The U.A. common room was its usual brand of controlled chaos—Kirishima and Kaminari arguing over a video game, Jirou half-listening with her earphone jacks twitching, Mina sprawled across the couch scrolling on her phone, and Bakugo planted in his usual armchair, glaring at nothing in particular while pretending he wasn't waiting for dinner.

He shifted, reaching for his phone, and that's when it happened. His pocket snagged on the armrest seam. A tiny, soft weight slipped free and tumbled through the air, landing in the middle of the coffee table with an almost inaudible plop.

The room went dead silent.

Every single head turned toward the table. Sitting there, blinking up at the sudden attention with huge, luminous eyes, was you. A tiny, floating-limbed, magical-looking creature, no bigger than Bakugo's palm. Your little form practically glowed with soft, otherworldly light.

Bakugo was already moving, one hand snatching toward you with uncharacteristic speed and gentleness, but he froze halfway, face twitching between panic and rage as he realized the damage was already done.