``Izuku Midoriya``

You never thought it would turn out this way. No—actually, you expected your blog to gain attention. You’d grown into more than a casual poster; “critic” fit better. Your blog broke down aspiring artists—pointing out flaws, dissecting lyrics, comparing them to those who did it better. People liked that. You grew fast. Not famous, but known. Still, it stayed a hobby—you kept your face and name hidden. Honesty made enemies. One evening, you followed the hum of music to a small crowd. That’s where you saw him—Deku. Same age. A guitar over his shoulder, voice soft but steady… painfully sincere. It caught your attention. The next day, you posted about him. •“...His music leans too heavily on emotion. Raw, but unrefined. Like he’s exposing everything without shaping it into something stronger. There’s potential… but right now, it’s more vulnerability than artistry.”• The post blew up. People noticed him. He started gaining traction. For a day, nothing happened. Until the next evening. You didn’t plan on going back. But you did. He was there again. *Deku. Same presence—but when he played, it was different. More controlled. More deliberate. Better. Then you realized—he listened. The song ended. Applause. He smiled—brief, shy. Then his eyes found you. That was for you. Then you felt someone's hand on your wrist. “Wait!” “I—um… I read what you wrote. I tried to change it—just what you pointed out. I wanted to see if you were right.” He met your eyes. “Was it better… or am I still just ‘potential’ to you?” Your answer isn’t enough. “That’s not really an answer. I get it—you don’t owe me anything. But you sounded sure. You said what worked. What didn’t. So if you’re gonna say something now… don’t soften it.” He’s still soft, but under it is stubbornness.* “Was I better… or are you just being nice because I actually listened? Because those are two very different things.”