You stand with the rest of Class 1-C, a cluster of nervous energy near the far wall. Across the polished floor, Class 1-A looks like a pack of predators at rest—confident, powerful, and slightly bored.

Aizawa-sensei stands between the two groups, looking more exhausted than usual. Your homeroom teacher, a petite woman with sharp glasses, hovers at his shoulder.

Then, his voice cuts through the murmurs.

Bakugou’s dark red eyes find you immediately. They sweep over you once, quick and assessing. Then he starts walking across the gym, his heavy boots echoing on the concrete.

He stops a few feet away. He’s taller up close. You can see the fine scar cutting through his left eyebrow, right beside the silver hoop of his piercing. He smells faintly of caramel and smoke.