Iced or Latte

     “Hey, Aiza,”

     Aiza hummed, not taking her eyes away from the book on the table. Despite her apparent dislike for the book on the table, she was trying her very best to immerse herself in the material: Math had never been her favorite subject, but she had been fairing pretty decently, all things considered. And though Shoto was not an expert on the matter either, he was a good reason as to why.

     Homework sessions like these were particularly helpful around exam season when studies just had to be taken seriously. Aiza had never faired well working on her own, too easily distracted to be constantly productive– but Shoto helped her focus on the assignments, and in turn, she would help him. They were an excellent pair when it came to encouraging productivity, running ideas by each other, and coming up with solutions to problems they wouldn’t be able to solve on their own. Aiza was grateful for Shoto’s company because when he was around for homework or studies, they made each other better. Better heroes, students, and, well…

     The first time they had gotten together, it had faired rather poorly. Their names had been drawn together for a team project, and Aiza had immediately filled herself with the empty hope of a new friend. That afternoon, she had gotten his number, arranged to meet at the mall’s food court the day after, and declared the afternoon one exciting evening with her new best friend.

     But Shoto, then Todoroki, was one very quiet individual. Though Aiza would later learn about his’s true nature, the person he met the next day was cold, unfriendly, and uncommunicative to almost a painful degree. It was hard to speak through the roar of a busy mall, and Todoroki didn’t seem particularly interested to try. Though he contributed with his research and pointed out a couple of things for them to add to a power point in the future, he stayed quiet most of the day. And by the time they broke to go home, Aiza’s shoulders hurt from holding the weight of their conversation.

     After that, Aiza was conflicted, both by the situation and her feelings about it. On the one hand, she was very much not excited to spend another afternoon with Todoroki after such a bummer of an outing. Working individually on their parts seemed like the easiest option, regardless of what the actual assignment had been– and she had the suspicion that if Aiza were to ask Todoroki, he would be okay with working on their own. But on the other, she suspected him to have felt as awkward as she had around a stranger in class. And it was her duty as a hero to learn to be cooperative and work with her fellow teammates to achieve the greater good.

     But that night, Todoroki chose for her. Before she had asked for a second meet-up, his part of the assignment and a bit more were waiting for her inside her inbox before Aiza went to bed. And though the whole situation didn’t feel quite right, she let it go. They presented their project a week later and went back to ignoring each other’s existence.

     Then, the Sports Festival brought Todoroki back into Aiza’s thoughts, and her view on the guy slowly started evolving the more they started being around each other. By the time internships had rolled around, Todoroki’s cold demeanor had melted away, and he started to open up, if just slightly, to the point where holding a conversation with him was actually pretty relaxing.

     Shoto, as she started calling him, started becoming a friend. He was a great teammate, of course, helping her regulate her temperature when on field exercises, but he was also a person she started to admire. And he began to admire her too.

     The next time their names had been pulled together for a team project, Aiza changed her approach: they could meet at a cafe, maybe a library. Somewhere still public, but with a less extroverted approach. No need for junk food or mall games– Aiza looked for a spot where Todoroki’s silence would fit right in. And if he still didn’t want to be her friend, they could go back to being classmates, nothing more, nothing less.  

     How grateful she was, that she had given him that second chance.

     Because Aiza found herself enjoying Shoto’s company like no other person she had met before. He was not used to having many friends, but he certainly was trying, and he held a conversation much better than before. His thoughts on the homework were pretty good, his experience with his quirk was beyond fascinating, and he had the same taste in tea and sweets as Aiza did. Once their footing was solid in common ground, spending time with Shoto became easy. It became very fun.

     Over time, those two homework sessions turned to three, turned to five, and even when that team assignment had long been submitted, they found their company to be a routine they quite appreciated. At least once a week, they would get together in a cafe, order some sweets, and help each other with their responsibilities as UA students. But getting together meant so much more than that: they could talk. They could joke around, share what they liked about hero training, and what they thought they could improve on. They could nerd out about their favorite heroes, and eventually, go out to see the movies they wanted after homework was done.

     Aiza treasured that time with Shoto, looked forward to it, and as their relationship started to flourish, it was all she could think about from time to time. After all, all the homework sessions were a responsibility they helped each other achieve, but being together came first, while the responsibilities came second. Aiza was sure that they made each other better heroes, students, and overall, better people.

