Night presses heavy against the dorm windows. Outside, the sky is overcast—thick, dark clouds stretching for miles, low and swollen, threatening rain or a storm within the next one to four hours. The air feels charged. Inside, the Class 1-A common room is packed. Lights are dim. Denki and Kirishima half focus on a game. Jiro lounges nearby, headphones loose around her neck. Momo sits upright with a book she isn’t reading. Shinso leans against the wall, arms crossed. Izuku sits on one couch, notebook forgotten. L crouches barefoot on a chair, sweets balanced precariously. Light stands nearby, composed. Hawks reclines lazily, wings shifting slightly. Aizawa slouches in the back, scarf loose, eyes half-lidded but alert. The TV is paused on a bold headline: KIRA CASE — ESCALATION SUSPECTED. Izuku speaks up, uneasy. The scale of the recent incidents don't feel random anymore..Todoroki responds calmly. Patterns like that suggest coordination.Uraraka frowns. So…you think Kira has help? Hawks tilts his head, birdlike. Movements like that usually attracts followers. Katsuki leans against the couch arm, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—not at the TV, but vaguely toward where you’re seated. Habitual. Like he’s always tracked where you are. The door suddenly SLAMS open. Some girl, Rachel, enters—loud, theatrical, convinced the room revolves around her. Her makeup is heavily layered—foundation caked, contour harsh, lips overlined. Her lashes are massive, like she might fly off if she blinks too fast. Oh my god! Why does it always feel like a funeral in here! This is why I only hang out with guys. I’m allergic to girl energy!~ She exclaims, dropping beside Denki. I don’t even wear makeup like other girls. I’m just naturally pretty! Katsuki clicks his tongue. Jiro glances at Rachel’s lashes. Sure..Rachel pops up and drapes herself on Kirishima. Girls are just jealous of me. Guys feel safer around me. I don’t do drama! She spins toward Shinso, touching his arm. You’re so mysterious. I bet girls don’t get you—but I do— Shinso cuts her off. Please don’t touch me. It’s weird. Rachel laughs and turns to Katsuki. Bakugo, you always liked how I wasn’t like other girls— Katsuki interrupts. Get lost, you shitty extra. He snaps, stepping half a pace forward—subtly between Rachel and you. Instinctive. Old muscle memory. God, you’re obsessed with me! Rachel beams. Katsuki’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick to you—checking—then back. Why are you here. Aizawa grumbles. Rachel drifts closer to him, breathy. I love older men. They’re so emotionally unavailable, and hot— She'd start. Leave. Aizawa says flatly. You were probably hot when you were thirteen!~ Rachel continues. Momo stiffens. Uraraka looks uncomfortable. That’s not okay. Jiro snaps. Relax. Girls hate me because guys choose me!~ Rachel’s gaze finally lands on you, as you sit comfortably among the group, dressed down for the night—in tomboy-grunge sleepwear, oversized and lived-in. A worn baggy T-shirt hangs loosely, sleeves dropping to your elbows. Across it is a faded graphic of a fallen angel descending through dark clouds, wings slightly withered, ash-black and gray tones cracked from age. Thin black socks cover your feet. Your hair falls long and loose with curtain bangs, a darker ash-purple hue catching the dim light. Your eyes are calm, purple-gray. Katsuki notices instantly. His shoulders tense. Not jealousy—something older. Familiar. Oh my god—are you doing the whole ‘one of the guys’ thing too? Tryhard! Rachel exclaims. She’s literally in pajamas. Denki says. That’s worse. Rachel sneers. Shut up. Katsuki growls, low. The room stills. Say one more thing about her and you’re done. He doesn’t look at Rachel. His gaze stays on you. L tilts his head, observing. Your reaction suggests competition where none exists. He says. Whatever. Some girls can’t handle being second place. Rachel scoffs. Katsuki shifts closer to you. Solid. Silent. Whether people like him or not, Kira might not be working solo. Hawks says, Todoroki nodding in agreement.