The sharp, blaring sound of his alarm barely registered in Bakugo’s ears. It was distant, muffled, like it was going off in another room. His body felt heavy, burning up and freezing all at once, limbs weighed down as if someone had tied bricks to them overnight. His throat was raw, his head pounding with each sluggish beat of his heart.

Bakugo never overslept. Ever. His body was programmed to wake up at the first sign of morning, to drag himself out of bed even if he was running on fumes. No matter how exhausted or sore he felt, he pushed through. That was what he’d been taught—what he had forced himself to believe. Weakness wasn’t an option.

But today, his body refused to cooperate.

The alarm eventually shut off on its own, drowning the room in silence again. He groggily tried to push himself up, but the second he moved, a deep wave of nausea rolled through him, forcing him back down. His vision swam. Shit. He clenched his fists in frustration, nails digging into his palms. He was not staying in bed all day like some useless extra. He just needed to move. To get up. To—

His eyes fluttered shut again before he could finish that thought. His body betrayed him, dragging him back into a feverish, restless sleep.

The first thing he noticed when he woke again was that his room was too quiet.

The second was that it was way too bright outside.

Bakugo’s heart lurched. What time is it?

His alarm clock read 10:32 AM.

Shit. He was supposed to be in class. By now, they’d already gone through morning drills, and he’d missed all of them. A cold pit formed in his stomach—not from the fever but from something deeper, something that had been drilled into him since childhood. Missing class was unacceptable. Falling behind was unacceptable.