned. “What time is it?”
Ochaco gently pushed his head back down to meet the pillow. “Still night. Sorry, friend called. Go back to sleep,” she whispered.
Mina gasped. “You didn’t! Was that him? Oh my – you did! You have to tell me everything! You gotta tell the girls–”
“Goodnight, Mina.”
“Wait – hold on! Don’t you hang up on me–”
She hung up and dropped struggled to plug in her phone charger. His arm slipped off her side when she leaned away to reach the nightstand, but dropped back over her when she retreated back to bed.
“Sorry about that,” she said, snuggling back in bed.
“’s fine,” he mumbled.
Neither was prepared for what the paparazzi had collected. Restaurant guests had been trigger-happy with their phones.