     “Shoto,” Aiza prompted when there was no response. “You had a question?”

     “Oh, sorry,” the boy said, shifting in his seat, “I got caught up looking at the menu. I was going to ask you if you wanted a drink.”

     “I already had one,” she replied with a smile.

     “I know,” Shoto shrugged, “but I’m thinking of having a second one. Do you want to share a drink with me?”

     “We should get it once we’re done reviewing this part,” She stated. Then, “Don’t look at me like that!”

     Shoto was almost pouting, his expression a mix between stoic and disappointed, “They have matcha. I would like to give it a try.”

     “... you’ve had matcha before, I’ve seen you drink it.”

     The boy shook his head, “Sorry. I haven’t had this matcha. They have some with Sakura, and it sounds pretty good.”

     Aiza chuckled, trying to keep the sound to herself, and failing in the process. Shoto looked utterly confused,

     “Is something wrong?”

     “How about you let that be your reward,” Aiza said simply, “You know, we need to motivate ourselves somehow.”

     “I am plenty motivated,” Shoto argued, “I just want to try the drink.”
     
     “I promise, it’ll be good,” the girl pushed the book towards her boyfriend, “Really, just keep reading this. We can get a drink once we’re done, alright?”

     “... fine,” Shoto conceded, shoulders relaxing, “You have a point, Kirika.”

     “Of course I do!” The girl declared. And with that, they fell into a comfortable silence, ready to get back to work.

     Although Shoto did not look comfortable and he certainly did not look ready to get back to work. Not because of anything bothering him, which was certainly a comfort for Aiza, but because he kept longingly staring at the cafe’s menu on the wall behind them. Aiza would try and reel him back into paying attention to the read, and to his credit, he would reply with an effort to give the right answer– then his gaze would go back to his complicated conundrum.

     Just when Aiza could have sworn that he was finally focusing on their studies, the boy pushed his own book towards Aiza, sliding it across the table.

     “... Iced or latte?” He asked, already standing up.

     “What about the whole reward thing?” Aiza squeaked.

     Suddenly, Shoto looked deep in thought, processing the question as if he was faced with one important philosophical dilemma. His hand scratched the edge of his chin, eyes squinting, body consumed by the question. Aiza found him to look quite cute.

     “If you want a reward,” he said after a while, looking quite convinced by his answer,” I can reward you for not having a reward.”

     “Shoto Todoroki,” Aiza said with a gasp, “Are you implying I would take a bribe?”

     “... I guess so,” Shoto confirmed, not as convinced as before.

     “Villain,” the girl called as if addressing an actual threat. Her chest puffed up, and her body adopted a position vaguely reminiscent of All-Might’s confident pose. “You dare try and bribe a hero?”

     That look of slowly processing the situation was back in Shoto’s eyes. Aiza smiled nervously, suddenly too aware of how silly her little joke was being, and prepared to take it back.

     But Shoto closed his eyes, let out a small sigh, and simply stated, “I guess you have figured me out..”

     “... sorry?” Aiza croaked out, despite her better judgment.

     “I have been sent here to foil your plans, Miss Sunshine Hero. I cannot allow you to focus on boring math, while there are more important things to deal with. You,” he pointed at her, finger brushing past her nose, “Shall have a drink with me.”

     The situation was way past silly, and Shoto’s acting was not as expressive or emoting as Aiza assumed Shoto thought it to be, but the fact that he was following her charade was quite encouraging. Aiza smiled wide, and quickly composed some compelling dialogue to use as a comeback,

     “You cruel villain! I only wish to finish the task that I was assigned! The whole world depends on it,” she shook the math book to make a point. “I cannot leave this scroll alone just to have a drink– the whole fabric of the universe is at steak!”

     Around them, it seemed like some people had taken note of their little game. A young man had fished his headphones out of his pocket to drown them out, and a couple of girls giggled, whispering things to each other. Even the barista seemed to notice because Aiza saw her stop her drink mid-stir to shoot them a little smile. Aiza felt herself starting to blush, but Shoto didn’t seem to care.

     He reached out for her hand, cold fingers grazing her wrist, and pulled gently. Aiza allowed herself to be taken out of her chair, and close to her boyfriend.

     “You can’t save the world if you don’t have energy for it,” Shoto said. His voice had dropped out of that flat attempt at acting and left a soft type of honesty in its stead. “Let me treat you, my hero. You’ve been working hard, and you deserve it.”

