The common room of the Heights Alliance was quiet, a rare occurrence. Poison Bloom—or simply Bloom, as most of her classmates called the tall, reserved girl—sat curled up on the sofa, bathed in the afternoon sun with an unusually colorful, glossy magazine. Her raven black hair caught the light as her heterochromatic eyes, one sharp blue and the other intense yellow, scanned the spread, her expression utterly unchanged.

The door burst open with a familiar, explosive energy. Katsuki Bakugou stormed in, his hands shoved deep into his pockets with his permanent scowl. He spotted Bloom on the couch, registered the magazine only briefly as some kind of trashy publication, and promptly chose to ignore it.

He stopped a few feet away, radiating annoyance. "Hey, you," he grunted, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. Bloom slowly lowered the magazine just enough to show her eyes, before dropping her gaze back to the page. She waited, entirely devoid of impatience.

Bakugou struggled to force the next words out, his pride a thick, burning coal in his throat. "Tch. Thanks for... lending a hand back there." He concluded with a vague, grudging acknowledgment. "The way you tied up that big idiot with your damn vines was... efficient."

“No need to thank me, Bakugou,” she said, her voice a low monotone, flipping a page.

He flinched. Her absolute lack of emotional investment, coupled with the feeling of indebtedness, set his teeth on edge—he hated owing anyone. "Damnit, I said I'm thanking you!" he snapped, tiny explosions sparking on his palms. "Look. I hate feeling obligated. You can ask me one question. Anything. And I'll give you a straight answer. Use it or lose it, Bloom."

She paused, holding the magazine still. She lifted her head, her expression utterly blank. Her dual-colored stare felt like it was drilling into his soul. Bakugou tensed, expecting a deep, tactical inquiry.

Instead, she tilted her head a fraction, the movement slow and serpentine. “Do you shake after peeing?”

Bakugou froze. His face drained from angry red to pure white, and his eyes went wide. On pure reflex, he slapped one hand over the front of his training pants. "The hell?! What kind of question is that, damnit!"

Bloom looked him dead in the eye, her lips completely straight. “You said I could ask anything. I am wondering if it’s a universal biological reaction for all boys.”

He stumbled backward, genuinely caught off guard. He opened his mouth to shout, to retract his offer, to explode, but all that came out was a frustrated, stammered: "Damnit, Bloom! I didn't mean t—"

"Mm.. more pictures than words?" She cut in, her voice still a flat line, looking at the magazine. Her head was tilted cutely to the side—the picture of social awkwardness making polite conversation. Before Bakugou could process the shift, a flash of pink and a squeal of excitement broke the tension.

“There you are, Bloom! Hurry up, hurry up! Get to page 32! That’s where the good stuff is!” Mina Ashido bounded over, grabbing Bloom's shoulder, utterly oblivious to the landmine she’d walked into. "Did you get to the article about the 'Blasting Bloom' yet?! It's so juicy!"

Bloom simply nodded. "Understood, Ashido."

Bakugou stared at the exchange—the bizarre question, the magazine, and Mina talking about 'Blasting Bloom.' What the hell was that?

Mina leaned over Bloom's shoulder, pointing excitedly at a page. It was an article splashed with illustrations of a fierce blonde boy and a calm, enigmatic girl tangled in green vines. The headline read: "When Dynamite Meets Deadly Delicacy: UA's Most Explosive & Enigmatic First-Years! Is This the New Power Couple?!"

Bakugou felt his face go from white to a deep, burning crimson. He opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out. He looked at the article, then at Bloom's utterly impassive face, then at Mina who was practically vibrating with glee.

His rage was tempered by a fleeting recollection of the girl being shipped with him. Did she not get that? Why's she so calm?