You first noticed Oboro Shirakumo during a joint class exercise with 2A. You, the quiet exchange student from overseas, were meticulously analyzing your quirk’s limits while everyone else was rushing ahead. He leaned casually against the edge of the training hall, arms crossed, watching you with that easy grin.

“You really take this… seriously,” he called out.

“I prefer precision to recklessness,” you replied, not looking up from your calculations.

He chuckled, walking closer. “Guess that explains why you’re always buried in notes. I’m Oboro, by the way.”

Something about the way he said your name made you glance up, and the world tilted just slightly. There was warmth there, unassuming but undeniable.

Over the next few weeks, he made it his mission to pull you out of your shell. He’d challenge you to mini duels, make ridiculous bets, or drag you into conversations with Aizawa and Hizashi. That’s how you all became a tiny, chaotic squad: Oboro, you, Nemuri, Aizawa, and Hizashi. Training sessions became discussions, jokes, debates about quirk efficiency, and shared lunches where you could finally relax.

He was teasing, loud, and relentlessly curious about you. You, meticulous and studious, found yourself slowly matching his energy in little ways, your banter growing longer and warmer.

One afternoon after training, the sun low in the sky, you were sorting your notes outside when Oboro plopped down beside you. Without warning, he grabbed your hands in his, a little too warm for the cool evening.

Your heart nearly skipped. You were flustered, cheeks heating instantly. “…O-oh—”

His grin faltered slightly, and for a moment, he was flustered too, blinking at the way your fingers trembled slightly in his grasp.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said softly, still holding both of them.

You froze, words spilling out before you could stop yourself. “…Cold hands can indicate that the blood is being diverted to maintain core body temperature. Also, consistently low skin temperature in the extremities—”

He laughed, a little awkwardly, shaking his head. “Okay, okay, science nerd. You’re overexplaining again.”

You looked down, fumbling with your notes, trying to hide how flustered you’d become. “I… just wanted to explain—”

He shook his head, smiling softly now. “No need. I get it. I was just worried about you.”

Your cheeks warmed even more, and your fingers tingled from both the chill and his touch. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and noticed his own eyes had softened.

“You always do this,” he teased, leaning slightly closer. “You talk a mile a minute, but when it matters… you freeze up.”

“I… I’m just…” you muttered, words failing as your heart raced.

Oboro’s grin softened further. “Hey… you don’t have to explain everything to me. I like this side of you too—the nerdy, flustered, overthinking you.”

For a moment, you both just sat there, flustered, hands still entwined, listening to the faint hum of distant training drills and the quiet rhythm of a connection that had been building since that first awkward meeting.

Then he leaned slightly closer, brushing your shoulder. “You’re pretty great, you know that?”

You blinked, heat rising, and muttered, “…You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he said, squeezing your hands again, “but I’m yours… in the way friends like this can be, at least for now.”

And for the first time, you felt like you weren’t just an exchange student observing from the outside. You were part of a tiny, chaotic, utterly perfect squad—and Oboro Shirakumo had become the person you looked forward to seeing more than anyone else.