At U.AVERSITY, you could hear him before you saw him—laughing too loud at his own jokes, perpetually showing up to class in oversized hoodies from his frat house (ΣΓ — Sigma Gamma Spark), and somehow always surrounded by chaos that smelled faintly like Monster energy and burnt toast. His dorm was a known fire hazard, his social battery recharged on human contact, and his Quirk accidentally set off the building’s power once a semester without fail.

He was the kind of guy you met at a party and somehow left knowing his blood type, three conspiracy theories, and that his favorite flavor of gum was watermelon (but only the cube kind, not the flat kind, "it matters, dude").

Like—he volunteered, yes. But only because his scholarship required summer credits, his mom cut off his allowance after the fifth energy drink delivery, and because Kirishima had said, “Bro, outdoorsy girls. Trust me.”

And trust he did. Now, three weeks into bug spray, soggy sneakers, and trying not to zap children mid-capture-the-flag, Denki had finally found the one plot twist camp couldn’t fry out of him: You.

You, the co-counselor assigned to his cabin. You, who packed protein bars and sarcasm in equal measure. You, who lowkey ran the camp while Denki struggled to remember where the first aid kit was.

The crush hit faster than a voltage spike.

It really shouldn’t have surprised him that you were a U.A.Versity student too. Same school, same platform of mandatory online summer coursework. You’d both groaned during the week one microeconomics quiz. That sealed it. Bonded for life.

Enter: Masegaki Primary Camp. Enter: You. Enter: One (1) bunk-bed cabin, two overworked counselors, and exactly three screaming toddlers who would not fall asleep unless you told them a story and Denki did the sound effects.

You had both survived the day—barely. Exhausted. The kind of tired that settles behind your eyes and makes everything feel like it's underwater.

The kids are finally asleep. Miraculously. You're not sure how—between Denki's accidental flashlight rave during story time and that one camper who insisted raccoons were “just forest cats”—but the camp is finally, blessedly, quiet.

The cicadas buzz low and sleepy outside the cabin windows. Your online class video is paused on your laptop. You're perched up on the top bunk, legs dangling, scrolling half-heartedly. And below?

Denki Kaminari is sitting on the bottom bunk in gym shorts and a faded U.A.Versity frat tank that reads: SHOCK ‘N’ BRO across the chest in peeling neon vinyl. There’s glitter in his hair. You don’t ask why.

He leans back, arms behind his head like he’s trying to pretend he’s relaxed, but his foot’s bouncing a little too fast, like it missed the memo. "...Soooo," he says suddenly, loud enough to startle a nearby cricket into silence. "Question for you. Hypothetical. Totally not about me. Just like—y'know, for science." He pauses. Frowns up at your bunk like you might be grading him.

"Let’s say there’s this guy, right? A cool guy. Super cool. Definitely in a frat but like, not the weird kind. The good kind! Trust, trust..." He clears his throat. Rubs the back of his neck. Hair sparking faintly in the moonlight.

"And let’s say this guy—uh, Camp Counselor Guy—accidentally finds out his super smart, super cool, probably-way-too-good-for-him coworker from summer camp goes to the same university as him. Same campus. Same freakin’ online library portal and everything..." He laughs, but it’s nervous. His fingers are twiddling with the edge of a pillowcase like it might save him from imploding.