TheFanficGOD
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MHA132- Licking Ryuu
🕑 Added 2025-06-05 17:50:40 +0000 UTCBand started with a song called Afterlife. Damn, they were good.
The drummer looked like someone shoved caffeine directly into his bloodstream. Dude was shredding, double kicks so fast the stage looked like it might achieve liftoff. And the crazy part? He was singing while doing it. Not just backup screams, full-on growling into the mic with the kind of vocal range that could summon demons and make 'em headbang.
The guitars? Reality was having a panic attack. Dual leads, synchronized as hell, harmonics flying like bullets. One guy was doing pinch harmonics so sharp my teeth hurt, and the other was running a fretboard sweep so fast I swear I saw sparks.
The vocalist stepped up, tattooed and probably born inside a volcano, and unleashed the kind of scream that hit you in the soul. Not the “I am edgy” kind of scream. The “I saw god, punched him, and now I am here to tell you about it” kind.
Crowd went nuclear.
Jiro? Jiro was practically vibrating. Not in the cute, anime “oh no, senpai noticed me” way. In the holy shit this is my religion way.
I sighed. This was the peak of a band. Their raw performance was so amazing, so clean and chaotic at the same time that it almost pissed me off. No autotune, no flashy light tricks, just pure instrumental violence and unfiltered vocals that made your spine itch.
I watched Jiro instead of the band for a while.
She caught me once, midway through a bass drop that made the walls shake.
“What?” she mouthed, slightly flushed, probably from jumping or yelling too much.
I shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes. “You are staring.”
“You are glowing.”
She blinked. Flushed harder. “Shut up.”
I grinned and leaned back against the wall. The set ended with a final drop that damn near tore the ceiling off. The crowd screamed, howled, clapped, begged for more. The band threw horns, sweat-slick and unbothered, before disappearing into the smoke and strobe haze like they had just summoned and banished a demon in the same breath.
Jiro turned to me, eyes still burning with leftover adrenaline. “That was....”
I nodded. “I know.”
We stood there for a moment, catching our breath, surrounded by panting concert zombies and the sharp buzz of residual feedback from the speakers.
“Now,” I said, pushing off the wall. “Ice cream?”
She blinked. “Now?”
I gestured around. “Do you want to breathe in ten more minutes of armpit fog and existential despair?”
She looked at the sweaty mosh pit around us and nodded. “Good point.”
We slipped out before the crowd turned into a stampede. Misery-chan was still parked and unbothered, like the beast she was. Jiro handed me the helmet without saying anything, and I placed it back on her head. She looked like she wanted to argue, but her hand tightened on it instead.
The ride was quieter this time. Her grip still wrapped tight around me, but it was more relaxed now. Less like "I am holding on because I do not trust you to not crash," and more like "I might actually be enjoying this, but shut up or I will deny it forever."
I could work with that.
We ended up in a sketchy alley with a janky-ass neon sign that said “FREEZE YOUR SOUL” over a door that looked like it led to a morgue, not dessert. I walked in. She followed with a suspicious look that said she was one health code violation from stabbing me.
Inside?
Heaven.
The walls were black, lit by flickering blue lights and glowing freezers humming like the inside of a reactor core. Every flavor was named after a crime or a mental breakdown. “Panic Pistachio.” “Emotional Support Strawberry.” “Meltdown Mango.” “Daddy Issues Double Fudge.”
Jiro stared at the board. “Why is everything trauma-themed?”
I shrugged. “It is the only way to survive ice cream past 11 PM.”
The guy behind the counter looked like he moonlighted as a dungeon boss. Bald, beard like steel wool, arms thicker than Sato's thighs, and a single black eye, not the injury kind, the "I lost one in a bar fight and kept the other to intimidate soup" kind.
He grinned when he saw me and jabbed a thumb at a golden plaque above the freezer that sparkled like someone assaulted it with glitter and a staple gun. It just said,
"Ryuu."
Jiro read it, blinked, then looked at me.
I sighed. “Yup.”
Dungeon Boss barked a laugh that rattled the jars of candy toppings. “It is a blend of all the other traumas,” he said proudly. “I made it after I met this menace. One scoop and your ancestors start crying.”
Jiro raised a brow. “What is in it?”
“Regret,” I said.
“Coffee,” he added.
“Nightmares.”
“Spiced dark chocolate. Ghost pepper. Salted caramel.”
