Archive of Our Own

“The rat went a little…overboard,” Aizawa said, eyes trained on the first-year students as they wandered in—shoulders slumped and feet dragging—to flop onto the nearby beds in Recovery Girl’s office. 

“Hmph. Nothing my students can’t handle,” Vlad King retorted, folding his arms over his chest and lifting his chin a fraction higher.

But throughout the room, a chorus of groans proved Eraser Head right. One of the first-years with spiked red hair grumbled something about not being manly enough for Nedzu’s intense training regime. Another, a blond with a black streak in his hair, mumbled incoherently while weakly holding up a thumb. A third, someone who looked more like a beast than a man, started snoring, and a tiny girl with horns whimpered something about study abroad programs being bad ideas. 

Apparently, Nedzu had insisted the rigor and intensity was meant to uphold UA’s first-years to the university’s high standards. (Truthfully, it was part of his infamous annual hazing, i.e., the rat’s twisted way to welcome the first-years into their second trimester at UA). 

Pity and sympathy mingled within you as Aizawa, your former professor, explained the events to you and Recovery Girl. He didn’t divulge all the details, just snippets—having the students meet at Gym Gamma before dawn with zero explanation, then introducing them to an obstacle course that involved some things Nedzu lovingly called “The Meat Grinder” and “The Dreadmill”, both of which sounded worse than what you and your class had been subjected to just a couple of years prior—and the end result reflected just that: a band of heavily beaten, bruised, and demoralized first-years. 

Recovery Girl tutted and shook her head. “They’re all too tired for my quirk. They’ll need to rest for a few hours first.”

Aizawa glanced at his watch with a disapproving look. “Classes start in an hour.”

“What about my quirk?” you asked, eager to help. “I have leftover dough from last night. I can bake sugar cookies and drop them off at your classroom before then.”

Aizawa considered your offer for a moment, nothing in his gaze indicating he was opposed to the idea. Since you were his former student and Recovery Girl’s protégé, they were both well-acquainted with the intricacies of your quirk. As such, they both knew that unlike her quirk, which would eat away at 1-A’s energy levels and leave the entire cohort groggy and tired for the rest of the day, yours came with a small energy boost because it involved consuming food. Still, he turned to Recovery Girl, who, as UA’s official healer, had the final say on the matter.

She tilted her head and smiled, highlighting the crinkles around her eyes. “Sure, dearie. Go ahead.”

“For 1-B, too?” you asked Vlad King. 

He grumbled. “Yeah, whatever.”

A brisk walk later, and you had returned to the 3-A Alliance dorm kitchen. You preheated the oven closest to you and then rummaged through the fridge and cupboards for the ingredients you needed: last night’s pastry dough, eggs, granulated sugar, and cinnamon.  

After setting them on the counter, you hovered your palms above the ingredients, shut your eyes, and imagined courage, strength, vigor, and joy. Your quirk hummed to life within you and began to spread down your arms and hands, warm and light like a lullaby. When it reached and extended past your fingertips, it showered the items with a faint drizzle of iridescent sparks. 

Since your quirk, Comfort Food, allowed you to embed healing energy and comforting thoughts during food preparation, you had a usual set of mantras you used whenever you shared your creations with your classmates. You are constantly learning and growing, and You’re braver than you realize, and You can be a great hero. You repeated these in your head as you rolled out the dough and cut it into rounds. And again, you started to spread a layer of granulated sugar on your pastry board, caught up in the motions of a recipe you knew by heart. 

That was, until a voice you knew well startled you back to the present, and you shut off your quirk in an instant. 

You spun around. Standing just a few feet away, with a gift bag in his hands, was your favorite dark-haired elf boy. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him.  

“Hello,” Amajiki said softly. “I, uh, didn't mean to scare you.” His cheeks were already taking on a pinkish tint. “But I-I wanted to bring you this.” He held up the bag and offered it to you. “Since you bake a lot. B-because of your quirk. And it can get messy.” A second later, he lowered the bag, already turning on his heel. “Never mind. This was dumb. I’m going to go.”

“Amajiki!” you smiled, holding your hand out. “Mind if I take a look?” 

“S-sure,” he said and dropped his gaze to the floor as he handed over the bag. 

You peeked inside, catching a glimpse of a neatly folded apron. “How thoughtful!” You said, with genuine thrill, as you took it out to get a better view. It was a dark indigo that, fittingly enough, matched the color of his hair perfectly. As if you weren’t already going to think of him every time you put it on.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he said, still not meeting your eyes.

