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Chapter 23: The Trust Equation
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 23:40:23 +0000 UTC"Hello? Still on this planet?"
Yu Takeyama's voice cut through the kitchen's silence. Izuku blinked, snapping out of a trance. He had been staring intently at his coffee cup for what felt like an eternity, but it had probably only been ten minutes. He looked up.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I was thinking."
"I noticed," she retorted, taking a sip from her own cup. "Looked like you were trying to bend the spoon with your mind. Any progress?"
Izuku didn't answer. The morning after the "incident" felt strange. The apartment was too tidy. Together, in an almost mechanical silence, they had cleaned up the mess from the night before. The broken couch, the main witness to the chaos, was now shoved against a wall, a silent reminder of the humiliation. An uncomfortable calm hung in the air, the kind of stillness that follows a storm, where neither of them knew what to say.
"Look," Yu began, unable to bear the silence any longer. "About last night..."
"It was a success," Izuku interrupted, his tone completely serious.
Yu gaped at him. "A success? Izuku, I destroyed my couch. And my dignity. I almost went through my downstairs neighbor's ceiling. What part of that seems like a success to you?"
"The part where my theory was proven correct," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. For the first time in her life, she felt genuinely shy around a guy. Every time her eyes met Izuku's, a heat rose up her neck. A part of her brain, a treacherous, stupid part, was screaming at her to hug him.
What the hell is wrong with me? she thought, clinging to her mug. Yesterday he used me to fulfill his weird coach fantasy and, instead of wanting to break his teeth, I want to... make him breakfast? This is bad. Very, very bad.
Izuku, completely oblivious to her internal crisis, set his cup down on the table with a soft click. His green eyes shone with the feverish light of someone who had just solved an impossible problem.
"I've been thinking about it all night," he said in a whisper charged with energy. "I haven't slept at all. Something crucial happened yesterday when I kissed you, right at the moment you shrank. It gave me a new understanding of my Quirk. I don't fully get it yet, but... it's important."
He leaned forward, energy vibrating from him. In spite of herself, Yu found herself leaning in too, caught by his intensity.
"When I've touched you before, like during training with Mirko or the first time I gave you the boost, my power was just clumsy," he explained, gesturing with his hands. "I had no real control. I couldn't decide how much power to give you, or what specific effect to produce. It just... happened."
His explanation was passionate, his language direct. Yu could see the pieces clicking into place in his mind as he spoke.
"And last night wasn't like that?" she asked, genuinely curious now.
"No, not at all. Last night was different," he stated, his gaze locked on hers. "You were in an incredibly vulnerable position. Your Quirk was out of control, you were desperate. But even so, you trusted me. You accepted my crazy theory without hesitation, you put yourself completely in my hands."
He paused, as if searching for the exact words.
"The instant I kissed you, I felt a change in our... connection. Not just as friends, or as coach and student. I had more access to you, to your Quirk."
He stopped again, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her feel completely exposed.
"I don't think my Quirk is measured by the energy I put in," he continued, his voice lowering. "It's measured by the trust the other person places in me. The more you trust my intentions... the deeper I can reach into your Quirk. The more control I have to help you. It's more like... a trust equation."
The phrase hung in the air between them. A trust equation.
The idea was, at the same time, strangely logical and incredibly intimate. It made perfect sense. A power designed to "coach" others couldn't be a simple transfer of raw energy. It required something more, a sort of pact. It meant that their relationship, their strange and chaotic dynamic, was the key to everything.
Oh, no, Yu thought. The blush she had been fighting back finally won the battle and set her cheeks on fire. The implications hit her full force. For him to make her stronger, for him to have more control, she had to... trust him. And what did trusting him mean after last night? Trusting his insane theories? Trusting his hands on her body? Trusting his kisses? The line between professional training and something much more profound had just been completely erased.
Izuku's enthusiasm was uncontainable. His only reaction was the need to share his results, to submit his theory for peer review.
"We have to tell Nemuri and Mirko!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He began to pace back and forth in the small kitchen, almost vibrating with excitement. "This changes everything! It's not just about touch, it's about the relationship! About the...!"
"Don't you dare say synergy," Yu warned him, pointing a spoon at him.
"About the connection!" he corrected without missing a beat. "We could help them reach levels they can't even imagine! We could condense Nemuri's gas into a solid state if she trusts the process enough. And Mirko's speed could break the sound barrier without her breaking a single bone! The applications are...!"
Yu almost choked on her coffee. The mental image that formed in her head—Izuku explaining the "context" of his discovery to her two friends—was so vivid and so horrifying that it sent her into a panic.