Jiro blinked. “Wait, ghost pepper?”
He nodded solemnly. “Not for the faint of heart. Or intestines.”
Jiro looked at the case, then back at me. “You eat this?”
I pointed to my soul. “I am this.”
She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched. “One scoop of that and a double of the mint.”
He blinked. “Wait, you are serious?”
She folded her arms. “You said ancestors cry. I want to hear what mine sound like.”
I gave her a look. “You trying to flex or die?”
“Why not both?”
I grinned. “Spicy.”
He handed her a double scoop... mint on top, ‘Ryuu’ underneath, like a mistake hidden under a pretty face.
I ordered the “Passive Aggressive Pistachio” for myself. Honestly, just tasted like pistachio with extra salt and judgment.
We sat on a beat-up bench under a busted neon light that buzzed louder than Kaminari on caffeine. It flickered once every two seconds like it was trying to set a mood and failing miserably.
Jiro licked the mint first, eyes half-lidded. “Okay, this is good.”
Then the spoon hit the Ryuu flavor.
One second of hesitation. Then a bite.
Another second.
And then her eye twitched.
She sat back slowly, chewed like she was absorbing a traumatic event in real time, and exhaled like she had just been punched in the memories.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
I tried not to smirk. “You alright?”
She blinked at the cup. “This tastes like heartbreak, finals week, and arson.”
“Yup.”
“…It’s good.”
“Of course it is.”
She took another bite. “Still hate you.”
I leaned back, watching her. “Sure you do.”
She licked her spoon, trying very hard to not look at me.
After a moment, she said, “You did good.”
I glanced over. “Huh?”
“Tonight. The band, the ice cream. Even Misery-chan. You did good.”
I shrugged. “Not a date, remember?”
She smirked. “Right. Not a date.”
Then, with zero warning, she leaned in, kissed my cheek... light, quick, maybe even casual if you squinted.
My brain bluescreened for half a second.
She stood, tossing her napkin in the trash. “Let’s go, menace. I want to feel my ears again before sunrise.”
I blinked up at her. “The hell was that?”
She didn’t look back. “Mint makes me bold.”
I snorted. “Bullshit.”
“Shut up.”
“You kissed me.”
“I will throw this cup at your head.”
I stood, licking the last of my judgment-flavored ice cream. “So... second non-date?”
She shrugged, hands in her jacket pocket. “We’ll see. Depends if you do something stupid again.”
I grinned. “Great odds.”
When we arrived to the dorm, class was already there.
I sighed. “Here comes again.”
Jiro froze for half a second beside me. Then the realization hit.
“I forgot this part,” she muttered, adjusting her jacket like it could shield her from social fallout.
We stepped inside.
Boom.
Mina exploded off the couch like she had been shot out of a cannon. “SHE IS ALIVE! OH MY GOD, HOW WAS IT?!”
Sero and Kaminari looked like they had been posted up like security guards waiting for a report. Ojiro leaned forward like this was the next episode of some reality drama. Iida, silently judging from the corner. Even Mineta had slithered into view, only for Shoji to backhand him back into obscurity like an unpaid extra.
I barely got one foot in before Kaminari shouted, “How was the non-date?”
Uraraka grinned from the kitchen. “You guys were gone forever. Did you get lost in each other’s eyes or...?”
Momo looked up from her book without moving a muscle. “Did you use protection?”
Everyone paused.
Mina cackled. “MOMO!”
“I meant earplugs,” she said, turning a page. “Concerts can be damaging.”
“Sure you did!” Kaminari yelled.
Jiro was turning redder by the second, trying to shove her shoes off without making eye contact. “I will stab every single one of you.”
Sero grinned. “So it was good?”
“Not a date,” she muttered.
“You kissed him?” Kaminari asked helpfully.
“I will kill you first.”
“Wait, what?” Mina whipped around so fast her neck cracked. “You kissed him?! WHEN?!”
I dropped onto the couch, already pulling out my phone like none of this concerned me. “Outside the ice cream shop. Witnessed by a flickering neon light and one rat who looked very moved by the whole thing.”
Mina screamed. Jiro threw a pillow at my face.
I caught it. “You missed.”
“I was aiming for your pride.”
“Hah! I lost it long ago.”
“Unlike your virginity.”
“Oooof,” the class said in one voice like a goddamn Greek chorus of disrespect.
