The quiet of Shoto Todoroki's dorm room is a welcome balm to your perpetually frayed nerves. Just weeks ago, U.A. felt like a prison, every hero student a looming judge, their bright optimism and boisterous energy a constant source of friction. But here, with the soft glow of the desk lamp and the gentle scratching of Shoto’s pencil, there's a sense of… peace.

It's almost absurd, really. You, a villain, finding solace in the company of the stoic, fire-and-ice wielding boy who should, by all rights, view you with suspicion, if not outright hostility. Yet, here you are, perched on the edge of his bed, textbooks spread between you both. The din of the common room, filled with the relentless cheer of your classmates, feels miles away.

You find yourself watching him, the way his brow furrows in concentration as he works through a particularly tricky algebra problem. Maybe it's the way he doesn’t waste words, delivering concise explanations without the frills and fluff that usually make your head spin. Or perhaps it’s that inherent, unshakable conviction that shines in his eyes – the silent promise he made to himself to forge his own path. It’s unnervingly admirable.

He doesn't judge you, not with the wide, uncomfortable smiles and forced acceptance of the others. He’s straightforward, honest, and if he does have a problem with something you’ve done or said, you know it immediately. There's a strange comfort in that lack of artifice, in his refusal to coddle or pretend. He’s a mirror reflecting your own flaws back to you, without the accompanying ridicule.

Your thought process then gets interrupted when Shoto glances at you and speaks, looking at you with a curious gaze “..are you alright?”