Author's Note: I get that Hagakure is so far a bit of a joke character, but I think that's a little unfair to her. How do you create a character and say "She's a totally normal teenage girl, except she's invisible"? Being invisible is not a little thing, it's the sort of thing that would affect your entire mindset and way of being.

This odd pairing arose after I wrote Radio Silence, which had a scene where they interact and I thought, hmm, what a cute couple, in an "opposites attract" kind of way.

Hagakure Tooru was making a list.

She didn't normally consider herself an analytical person. Nor was she prone to thinking deeply about her actions; she was more the type to jump into the thick of things, throw caution to the winds, and take the consequences as they came.

But this – this was more important than most things, and she didn't want to screw it up.

Her list, written in black ink just under some math notes, bore the headers Pros and Cons, with 1, 2, and 3 on separate lines under each. That was all, so far. The bell had rung before she'd even had time to begin.

Now, back at her dorm room, she had all the time in the world and plenty of studying to put off. She clicked her pen and leaned forward to begin.

The list was unlabeled on the off chance that it might fall into the wrong hands, but the title it bore in Hagakure's head was: The Pros and Cons of Asking Iida Tenya Out on a Date.

On the first line under Pros, she wrote:

1. Even if he rejects me, I know he won't laugh at me.

Alright, maybe that was a little pessimistic, but what was it people said? "Hope for the best, plan for the worst"? It was good that she'd fallen for someone who took things seriously, and would never use her moment of vulnerability against her. That was a big plus.

After a moment, she turned to the Cons side and wrote:

1. He's very serious.

Hagakure felt immediately guilty and considered crossing it out, but in the end she left it, even though it didn't really fit the theme of the list. The truth was, she wasn't serious, and it was entirely possible one of them would end up driving the other up the wall. (Although she knew from experience that serious people were often very fun to tease, so this Con wasn't the worst.)

Still under Cons, she wrote:

2. He probably doesn't even think of me like that. I bet I'll get rejected and that sucks.

She'd never asked someone out on a date before, but who hadn't been rejected from something? One didn't need romantic experience to know rejection stung. She could even imagine it now: his look of surprise softening and, after a second or two, turning to one of pity. The gentleness in his tone as he gave her an apology…Hagakure shook her head, clearing the mental image. Best not to get that far ahead of herself.

She switched back to the Pros column and wrote:

2. There's a chance he won't reject me, and then I'll be dating Iida!

Whoops, she thought: the whole idea of the unlabeled list was to not name names. She furiously scribbled out "Iida" and replaced it with "him".

Although she saw it as a slimmer chance, she supposed it was possible: he might actually accept her offer, and they'd go on a date together, and that would be fun, because, let's face it, there was a reason she wasn't mentally titling this list The Pros and Cons of Iida Tenya. She'd already made that list – not consciously, but she must have, before her stupid brain decided to go and get a crush on him in the first place. The pros obviously outweighed the cons. She could list off half a dozen or more without pausing: he was smart, helpful, handsome… (She could really get a list going if she wanted to label specific parts of him she found physically attractive.) Even his tendency to get embarrassed easily was endearing.

And, of course, he'd never joked about her being invisible, or acted weird about it, or even, really, seemed to care or mind.

She turned to Cons and wrote:

3. I'm invisible

After a moment of staring at what she'd written, her handwriting seeming suddenly too cute and bubbly for the amount of frustration behind the words, she tore the page out of her notebook, crumpled it into a ball and threw it onto her floor.

It had never escaped Hagakure's notice how visually focused boys were. Girls were too, of course, but not nearly to the same extent. She'd been forcibly assigned to the role of observer often enough to notice: boys stared at girls, they stared at pictures of women, they thought about women's appearances and bodies all the time. It was inescapable.

She could circumvent that a little by wearing skintight clothing, reminding everyone that yes, she really did have a body, even if you couldn't see it normally. But she knew that even then, there was something missing. She was just as physically there as any other girl, with skin and hair, a smile, curves; but those were things other girls didn't have to remind people they had. She was always at a disadvantage.

She didn't behave differently from other girls. She knew she was friendly, outgoing, energetic – maybe at times too much so – yet she always felt a little forgotten, a little pushed to the side. She had to be louder just to be noticed. No one could read the subtleties of her facial expressions; she had to let everyone know exactly how she was feeling, or they'd never be aware.

It was a good thing she wasn't shy, or she'd probably take too much advantage of her Quirk, become a wallflower and let the world pass her by. As it was, she felt as if she was making a constant choice, reminding the world, over and over again, that she was still there.

She didn't think about the note until that evening, when she was working on homework with Ashido and Uraraka. She invited them over and had completely forgotten the note, crumpled on the floor of her otherwise-pristine dorm, until Ashido nearly sat on it. "What's this?" she said, flattening it out so she could read it.

"Just math notes," Hagakure said, reaching to take it, but Ashido sensed the note of desperation in her voice and snatched it away just in time.

"No it's not!" she said gleefully. Then, a second later: "Well, it sort of is. But it's also…"

Uraraka peered curiously over her shoulder. Hagakure felt her face turn hot as she watched them read it.

"Who is this about?" Uraraka asked, eyes wide.

"Let's see," Ashido said. "How many guys can be described as 'serious'?" She paused, finger on her chin, thinking. "Actually quite a few. Todoroki, Tokoyami, Iida, Shoji…"

"Look, she wrote a name and crossed it out," Uraraka said, leaning forward. "Something short."

