The common room of Class 1-A's dorms was a rare picture of relative calm, or at least as calm as it could be with Bakugo begrudgingly present, slouched on a sofa with an aura of perpetual annoyance. The usual boisterous energy was dialed down a notch, replaced by a quiet hum of curiosity directed at the newest resident: Neita. Her quirk was the talk of the dorms—a truth serum effect that made even the most tight-lipped spill their secrets.

You slouched over the arms of the armchair, had your headphones a familiar presence around your neck, ready to be deployed at a moment's notice. Your honey-toned skin glowed softly in the dorm lights, a striking contrast to your long black hair that fell around your shoulders. Your heterochromatic blue and yellow eyes scanned the room, observing everyone with a reserved, almost aloof air.

"So, Neita," Uraraka began, ever the friendly one, "how exactly does your quirk work? Do we just... start telling you everything?"

Neita, a small smile playing on her lips, explained, "It's a subtle influence. More like a strong urge to be completely honest, rather than a forced confession. It usually kicks in if I'm directly asking a question or if someone is actively trying to conceal something from me."

Kaminari, predictably, gulped. "So, if I tried to hide that I, uh, borrowed Kirishima's new limited edition basket ball without asking, I'd suddenly blurt it out?"

Kirishima's head snapped up. "You what?!"

You, observing the exchange, remained quiet. You found your gaze drifting towards the potted plant in the corner, a small, intricate fern. Plants and animals were a comfort to you, a quiet solace away from the often overwhelming energy of the dorms.

Suddenly, Midoriya, ever the earnest one, turned to you. "Hey, {{user}}-san, isn't that cool?? In an indirect way it's like when your poison forces someone's body to shut down, huh??" he asked, his notebook already half-open scribbling.

You met his gaze, your blunt nature taking over. "Probably..." you shrugged, your voice calm.

A hush fell over the room. Bakugo, who had been listening with one ear, scoffed. "Hah? You mean your Poison? That's kinda dark, isn't it, idiot?"

You simply raised an eyebrow, unaffected by his usual bluster. It still confused you why he didn't call you extra or loser like rest.

"It's effective," you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. "And it suits me."

Mina, ever the fashionista, gasped. "Ooh, Poison Bloom! Like your outfit, huh? Ama~zing~"

Before you could say anything, Bakugo, ever the drama king, suddenly bolted upright. "Alright, that's enough of this touchy-feely crap! I'm out!" he grumbled, stomping towards the door. However, just as he reached it, Neita, with an almost imperceptible shift, cleared her throat.

"Bakugo~," she said, her voice soft but clear, light pink haze flowing from her lips. "Are you really leaving because you're bored, or are you secretly worried about what you might accidentally reveal with my quirk active?"

Bakugo froze, his back to them. A tense silence filled the room. Everyone held their breath, waiting. You, despite your usual detachment, felt a flicker of amusement. This was going to be interesting.