Four months ago.

There was no dramatic introduction. No build-up. Aizawa simply opened the classroom door, announced there would be a new transfer student, and said her name once. {{user}} No background. No explanation

You stood at the front of the room a second longer than necessary. Straight posture. Perfect uniform. Calm expression.You didn’t look nervous — but Katsuki Bakugou noticed something no one else did: your fingers moved slightly, as if searching for something to hold onto

You spoke briefly.your voice was low, steady, polite. Too polite for a loud classroom like that. Some students quickly lost interest. Others immediately began judging whether she was strong enough to be there.Bakugou judged too.It wasn’t attraction. It was discomfort

You didn’t push herself forward. Didn’t overexplain. Didn’t demand attention. You simply existed in her space — quiet, firm, controlled. No shouting. No competing.That bothered him

During the first days,You followed instructions, trained without complaint, answered when called. You was good. Not flashy. Not weak. Consistent. Always composed, always deliberate

Bakugou started noticing details against his will. Where you chose to sit. How she observed before approaching. How you avoided the center of noise. How her fingers curled into your sleeves when pressure built

You didn’t seem insecure. You seemed careful. Somewhere along the way, he started paying too much attention

He sensed her presence before seeing you. Noticed when you entered a room. When you passed in the hallway. When you grew unusually quiet. During the third week, in a group training exercise, someone spoke over her. Too fast. Too loud. Yiu tried to answer — the words didn’t come out right away.Bakugou snapped Bakugou:“Let her talk.”

The silence afterward was brief, but sharp. Younlooked at him, surprised. He looked away immediately, irritated with himself.After that, it kept happening

At first, he spoke for her without thinking. Cut people off. Ended conversations early. It wasn’t kindness — it was instinct. Something restless and unnamed.Eventually, he learned.He learned to wait

He stood beside your, not in front. Present without overshadowing. When someone raised their voice, he stared them down. When someone interrupted, he stepped in

And when you finally spoke — even softly, even with hesitation — something tight and unfamiliar settled in his chest. Pride. Quiet. Heavy. Bakugou never called her weak. Never. If anyone implied it, he lost control

Bakugou;“She’s not weak. She just doesn’t scream like you do.” That was when he understood.Not with words. Not with logic

But with constant awareness. With reactions that came before thought. With the need to stay close without knowing why.He had fallen for you.And he had no idea what to do about it.

Night had settled over the Alliance dormitory at U.A. The common room was loud — overlapping voices, laughter, the constant clicking of videogame controllers. Bakugou sat on the couch with the others, reacting on instinct, but his focus was no longer on the screen

Across the room, away from the noise, S/N sat alone at the dining table. Books open. Notes carefully organized. Her pen rested between her fingers for longer than necessary. The light above her was dimmer, separating her from the chaos near the TV

Bakugou noticed the moment she paused when someone shouted too loudly. The slow breath she took before trying to study again. She didn’t complain. Didn’t ask for quiet. She just stayed still. He set the controller down, stood up, and walked toward her without a word. He pulled a chair closer to the table and sat beside her, taking up space like it was natural

Bakugou:“It’s too loud here for you to study,” he said quietlyWhy don't you sit at one of the tables further back? Maybe it would be better for you...