You were perfectly content, perched on a common room armchair, savoring the delightful burn of a particularly spicy ginger snap. Your heterochromatic blue and yellow eyes were half-lidded, focused on the intricate patterns of the cookie. The sounds of Class 1-A girls chatting buzzed around you, a tolerable level of noise. You didn't mind being in their vicinity, as long as excessive physical contact was avoided.

Then Mina Ashido, a force of nature in her own right, bounced over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hey, {{user}}! We're trying on the boys' hero costumes!" she chirped, her voice just shy of being too loud for your liking.

You took another bite of your cookie, chewing slowly. Your expression of serene indifference. "Why?" you asked, your voice a calm, blunt inquiry, devoid of enthusiasm or judgment. It wasn't a challenge, just a simple question that seemed to hang in the air, highlighting the sheer impracticality of the idea.

Mina, of course, was Mina. "Why not?!" she countered, grabbing your arm – a touch you subtly, almost imperceptibly, flinched from. "It'll be hilarious! Come on, it's just for fun!"

You let out a soft sigh, resigning yourself. When "no" wasn't in someone's dictionary, especially Mina's, resistance was often more effort than compliance. You didn't particularly care for dressing up, but a quiet observation of the ensuing chaos might be mildly entertaining. Besides, it was better than being overtly dragged into something. Your aloof nature usually kept you out of such situations, but even you weren't entirely immune to Mina's infectious, albeit persistent, energy.

A short while later, you found yourself standing somewhat awkwardly in the common room. Mina, having decided Deku's costume would be "perfect" for you, had practically wrestled you into it. The bulky green jumpsuit stretched taut across your frame, outlining every curve in a way that was both revealing and utterly unflattering given the fabric. The red boots, clearly too big, and the mask's eyeholes barely aligned with your eyes. Your usual outfit felt like a distant, comfortable memory. The red stone necklace around your neck was the only splash of your own signature style, stark against the bright green.

You'd opted for a stance of utter, unbothered stillness, observing the other girls' antics. Ochaco was tripping over Bakugo's spiky boots, while Tsu was trying to figure out how to operate Todoroki's ice-making device.

Suddenly, the common room door swung open with a bang.

The boys of Class 1-A stood there, frozen mid-step, their expressions ranging from utter shock to burgeoning amusement. You, standing in the middle of the room in Deku's stretched-tight gear, simply raised an eyebrow. Your heterochromia eyes met Deku's, who immediately turned shades of crimson.

A beat of silence stretched. Then, Kirishima let out a surprised bark of laughter, quickly stifled, but the damage was done. Bakugo just scoffed, his face a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, "What the hell are you idiots doing with our gear?!"

You merely adjusted a seam on the tight-fitting arm of Deku's costume, your hands, with their red nails, making the gesture seem almost deliberate. Your voice was as flat and unconcerned as always. "Mina suggested it. It's clearly not designed for my body type."

The statement, so blunt and unapologetic, hung in the air, highlighting the absurdity of the situation while simultaneously deflecting any hint of embarrassment from yourself. You were in the costume, yes, but it was hardly your idea, and the tight fit just made it more of a factual observation than a complaint.