You Again

soundtrack

ᕷ˖°♪.¸¸♬•*¨*•.♫

Near Light - Ólafur Arnalds

Anchor - Novo Amor

☾

Winter always quieted the city.

By this hour, most people had retreated into the warmth of their homes, leaving behind streets softened by fresh snow and the occasional passing car. Patrols were colder this time of year, the chill settling into his bones no matter how many layers he wore beneath his uniform.

Shouta didn't mind.

He liked these hours. The silence. The way the city seemed to exhale after midnight.

A thin blanket of snow muted the world beneath it. Streetlamps painted the footpaths gold, each pool of light dissolving into the next until the city became little more than warm halos against the dark. The foot traffic down the street was low. He crossed paths with another Pro Underground hero. They exchanged the sort of brief nod professionals reserved for each other before continuing in opposite directions.

He tracked his way to a nearby park. With the nights so quiet, there is very little for him to watch over. It gave him the time to take a step back from his duty and just exist in the silence. He found a bench, empty and thankfully not damp from the snow.

He settled onto the bench, letting out a heavy breath that fumed white clouds into the city air. He rubbed some warmth back into his fingers before burying them in his pockets. Although he liked the cold, he wished he could wear something a little warmer. Although he was wearing a thermal undershirt beneath his uniform, the cold still seeped through.

Idly, he watched the different people still present in the park. A runner completed another lap around the park, breath misting in the cold air. An elderly couple walked hand in hand beneath matching scarves. Near the playground, two exhausted parents pushed a pram while their child babbled animatedly into the winter air, completely unconcerned by the late hour. Shouta’s lips twitched in a subtle, amused huff when a passerby slipped on a patch of slush, squeaking loudly before clutching their friend’s arm. prompting an indignant shout from the friend as they both wobbled to regain their footing.

Steam curled from a paper cup cradled between a passerby's gloved hands.

The sight made his own fingers ache for something warm. But he knew every nearby cafe had shut down hours ago, and his favorite late-night spot was a twenty-minute walk away. He wanted something warm, but he didn't want to break his rest just yet.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed someone approach the bench and sit down beside him. Shouta paid them no mind, keeping his gaze fixed on the park ahead.

Then, a paper cup extended into his peripheral vision. Shouta turned his head, his eyes going the cup first. He almost instanteously recognized the brand logo on the cup. It was the same one he had been thinking of a few minutes ago.

He didn't startle. His attention shifted to the offered cup before finally settling on the stranger beside him.

Soft caramel curls spilled from from beneath a knitted beanie, framing an androgynous face, half-hidden behind a thick woolen muffler wrapped snugly around their neck. At first glance, Shouta didn't recognize them. But then he caught the familiar pair of impossible irises watching him with a mischievous glint.

He dipped his head to the side, his lips curling into a curious smirk as he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Miran’s expression softened into a warmer, cheekier smile. "Coffee for one, Shouta Aizawa."

Shouta took the cup from Miran's hand, bringing it closer to his nose to smell the aroma. Gray eyes swept back Miran's face as the familiar smell of his preferred light-roast coffee filled his nose.

His preferred order from his preferred cafe.

"Stalker." Shouta muttered taking the lid of the cup. He hated drinking through the tiny sip-hole.

"Oh please," Miran drawled, "Don't flatter yourself."

Shouta hummed, leaning back till he touched the backrest of the bench.

Beside him, Miran mirrored the motion, one leg crossing over the other as she cupped her own drink between gloved hands. Neither of them spoke. There didn't seem to be any need to. The silence wasn't awkward, nor was it particularly comfortable. It simply... was.

The quiet stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant crunch of footsteps through snow and the occasional passing car.

Shouta took another sip of his coffee.

"...You look different."

A lot different.

Miran turned towards him, eyes brightening immediately, "Mhm, do you like it?"

The last time he'd seen her—a week ago, tucked away in that little kissaten in another city—Miran had looked distinctly more feminine. Long, dark chestnut hair had fallen well past her shoulders, framing softer features. Now soft caramel curls brushed against her cheeks, her face appeared sharper somehow, and the thick woolen muffler obscuring the lower half of her face only made the differences more noticeable.

Was it the haircut?

Makeup?

He gave a noncommittal hum, choosing not to answer the question directly. He had no intention of feeding the elusive hacker's ego.

He couldn't help but glance back once more. Wondering why Miran looked so different. He had almost failed to recognize her. Her? Or Him? Shouta realized he didn't know because he hadn't asked the last time they had met. It wasn't mentioned in the files he had on them either.

