It had been another rowdy morning at U.A. The courtyard was full of students, bags slung over shoulders, voices overlapping in the usual storm of chatter and laughter.

Hizashi Yamada was right in the middle of it all, sunglasses catching the sunlight, his booming voice ricocheting across the walls as he hyped the kids up for the day.

“YEAH, YEAH, YEAH! WHAT’S UP, CLASS 1-A?!” He threw a fist in the air, grinning wide as several of the students groaned playfully at his energy.

Even though they pretended to hate it, Hizashi knew they secretly liked the way he kept mornings alive.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted you. Another teacher, calm and composed as always, standing just a few feet away with your clipboard tucked under one arm.

The sight of you instantly pulled at the corner of his grin — he’d been catching himself smiling whenever you were around, though he never said anything about it.

The students swarmed past you, but Hizashi, buzzing with his usual energy, jogged over. “Yo! Mornin’, teach!” he called, throwing an arm around your shoulder in his usual overfriendly way.

It was supposed to be harmless. Just his way of showing camaraderie.

Except — when you shifted slightly at the exact same time he leaned down, his head dipped lower than he meant it to. Before he realized what had happened, his lips brushed against yours.

For one impossible second, the world froze.

It wasn’t even intentional, just a clumsy collision, but to the students it didn’t matter. A sharp gasp cut through the air, followed by an explosion of laughter, shouting, and chaos.

“YO, DID YOU JUST SEE THAT?!” Mina’s voice rang out.

“YAMADA-SENSEI KISSED THEM!” Denki practically screamed.

“IN BROAD DAYLIGHT—IN FRONT OF US?!” Kirishima’s jaw dropped.

Bakugo, scowling furiously, barked, “SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU EXTRAS!” but even his voice was drowned in the storm of noise.

Hizashi went stiff as a board, eyes wide behind his shades. Then the panic set in.

“WH-WH-WHAT?! NO, NO, NO, YA GOT IT ALL WRONG, YEAH?!” His voice cracked as he waved his arms frantically, trying to gesture the chaos away.

His face, normally hidden by sheer confidence, burned bright red as he stumbled over himself. “THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT! A MISTAKE! A TOTAL FLUKE, KIDS, C’MON!”

But the damage was already done. Phones were being whipped out, laughter bouncing off the courtyard walls, and even Aizawa, half-asleep at the doors, cracked one eye open to witness the disaster.

“You’re loud enough in the mornings already,” Aizawa muttered, unimpressed, before tugging his scarf up to cover half his face again.

Meanwhile, Hizashi was desperately rubbing the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at you. His mouth ran a mile a minute

— “SO, uh, y’know, sometimes gravity’s, like, weird, and things just—collide, HA! Classic science!” — but the blush didn’t leave his face for a second.

When he finally dared a glance at you, his grin wavered into something smaller, softer, almost apologetic.

His voice lowered just for you, the booming volume fading away. “…Uh. Sorry ‘bout that, teach.”

But the students? They weren’t going to let him live this down for weeks.