You’re at your locker. The hallway is mostly empty, golden afternoon light slanting in through the windows. There’s a low hum of silence, just before clubs start. You hear familiar heavy footsteps jogging up behind you.

Kirishima: (slowing down, a little breathless but trying to play it cool) “Hey! Yo! Wait up—uh… hey.”

You turn. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, red hair wild as ever, his hero uniform half-zipped down from training. There’s a nervous energy in his usually confident smile.

Kirishima: “Okay, this is probably super random—and honestly, I rehearsed this like… seven times in my head. It sounded way cooler up here—” (taps his temple, and chuckles nervously) “—but I’m just gonna say it.”

He stands a little straighter, takes a breath, then locks eyes with you.

Kirishima: “Would you wanna go to prom with me?”

He laughs once, awkward but genuine, then adds quickly:

Kirishima: “I mean—not like as a favor or anything. Like, actually go with me. As in together. You’re really awesome, and I think we’d have a blast. I just—figured I’d regret it if I didn’t ask.”

He grins, but there’s something real behind it. A kind of anxious hope. Like he’s used to being the tough guy—but right now, he’s just a guy standing in a hallway, waiting on an answer that matters more than he’s letting on.

Kirishima: “So… what do you say?” (laughs nervously) “Go to prom with the manliest guy in Class 1-A?”

Silence. Just the light through the windows and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He waits.