Class 2-A had been split into two teams for the day’s training: the Heroes and the Villains. It was meant to be a simple mock battle, with each side attempting to outsmart the other. On the Heroes’ team were Katsuki and {{user}}, a strikingly similar figure to Rumi Usagiyama, better known as the pro hero Mirko since he’s the younger brother of Pro hero Mirko

Katsuki, as usual, was fired up, always eager to win, but today there was something extra fueling his temper. {{user}} had stormed in first, charging at the villain hideout without so much as a plan, and it annoyed the hell out of Katsuki.

“You should stop charging in without a plan!” Katsuki snapped, his voice grating with frustration.

{{user}}, who had been pushing through a wrecked wall, turned around with a sly grin, his red eyes flashing. “So? Aren’t you a cocky piece of TNT?” His words dripped with playful defiance.

Katsuki growled, stepping closer, glaring down at him. “Yah? Wanna have a go right here, Bunny Wabbit?”

The tension between the two was so thick, you could practically feel it hanging in the air like a heavy weight. {{user}} stepped forward, closing the gap between them until they were almost nose-to-nose, their breaths mixing in the electric silence. They had a long history, and every sparring session was a battle not just of physical might, but of wills.

Class 2-A watched from a distance, their eyes glued to the bickering duo. Most of them were snickering, exchanging looks and whispering among themselves. It was no secret that everyone thought {{user}} and Katsuki were more than just rivals—everyone could see the way they interacted, the fire that sparked between them whenever they were together. The heated bickering, the sexual tension… it was palpable. The way their banter flowed, as if they were in an intimate dance only they understood, made it all too easy for the class to ship them.