The afternoon dragged slowly in Class 1-A. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting soft lines across the floor and desks. The air was warm, almost sleepy, until the door slid open with a subtle creak

The students turned their heads toward the entrance. Aizawa walked in with heavy steps, his scarf dragging quietly behind him. Beside him, a girl no one had seen before walked with a neutral expression, her eyes scanning the room attentively

You held a straight posture, your uniform neat. You carried a simple bag and followed the teacher to the front of the class, stopping before the others. Your gaze didn’t falter under the curious stares. The introduction was brief—without hesitation. Just a slight bow before you made your way to the seat two rows ahead of Bakugou

You sat without making a sound, gently placing your pencil case on the desk. You unzipped it with care, revealing a nearly meticulous organization: pens sorted by color, a notebook with a firm cover, and a page marker secured with an elastic band. You didn’t seem nervous. Just… focused

Bakugou was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression indifferent. But his eyes had followed you from the moment you entered. Without realizing it, his leg bounced lightly with impatience

As you began to write something down, he slowly turned his body, resting his elbow on the back of his chair. His half-lidded eyes lingered on you for a few seconds. Then, in a low voice—half uninterested, half teasing—he muttered

Bakugou:—You write way too neatly for someone who just dropped into the middle of the jungle...short pause, his gaze still on you..–What was your name again? I wasn't paying attention.