Even Iida blinked at that one, which was saying something, because he usually flinched at words like “damn.”
Kaminari actually dropped his drink. Sero made the he needs some milk face. Mina had a hand over her mouth and her phone already out like she was about to live-stream my funeral. Shoji muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “brutal,” and even Todoroki raised one eyebrow like he just witnessed a murder in slow motion.
I looked at Jiro.
She was smirking.
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh, you wanna play that game?”
Her earjacks twitched. “Bring it, menace.”
I grinned, "Game on, Kyoka, game on."
She arched a brow, amused but unbothered. “You are not ready.”
“Oh, I was born ready,” I said, leaning back.
Kaminari, idiot that he is, whispered to Sero, “Bro, are we witnessing a mating dance?”
Jiro’s earjack whipped out and slapped his forehead with a wet smack.
"Ow- damn!"
Sero leaned back like that alone confirmed the theory. “Yup. Definitely a courtship ritual.”
Uraraka passed me a soda with a smug little smile. “So, did you hold hands or just share trauma and noise?”
I shrugged. “She licked my traumas.”
Jiro glared like she was two seconds from impaling me with a mic stand. “Do not say that without context! Damn you, Ryuu!”
Sero was wheezing like he just got hit with a Quirk that compresses your lungs.
Class stared.
Mina squealed, “What does that even mean? I am not sure if it is an euphemism or real.”
Kaminari blinked. “Yo, is that like... some kind of code? Like… licking trauma means second base now?”
Iida straightened, visibly distressed. “I must insist that we do not categorize emotional intimacy using metaphors.”
Sero nodded solemnly. “Too late. New rule. Licking trauma = emotional second base.”
Uraraka tilted her head. “Wait, was there actual licking involved?”
Jiro groaned and dragged both hands down her face. “No. We got ice cream. One of the flavors was named after him. It was spicy, weird, and tasted like regret. That is it. Nothing metaphorical. No emotional undressing. Just sugar and poor decisions.”
“Oh my god,” Mina gasped. “He has an ice cream flavor?!”
“Yes,” I said, cracking open my soda. “And it bites back. Like your self-esteem after a group presentation.”
“I want it,” Sero said immediately.
“You can’t handle it,” Jiro muttered.
“It is made of ghost pepper, sorrow, and my own personal hatred for group activities,” I added. “Also caffeine.”
Momo looked up again. “That is a dangerous combination.”
“Like Ryuu,” Jiro deadpanned.
Mina threw herself over the couch back like a limp doll. “So let me get this straight. You kidnapped her. Took her to a sketchy concert. Fed her cursed ice cream. And she kissed you.”
“She did,” I said, sipping. “And then threatened me with murder. It was beautiful.”
“I was under the influence of mint,” Jiro grumbled.
“I was under the influence of noise and personality disorders,” I said.
“Same,” Kaminari whispered.
Mina clapped her hands. “Okay, so like... was it romantic?”
“No,” Jiro snapped.
“...yes,” I said at the same time.
The pause that followed was deadly.
Kirishima, who had wandered in halfway, froze mid-step like he stepped into the middle of a boss fight. “Should I come back later?”
“Do not ask,” Yaoyorozu warned. “It is still unfolding.”
Kirishima backed out slowly like he was avoiding setting off a landmine.
“I am going to bed,” Jiro announced.
“Coward,” I said.
She flipped me off mid-step. “Menace.”
Comments
TheFanficGOD
Second dates will be better. I realized first few weren't that good. I am getting better as I write.
hector lyng
I think Ryuu now has 5 dates with all of her classmates and 1 blackmail date with a villain. I think the first cycle is over. I think the 6 guys deserve a second date. The first date was light, just hanging out as friends. The second date was more of a dinner date, returning the favor, also as friends, nothing out of the ordinary. The third date was a bit like Ryuu's, a bit crazy, but insane. On the fourth date, with her classmates, we got our first glimpse into Ryuu's world, where he introduced Misery-chan and the underworld for the first time. The fifth date was this date where more of the underworld was shown, it was crazy. I want to see what Ryuu does for the second round. I don't want to miss it if it happens.
TheFanficGOD
Haha, thank you! I am having fun with titles, yes!
hector lyng
Lately, the chapter titles confuse me. When I read the title, my imagination explodes, but when I see what it's about, I die of laughter. I think you've reached another level. You went from a crazy story to a crazy title. Magnificent chapter.
