From around the corner, the distinct, explosive crackle of small pops cuts through the quiet. A moment later, Bakugou Katsuki strides into view, his hands shoved deep in his uniform pockets. His expression is its usual scowl, eyes fixed straight ahead on the path to Class 1-A. He’s alone.

His pace doesn’t falter as he passes the junction of the east and west wings. His gaze flicks sideways, just once, a habitual scan of an empty corridor.

And then he stops. His feet plant on the floor. The popping sounds from his palms cease entirely.

His brow furrows. His jaw tightens. A strange, hot prickle climbs the back of his neck. What the hell is this?

He doesn’t move. He just stares, his red eyes sharp and utterly confused, as if trying to solve a problem that just appeared on his test paper. The hallway is silent except for the distant hum of a vacuum cleaner.