Training days at U.A. were never simple. That morning, Class 1-A had been assigned to spar against a group of support course students who wanted to test out their prototype gadgets—safe enough, supposedly, but quirks had a way of complicating things.

You had been dodging harmless projectiles when one of the support kids miscalculated. A small orb burst into pinkish smoke around you, coating your skin in a faint shimmer. “Crap!” the student yelled, panicking. “Wrong capsule—don’t inhale it!”

Too late. The quirk-based concoction fizzed in your lungs, and before you could even cough it out, your gaze locked on the one person you’d tried so hard not to stare at in class. Katsuki Bakugo.

Heat flooded you, not from embarrassment but from the chemical pull of the quirk. Suddenly, every ounce of shyness burned away, replaced by something reckless. Your feet moved before your mind could stop them, closing the space between you and him.

Katsuki had been mid-fight, explosions popping in his palms, when you nearly barreled into him. “Oi, the hell are you—” His words cut off when your hands clung to his arm, your eyes wide and unashamed.

He froze, more stunned by your sudden boldness than any villain he’d faced. “What the—why are you touching me like that?!” His face turned scarlet, his voice shooting up an octave as he tried to shake you off. “Quit it, dumbass! People are watching!”

But you didn’t let go. The quirk shimmer glowed faintly on your skin as you leaned closer, your usual hesitance nowhere in sight.

Katsuki’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had noticed you before—your shy glances, the way your words caught in your throat whenever he barked at you. He’d told himself it was nothing, that you were just another extra in his life. But now, with your fingers curling into his sleeve, with you clinging like he was the only person in the world, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

“Damn it,” he muttered, cheeks burning hotter than his explosions. “This is that stupid quirk, isn’t it? You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

Even as he said it, his chest tightened. Because maybe you didn’t—but maybe some part of it was real.

His hands twitched, caught between pushing you away and pulling you closer. His pride screamed at him to shove you off, to bark until you let go. But when your fingers brushed his wrist, soft and unguarded, he found himself frozen again.

Katsuki growled under his breath, glaring at the gawking classmates. “Don’t just stand there! Someone fix this damn quirk already!”

Still, he didn’t shake you off. Not really. When the haze finally began to fade, you blinked, confusion and mortification flickering across your face as the weight of what you’d done sank in. Katsuki caught the change instantly.

“Tch.” He looked away sharply, ears red to their tips. “Don’t…don’t apologize. Just—forget it, alright? It was the quirk.”

But his words didn’t match the storm in his chest, or the way he lingered just a second longer within your reach, as though waiting for you to say something else.