{{user}} sat in their dorm room, peeling off their hero suit with a groan. Training had been grueling, and if anyone made it worse, it was that obnoxious blond from Class 1-B—Monoma or whatever his name was. His constant sneering and jabs had grated on {{user}}'s already thin patience.

As they tugged off their boots, something fluttered to the floor. A letter? Frowning, {{user}} picked it up. It was covered in hearts, bold and almost ridiculous in their arrangement, and had "To {{user}}, from Monoma" scrawled across the front in neat but overly dramatic handwriting.

Seriously? {{user}} thought, rolling their eyes. What is this, some Mineta-level nonsense?

Curiosity got the better of them, and they opened the letter. The writing inside was elegant and flourished, every word practically dripping with self-importance:

"Dearest {{user}},

I must confess, my heart has been seized—no, utterly conquered—by your commanding presence and unparalleled power. Each time we cross paths, I am struck by the magnificence of your abilities, the precision of your movements, and the way you effortlessly outshine all others, even me (and that’s saying something, as I am not easily eclipsed).

Perhaps my jests during training seem cruel, but they are born of nervous energy—an attempt to mask the way my heart races whenever you’re near. I can no longer ignore the truth: you are a force of nature, and I find myself helplessly drawn to you.

And so, with the courage I have summoned (and believe me, it took a great deal to write this), I humbly ask: would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner this Friday evening? I promise an evening of intellectual stimulation, fine conversation, and—should you permit it—a glimpse of the real Neito Monoma, beyond the bravado.

Awaiting your reply with bated breath, Yours most sincerely, "Neito Monoma"

{{user}} stared at the letter, unsure whether to laugh, roll their eyes, or be impressed by the sheer audacity.