     That blush was back, heat taking over Aiza’s cheeks and painting them crimson. But Shoto’s presence was cool and collected, and focusing on him helped her forget about anything else.

     “The hero can’t lose,” Aiza started, pouting, though she knew she already had.

     Shoto’s smile was bright, “Maybe it’s a ‘lose the battle, later win the war’ kind of deal,” he suggested. “And you get a drink from it. I’m not sure if I would call that a loss.”

     Aiza hung her head, letting out a deep sigh of defeat. But there wasn’t a sour taste in her mouth. On the contrary.

     “You win,” She concluded, amused at the way Shoto’s eyes lightened up at his victory, “What drink were you thinking? Matcha, was it?”

     He nodded, already pulling her towards the counter, “Yes. Iced, or latte, what’s your favorite?”

     They reached the counter before Aiza had the time to respond, and the barista was expecting them with that same smile as before. It was an old woman, likely the owner of the place, wearing a yellow apron across her waist.

     “Are you UA students, by any chance?” She asked. Aiza tensed up, and by the way Shoto’s grasp on her hand intensified, he did too. Noticing the change, the woman quickly added, “You are wearing UA uniforms, are you not?”

     Oh, right. They hadn’t changed out of their uniform before meeting up.

      “Yes, ma’am,” Shoto quickly stated, relaxing almost in tandem alongside Aiza.

     “You know, my grandson graduated from there a couple of years ago!” She pointed at the corner of the cafe, where a couple of newspaper clippings were framed, filling up space on the wall in between a couple of paintings. She vaguely recognized the hero's name, but it wasn’t anyone that Aiza knew personally. Still, the woman was filled with pride as she said, “He’s the hero of the family, and he does wonders for our city. We are all very proud of him.”

     “That’s amazing,” Aiza replied with a smile. “We are in the hero program too.”

     “I thought so,” The woman said, “I’m sure you will go out to accomplish amazing things.”

     “That is very kind of you,” Shoto said, looking over at Aiza. Her smile grew wider.

     “And you know…” The barista added, leaning forward as if telling them a secret, “He went on to marry the girl he met in class. Another UA hero, just like…”

     Now Shoto was the one blushing, and with Aiza nervously laughing and scrambling to find the words, neither of them was able to give her hero-worthy answer. Instead, the woman broke into a little laughter and did them the favor of dismissing the topic with some waves of her hand.

     “What can I get for you?” She asked instead.

     “We were,” Shoto took a second to clear his throat, “Deciding between iced or latte for some matcha, to share.”

     “Right,” Aiza added, trying to recall if she had ever come to a conclusion on what she wanted earlier in the conversation, but came up empty.

     On one hand, the weather called for iced, with the warmth of the sun seeping through the outside, the rays fractured from the colorful pieces of stained glass that made up the center window inside the café. It reminded Aiza of the first real date she’d had with Shoto, outdoor seating in a small restaurant in the summer. On the other, the warmth of a latte sounded cozy, comfortable, and inviting, and reminded Aiza of all those times when she and Shoto had cuddled together under the blankets, looking outside at the snow.

     Shoto.

     “Why not have both?” She asked, with a sheepish little smile, “I can buy one, you can get one?”

     The boy seemed surprised, but quickly added, “No, I’ll get them both. I wanted to treat you, after all.”

     “I can’t ask you to buy an extra drink,” Aiza squeaked, but before she could add anything else, the laugh of the barista caught both of their attention:

     “Please, don’t worry about it,” She said, already walking away from the register and closer to their kitchen, “UA kids working so hard to protect our city, the least I can do is gift you some drinks!”

Fifteen minutes later, with lots of thankful words, hands laced together, and backpacks on their shoulders, the couple found themselves walking back home, drinks in hand. Shoto had been right, the sakura matcha tasted nothing like the regular drink, the floral sweetness a perfect combination for the tea’s strong flavor. As they walked, they kept sneaking sips from both drinks, verbally assembling the pros and cons of both presentations to try and figure out which one was the most worthwhile. The conversation was taken more seriously than it should have as if they were restaurant critics trying to asses if the cafe was worth visiting again.

For Aiza, it was a fun conversation, but they didn’t need a conclusion when she already had an answer: of course, they would find themselves in that cafe again. And as long as Shoto would go with her, they could both indulge in both the cold and the latte.

Everything tasted better when you were sharing, after all.