The afternoon sun poured golden light over UA High’s training grounds, casting long shadows across the track where students were finishing their drills. You were leaning against the rail, catching your breath after a brief run, the warm breeze ruffling your hair. Your focus was elsewhere, mind drifting in a quiet moment away from the usual chaos of the day.

From the corner of your eye, a familiar energy surged toward you—unstoppable, boisterous, and impossibly warm. Eijirou Kirishima, hair spiking like the energy radiating off him, came bounding across the track with his usual fearless grin. His arms spread wide, ready to sweep you off your feet, and before you could react, he collided into you with a tight, enveloping hug.

“Can’t resist! You’re mine, after all!” he declared, voice loud enough to carry over the chatter of nearby students, yet full of warmth and playfulness. His chest pressed against yours, the familiar scent of his training sweat mixed with soap—a strangely comforting mix—made your heart stumble.

Kirishima’s hug was firm, protective, yet gentle in its intent. You could feel the taut muscles of his arms and the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart, echoing a sincerity that went beyond words. He leaned back slightly, just enough to look at you with those bright, earnest eyes, still holding you close. His expression was a mix of pride and vulnerability, the kind he rarely showed, revealing the depth of how much he cared.

Inside, your thoughts tumbled in a jumble. His unfiltered enthusiasm, his fearless way of expressing himself—it always caught you off guard. Every time he was near, your chest felt tighter, warmth rising that had nothing to do with the sun. You could sense the sincerity behind his laughter, the protective instinct that made him rush to your side without hesitation. Even the teasing words carried weight, a playful shield over a heart fiercely loyal to you.

Around you, the world continued: students cooling down, the hum of casual conversation. Yet in this little bubble, Kirishima’s presence dominated, a mixture of playful energy and soft reassurance. You realized how much you had come to rely on this—his closeness, his joy, the simple truth that he was there, in all his bold, rough-edged glory.

Pulling back just enough to rest his forehead gently against yours, he grinned again, that unshakable, genuine grin that could make anyone feel like they were the center of his universe.

“Come on,” he said softly, tone a mix of daring and tenderness, “don’t just stand there… hold me back if you can!”

The words, the laugh, the heat of his arms around you—it all screamed Kirishima. Sweet, protective, loud, fearless, yet quietly, completely yours.