"You looking at me." Miran commented, leaning towards him with a cheeky grin, "Whatcha curious about?"

Shouta hesitated, weighing whether he wanted to pry or keep his distance. In the end, he decided he’d rather ask directly than obliviously misgender them

"...Which pronouns do you use?"

"Oh." Miran blinked before letting out a small laugh. "Right. I never actually told you."

She placed a hand dramatically against her chest.

"I'm genderfluid."

Shouta gave a small nod, "… do you have any preference today?"

"Legally? I prefer bio/hazard, but apparently civil registry services lack a sense of humor," Miran said, pressing her lips together in mock disappointment before giving an easy shrug.

"What a tragedy." Shouta muttered dryly, snorting quietly into his cup.

"I know right?" Miran pouted, "Most people default to she/her, but honestly? He/him, she/her, they/them—I don't mind any of them."

"I see."

"That's it?" Miran asked, sounding almost disappointed. "No existential crisis?"

"You being difficult was already in character."

Miran gasped, looking genuinely offended.

"I'm delightful."

"Mm."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Oh really? What gave it away?"

She bumped her shoulder lightly against his, grinning into her coffee.

"Rude."

The third time they met, Shouta was at the public library.

Nemuri had somehow convinced him to pick up the newest murder mystery she'd been wanting to read, while Izuku had requested another stack of books on astronomy. Since he was already there, Shouta figured he might as well browse for something himself.

Three books rested comfortably in the crook of his arm as he wandered through the fiction section scanning the shelves for the specific murder mystery author Nemuri frequented.

Spotting a familiar name on a spine, he slid the volume free.

As the gap opened, a sudden splash of periwinkle hair caught his attention from the opposite side of the shelf. He paused, mildly curious. Another book was pulled down from the other side, and a pair of familiar, kaleidoscopic eyes peered back at him through the narrow slot.

"Now you're blatantly stalking me," Shouta commented, shaking his head as he flipped the book over to skim the summary on the back.

Hmm. Interesting. He thought to himself. Maybe I'll get this one for myself.

"Hey!" Miran whined softly in a hushed library whisper, dragging out the word. "I read books too, you know!"

"Oh?" Shouta looked up, deadpanning. "You can read?"

He tracked the soft sound of her footsteps as she walked around the end of the bookcase. A subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips, which he quickly masked before she stepped into his aisle. Today, her hair was a soft shade of periwinkle, cropped just above her shoulders. It suited her. And it made her eyes stand out even more.

They seemed even more striking than usual today, the vibrant colors contrasting sharply against the cool shade of her hair.

Gold bled into caramel, fading into rich brown before melting into green. The colors shifted every time she moved, catching the warm library lights in a way that almost made them glow.

For a fleeting moment, they reminded him of sunlight filtering through the leaves of a tree.

He suddenly realized her lips were moving, but he had been far too lost in thought to register a single word.

Miran’s eyes narrowed as she caught onto his dazed state.

"Sorry," Shouta muttered, giving his head a light shake to clear his mind. "You were saying?"

Miran asked, narrowing her eyes further. "Is there something on my face?"

"Erm… No?"

"Then? What is it?" Miran prompted, "Whatcha staring at me like that for?" She leaned in with a feigned threatening tone, "Got a problem?"

Shouta blinked once before answering, "Yes, actually." He furrowed his brow, pretending to be worried, "I seem to have acquired a little stalker. What do you suppose I should do?"

A beat passed.

Then Miran let out an affronted scoff.

"Me? Stalking you?"

"You've somehow managed to 'accidentally' run into me three times in two weeks."

"Oh, please." She waved him off. "Libraries are public spaces."

"They are."

"So are parks."

"They are."

"So is that kissaten."

"...It is."

Miran spread her arms triumphantly.

"There. Coincidence."

Shouta regarded her for a long moment.

"I don't think you know what that word means."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I simply have an exceptionally good sense of timing."

"I noticed."

"You're welcome."

Shouta hummed, slipping the book beneath his arm.

"I'm still leaning towards stalker."

Miran clicked her tongue.

"Now listen here, mister…"

'Coincidences' piled on, one after the other.

The moments Shouta once spent alone now had company he had never asked for, but somehow always expected.

"Slept in?" Shouta asked, eyes watching up ahead at the snow laden street up ahead.

Miran yawned, sitting down on the bench next to him. She leaned in, sniffing around the cup Shouta held. Her eyes were still closed like she wasn't fully awake yet, face a little swollen, fading periwinkle hair still a little mused from the sleep.

"…Morning to you too."

