#QUETEIMPORTA NO
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Chapter 20: The Measure of Trust
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 22:19:23 +0000 UTCThe afternoon sun filtered through the large window of Yu's apartment, casting long shadows and tinting the room a melancholy orange. Hours had passed since they returned from Campo Beta. Hours in which silence had replaced Mirko's chaotic energy, leaving a quiet that was part relief and part a new, strange tension.
In the center of the elegant coffee table, where fashion magazines and the TV remote usually sat, a small fortress now stood. Izuku had built it with three hardcover novels and used a paper napkin as a roof. Inside, wrapped in another napkin as if it were a makeshift toga, was a tiny and profoundly miserable Yu Takeyama.
They had tried everything. Or, rather, she had. She had concentrated until her head ached, meditated as she had once been taught in a stress management course, gotten angry, pleaded. Nothing. It was like trying to start a car with a dead battery. She could feel her power somewhere deep inside, a distant and depleted reserve, but she didn't have the spark to activate it.
"It's not working," she said for the fifth time. Her voice was a whisper so small it was almost lost in the vastness of her own living room. "I'm telling you, nothing is happening, Izuku. I can't… I'm stuck."
Panic, which had been circling the edges of her mind like a predator, began to seep in. She was trapped. Small. Helpless. Vulnerable.
Izuku was kneeling on the floor next to the table so he could speak to her face-to-face. Unlike her, he didn't seem remotely alarmed. His expression was calm, focused. He hadn't pulled out his notebook or started muttering about variables and possible causes. He was simply watching her, processing the situation.
"I don't think you're stuck," he said in a soft voice that somehow cut through the buzz of anxiety in Yu's mind. "Think about it logically. You did something completely new today. You pushed your Quirk beyond its known limits. It's like you used a muscle you didn't even know you had to run a marathon. It's normal for it to be exhausted."
He leaned in a little closer, resting his elbows on the table carefully so as not to knock over the book fortress.
"And it's not just the physical effort. Your mind went through a lot, too. It was an intense experience, wasn't it? Disorienting. Maybe… a little traumatic."
The word seemed so insufficient that a dry, humorless laugh escaped Yu.
"A little? Seriously, 'a little'? Izuku, I was left naked and the size of a bug in the middle of a training ground in front of two people. I assure you, 'a little traumatic' is a massive understatement!"
"Right, you're right. It was very traumatic," he conceded, unfazed by her outburst. His calm was infuriating and, at the same time, the only thing keeping her grounded. "My point is, your body and your Quirk need time. They need to rest, recover, and process this new ability. You're not broken. You just need to recharge the battery."
His logic was impeccable, reassuring in its simplicity, but it didn't solve the most immediate and humiliating problem of all.
"But I can't stay like this!" she whispered, and this time her voice truly broke. "I'm naked, Izuku. Naked and wrapped in a piece of paper towel on my own coffee table. I can't sleep like this. I can't… what am I supposed to do?"
Izuku was silent for a moment. His gaze drifted to the opposite wall as his brain worked at full speed. Yu watched him, expecting some strange and probably terrible solution, like building her a dollhouse out of cardboard boxes or feeding her breadcrumbs. Suddenly, his green eyes lit up. It was the kind of look that precedes an idea that is either brilliant or absolutely catastrophic.
Yu knew instinctively she was going to hate it.
"You need clothes," he said, as if he had just discovered the cure for the common cold. "Clothes that fit you."
She stared at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"And where exactly do you plan on getting clothes my size, genius?"
He looked at her, his face completely serious.
"…We need to go to a toy store."
Yu's reaction was visceral, immediate, and loud.
"No!"
"Yu, think about it, it's the only logical and quick option…"
"I refuse! Absolutely not! I am not going to dress like one of those dolls with an empty head and a permanent smile! I'd rather you make me a dress out of dental floss and lettuce leaves!"
