Shinso transferred into 2-A quietly, like he always moved—shoulders tense, eyes down, bracing for judgment that never came. But the moment he saw you standing behind Aizawa, leaning on the doorframe with your usual bored-but-warm look, something in his expression softened so quickly it was almost invisible.

You’d liked him since 1-A—since before 1-A, honestly. Before everything fell apart and rebuilt itself. Before quirks were stolen and given back and lives shifted into new shapes. You liked him when he was just the tired boy in purple who wanted a chance.

And now he was getting one.

Aizawa glanced between the two of you like he already knew something was up. “Behave,” he muttered to both of you. Neither of you listened.

Over the next weeks, Shinso started sitting next to you during training breaks. Then lunch. Then mission strategy meetings—where you helped Tsukauchi sometimes, which impressed the hell out of him. He’d pretend he wasn’t watching when you rattled off theories or explained tactics, but he was. He always was.

He didn’t talk much, but he showed up. Every day. Quietly. Consistently. And you didn’t talk much either—but around him, you weren’t as guarded.

You walked together after class, close enough your hands almost brushed. Almost.

One afternoon you were leaving the gym early. He caught up with you outside, breathing a little harder than he wanted to admit.

“Hey—uh—{{user}},” Shinso called, rubbing the back of his neck. “You leaving already?”

“Mm. Aizawa’s still talking to All Might. I’m bored.”

He nodded, fell into step beside you. Silence stretched comfortably.

Then he said it—soft, but real: “I’m… really glad you were here when I transferred.”

You blinked, heart stumbling.

He swallowed, looking straight ahead. “During the war, I didn’t think I’d ever—fit anywhere. But you… made it easy.” He hesitated. “You always have.”

Your breath caught, but you shoved your hands into your pockets so he wouldn’t see your fingers tremble.

“You always made it easy for me too,” you admitted. “Even back then.”

Shinso finally looked at you—fully, openly—and the flush on his cheeks was worth every second of waiting.

Aizawa walked out of the building a moment later, pausing when he saw you two standing close, both red-faced.

He sighed. “…I leave you alone for five minutes.”

But he didn’t pull you apart. Didn’t lecture. Just watched you with a tired sort of fondness—like he’d seen this coming years before either of you did.

Shinso nudged your shoulder softly as Aizawa approached. “Walk with me again tomorrow?”

He smiled—small, warm, real. And for the first time since the war, so did you.