Shouta looked down, watching her silently as she inspected the contents of the cup. Sneaking in a small sip, scrunching her nose as she decided it wasn't to her taste, today. She looked up, pleading with her eyes — lavender and light sage irises like early morning twilight mixing with pale spring leaves. The question though silent, was unmistakable. Shouta didn't respond verbally, holding her gaze before letting his eyes draw her attention to brown bag next to him, holding the second coffee cup.

"Oh."

A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as reached inside, pulling out the second cup. As Shouta expected, she lifted the lid first, inspecting the rosetta with quiet concentration before pulling out her phone to snap a picture. She closed her eyes briefly after the first sip. When they opened again, the muted lavender and pale sage seemed a shade brighter beneath the morning light.

"Oh this is perfect," She sighed, leaning back and sinking into the bench.

Shouta looked away, his eyes finding its way back to the snow laden street. Watching as the city slowly woke up around them.

"Mhm, this is so good," She moaned softly, practically melting into her coat as the warmth filled her. "Where is this form?"

"New bistro, two blocks down," Shouta answered, "It's on my route, so I decided to give it a try."

Miran hummed, taking another sip, "… Thanks."

When Shouta glanced back, a small smile had caught on her face, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

"What for?" he asked.

"The coffee." she clarified.

Shouta hummed in acknowledgement, nodding once before turning his eyes back to the scenery infront of him.

"Patrol run long again?" Miran asked conversationally.

Shouta took a second to process the question before answering. "Yeah. It's the weekend, so I thought I’d cover a few extra hours." He shrugged, adjusting his Capture Weapon against the chill. "Didn't expect anyone to be out."

"Mhm," She hummed in a way that had become easy to decipher. A quiet cheeky little sound that meant she was thoroughly pleased with herself.

Shouta didn't bother looking.

"And yet," Miran murmured, her voice considerably clearer now that the last traces of sleep had worn off.

He felt compelled to anyways. Curiousity getting the better of him.

He glanced over.

Sure enough.

A lopsided grin on her face. The flushed pink lingered across her cheeks found its way into her eyes as well, softening the lavendar into something warmer, something more delicate.

"Here we are."

A quiet snort escaped him before he could stop it.

"Incorrigible."

Miran's grin only widened.

The next Thursday found Shouta wandering into a pâtisserie tucked into a quiet side street off his usual patrol route, half past eight in the evening. He really had no plans to ever go in, but as he had walked past the window, the handwritten sign in the window caught his attention.

Limited Seasonal Special.

Just for today!

Stepping inside, Shouta was immediately greeted by the rich aroma of toasted butter, vanilla, powdered sugar and delicate sweet scents he couldn't quite name. While a pâtisserie wasn't somewhere he'd typically frequent, he could appreciate the warmth and comfort of the shop's interior. It was easy to see why people flocked to places like this.

Even now, a modest evening crowd was scattered throughout the room—some seated at small wooden tables, others admiring the elaborate pastry cases.

Shouta’s gray eyes tracked the glass displays until he found what had pulled him in. Toward the end, set apart on a slate tier, were the seasonal specials. Amongst them sat the Early Grey & Lavendar Tarts.

A golden-brown tart shell cradled soft grey-lavendar cream, finished with toasted meringues, tiny edible flowers and a dusting of green pistachio beneath the shimmer of silver sugar.

"…Two, please."

The cashier slipped the into seperate container that were just as aesthetically The cashier smiled, carefully placing each tart into its own frosted winter-themed box before slipping both into a paper bag.

Shouta thanked her absentmindedly out of practice and continued on his way.

The crisp night cold greeted him the moment he stepped onto the pavement. He shifted the paper bag to his non-dominant hand and continued down the street, taking a left at the next crossing and over the pedestrian bridge.

He stopped at a secluded vantage point off the main thoroughfare—a set of wide, weathered stone steps cutting upward between two quiet complexes to link the upper and lower levels of the district. The elevated ledge overlooked the lower street, illuminated only by the faint, amber halo of a solitary streetlamp. Cold wind funneled up through the stairwell, carrying the distant, muted rumble of evening traffic below.

Leaning his back against the flat stone ledge, Shouta pulled out his work phone with his free hand and pulled up the Underground Hero network chatroom for his district. He idly scrolled through the logs, catching up on recent arrests, incident reports, and patrol updates.

A shadow caught his peripheral, following by clicks of shoes and presence taking place next to him.

"You're late," Shouta said, not looking up, holding out the ba. "They only had—"

"Late for what, panther?"

Shouta froze.

Perched lazily on the edge of the stone wall, one boot dangling over the drop, was Nemuri. She held a juice pouch in one hand, her dark hair pulled up into a loose half-ponytail.

