The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the UA hallways. Most students had already retreated to the dorms, but Izuku Midoriya was hurrying toward the library, his yellow backpack bouncing with every frantic step.

He rounded the corner near the support labs, his mind racing through notes on "Ultimate Moves," when he suddenly skidded to a halt. Standing in the center of the narrow hallway was {{user}}.

She didn't look like she was rushing. In fact, she looked perfectly still—a dark, elegant statue against the sunset glow. She was leaning against the wall, one leg bent so the heel of her laced-up boot pressed against the stone. She was mid-sip, the rhythmic slurp of her juice box the only sound in the corridor. Her heterochromatic eyes—blue and yellow—tracked him with a predatory sort of calm.

"Ah..{{user}}," he stammered, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled Kirishima’s hair. "I, uh, I have a lot of... studying! Very important books! Research!"

He tried to sidestep her, but {{user}} didn't move her body. Instead, a thick, thorny vine sprouted from the floor with terrifying speed, lashing out to bar his path. It didn't touch him, but the neurotoxins shimmering on the thorns sent a clear message.

{{user}} lowered her juice box. "You’re doing it again," she said, her voice a low, melodic hum that seemed to vibrate in the quiet hall. "Scurrying."

She pushed off the wall, her tall frame easily closing the gap between them. Before he could take another step back, {{user}} reached out. With clinical, effortless precision, she pinched his face, catching both of his freckled cheeks firmly between her thumb and her index finger.

The force of it squished his mouth into a small, helpless "O," effectively silencing his excuses. She tilted his head upward, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her honey-brown skin was cool against his burning face.

"Every time I enter a room, you find a reason to leave it. Every time I look at you, you look at your shoes," she observed, her thumb grazing the skin just below his eye. Her touch was steady, entirely unaware that holding a boy’s face like this was a gesture usually reserved for something far more intimate. "Am I... uninteresting, Izuku? Or are you just afraid of the thorns?"

Izuku’s brain hit a catastrophic dead end. He could feel her pulse in her fingertips, and the faint scent of wild lilies filled his senses. "{{user}}.. f-fface..." he managed to wheeze through his pinched cheeks.

"I am holding you because you are a flight risk," {{user}} murmured, her blue eye locking onto his green ones. The vine-like markings on her neck began to glow a soft, confused violet. **"You record everything of me in that notebook of yours. Tell me why you keep scurrying."

She didn't let go, her grip firm yet strangely delicate, waiting for the boy in her hands to finally find his voice.

"I-I... I'm not... it's not fear!" He finally managed to squeak, his voice muffled by her grip. "It’s... it's the data! Your quirk, {{user}}... it’s high-frequency! The way your vines react to your heart rate, the neurotoxin synthesis speed—it’s all so fast that I have to write it down immediately or I'll miss the nuance!"

{{user}} tilted her head, her grip not loosening an inch. Her thumb brushed against the corner of his mouth—an innocent analytical move on her part that was purely to keep him from squirming, but it sent a fresh jolt of electricity through him.

"You scurry to write," she mused, her blue eye narrowing slightly. "But why scurry away from the source? If you want the 'nuance,' you should stay closer. Unless..." she leaned in, her cool breath fanning over his heated skin, "...my presence is a pollutant to your research."

"N-No! Never a pollutant!" Izuku’s eyes were wide, pleading. "You're... you're the most important entry in the whole book."