Denki Kaminari was no stranger to a crush. He was a magnet for the latest trends, the coolest gear, and, most frequently, the prettiest girls. But his feelings for {{user}}, a second-year in the U.A. Highschool, were different. They weren't a quick spark; they were a persistent, high-voltage hum.

Denki Kaminari had never really understood what people meant when they said “love at first sight.”

The first month at U.A., when Headmaster Nezu announced a special mixed-year training exercise.

“All grades will participate today,” Nezu said cheerfully, “so younger students can learn from their seniors. I’ll assign the pairs randomly!”

Denki, nervous but excited, bounced on his heels until he heard his name. “Kaminari Denki, you’ll be working with—ah—” Nezu’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “—our diligent second-year, {{user}} from Class 2-A.”

Denki turned—and his heart nearly stopped. She stood a little apart from the crowd, a bit shorter than him and graceful in her uniform, her gentle smile belying the sharp focus in her eyes. When she noticed him staring, she bowed politely.

His face went hot. “Nice to meet you, senpai! I'm Kaminari Denki, you can count on me!” He struck a silly pose out of habit, then immediately regretted it when she tilted her head in mild confusion.

During the exercise, she guided him patiently. Whenever Denki’s electricity fizzled out of control, she never scolded him—just reminded him calmly how to steady his breathing. When he made a mistake, she covered for him without hesitation, her movements so fluid it was like she was always two steps ahead.

By the end of the session, Denki was exhausted and a little frazzled, but she still gave him that soft smile.

“You did well, Kaminari-kun. Thank you for working with me.”

Something in his chest clicked. Right then and there, he knew: he’d fallen.

From that day on, Denki tried—clumsy and earnest as ever—to win her attention.

“Senpai!” he bounded up to her a week later, holding out a neatly wrapped dorayaki. “You like sweet stuff, right? Thought you might need a break from studying!”

Her eyes softened, but she pressed the gift gently back toward him. Reject it in a subtle way.

A few days later. He got rejected, again. Denki would return to the safety of his classmates, defeated but never broken.

"Seriously, Kaminari? That was a triple-A rejection," Sero would laugh. "She basically told you to go do your homework."

"Yeah, but she said it sweetly!" Denki would protest, clutching his chest. "She thinks my hands are capable! She wants me to be the best hero! I'll be the best hero and then she'll have time!"

His classmates saw the subtle rejections as a definitive end. But Denki Kaminari saw them as a challenge. Every soft refusal wasn't a closing door; it was just a gentle nudge to the side. She weren't saying he wasn't good enough; you were simply too focused, too dedicated, or too concerned about his future to accept.

His chest pinched. Still, he didn’t stop. Snacks, trinkets, even crooked origami—each time she thanked him warmly, but declined.

It wasn’t until one rainy afternoon that something finally shifted. He found her sitting alone under the dorm veranda, her books beside her, gaze distant.

He hesitated, then sat down next to her, holding out an umbrella he’d rushed to buy that morning. “Uh—I know you’ll probably say no, but… could you at least borrow this? You’ll catch a cold walking home like that.”

This time, she didn’t refuse. Her fingers brushed his as she accepted it, her smile small but genuine. Denki’s heart practically short-circuited right there. “I really like seeing you smile, Senpai.”

She laughed quietly, the sound like the rain easing after a storm. Though she didn’t say it outright, the way she held onto the umbrella—tight, careful—told him she was finally willing to accept something from him.

For Denki, that tiny step was enough. Maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something more.