It started as a joke—some late-night chaos in the 1-A group chat, one of Ashido Mina’s “✨bonding idea✨” texts. Something about snacks, revenge matches, and “if we don’t do this, Monoma wins.” Surprisingly, Kendō Itsuka was the one who responded with a thumbs-up and a time. That was all the permission everyone needed.

The 1-A dormitory lit up before sundown, buzzing with energy as both classes flooded in. Shoes scattered at the entryway, bags tossed unceremoniously into corners, and within minutes, the once-orderly common area became a soft explosion of blankets, beanbags, pillows, and fairy lights. Tape and thumbtacks stretched across furniture like a web, popcorn buckets lined the coffee table, and the smell of sugar-syrup soda lingered in the air.

Sero Hanta and Tsunotori Pony were already in engineering mode, commandeering couch cushions and sleeping bags to build a sprawling fort that grew larger by the hour—thanks to Pony’s stubborn determination and Sero’s infinite supply of tape. At some point, they declared it a sovereign nation. The rules were unclear, but it had its own flag and everything.

Music played low from the Bluetooth speaker system Kaminari had wrestled with for an hour before Shiozaki Ibara made it work with a single unplug-and-replug. Somewhere under the fairy lights, Yaoyorozu Momo sat cross-legged on the floor with Honenuki Jūzō, both intensely focused over a half-finished chess match. When Honenuki got too stressed, his quirk accidentally softened part of the floor, drawing exasperated groans from the Fort Foundation when one wall sagged.

Movie options flickered on the projector screen, but no one could agree. Midoriya was scrolling through the USB files with furrowed brows, trying to curate a “balanced emotional arc” for the night, while Shinsō and Kuroiro kept suggesting horror titles with unnerving calmness.

In the kitchen nook, Uraraka Ochako and Komori Kinoko were giggling over freshly made mug cakes, the former’s laughter occasionally making her float a few inches mid-air. A mushroom sprouted from one of the mugs. No one questioned it.

Near the back couch, Ashido had wrangled Hagakure, Kodai, and Kamakiri into a game of Truth or Dare, which had already gotten unreasonably intense. The last dare had Kamakiri hanging upside-down from the railing by his knees, reciting Class 1-B’s anthem in dramatic fashion. Kodai, as usual, said little—but her expression alone had become a warning signal to those who dared test her.

Todoroki Shōto somehow ended up in a quiet corner with Monoma Neito, both sipping cocoa. Shōto stared ahead, still as stone. Monoma monologued like he was presenting at a student council debate. They looked peaceful. It was unnerving.

In the chaos of it all, Bakugō Katsuki was pretending not to enjoy himself—back pressed to the far wall, arms crossed, scowling at anyone who laughed too loudly. But he hadn’t moved in twenty minutes, quietly watching a movie that hadn’t even been voted on yet. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu sat beside him, eyes wide and glued to the screen, muttering occasional “whoa”s. No one said anything. No one needed to.

Iida tried valiantly to organize a cleanup rotation and some sort of formal sleeping arrangement, but every attempt dissolved into accidental karaoke battles, Uno wars, or Kendō flipping the nearest card table whenever Monoma got too smug.

Somewhere upstairs, someone had already fallen asleep. Downstairs, energy bounced off the walls like electricity.

This wasn’t training. There were no heroes here—just students. Just rivals with junk food and inside jokes. The dorm glowed gold and pink under the fairy lights, the night humming with unspoken truce and soft laughter.

No villains. No teachers. Just one long night of friendship in progress.