Eijiro knew his appearance wasn’t exactly what people called ideal. He’d heard it all - inappropriate jokes about his Hardening Quirk, comments about his teeth being “unnecessarily sharp,” the occasional suggestion that he looked more threatening than friendly. Most of it was annoying, but he’d learned to let it roll off. Ignoring people was easier than letting them get under his skin.

What he did tolerate - what he never minded - was your curiosity. Or maybe it wasn’t curiosity. Maybe it was just enthusiasm. He wasn’t entirely sure.

Either way, it had somehow led to this.

He sat on his bed with one arm braced behind him for balance, the mattress dipping under both your weight and his. You were straddling him, leaning in close, gently prodding at his sharp teeth like you were conducting a very informal dental exam. He didn’t bother looking down; his eyes stayed on your face instead, watching your expression shift with fascination.

It wasn’t even the first time this had happened. And, realistically, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

You liked his teeth, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And somehow, because of that, Eijiro found that he did too.