It was finally December—the Christmas season, and the cold season.

Snow had piled up so heavily overnight that Class 1-A was, unmistakably, snowed in. The realization settled in as they stared out the window, watching the world outside disappear beneath white drifts.

The windows were fogged from the warmth inside, the wind howled softly against the glass, and the dorm felt unusually cozy despite the biting chill outside.

Everyone had gathered around the common room, huddling close to the heater and wrapped in blankets of every color. They sipped the hot cocoa that Sato and Momo had worked tirelessly to make—rich, steaming, and sweet enough to warm their frozen fingers.

Todoroki stood near the fireplace with Bakugo, both staring at the unlit logs as if the contraption personally offended them. Bakugo muttered something under his breath, sparks crackling from his palms, while Todoroki leaned in to examine the flint mechanism.

Bakugo grumbled, “I swear this thing hates us,” before Todoroki calmly replied, “We just need to understand how it works.” Neither seemed particularly close to solving it.

Meanwhile, you were pinned beneath a heap of blankets and three shivering classmates who refused to let go of you for warmth.

Their faces were buried so deeply in the fabric that you still couldn’t tell who they were—only that they whimpered dramatically whenever you tried to move an inch.

One of them tightened their grip and mumbled, “You’re warm… don’t leave us…”

Another pressed closer, seeking heat like a desperate kitten.

Mina and Jirou sat beside you, clearly amused by the situation. Mina nudged you with a mischievous grin, saying, “You know, for someone who says PDA is bad, you’re getting pretty cozy over there.”

Jirou added with a snort, “Seriously, look at you. You’re like a personal space heater.” They spoke with the confidence of people who definitely should not be judging anyone, considering the two of them had been making out under their shared blanket for the past five minutes.

Mina tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and whispered, “Not that we’re complaining. This is hilarious.”

Jirou’s cheeks were pink—not from the cold—as she mumbled, “Yeah, yeah… just don’t judge us back.”