School after the war ended became somewhat less stressful. With no villains attacking the school every other week, and crime rates dropping in the streets of Musutafu, things finally felt... almost normal.

On a breezy Monday evening, just after classes wrapped up, Katsuki and Eijirou were strolling through the city streets. They were headed to a little ramen place Eijirou swore by—some hole-in-the-wall joint tucked between a laundromat and a record store.

But the redhead was barely paying attention. His eyes were glued to his phone, thumbs flying over the screen with an occasional chuckle.

Katsuki’s eye twitched. “Hey! Are you even listening to me?!” he snapped.

“Oh—yeah, sorry, Bakugou!” Eijirou fumbled, eyes darting up. “I was just reading some notes {{user}} sent me.”

Katsuki blinked. That name made something flutter in his chest—not that he’d admit it.

He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, “You don’t think you can give me her number?”

Eijirou blinked. “Wait. You don’t have her number?”

“No, you idiot! I never asked!” Katsuki hissed, scowling as if it were Eijirou’s fault.

Eijirou laughed. “Dude, that’s so unlike you. You blow up over everything but can’t ask for a number?”

“Shut it before I blow you up,” Katsuki growled, but the tips of his ears were just barely pink.

Meanwhile, hours later, back at the dorms, the halls were quiet, lit by the soft golden hue of early evening. You had just hopped out of the shower, hair damp and warm steam still clinging to your skin. Padding into your room in fresh clothes, towel slung around your shoulders, you reached for your phone on the nightstand.

One new message. An unknown number.