Morning sunlight spilled softly through the curtains of Ochaco's small apartment, painting warm streaks across the floor.
Her eyes slowly opened.
For a few seconds, she simply stared at the ceiling in silence.
Then the memories of yesterday slowly came flooding back.
The entrance exam.
The mock villains.
Her promise to repay the boy whose shirt she'd ruined.
And their meetup at ten.
Her body jerked upright.
"AH—!"
Ochaco grabbed her phone from beside her pillow so quickly it nearly slipped from her hands.
7:02 AM.
She exhaled in relief.
"I'm not late…"
She pressed both hands against her face.
"Okay… okay…"
Their meetup wasn't until ten.
Still, her heart refused to calm down.
Because today was… her date with Hikaru Aoyama.
Or at least, that's what he insisted on calling it after refusing to let her replace his ruined shirt without having lunch with him afterward.
"It's a date."
His voice echoed in her head as the curtains fluttered softly beside her.
Chirp. Chirp.
"...Why did he have to call it that…"
Her voice wavered slightly as she fully woke up.
Ochaco groaned into her blanket and kicked her feet once in embarrassment before finally forcing herself out of bed.
The apartment was quiet aside from the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of traffic outside.
She shuffled toward the bathroom, tied her hair back, and splashed cold water onto her face.
"Cold—!"
She jolted backward before staring at herself in the mirror.
"..."
A small smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it.
—
Nearly an hour later, Ochaco stood in front of her closet with the intensity of someone preparing for war.
Clothes covered half her bed.
A hoodie lay abandoned near the floor.
Three different tops had already been rejected.
"This is too much…"
She held up a cute cream-colored blouse.
Then squinted critically.
"...But if I wear this, it'll definitely look like I'm trying too hard."
She tossed it aside and grabbed something simpler instead.
"...No, this looks too plain."
Ochaco flopped backward onto her bed dramatically.
"WHY IS THIS SO HARD?!"
Because it wasn't supposed to matter this much.
It wasn't a date.
Not officially.
Right?
But then she'd remember him smiling at her on the rooftop.
"Because I want to see you again after this."
Her stomach flipped instantly.
Ochaco buried her face into a pillow with a muffled squeak.
Ten minutes later, she finally settled on something balanced:
a soft oversized sweater, a simple skirt, black leggings, and comfortable shoes she could walk around in all day.
Cute.
But not too cute.
Hopefully.
She stood in front of the mirror one last time.
Adjusted her sleeves.
Fixed a loose strand of hair.
"...Okay."
Then immediately panicked again.
"WAIT— SHOULD I HAVE WORN THE OTHER SWEATER?!"
—
By the time Ochaco boarded the bus, her nerves had evolved into full-blown teenage anxiety.
She sat near the window clutching her flip phone with both hands while the city rolled past outside.
Every few minutes, she checked the time again.
Then checked her reflection in the dark camera screen.
Then checked the time again.
"Calm down, dear. You look pretty."
An elderly woman sitting across from her smiled knowingly.
Ochaco blinked.
"R-Really?"
"Of course." The woman chuckled softly. "I can practically feel your nerves from over here."
Ochaco shrank slightly in embarrassment.
"Are you meeting someone special?"
That question nearly made her combust on the spot.
"H-He's just a friend I met recently!"
"I see." The elderly woman smiled warmly. "Well, I'm sure this friend will think you're just as pretty as I do."
Ochaco's face turned bright red.
—
The mall entrance buzzed with weekend energy.
People moved in and out through the massive glass doors carrying shopping bags, drinks, and lively conversation.
Ochaco stood near the front entrance, shifting lightly on her feet.
9:52 AM.
She'd arrived way too early.
Which meant she now had eight entire minutes to overthink everything.
Her fingers tightened around her phone before she quickly opened her messages.
Ochaco:
Are you on your way?
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Hikaru Aoyama:
Almost there~
Hikaru Aoyama:
Are you by the front entrance?
Ochaco stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary before quickly typing back.
Ochaco:
Yeah.
Her fingers hovered nervously above the keypad.
Then another message appeared.
Hikaru Aoyama:
Good.
Hikaru Aoyama:
Don't move.
Her heart skipped immediately.
Ochaco blinked at the screen.
"...Why does that sound cool?"
She pressed both hands against her cheeks.
"No. Nope. Absolutely not."
Ding.
She snapped out of her spiraling thoughts as another notification appeared.
Hikaru Aoyama:
I think I see you. Turn to your right.
Inhale.
Exhale.
She looked up from her phone and slowly turned to the right.
There he was.
A boy with black hair and violet eyes wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left casually undone.
Hikaru Aoyama.
The same boy who'd somehow occupied her thoughts since the moment she woke up.
He waved casually while holding a small gift bag in his other hand.
"Morning, Ochaco-chan."
Her heart skipped again.
"H-Hey, Aoyama-kun."
The moment the words left her mouth, Ochaco immediately wanted to bury herself alive from how awkward she sounded.
Aoyama, meanwhile, just smiled easily as he walked toward her.
"Morning."
As he got closer, Ochaco noticed the bag in his hand again.
It wasn't from any clothing store she recognized.
A small blue gift bag with black ribbon handles.
"...What's that?"
Aoyama glanced down at it before looking back at her.
"Hm?"
"The bag," she clarified quickly. "You've been carrying it since you got here."
"Oh, this?" He lifted it slightly.
"Secret."
Her curiosity immediately spiked.
"A secret?"
"Mhm."
He swung the bag lightly beside him.
"You get it after our date."
Date.
There was that word again.
Ochaco's face instantly warmed.
"W-We already said this wasn't—"
"I don't remember agreeing to that."
He said it so casually that her brain completely short-circuited for a second.
Aoyama leaned slightly closer with a teasing grin.
"Come on. We have shopping to do."
Before she could recover, he turned and started walking.
Ochaco hurried after him.
—
The mall interior buzzed with life.
Bright lights reflected off polished floors while soft music drifted through the crowded walkways.
People passed by carrying shopping bags, drinks, and chatting excitedly with friends.
Ochaco walked beside Aoyama while trying very hard not to notice how unfairly attractive he looked today.
His sleeves were rolled just enough to expose his forearms.
His shirt hung slightly open at the collar.
And somehow, he carried himself with the relaxed confidence of someone fully aware of the effect he had on people.
It was annoying.
Very annoying.
"So," Aoyama said, glancing at her, "are we replacing my shirt with the exact same one, or are you improvising?"
"Y-Yeah. It was a red-and-white baseball tee."
"Mhm."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"That shouldn't be too hard to find."
As they passed another clothing store, Aoyama suddenly slowed down.
His eyes shifted toward one of the front displays.
Ochaco followed his gaze.
A soft pink dress hung near the window.
Simple.
Cute.
Flowy enough to feel elegant without looking overly fancy.
"..."
Aoyama immediately changed direction.
"W-Wait—"
Ochaco hurried after him as he casually entered the store.
"Aoyama?"
He walked straight toward the display rack before lifting the dress slightly.
"Hm."
Then he looked back at her.
"This would look cute on you."
Ochaco nearly stumbled.
"W-What?!"