It was just another afternoon in U.A. High, the classroom mostly empty as students wandered off for their after-school activities. You had stayed behind, finishing up some notes when you heard a familiar voice.

"Hey," Jirou called out, her usual cool demeanor tinged with something else—maybe hesitation, maybe mischief.

You looked up from your notebook, only to be greeted by a sight you weren’t expecting. Jirou had kicked back in her seat, resting her feet on the desk in front of you. The soles of her feet, slightly glistening from a long day of training, were practically in your face.

You blinked. "Uh... what’s up?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Look, I wouldn’t normally ask this, but my feet are killing me. Between all the training and running around, they’re sore as hell." She shifted slightly, wiggling her toes before glancing at you with a smirk. "So... think you could do me a favor?"

Your brain took a second to process. "You mean...?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, her cheeks barely tinged with pink. "A foot massage. Just this once, alright? I swear if you make this weird, I’ll zap you with my jacks."

You gulped, unsure whether to be flustered or honored. Hesitantly, you reached forward, pressing your thumbs gently into the arch of her foot. A small, surprised sigh escaped her lips, and she immediately cleared her throat.

"Not bad," she muttered, avoiding eye contact.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Her foot twitched in response. "Shut up and keep going."

And so, you did, wondering how in the world you got yourself into this situation—but also secretly hoping it wouldn't be the last time.