"I don't have any dental floss," he replied with a crushing logic that disarmed her for a second. "But the napkin and tape idea is still on the table. The choice is yours, but honestly, I think the pre-made doll clothes will offer greater durability and comfort."
Yu stared at the rough texture of her paper toga. She thought about the humiliation of wearing a makeshift dress of tape that would stick to her everywhere. Then she thought again about the humiliation of wearing doll clothes. Her life had been reduced to choosing which option was marginally less humiliating.
With a long, pitiful groan, the sound of her last ounce of dignity surrendering, she plopped down on her makeshift seat.
"I hate you so much right now."
Izuku smiled faintly.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'."
The trip to the toy store was a silent torture. Yu was back in the inside pocket of Izuku's jacket, which he had put on despite the afternoon heat.
"Walk smoother, you're making me dizzy," she whispered from the darkness of the fabric.
"Sorry," he whispered back, drawing a puzzled look from an elderly woman passing by.
"And stop talking to yourself. People are going to think you're crazy."
"But you're the one talking to me."
"Then don't answer me! Use your brain!"
They arrived at the entrance of "Uncle Toppo's Toys and Wonders." The place was a bright, noisy cavern of childhood happiness and a parent's nightmare.
"Welcome to Toys and Wonders, where the fun never ends," a robotic, squeaky voice said from a speaker.
"This is hell," Yu lamented from the pocket. "Officially, this is hell."
Izuku, looking as out of place as a penguin in the desert, navigated the aisles filled with screaming, running children and parents with vacant stares. Following a giant sign with a smiling princess, he found his target: the doll aisle.
It was an overwhelming sight. A wall several meters high of a pink so intense it hurt the eyes. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of boxes, each with a doll staring out with glassy eyes and an inert smile. And next to it, a rotating display full of tiny, absurd outfits hanging on miniature hangers.
Izuku just stood there, a teenage boy alone in the epicenter of the pre-teen female universe, feeling the curious glances of a couple of mothers.
"Okay," he whispered toward his chest, unzipping his jacket a little. "I'm here. What am I supposed to do?"
"I have no idea," came Yu's panicked little voice. "I've never bought doll clothes! Find something… normal! Is there anything that isn't pink?"
Izuku approached the display and awkwardly picked up a small plastic package. He held it to his chest so Yu could see it.
"How about this one?" he whispered. "It's a 'Galactic Pop Star' set. It comes with a silver top, an iridescent miniskirt, and thigh-high boots."
"Absolutely not! I'll look like a miniature space prostitute! Find some jeans! Something normal, please!"
He sighed and put the package back in its place. He picked up another.
"This one? It's called 'Luxury Spa Day.' It's… a pink bathrobe and bunny-shaped slippers."
"Do I look like I want to go to a spa? Izuku, for the love of God, I just want pants and a shirt!"
"It's a lot harder than it looks!" he whispered back, frustration growing in his voice. He was starting to sweat under the jacket. "Almost everything is pink, or has glitter, or comes with a ridiculous accessory like a miniature pony!"
"We don't need a pony, Izuku."
"I know, but it's tempting."
Just then, a cheerful, professional voice sounded beside him.
"Hi, can I help you with anything? Looking for a gift for your little sister?"
Izuku froze. He turned slowly and found a young store employee with a vest full of pins and a friendly smile.
"Uh… no. Not exactly," he stammered. "It's for… a project. For school."
The employee blinked, her smile not wavering.
"A school project? How interesting. For art?"
"No, science," Izuku continued, his lie becoming more elaborate with every word. "It's about… comparative anatomy. We need… scale models to study the biomechanics of fashion on different body morphologies. It's a university-level project, pretty advanced."
The employee's smile finally faltered. She looked at him, then at the wall of smiling dolls, then back at him.
"Oh? Fashion… biomechanics. Right. Sounds… fascinating. Well, if you need any help, I'm here."
She backed away slowly, not quite turning her back, as if she feared he might start dissecting a doll right there in the middle of the aisle.
