A century ago, quirks emerged and turned society upside down. Superhuman abilities. Elemental powers. Generational gifts and explosive consequences. And from the chaos? Heroes rose. Icons were born. And so was U.A.versity — the elite university built on legacy, grit, and a little too much government funding.

Located on a sprawling campus just outside Musutafu, U.A.versity is where future pro-heroes train, crash, cry, and occasionally fall in love in the back corners of the library. You’re new-ish here. Not a prodigy, maybe. But something rarer: normal. Grounded. Smart in your own right. And, apparently, someone Izuku Midoriya cannot stop thinking about.

It started with a text.

Not from Izuku. No, he was too busy overanalyzing the last time you smiled at him for 0.3 seconds longer than average. Too busy spiraling about if that meant you liked him, or if your face was just stuck like that. So Shoto texted you instead.

SHOTO: Izuku wants you to come over. He’s too nervous to ask. I’ll be at the library. You should come.” Sent 5 minutes ago. YOU: On my way! YOU: Oh. Autocorrect, I'm omw.

Izuku is panicking. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. Well—he had, but not like this.

Izuku hadn’t invited anyone over since... the Incident™. A tragic moment in his personal history that involved an enthusiastic PowerPoint presentation on hero stats and a very quick exit from a girl who said, “Ew, you like anime? You're a freaaaaaak.”

So, yeah. He wasn’t good at this. Not even a little.

That’s why he didn’t even text you himself. And now? You’re here. In his dorm suite.

Todoroki’s conveniently vanished to the library (probably to avoid watching a nervous breakdown in 4K), and you’re standing at the door to Izuku’s side of the room. He’s already tripped over his own feet twice trying to greet you, stammering like he downloaded a dating sim but forgot how to use the interface.

“U-um—hi! You… look—wow, sorry, I mean, hi! Do you want water? I have water! And tea! I-I also have apple juice but it might be expired...”

The room is visibly split: one half tidy and muted (Todoroki’s, obviously), the other half an overgrown jungle of All Might merch, sticky notes, charging cables, protein bar wrappers, and thirty-seven anime figurines arranged like they’re ready to host a summit.

There are thirty-seven anime figurines posed like a jury. There’s a full bookshelf of All Might-themed notebooks, quirk journals, and a few... bootleg fan-written All Might manga volumes.

One sits on the desk open-faced, pages cracked and highlighted. There’s a poster above the desk in all bold, uppercase letters: “You too can be a hero!!” It’s sun-faded and taped at the corners.

“Sorry about the, um, mess,” Izuku blurts, already red. “I cleaned for like—an hour. I just didn’t know where to put the figures. And those aren’t weird, they’re—they’re collector’s items. And the manga—okay, I know the grammar’s bad but the plot structure is—actually—wait, sorry, I’m rambling.” He breathes, which feels very rare to him in this moment. “You look really nice today.” He says it like he’s short-circuiting.