"You two –!" Hagakure groaned. "It's not fair for you both to team up on me like this! Can't you give me some privacy?"

"If you'd wanted privacy, why would you write this all down and leave it where anyone can find it?" Ashido asked. "Anyway, if you tell us, we can help you."

"I'm probably not going to ask him, anyways. It's a bad idea."

"I can't tell you if I don't know who you're talking about." Ashido handed the note back to Hagakure, as if that would do any good now. "But if you tell me, I can give you advice."

Hagakure stared at her, silent, her face contorted in an angry frown. Wasn't it funny, she thought distantly, how she made the same facial expressions as everyone else? It was like her mind never quite caught up to the fact that she was invisible, similar to the way people still gestured with their hands when they were on the phone.

"Who do you think it is, Uraraka?"

"Okay, okay, stop," Hagakure said, burying her face in her hands. "I'll tell you."

They waited, expectant. There was no going back now.

"It's Iida."

"Aww, cute!" Uraraka said, and at the same moment Ashido gave a sharp laugh of surprise. "What?" she said, in response to Uraraka's glare. "It's unexpected!"

"He's a good guy," Uraraka said, turning to face Hagakure again. She didn't quite meet her eyes, but she did her best to look in the right direction, her smiling gaze focused somewhere in the vicinity of Hagakure's forehead. "I say you should go for it!"

"Let me take another look at that list," Ashido said, snatching it back. "Hmm, yes, you're right, he won't hold it against you – what do you mean here? Number 3 – 'I'm invisible'?"

"I mean, look at me," Hagakure said, gesturing to herself, although they would only see her sleeves moving. "Come on, you know what I mean."

"How does that stop you?" Ashido asked.

"It doesn't stop me, but, like, how can anyone think I'm cute, or like me back?"

"You are cute!" Uraraka said, her voice suddenly passionate.

Ashido nodded. "You are. It's your personality! That's what makes you so cute. If he has any sense, he'll like you back. He might not like you yet, but once he knows of your interest in you, I'm sure something will develop. That's how it always seems to happen, you know? Sometimes guys just need a hint like that."

"Uh-huh," Hagakure said, not completely convinced.

"So are you going to do it?" Ashido asked, leaning forward, grin on her face.

They heard a click, and turned. Uraraka had gotten out a pen, and was writing something else on the list. After a moment she held it out for them to see. "You didn't finish the Pros side, so I helped out."

3. I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain!

"Yes!" Ashido said. "That's the idea. Hagakure, that's the sort of attitude you should take!"

"Okay, okay," she said, grabbing the note and shoving it into her pocket. "Let's start on the homework, you guys. I don't want to be up all night."

Restless, unable to sleep, she decided that night that she would ask Iida out after all. It was less to do with him, and more to shut Ashido and Uraraka up. (At this point, she knew nothing else would.) Then, if and when she was rejected, she could use it as evidence they'd been wrong.

She vacillated between saying it aloud and writing a letter, and decided in the end on the former. Iida was a traditionalist, and he would appreciate a show of sincerity, she thought. Plus, she knew from experience, it was harder to turn someone down to their face, and that might work in her favor. She was willing to stoop that low, pathetic as she felt about it.

So, lying half awake, she wrote some lines in her head and made a plan. She'd ask him to stay after their last class, saying she had a question for him. Then, in the hallway, she'd tell him how she felt and ask him on a date. If it went wrong, she could go back to her dorm and not have to worry about school for the rest of the week, as it would be a Friday. If it went well – she'd play it by ear. She didn't want to get ahead of herself.

The actual plan went badly awry, though. As class was starting, Hagakure whispered to Iida that she'd like to talk to him alone afterwards, and he nodded. But he didn't seem to quite grasp the "alone" part; not long after the bell rang, when half the class was still in the room, Iida called to her, "What was it you wished to speak to me about, Hagakure?"

His voice carried. She heard giggles from somewhere behind her. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"Can we step outside?" she asked.

Iida nodded, confused but obedient, and they went into the hallway together. She was glad, for once, that she was invisible; she was sure she'd be beet-red otherwise.

Once they were alone, she took a deep breath. "Iida…" she began.

"Is something wrong, Hagakure?" he asked her. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

This was why she liked him, but damn it, it made it harder to get the words out. She shook her head, then realized he wouldn't see it and instead said, "No." She took another deep breath, her clammy hands twisting around each other, and said, almost too fast to be comprehensible: "I really like you – will you go out with me?"

She was able to see the progression of emotions on his face. First, puzzlement: it took a moment for him to actually decipher what she was saying. Then pleased surprise, a smile – and then, suddenly, it disappeared, and he looked very, very serious, almost angry. He did not need to answer with words for Hagakure to know that that didn't bode well.

"You can take some time to think about it," she said, just as he opened his mouth to speak. "Please."

He shut his mouth with a snap and nodded, and Hagakure turned and fled, half walking, half running all the way from the classroom to her dorm room. She threw herself onto the bed, face buried in her pillow, and heaved a deep sigh.

That wasn't how her speech was supposed to go. She'd had a decent sized paragraph planned out, and the heat of the moment the words had fled, leaving her mind blank. If nothing else, she thought tearily, this would be a life lesson for the future: skip the heartfelt speech, and just write a damn letter after all.