Then, from around the corner Hizashi followed, phone grasped loosely in his hand, chattering away without caring to see if the person he was talking to was even next to him.

"…And then I told him—"

He caught sight of Shouta and broke into an immediate grin.

"Yo, Eraser! Didn't think you'd be in this area already." He greeted, loud and boisterous.

Shouta jerked out of his stupor as the bag from his hand was taken by Nemuri. She peered inside, letting out a dramatic, gasping noise as she pressed a hand over the chest of her hero costume.

"Oh my god, did you buy something for me?" She asked, voice saccharine sweet as it rose up a pitch.

Shouta scrunched his nose, his body trained to react defensively every time he heard that voice because only endless teasing and nuisance followed it.

"How did you know I was gonna be here?" She asked, titing her shoulders. Hizashi rushed over to her, excited and curious like the overgrown retreiver he was. "Oh my Sho, honey, I'm so honored~"

"It's not." Shouta snapped a little too sharp and quirk as she reached into it.

Nemuri paused, unfazed by his tone, but still curious about his reaction as she looked up. "No?" Her sky blue eyes flittered towards Hizashi for a split second, undoubtedly checking to make sure he was hearing it too. She stood up a little straighter, her expression slowly melting into something that only spelled more teasing and nuisance for Shouta. So much so, that he was half tempted to just give her the pastries and run away.

But he took in a deep breath and held his place.

"Who is it for then?" She queried, her voice soft and gentle, like she was trying to lul him into a sense of safety and spill his answers.

Unfortunately for her, that trick stopped working on him after the first day he met her.

Still, the question lingered uncomfortably in his mind. He hadn't actually thought it through when he stood at that display case. He had just bought two tarts without thinking. He looked out over the street, his gray eyes quietly sweeping over every streetlight, alleyway entrance, and closed storefront down the block.

Then he turned back to Nemuri and Hizashi.

"…It's…" He paused, thinking his words over his head. In the end, he shook his head, and stuffed his hand into the pockets of his hero costume. He couldn't help but look over his shoulders once more, just in case before speaking, "It's nothing. You guys can have it."

With the prospect of having something Shouta bought for them, Nemuri immediately moved on from her unanswered question and dug into the bag. Carefully placing the first box on the stone ledge, she took out the second box and handed it to Hizashi.

Shouta kept glancing around without thinking while he watched his friends overreact— seriously, it was just a little tart. Why they were handling it like it was something precious was beyond him.

"Oh these are beautiful!"

"Hold on! Hold on! Lemme a pictures, please, please, please—"

"Oh my goodness," Nemuri moaned loud and filthy. Shouta scowled her, disgusted at her loudness. But his friend continued unfettered, licking the cream at the edges of her lips before dramatically falling back and resting against the stong ledge. "This is ridiculously good."

"Holy shit, these are amazing!" Hizashi groaned around a mouthful, practically bouncing on his spot.

Rolling his eyes, Shouta took a look around once more. He held his gaze on the street down the steps for a seconds, then at the little convenience store up the steps, then at the pathways that led to the stairs.

"Mm, Whatcha looking for?" Nemuri asked, swallowing her bite. "Waiting for someone?"

Shouta didn't have an answer for it.

"No," Shouta answered, forcing his eyes off the street to look at them. He pulled his Capture Weapon a little higher around his chin against the biting wind. He knew giving a flat answer wouldn't satisfy Nemuri, but he really didn't an answer.

"I gotta go," He said, pushing himself away from the stone wall, "It's time for my patrol."

He heard Hizashi call out behind him, but Shouta was already at the very bottom of the steps, diappearing into the traffic on the street down below before either of their voices could reach him.

"Aww, nothing for me today?"

Shouta looked up from where he was standing on an extended window sill. Above him, leaning recklessly over the ledge, Miran pouted exaggeratedly.

Her hair was different again.

White bang this time, long enough to brush against her eyelids. The rest spilled into loose black-and-white waves framing her face, layered in an uneven manner, before tapering into two messy braids over her shoulder.

"What?" Shouta asked, forcing his mind back to her question.

"Well, the last few times you brought me something," Miran explained, still pouting. "So I thought…" She slumped against the edge with a sigh. "Well, I didn't get you anything either… so I guess we're even?"

Shouta stared at her for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

The spot he was at today wasn't somewhere they've met before. He'd ask how she managed to find her, but he doubted there was any place he could be where GhostWire won't be able to find him.

"I came to see you obviously, duh." She answered like it was the obvious thing in the world.

Then, before he could say anything else, she swung one leg over the ledge. Shouta's stomach lurched. His Capture Weaon was already in his hand beefore his brain caught up.

