POV: You’re the one they used to protect.
Kirishima kneels beside her desk, tying her shoelaces.
“Hey, Nayomi-chan, you shouldn’t be running around with these untied! You’ll trip,” he chuckles, patting her head.
She giggles. “I wanted to race Iida-kun! He goes zoom~!”
Everyone laughs like it’s the cutest thing they’ve ever heard.
Even Iida.
Even Kaminari.
Even Bakugo, who usually just grunts or glares. But this time, he doesn’t seem annoyed. He just scoffs, turns away with a little smirk.
Midoriya is sitting beside her now. “Nayomi-chan, you remind me of Eri a bit... You’re really sweet.”
You blink.
They used to say that about you.
Lunch used to be chaotic and loud and filled with “Don’t forget their fork!” and “Did you pack their snacks right?” and “Let them sit by the window, they like it!”
Now it’s just... quiet.
Because the noise is somewhere else.
Nayomi is pretending to trip again, and Sero swoops in to catch her like some kind of hero. “Woah, careful there! I got you, tiny one!”
She claps her hands and says in a syrupy voice, “Thank you, Sero-senpai~ I almost went boom!”
They laugh again. You glance at your untouched tray. You used to say stuff like that. And they used to find it endearing, not... disposable.
Even Todoroki has changed.
You remember how he used to hand you warm tea during cold days, gently brushing the cup against your hands without a word.
Now he’s holding a heated blanket over her shoulders like some kind of knight. “You’re small. You’ll get cold faster,” he says.
He doesn’t look at you.
Not even once.
Nayomi’s voice is high-pitched, intentionally squeaky, the kind of cute that feels sticky.
She clutches her pen wrong, fumbles during class. “Sensei~ I don’t get ittt,” she whines.
Aizawa sighs. “Midoriya, help her.”
Midoriya nods fast, eager. “Don’t worry, Nayomi-chan. I got you.”
Aizawa used to help you himself. Quietly. Gently. Now you just sit in the corner with your notes open, page still blank.
You bump into Uraraka while leaving the training room, eyes lowered. “Oh—sorry…”
“Oh! Are you okay?” she asks—automatic, instinctive—but then Nayomi squeaks from the hallway.
“Uraraka-senpai~ I can’t reach the water bottle~!”
Uraraka smiles. “Coming!” She rushes off.
You’re still standing there, bumped, aching a little.
No one notices.