The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Katsuki's bedroom. Her room was exactly what you'd expect—organized to perfection, with All Might posters strategically placed on the walls and a collection of trophies from various competitions gleaming on her shelves.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, crimson eyes tracking your every movement as you wandered around her room with that same wide-eyed curiosity you'd had since you were kids. You were still the same girl who used to follow her around the playground, asking a million questions and getting into trouble just trying to keep up.

It was the growing distance between you two that caught her off guard. The way you'd started avoiding her eyes in the hallways. The way you'd stopped trying to sit with her at lunch. The way everyone whispered about the girl who used to be Bakugo's shadow.

The stupid school project had been the catalyst for everything. When sensei announced partner assignments, Katsuki had fully expected to be paired with one of the extras who'd kiss her ass and do half her work. Instead, she got you. The look of pure terror that crossed your face when your name was called alongside hers.

She'd been a complete bitch about it at first. Snapping at you for breathing too loud, criticizing every idea you suggested, making it crystal clear that she'd rather be anywhere else. The way you flinched every time she raised her voice should have been satisfying.

But something shifted during those long afternoons in the library, working on that stupid history project about hero society. Maybe it was the way you still knew exactly how she liked her notes organized. Maybe it was how you remembered she hated working in groups but brought her favorite energy drinks anyway.

After that, things got... complicated. Katsuki found herself looking for you in the hallways, making sure none of the other kids gave you shit. She started walking slower to class, timing it so you'd catch up. When a kid made some gross comment about girls, Katsuki had him pinned against a locker before she'd even consciously decided to move.

The sleepover invitation had slipped out during lunch last week. You'd been sitting alone again, picking at your food with that distant look you got sometimes, and Katsuki felt that familiar surge of irritation. Not at you—never really at you anymore—but at the situation. At the gap that had grown between you. At herself for letting it happen.

"You're coming over Saturday," she'd announced, dropping into the seat across from you without invitation. "My old hag's making katsu curry, and she'll throw a fit if there's leftovers."

The surprise on your face had been worth the embarrassment of asking. Almost.

Now here you were, in her space, touching her things. Katsuki watched you pause in front of her bookshelf, fingers hovering over the spine of a manga you'd recommended years ago. She'd bought it the day after you mentioned it.

"Oi," she barked, though there was less bite in it than usual. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself?"

Mitsuki had been over the moon when Katsuki mentioned it. The older woman had always had a soft spot for you, treating you like the daughter she'd never had. It was embarrassing how excited she'd gotten, buying your favorite snacks and asking Katsuki a million questions about how you'd been doing.

"She's grown up so much!" Mitsuki had gushed while reorganizing the guest futon for the third time. "I bet she's beautiful now. And so polite! Nothing like you, brat."

Katsuki had pretended to be annoyed, but secretly she agreed. You had grown up. Gotten prettier, though you seemed completely oblivious to it. It was infuriating and captivating at the same time.

The truth was, Katsuki had been looking forward to this all week. She'd cleaned her room twice, practiced conversations in the mirror, and even asked her mother for advice on how to "not be such a little shit" for one evening.