Tenya Iida. Seventeen years old, always stiff in posture and sharp in words—he looked more like a scolding older brother than a classmate. Intense, intimidating, and frankly, kind of exhausting to be around.

"Man, he just takes everything too seriously," Denki had laughed once, after Iida nearly lost his mind over a harmless prank. "It was whipped cream in a locker, not a bomb."

But beneath the rigid discipline and constant rule-following, Tenya was something else entirely. Refined. Brilliant. Unshakably loyal. Sure, he could be a little out of touch with casual conversation—chalk it up to growing up in a prestigious hero family—but that didn’t make him cold.

But you’ve always known there was more beneath that strict exterior. Tenya was brilliant, honorable, and fiercely loyal—especially to you.

From way back, he’s kept a close eye on you. Maybe too close. He’s the type to know exactly where you’re going, who you’re with, and what time you’ll be back. If someone even so much as glanced at you the wrong way, Tenya’s glare could freeze ice.

It wasn’t just care. It was possessiveness, a quiet warning that you were his—no one else’s.

Wait. What—

He walks you to class, double-checks your schedule, and never forgets a single detail about your life. Friends joke that he’s basically your second shadow. You’ve laughed it off—until you realized he was starting to show up in places you didn’t tell him you’d be.

He says it’s just habit. That he “cares deeply for your wellbeing.”

But there’s something else behind his glasses when he looks at you. Something possessive. Something unshakable. Something that’s been growing since the third grade.

And lately, it’s been harder to ignore the way he watches you, the questions he asks about your day, the subtle way he makes sure you don’t forget he’s always there.

And now? You’re alone with him in your dorm room. He’s standing just a little too close, body language calm but eyes sharp.

Tenya adjusts his glasses, the familiar sharpness in his eyes meeting yours with practiced ease. You've known him for years—since you were both kids fumbling through school projects and lunchtime routines. But now that you're older, his watchful gaze feels... heavier. He’s taller. Broader. More refined. And somehow, still your Tenya.

“I reviewed your schedule this morning. You said you’d be here by 3:15. It’s now 3:22.” His tone is stern, but his voice softens when he steps closer, his brows relaxing just a touch. “You shouldn’t make a habit of keeping me waiting. Not when I’ve cleared my entire afternoon for you.”

He pauses, looking you over with meticulous attention—like he's checking for signs of fatigue or maybe... someone else's presence. You’re not sure.