From the pocket, a furious whisper reached Izuku's ears.
"'Fashion biomechanics.' You are a complete and total idiot."
"I panicked!" he hissed back just as tensely. "I couldn't think of anything else!"
"You could have said it was for your cousin! Anything normal!"
Finally, after several minutes of a whispered negotiation that probably landed him on some store watch list, they found something acceptable. It was hidden in the back of the display, as if the store itself was ashamed of something so mundane. It was a pair of small, dark blue stretch jeans, a tiny red hoodie, and a pair of miniature sneakers. No accessories. No glitter. No ponies.
Izuku grabbed it like it was a treasure. He paid in cash at the register, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the gum-chewing teenage cashier, and walked out of the store at a pace that was almost a run.
Back in the safety of the apartment, the atmosphere changed. The frenzy and humiliation from outside gave way to an almost solemn stillness. Carefully, Izuku emptied the small plastic bag onto the coffee table. The tiny garments looked both ridiculous and incredibly important.
"You need to… uhm… change," he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
Without waiting for a reply, he turned around, facing one of the walls as if it were the most fascinating piece of art he had ever seen.
"I won't look. Take your time."
He heard a small rustle of fabric behind him as Yu climbed out of the jacket pocket he had left on the sofa. Then, silence.
"Everything okay?" he asked, not daring to move.
"This is harder than it looks," came her little voice, full of effort. "The zipper on these pants is… ugh… almost got it!"
A few more seconds of silence.
"Okay, done," she finally said.
He turned around slowly.
She was standing in the middle of the coffee table, now fully dressed. The little red hoodie was a bit big, its sleeves completely covering her hands. The stretch jeans, however, fit her surprisingly well. She tried to maintain a dignified posture, her arms crossed, but the effect was undermined by the fact that she was barely taller than a coffee mug.
Izuku looked at her, and a genuine, warm smile spread across his face. She wasn't the colossal and stunning Mt. Lady. She wasn't his boss, the confident and sometimes intimidating pro hero. She was just… Yu. Small, vulnerable, frowning, and dressed in doll clothes. And she was, without a doubt, the most adorable thing he had ever seen.
Seeing his expression, Yu felt an unexpected heat rise to her cheeks. She looked away, suddenly incredibly embarrassed, and adjusted her hood.
"What? I look ridiculous, right? Just say it."
"No," he replied. "Not at all. You look… good."
To escape the tension, Izuku searched for a distraction. His eyes landed on the television.
"We should watch a movie. To pass the time. Until… you know. You get back to normal."
"Yeah. A movie sounds good," she said, grateful for the change of subject.
He put on an old All Might classic, "Dawn of the Symbol," a predictable but comforting choice. He settled onto the sofa, leaving the coffee table between him and the screen. Yu was still in the center of the table. From her perspective, the TV was like a theater screen.
A few minutes of the movie passed, with heroic music filling the room.
"You can't see well from there," he said suddenly. "And the table must be hard and uncomfortable."
"I'm fine," she lied, though her neck was already starting to feel stiff.
Izuku looked at her, then at his own lap. He hesitated for a second, but the image of her, so small and alone on the vast expanse of the table, overcame his awkwardness. He patted his thigh, covered by the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
"Come up," he said in a low voice, not looking at her directly. "Here. On my leg. You'll be able to see better and you'll be more comfortable. And I won't accidentally crush you if I move."
She looked at him, her small face full of hesitation. The offer was absurd. The final surrender of her autonomy. But the alternative was to stay alone on her wooden island. With a sigh so small only she could hear it, she made a decision.
She leaped from the table to the sofa cushion, a surprisingly long jump for her size. The landing was soft. Then, with a hesitation that betrayed her nerves, she approached Izuku's leg. She paused for a second before starting to climb up the fabric of his pants. Upon reaching his thigh, she sat down carefully, using the top of his leg as a backrest.
The movie continued. The heroic music filled the room.
