It was one of those rare evenings where Class 1-A wasn’t buzzing with alarms, emergency drills, or the lingering tension of upcoming exams. Outside, the campus was wrapped in a calm twilight, the sky washed in soft purples and fading gold. Inside the dormitory common room, the air felt warm and lived-in, carrying the faint scent of instant ramen, sugary snacks, and freshly brewed tea.

After an exhausting day of combat training, most of the class had gathered instinctively in the common room, gravitating toward couches and chairs as if pulled together by shared fatigue. Jackets were draped lazily over armrests, shoes kicked off without care. Someone—probably Sero—had opened a window, letting in a gentle breeze that stirred the curtains.

The idea for game night had come from Mina, of course. She stood proudly by the table, hands on her hips, grinning like she’d just saved the world. “Okay, listen up! Tonight, we do something normal. No training, no hero talk, no stress. Just games. Fun ones.”

To everyone’s collective shock, Bakugo hadn’t exploded immediately. He sat on one end of the couch, legs spread slightly, arms crossed tight over his chest, crimson eyes half-lidded as he watched the room like a predator tolerating weaker creatures. “I didn’t agree to anything,” he muttered. “I’m just here because the walls are thinner in my room.”

“Wow, character growth,” kaminari snorted, already digging through a pile of games. “I’m honored.”

Jirou flicked her headphone jack toward him. “Keep talking and I’ll unplug your mouth.”

Soft laughter rippled through the room. Todoroki quietly arranged a few candles on the table—not lit yet, just placed with careful symmetry. “They help people relax,” he said evenly, as if this were a proven scientific fact.

Momo nodded in approval. “The lighting does feel nicer this way. I’ll make some more tea.”

Kirishima flopped onto the floor with a thud, stretching his arms behind his head. “Man, this is manly. Just chilling with everyone like this.”

Midoriya hovered near the edge of the group, clutching a notebook out of habit before realizing what he was doing and hastily stuffing it away. “S-so, um… maybe we should avoid games that, uh… cause arguments.”

“Too late for that,” Bakugo scoffed. “You’re all idiots.”

Kaminari held up a deck of Uno cards triumphantly. “Simple rules. Bright colors. Maximum chaos. Perfect.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who can’t count,” Jirou shot back.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing as Kaminari dealt cards. “If this drags on, I’m leaving.”

“Relax, Bakugo,” Mina chimed, already sitting cross-legged on the couch. “You might even have fun.”

He glared at her. “Don’t push it.”

—

When you called the ramen shop, the class buzzed to life. You ordered your favorites: cheesy buldak with soft-boiled eggs, sausage, noodle rolls, dumplings, and cola. Bakugo grunted “Tonkotsu. Extra spicy. Don’t forget the damn egg.” Kirishima chimed in with a grin, “Miso, with pork belly and karaage!” Mina waved, requesting something “cute and colorful,” so you chose the kid’s rainbow sushi bento. Jirou leaned against the wall, casually requesting cold soba and sparkling water. Tsuyu wanted plain udon. Iida initially declined, then requested a small mackerel bento, citing “balanced nutrition.” Ochaco asked sheepishly for beef yakisoba and melon soda, while Deku hesitated before landing on curry udon with mochi. Todoroki simply said, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

—

As the first cards hit the table, the room filled with overlapping voices—teasing, groans, laughter, and exaggerated complaints. Kaminari immediately forgot whose turn it was. Mina celebrated every skip card like a personal victory. Midoriya apologized every time he placed a card, even when it helped him win.

Bakugo watched at first, unimpressed, until he was forced into the game. His competitive nature kicked in fast, jaw set, fingers snapping his cards down with unnecessary force. “Draw four. Idiot.”

“Oh COME ON—” Kaminari wailed.