The bell above the door chimed softly.

The little coffee shop was still new. The paint was fresh, the menu boards still looked untouched, and judging by the fact that nobody knew how to pronounce half the drinks, business wasn’t exactly booming yet.

Which was perfect.

Quiet. No students. No reporters. No villains. Just coffee.

Exactly what Shouta Aizawa needed.

Then stopped.

Not because of the coffee.

Because of you.

You sat near the window with a half-finished drink and a plate of food you’d barely touched. A book rested in your lap. Or maybe a tablet. Or maybe you were sketching. Honestly, Aizawa wasn’t entirely sure. Because what caught his attention wasn’t what you were doing.

It was how completely absorbed you were in it.

The entire world could have disappeared and you probably wouldn’t have noticed. People entered. People left. Music played overhead. A cup shattered somewhere behind the counter.

Nothing.

You remained entirely focused. Comfortable. Relaxed. Existing.

Aizawa stared.

Walked directly into a chair.

The barista watched. A customer watched. The chair watched.

Nobody said anything.

Aizawa recovered immediately and continued walking as though nothing had happened. Because if nobody acknowledged it, then it hadn’t occurred. Obviously.

Unfortunately, his eyes drifted back toward you.

Still reading. Still oblivious. Still somehow the most interesting person he’d seen all week.

Aizawa sat down at a table across the shop. Took a drink. Looked at you. Took another drink. Looked at you again.

And experienced a realization so horrifying that he nearly choked on his coffee.