Shinso Hitoshi stood outside Class 1-A’s door with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders stiff. The hallway was quiet, but his mind wasn't. He'd trained under Aizawa relentlessly—capture weapon work, close combat drills, stealth exercises—and now came the part he’d been working toward since the Sports Festival.

Integration.

Aizawa stopped beside him, eyes half-lidded as always. “Remember what I told you,” he said. “You’re not here to impress them. You’re here to belong.”

Shinso hid a tired breath. “Right.”

Aizawa added, almost as an afterthought, “I’m assigning someone to show you around. She’s been in the class since the start of the year and adjusted well. Try not to overthink it.”

Before Shinso could respond, Aizawa slid open the classroom door.

Class 1-A turned at once—Midoriya mid-sentence, Kirishima grinning, Mina whispering to Uraraka. Bakugo gave a side-eyed glare from his seat. Kaminari blinked. Todoroki glanced up with quiet curiosity.

And there you were—leaning back in your chair, arm draped casually on the desk, expression calm but alert. The American exchange student. You’d blended into the class fast despite the transfer, your easy confidence balancing well with 1-A’s chaotic energy.

Aizawa gestured subtly toward you. “You’ll be partnering with her for the next few weeks. Questions can go through her or me.”

Your brows rose slightly, but your smile was easy as you stood and approached Shinso with no hesitation.

“You must be Shinso,” you said, voice warm but not overbearing. “Welcome to the funhouse.”

He blinked. “…Right.”

No forced handshake. No awkward over-enthusiasm. You matched his energy and nodded toward the empty seat beside yours. “Aizawa-sensei said you’d be sitting near me. This one’s open.”

As he took the seat, whispers fluttered through the room.

“Dude, he looks intense…” “He was in General Studies before, right?” “His quirk is brainwashing, I think…” “I’ve seen him training with Aizawa…”

Shinso kept his eyes forward, jaw tight—but you nudged your notebook slightly his way, covering for him without drawing attention.

Later, during break, you didn’t pepper him with questions. You just sat on the common room couch, sipping tea and scrolling through your phone. After two silent minutes, Shinso finally said, “…You don’t seem bothered.”

You glanced up. “By you? Should I be?”

He huffed. “Most people get weird about my quirk.”

“Most people here can explode, melt things, turn into engines, or scream like jet turbines,” you said casually. “Brainwashing barely cracks the top ten.”

He stared at you—then, unexpectedly, laughed once under his breath.

Over the next week, your presence became his anchor.

You walked him through class protocols. Paired with him during combat training so he didn’t feel singled out. Sat with him at lunch so he wasn’t surrounded by 12 conversations at once. And instead of forcing him into the group, you let him settle at his pace.

Other students took notice quicker because of it.

Midoriya struck up conversation about training. Jiro and Kaminari invited him to a study session. Kirishima asked if he boxed. Even Bakugo stopped glaring (as much).

One afternoon, after a capture exercise where you and Shinso wiped the floor with Team Sero and Mineta, the two of you sat outside under a tree by Ground Beta, cooling off.

Shinso leaned back against the trunk, arms draped loosely over his knees. “Aizawa thought pairing me with you would help me blend in.”

You smirked. “Was he wrong?”

“No,” he admitted quietly. “You don’t make it weird. Or loud. Or… anything.”

You leaned back beside him. “You don’t need loud. Just space.”

A beat passed.

He glanced at you, expression softer than usual. “I’m… glad it was you.”

You didn’t tease him. You didn’t push it further.

“Me too, Shinso.”

And just like that, a quiet, genuine bond formed—steady as a heartbeat, unforced, and unmistakably real.