"Miran."

Unaware of him calling of her, she seated comfortably atop the wall, swinging both legs idly over the drop, admiring the city lights stretching beneath them.

"Are you free? We should go somewhere."

"What?" Shouta asked, struggling through the mental whiplash of a sudden fight-or-flight response.

"Come on," She chirped, finally looking down at him smiling like she just hadn't given him a fright. "Your patrol doesn't start for another hour and half, right? Kurokawa is still on patrol. We got time."

"Why would I—"

"Come on! We need to find some place quick!"

"Wait—"

Before he realized he had agreed to anything, he was already walking beside her. Hands tucked into his pockets. Listening. Or rather being talked at. Miran rambled cheerfully about her recent client and project, which Shouta wasn't sure if he was legally allowed to know about.

Then suddenly a loud voice rang out from somewhere.

Shouta paused, his gray eyes immediately locking onto the source before Miran could even process where it had come from. The moment the pedestrian light turned green, two women rushed across the street, waving enthusiastically. They crowded Miran instantly, startling her.

Shouta took a step back, watching them with a raised eyebrow. Miran looked caught off guard. Not uncomfortable, just unprepared. He'd never seen that expression on her before. He couldn't help but chuckle softly under his breath.

He didn't bother listening closely, but he caught enough of the conversation to gather that the two were former university classmates. They were visibly ecstatic to see her, bombarding her with animated recollections. Miran, however, stood there with a stiff, polite smile, offering only lukewarm nods and generic replies—it was immediately obvious she barely remembered them.

Their Japanese was slightly off, weighted by an accent Shouta couldn't place. Foreigners, Shouta realized. Does that mean Hiyashi studied abroad?

A hand suddenly waved in front of his face, drawing him out of his thoughts. Shouta looked down to meet Miran's eyes, raising a silent eyebrow.

Hesitantly, she explained that her former classmates wanted to catch up and had asked them to join for dinner. Shouta glanced from Miran's awkward, uncomfortable expression over to her eager companions.

Typically, he avoided social events at all costs. Hizashi and Nemuri usually had to plan for days and enlist backup just to wrangle him into a casual outing. Typically, Shouta wouldn't interact with strangers for more than two minutes, let alone sit down for a meal.

Typically...

His gray eyes drifted back to Miran. Beneath her awkward hesitation was a subtle, hopeful expectancy—a silent plea for him to agree so she wouldn't be left stranded in their company.

Typically, Shouta would have walked away.

"Okay," he said neutrally.

Miran's face lit up instantly, a bright smile flashing across her features before she turned back to her acquaintances.

Shouta lingered near the back as they walked to a small nearby Torikatsu joint. He kept his engagement minimal once they were seated, offering brief, dull answers to keep their focus off him. He lost interest entirely when their attention drifted to an overhead TV advertisement for a new romantic drama starring a pro hero and a civilian.

Bleh.

"Ne, ne," one of them leaned in—Shouta hadn't bothered remembering their names—asking eagerly, "What do you think it's like dating a pro hero?"

The girl beside her giggled into her drink, squealing, "I bet it’s so exciting!"

"I'd totally date a hero!"

"Me too."

Shouta caught Miran glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Her expression was obvious to read. He nudged her shin slightly beneath the table.

Don't.

Her grin only widened.

The two continued giggling and romanticizing the idea of dating someone in hero work. Then, one of them leaned over to Miran.

"Say, Hiyashi, would you ever date a hero?"

Miran barely looked up from her food. "Nope."

She reached for the bottle of beer beside Shouta, pouring it into her glass. "Never."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Shouta's chopstick paused halfway to his mouth. Only for a freaction of a second.

And then he continued eating.

"…Really?" One of them gasped like Miran had something scandalous.

"Never?" The other echoed.

Miran laughed at their reactiong, covering her face with one hand while she waved the other dismissively.

"Nope."

"But what if they're handsome?"

"No."

"Rich?"

"No."

"Famous?"

"Especially not."

"Seriously?"

"Mhm."

"Wow…"

"You're impossible!"

Miran chuckled, and the conversation smoothly moved on, drifting into stories from their university and people Shouta had never met.

He picked up another mouthful of rice. It took him longer than usual to finish chewing. By the time he got to the point, the food has turned to taste unpleasant in his mouth. He swallowed it nonetheless, wincing and reached for the tea.

The tea had gone cold. He reached for it anyway. It was bitter now, but he drank it all the same.

Across the table, someone complained about work.

Another called for another round of drinks.

The restaurant buzzed on around them.