"No!" she yelled, her voice coming out much higher than she intended. "Wait a minute! Hold it right there, Einstein!"
Izuku stopped in his tracks, looking at her with an expression of pure, genuine confusion. "What's wrong? It's a monumental breakthrough. They have a right to know."
"Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on presenting it to them?" Yu asked, getting up too, her hands on her hips. Her stance was pure confrontation. "Are you going to call them and say, ‘Hey, girls, I've discovered my power works better with trust, and I know this because I had a revelation while kissing and groping Yu after she went giant and naked on her couch during a Quirk crisis’? Is that your plan? Are you going to put it in a PowerPoint presentation with charts and everything?"
Izuku's expression didn't change. He blinked slowly, processing the information. "Are the contextual details relevant to the theory's empirical validity?"
"Yes, Izuku, the contextual details are incredibly relevant to my DIGNITY!" she shouted, exasperated to her limit. "And to not ending up in every tabloid in Japan!"
A tense and almost comical negotiation ensued in the middle of the kitchen. Izuku, with his relentless logic, didn't understand why the "experimental" details were a problem. To him, they were data. Crucial reference points in a scientific discovery.
"But the state of vulnerability is a key factor," he argued, completely serious. "It indicates that trust becomes more potent under stress. And the kiss as the trigger is the most solid proof of concept we have. Omitting that data would be scientifically dishonest. It would be like publishing a study without the methodology."
"I'd rather be scientifically dishonest than be the laughingstock of the hero world!" she retorted. "Izuku, there are things called privacy. Dignity. Secrets you take to the grave. What happened yesterday is one of those things! It stays in this room!"
He looked at her, tilting his head, processing her words.
"I see," he finally said, though Yu was fairly certain he didn't understand the emotional part at all. "The preservation of your social status and psychological comfort is an important variable for maintaining a high baseline of trust in our working relationship. If you feel publicly humiliated, your trust in me could decrease, negatively affecting future experiments. Understood. It's a valid logistical concern."
Yu rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. Direct confrontation was useless. She needed to set clear terms and conditions, as if it were a contract.
"Alright," she said, her voice heavy with infinite resignation. "Listen to me carefully. You can share your ‘Trust Equation.’ You can talk about the theory. But the origin story, the specific details of yesterday's... ‘experimental context’... are classified."
She pointed a finger at him, and her look was a lethal warning.
"Omega-level top secret. Do you hear me? If you let a single word, a single syllable about giants, nudity, kisses, or broken couches slip, I swear on All Might I will use you as my personal punching bag for a whole month. No Quirk. No mercy. Do we have an agreement?"
Izuku looked at her, assessed the seriousness in her voice, the absolute conviction in her eyes, and nodded solemnly, completely oblivious to the true depth of the humiliation she was trying to contain.
"Terms accepted," he said with the formality of a diplomat. "I will proceed with the redacted version of the findings."
Ten minutes later, Yu's TV screen split into two flickering boxes. On the left, Rumi Usagiyama, Mirko, appeared sweaty, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. The background was an industrial gym, and the metallic clang of weights could be heard from time to time. On the right, Nemuri Kayama, Midnight, was reclining elegantly in a leather armchair in what looked like a luxurious office, a cup of tea in her hand and an amused smile on her lips.
"Well, well," Nemuri said, her voice smooth and seductive. "An emergency meeting of the Izuku-kun fan club. To what do we owe the pleasure at this hour of the morning?"
"This better be good, kid," Mirko grunted, bouncing a medicine ball against a wall off-camera. "I was about to break my jump squat record. If you interrupted me for nothing..."
"It's not for nothing, I promise," Izuku said, sitting in a chair in front of the TV. He cleared his throat nervously. Yu sat on the floor beside him, arms crossed, watching him closely.
"I have news!" Izuku began, his enthusiasm palpable through the screen. "I've made a revolutionary discovery about the nature of my Quirk."
He began to fervently explain his new theory, using the exact words he had used with Yu. He spoke of the connection, of control, of the idea that trust was the key variable that determined the effectiveness of his power.
Yu watched, wound as tight as a spring. So far, so good. The speech was clinical, professional. But she knew he was approaching the minefield.
"The breakthrough occurred yesterday, after a period of extreme emotional stress and physical vulnerability on the part of..."
AHEM, AHEM, AHEM!
Yu coughed loudly, exaggeratedly, giving him a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs. Izuku paused, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and corrected his course.
"...on the part of a test subject. Anonymous. Very anonymous."
Mirko and Nemuri exchanged a look across the split screen. Mirko's eyebrow arched.
