The stage stretched wide and glossy, a gaudy pink backdrop with the words "POP THE BALLOON!" in splattered font across it. Confetti—long since swept into corners—still clung stubbornly to the edges of the set.

And in the middle of it all, stood Katsuki Bakugo.

A line of people filed in. Eight of them. Holding bright red balloons. Smiling nervously. Waving at the cameras like they’d been told to.

You were one of them.

Dressed simply. Standing a little off to the side. Holding your balloon like it was just a prop, not some life-or-death test of romantic compatibility.

Bakugo scanned the line once. Twice. His eyes didn't linger on anyone.

Then he got to you.

Just for a second.

Then moved on.

Three balloons burst instantly. Three contestants sighed, handed their popped rubber to a stagehand, and shuffled off.

Bakugo answered every single one without hesitation.

Until the line was almost empty.

Only three of you left.

A girl to your right, gripping her balloon like it was her last lifeline.

A guy near the end, sweating visibly.

And you.

Balloon dangling loosely from your fingers. Completely at ease.

POP.

She sighed. "Yeah… not for me. Good luck though." And walked off.

The guy went next. Stepped forward. Gulped.

Just long enough for the guy to shift his weight.

"Didn't think so," the guy muttered, already heading for the exit.

The stage grew quieter.

Mitch looked at the empty space.

Because his eyes had landed on you.

Still standing there.

Balloon intact.

Watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Not impressed. Not nervous. Just… present.

"Well!" Mitch clapped his hands, regaining composure. "Looks like we have our final contestant! Your turn—go ahead, ask your question!"

Bakugo's gaze sharpened. Not hostile. Locked.

And you stepped forward.