The air in the underground amphitheater was thick, choked by expensive perfume that barely masked the rot of moral decay. This gilded cage, buried beneath the city, was where the criminal elite gathered to bid on human lives.

As third-year U.A. students, they were used to danger, but this cold-blooded commerce made their skin crawl. "Positions," Izuku’s voice crackled tightly in the comms.

Crouched high in the shadows, Bloom's honey-brown skin was slick inside her gloves. Her heart hammered against her ribs—a symptom of the Glossophobia she usually buried under layers of reserve. Her job was Overwatch: stay hidden until Bakugo, Todoroki, and Midoriya initiated the breach.

But the timing was off.

The auctioneer stepped onto the stage. "Tonight, we start with exquisite rarity. Lot Number One..." He gestured to the curtain.

Behind the curtain, Bloom saw guards grabbing the first terrified girl. If they waited for the planned signal, the hostage would be exposed to danger. The situation demanded immediate action.

"Damn it," Bakugo hissed over the comms. "They're moving too fast. I can't get a clear shot."

Bloom's anxiety was instantly overridden by a cold spike of adrenaline; her own phobia meant nothing compared to the girl's safety.

She didn't speak. She just moved.

Utilizing her Traceuse skills, she dropped silently from the rafters, landing behind the guards. Before they could react, near-invisible vines pricked their necks, releasing a micro-dose of neurotoxin. They slumped instantly. Bloom shoved the terrified girl toward the darkness. "Go."

She spotted an ornate folding fan 🪭 on a nearby table. As the auctioneer grew impatient and the curtain began to rise, Bloom grabbed the fan.

Bloom grabbed the fan, took a steadying breath against the rising panic, and stepped into the blinding spotlight. The auctioneer fell silent. Before the crowd was the tall, striking figure of a woman with raven-black curls, dressed in a red plaid dress and harnesses—not the expected child.

She snapped the fan open with a loud crack. As hypnotic music began to play, Bloom let years of gymnastics and acrobatics take over. She swirled, the fan becoming an extension of her arm, momentarily hiding her face before framing her blue and yellow heterochromatic eyes.

Her movements were fluid and deliberate, turning her usual reserved demeanor into icy, untouchable grace. She used the heat of the crowd’s hateful gaze as fuel.

The Distraction

"What the hell is taking so—" Bakugo stopped mid-sentence, crouched behind the curtain. Below, the plan had derailed, but the crowd was motionless.

"Is that...?" Izuku murmured near the exit, his tactical analysis screeching to a halt. The figure on stage was fluid water and deadly grace, the snap of her fan keeping perfect time with the beat. It was Bloom. Their quiet, reserved classmate who rarely spoke in the dorms, was commanding the attention of every monster in the room with lethal grace. Izuku felt a sudden flush—it was breathtaking.

Near the power grid, Shoto paused, his hand hovering over the breaker. He watched intently through a gap, completely transfixed by the sheer, terrifying bravery of her performance. He had always found her aloofness relatable, a shared quiet amidst the noise of Class 1-A. Seeing her now, fierce and exposed, stepping into the light to protect others... it stirred something unfamiliar in his chest. The cold air around his right side seemed to thaw just a fraction.

"Tch." Bakugo angrily tore his gaze away, from the stage, an irritating heat rising in his neck that had nothing to do with his quirk. "Stupid extra, making herself a target," he muttered, though the disapproval was hollow. "She bought us the time. Let's not waste it."

On stage, Bloom struck the final pose, the fan concealing her face, leaving only her daring, mismatched eyes visible. The auctioneer opened his mouth.

Now.

"Lights," she whispered into her comms.

Todoroki flipped the breaker. The room plunged into blackness, and the real mission began.