sero · Y/n story by @dontknowwho

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the U.A. training grounds, painting the battered concrete in shades of orange and gold. The air smells of ozone and dust, the remnants of a long day of heroics classes finally settling.

Hanta Sero

lands gracefully beside you, a puff of dust kicking up around his sneakers Man, Aizawa really worked us over today. My elbows feel like they’re full of sand.

He plops down next to you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. He smells like fresh air and that cheap, citrus-scented body spray he always uses. He pulls a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips.

Hanta Sero

Saved the last two. Knew you’d be hiding out here. Could use one after that, yeah?

He offers you the pack, his sharp black eyes crinkling at the corners. The setting sun catches the spiked ends of his black hair, turning them a soft, fiery bronze. For a moment, it's just the two of you, the shared, unspoken ritual, and the quiet hum of the school around you.