"And this breakthrough manifested through a very specific application of contact at a moment of..." Izuku continued, wading back into the mud.
STOMP!
Yu stomped on his foot with all her strength under the coffee table they were using.
"...at a moment of... very intense mutual collaboration," he finished, with a slight wince of pain that did not go unnoticed.
Of course, the heroines weren't stupid. They could smell a censored story from a mile away.
"Hold on, hold on, kid," Mirko interrupted, dropping the ball and moving closer to the camera, her eyes narrowed. "Trust? How the hell do you measure that? What exactly did you do? Did you have to touch Takeyama's butt again to reach that conclusion? Because if so, let me know for the next experiment. I'll bring popcorn."
"No!" Yu shrieked, her face turning the color of a ripe tomato. "It had nothing to do with that!"
"Yes, Izuku-kun," Nemuri added, setting down her cup and resting her chin in her hand, her smile laced with malice. "Context is vital for any scientific discovery. You can't publish a paper without describing the methodology. Under what exact conditions did this... ‘peak of trust’ occur? Tell us everything."
Yu's murderous glare was fixed on the back of Izuku's neck. He swallowed, visibly caught between the heroines' scientific curiosity and the very real threat of becoming a human punching bag. He tried to answer as vaguely as possible.
"It was... the result of a very intense and collaborative problem-solving session," he said, his voice sounding incredibly unconvincing. "There was... a realignment of our short-term goals that generated a conducive environment."
"A realignment of goals?" Mirko repeated with a mocking grin. "Sounds like you owed her rent money and she forgave the debt."
Izuku's answers were so clumsy and evasive, and Yu's interruptions so obvious—a throat clear here, a discreet kick there—that it only served to convince Mirko and Nemuri that they had missed something incredibly juicy, embarrassing, and probably illegal.
"I see," Nemuri said, drawing out the words, her smile widening. "A ‘session of mutual collaboration.’ Sounds... fascinating. You'll have to tell me the details in private, Yu-chan. Over a glass of wine. Or two."
Yu could only groan and hide her face in her hands, wishing the earth would swallow her whole.
Nemuri, deciding she had tortured Yu enough for the moment, changed the subject with a professional shrewdness that cut through all the comedic tension.
"Well, speaking of experiments and trust, I have news for you, Izuku-kun. Get your notebook ready, because theory time is about to be over."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The fun and jokes vanished, replaced by the tangible weight of reality. Izuku sat up straight in his chair, his full attention on the screen. Yu lifted her head, her own curiosity overcoming her embarrassment.
"I've been speaking with Principal Nezu," Nemuri announced. "He's impressed with the progress reports for both Rumi and Yu. He says your method, while unorthodox, is yielding undeniable results."
"Stop with the compliments and cut to the chase," Mirko snapped, though a small smile of pride touched her lips.
"The chase is this," Nemuri continued. "The final list of applicants for this year's U.A. entrance exam, along with their complete Quirk, academic, and psychological profiles, will be sent to you via encrypted email early next week."
Izuku's heart leaped. This was it. The real beginning. No more practice runs, no more experiments with pros. This was for real.
"Your test officially begins in a few days," Nemuri said, and her once-playful tone became completely serious. The professional hero had taken over. "You have a limited amount of time, Izuku-kun. You will need to analyze dozens of profiles, select a single candidate, and design an intensive training program to take them from where they are now to a level that will allow them to pass the most competitive entrance exam in the entire country."
On the other screen, even Mirko had grown serious, her arms crossed as she listened intently.
"It's not just about passing the physical test," she added. "The U.A. exam is a beast. It tests judgment, quick thinking, heroism. Your boy or girl will have to be more than just strong."
"Exactly," Nemuri agreed. "It's time for you to choose your champion, Izuku. And you'd better not get it wrong. This is a test for you as much as it is for the student you choose. There are no second chances."
The video call ended shortly after, with a brief goodbye. The TV screen went black, reflecting the silent silhouettes of Izuku and Yu in the now-quiet room.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the echo of Nemuri's words resonating in the air. The game, the comedy, the Quirk accidents... all of that seemed distant now. This was real. A career. A future. The life and dreams of a young applicant were about to be placed in their hands.
Izuku slowly turned to look at Yu. His face was a mask of intense emotion, a mix of stomach-churning nerves and a fierce determination that hardened his jaw. He didn't look scared. He looked... ready.
"So... it's really starting," Yu said softly, breaking the silence.
Izuku nodded, his gaze fixed on their reflection in the dark screen.
"Yeah," he replied. "It's really starting."
The game was about to begin.
