Nine days until the entrance exam.
Riku trained like something was chasing him.
His body was running at peak. Two feeding sessions in the last two weeks had filled the Vitality Drain reservoir to a level he'd never tested before, and the results were visible in everything he did. The practice dummies at the park were taking damage they hadn't been designed for. The parkour route was a warm-up instead of a workout. His reaction time was fast enough that he caught a bird that flew past his face during a sprint, held it for a startled second, and let it go.
He didn't need to catch birds. But it was nice to know he could.
The mornings were training. Combat drills and stamina runs. His fighting style was sharper than it had ever been. The fundamentals hadn't changed. Get close, make contact. But the execution was cleaner. Faster. His body moved how it was supposed to move when the fuel gauge was full.
The afternoons were study. Not the math homework, which he'd grudgingly finished and turned in. UA's entrance exam was a practical, but the written portion still mattered for placement. He studied hero law and quirk theory. First aid protocols. Dry material that he powered through because the alternative was going in underprepared, and underprepared was for people who hadn't read the manga.
The evenings were quiet. He cooked rice, ate too many eggs. Watched the news for hero activity. The routine was stable, boring, and exactly what his body needed after weeks of running on empty.
On Wednesday, Yu texted.
8:31 PM: "Free tonight?"
No pretense. No excuse, no framing. Just the question. She'd stopped performing the casual act sometime between their first night and now, though she'd never admit it if he asked.
He took the train to her apartment.
She opened the door in a tank top and shorts, no makeup, hair in a messy bun. The apartment smelled like takeout. There were containers on the coffee table and a reality show playing on the TV with the sound low.
"I ordered too much Thai food," she said. "That's why you're here."
"Sure it is."
They ate on the couch. She sat close enough that their legs touched and didn't pretend it was an accident. The conversation was easy. She told him about a patrol that had gone sideways, some guy with a rubber quirk who kept bouncing off the buildings she was trying to contain him in. He told her about the training and the entrance exam, the written portion he was cramming for.
"You'll be fine," she said, stealing the last spring roll off his plate. "You're annoyingly smart."
"That's not a compliment."
"It really isn't."
She was different. Not dramatically, not in a way that would show up in a conversation with anyone else. But the performance had thinned. She still posed sometimes, still made everything into a bit, but there were gaps now where she forgot to be on. Moments where she just talked and sat next to him with her leg against his and didn't turn it into a show.
He could feel the connection deepening in the contact between them. The Vitality Drain read it as stronger than two weeks ago. Whatever it was, it was built on two people who actually liked being around each other outside of sex.
The sex happened because it always happened with them.
She kissed him mid-sentence, her mouth tasting like peanut sauce, and he pulled her onto his lap and the Thai food was forgotten. She stripped the tank top off over her head and his hands were on her skin before it hit the floor, warm and familiar. The geography of her body was something he knew now.
She didn't perform the undressing. Just took the shorts off and kicked them toward the coffee table. No slow peel, no bodysuit reveal. She was comfortable being naked in front of him.
She rode him on the couch. Cowgirl, her favorite, her pace. But the rhythm was different from their first time. Less frantic, less competitive. She moved like she was enjoying it instead of winning it. Her hands on his shoulders, her face close to his, their breathing mixing in the space between their mouths.
He could feel the shift in how her body responded. The first time, she'd been performing orgasms as content, loud and theatrical. Now she was quiet at the peaks. Eyes closed, forehead against his, a shaky exhale through her nose when she came that was more honest than any scream. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
She came twice before he did. The first one made her grind down and hold, her fingers tightening on his shoulders, a low "nn" she didn't try to cover. The second was deeper, her whole body rolling, her face pressed into his neck, breathing against his skin in hot bursts.
He came inside her and she held still, both of them breathing, connected.
"Stay tonight," she said. Not a question this time.
"Okay."
They cleaned up. She put the Thai food in the fridge. He found his boxers behind a cushion. They went to bed and she fell asleep with her head on his arm, which she would deny in the morning, claiming she'd been "resting her eyes in proximity to his shoulder."
Riku lay in the dark and counted days.
Nine until the exam. Maybe four or five until Yu would want to see him again. Thursday with Nemuri. The schedule was manageable. His body was charged and his mind was sharp. The pieces were falling into the right places.
Yu shifted in her sleep. Her hand found his chest and rested there, palm flat, the contact warm. The Vitality Drain didn't activate. Reservoir was full. Just her hand on his skin in the quiet dark.
She was the loud one. The performer who treated every room like a press conference. And here, asleep, she was just a person who wanted to be touched.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up without looking, expecting a news alert.
Midnight. 11:47 PM: "Thursday. Eight PM. Wear something I can remove easily."
He smiled in the dark. Put the phone down. Yu's hand was still on his chest.
Eight days. He was as ready as he was going to get.
He closed his eyes and slept.