Age: 14
The Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall was purgatory on earth. Overly bright fluorescent lights, generic pop music, and crowds of people walking slowly, blocking tactical pathways.
I hated this place. But I hated seeing Toga wear the same worn-out school uniform or the beige "good girl" clothes her parents forced her to wear even more. If she was going to be part of my squad, she couldn't dress like a depressed librarian.
"Katsuki-kun, look at this!" Toga squealed, running toward a mannequin.
We were in an alternative clothing store. No pink frills. Leather, studs, and black denim. Just my style.
Toga held up a faux leather jacket with a popped collar.
"It looks like the one you wear in winter," she said, hugging the garment and looking at me sideways. "Do you think it's too big?"
I missed the hint that she wanted to dress just like me. I only saw the utility.
"Try it on," I said, checking the price tag. "You need something abrasion-resistant if you're going to keep practicing falls. And leather protects against superficial cuts. It's practical."
Toga smiled, a little softer than usual, stroking the sleeve of the jacket.
"Yeah... practical."
She ran to the fitting rooms with the jacket and a red plaid skirt Izuku had suggested because it had "hidden pockets."
I stood waiting outside with the nerd. Izuku was muttering, mentally calculating the budget.
"Your mom's card is going to smoke, Kacchan."
"Collateral damage. She wanted a daughter, now she's dressing her. She can't complain."
The fitting room curtain flew open.
"Ta-da!"
Toga stepped out. She was wearing the plaid skirt, black tights, and the leather jacket open over a simple white t-shirt. She looked... different. The hunched "perfect daughter" posture was gone. She looked dangerous.
Izuku smiled broadly, like a proud big brother.
"It fits you great, Toga-chan! You look very... uh... tough!"
Toga laughed and threw herself at Izuku, hugging him and messing up his green hair.
"Thanks, Izu-kun! You're so cute! Do I really look dangerous?"
"Y-yes!" Izuku stammered, letting himself be hugged like someone letting a hyperactive cat hug them.
The dynamic was clear. To her, Izuku was the little brother, the safe and squishy place. She pampered him and played with him without filters.
Then, she turned to me. Her energy shifted. She smoothed her skirt nervously and adopted a slightly stiffer pose, trying to look "cool."
"Well?" she asked, looking me in the eye, waiting for the verdict. "Do I look like someone who could walk next to you without embarrassing you?"
I blinked. What kind of question was that?
"You look like someone who won't get mugged in an alley," I replied with brutal honesty, nodding. "Black suits you better than beige. It makes you look less... pale. We'll take it."
Toga let out a sigh, as if she had been holding her breath, and a small, private smile appeared on her lips.
"Black suits me..." she repeated to herself, touching the lapel of the jacket. "We match."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing! I'm going to change!" She ran back into the fitting room, humming.
I looked at Izuku, confused.
"What's wrong with her?"
Izuku sighed and shook his head, muttering something that sounded like "you're a genius at physics and an idiot at everything else."
Half an hour later, we were in the food court.
The table was full of trays. Burgers, fries, and sodas.
Toga was radiant in her new clothes (she refused to take them off, claiming the old clothes "itched").
"Open wide, Izu-kun!" she ordered, holding a fry dipped in sauce.
"I can eat by myself, Toga-chan..." Izuku complained, red as a tomato.
"Say 'aaah'! You need carbohydrates for your big brain!"
Izuku surrendered and ate the fry. Toga laughed, satisfied with taking care of her "little brother."
Then, she turned to me. I was eating my spicy burger in silence, mentally reviewing next week's training schedule.
Toga didn't try to feed me. She knew I'd bite her hand if she tried. Instead, she silently pushed her tray toward me.
She had separated all the pickles from her burger and placed them on a clean napkin.
"Here," she said softly. "You hate them when they're inside the bun because they get warm, but you like them cold on the side."
I stopped with the burger halfway to my mouth. I looked at her.
"How do you know that?"
"I watch you," she said simply, resting her chin on her hand and looking at me with those intense yellow eyes. "I watch everything you do."
Anyone else would have found that creepy. Coming from a girl with stalker tendencies, alarms should have gone off. But in my pragmatic mind, I only registered "efficiency."
"Good eye," I said, taking the pickles. "Thanks."
She smiled. She didn't say anything else. She just watched me eat for a moment, tracing the line of my jaw with her gaze before returning to her own food.
"Katsuki-kun..." she started, playing with her straw.
"What?"
"When we get into U.A... do you think they'll let us design our costumes together?" she asked in a low, almost shy voice. "I'd like them to have... I don't know... some matching detail. So they know we're a team."
I snorted, finishing my drink.
"Hero costumes are functional, Toga. We're not a K-Pop band that needs to color-coordinate." I crumpled the cup. "But I guess using the same support gear provider would save costs. I'll tell Izuku to standardize the materials."
Toga looked down at her soda, hiding a smile.
"Yes... to save costs. That sounds good."
Izuku looked at both of us, alternating his gaze between my indifference and Toga's silent satisfaction.
"Kacchan..." Izuku whispered. "Sometimes you're so dense it hurts."
"What are you talking about now, nerd?" I growled, standing up and gathering the trash. "Let's go. It's getting late and the vampire has to return to her 'prison' before her parents suspect she had fun."
Toga jumped up, falling into step beside me immediately, brushing her shoulder against mine as we walked.
"It doesn't matter," she said, more cheerful than usual. "Today was a good day. I like my new clothes. I like being with you guys."
As we walked toward the exit, I noticed Toga was walking perfectly synchronized with my stride, mimicking my rhythm, as if she were my shadow.
"You walk too fast," I complained, without slowing down.
"Just trying to keep up, leader," she replied, with a softness that disarmed my complaint.
I didn't think much of it. We had a team, we had the gear (clothes), and we had a plan. Social subtleties could wait.