“But I do,” you insisted with a reassuring smile. He was always so wonderfully endearing. You stuck your head through the loop before reaching back to fasten the waist ties into a bow. “This is so sweet of you! But what’s the occasion?”

“I just saw it at the store and thought of you.” He cast a glance behind you to the ingredients you’d set along the counter. “D-do you need help? I have some time before class.”

It was sweet how he always stopped to ask whenever he noticed you in the kitchen. 

You smoothed the fabric of your new apron and looked up at him, a spark of enthusiasm lighting your expression, the kind that always seemed to find you whenever he was near. “I’d love your help.”

“O-okay.” Amajiki positioned himself next to you, and his proximity alone quickened your heart, even though you’d done this dozens of times before. He glanced over your sugar cookies in the making and asked, “What do you need me to do?”

You instructed him on what you were making and why, and moments later, the two of you were working in companionable silence. You snuck a couple of glances at him, admiring his countenance as he rolled the rounds into sugar-coated ovals, and you smiled at the way his brow furrowed in concentration, like this was the most important task in the world. This was hardly the first time he’d stopped by to offer a helping hand or even the first time you’d accepted. Still, just like all the other times, you quietly tucked this moment into the back of your mind for safekeeping, storing it like you would a collection of polaroids or a love letter, adding it to the heart-shaped box in your mind delicately labeled: Tamaki.

You snuck another glance at him, unable to resist, right as he placed a sugar-coated oval on the ungreased baking sheet. Amajiki spent a lot of time in the kitchen. Not only was he always quick to volunteer to help make and taste test your experiments, but you would often come downstairs and find him in the midst of his own creations, experimenting with different ingredients and combinations to try and make the most of his quirk. It wasn’t long before you started to work together: giving him ideas, cooking side by side, and taking the time to use your quirk on his food, so that if he was ever injured in battle, it wouldn’t be for long.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence how neatly your quirks coexisted. Or it was just a lucky, practical pairing.

Still, your powers aligned as naturally as the two of you did in the kitchen, and so a thought wandered into your mind that perhaps it was more than a convenient overlap of needs and abilities. Perhaps, it was a small indicator that the two of you had been designed to work together in more ways than one. 

But before you could linger on that thought for long, someone called out Amajiki’s name, making the two of you jump at the sudden disruption of your blissful little bubble.

Mirio’s face grinned up at Amajiki from the counter. “Hey! I’ve been looking for ya!” His eyes trailed over to you and then back to Amajiki. “Should’ve known you’d be here.”

Amajiki’s blush spread to his ears. “Did you need something, Mirio?”

“Come on! We’ve gotta practice my jokes before we talk to the first-years.”

“I’m a little busy,” Amajiki insisted, picking up the glass jar of cinnamon to emphasize his point.

“Oh, it’s alright,” you cut in. “I’m almost done here anyway.”

“You’re sure?” He asked, sprinkling a tiny bit more cinnamon on the last cookie.

“Positive.”

You reached to take the cinnamon jar from him, one of your fingertips accidentally brushing against his. At that touch, the strangest feeling bloomed within you. It started out like a shiver but quickly melted into a feeling akin to the shimmering cascade of silver chimes—twinkling, glittery, brilliant. All at once, your body was enveloped in a soothing type of warmth—the kind you felt when there was a soft rain outside, but you had nowhere you needed to be, so you got cozy up with a cup of tea and a good story. You looked down to where your finger had just now grazed his; you could’ve sworn that for a fraction of a second, there was an iridescent shimmer that had been left behind, only for it to blur away a moment later. 

You stared at Amajiki, mouth open but stunned into silence, and Amajiki was staring back, red-faced, and just as surprised. 

But then, completely unaware that something inexplicable had just happened, Mirio emerged from the countertop, fully naked, and he hooked his arm around Amajiki’s shoulders. “Come on, bud. We don’t have all day!”

Blissfully unbothered about the fact he still wasn’t wearing pants, Mirio started to rehearse his jokes, leading Amajiki away.

Once again finding your words, you muttered a soft, “Bye,” that came out like an airless whisper, and Amajiki waved back at you just as he and Mirio stepped out of the common room.

The door shut behind them and you were alone again, still basking in the afterglow of whatever had just happened, the final remnants of the sparkling sort of feeling now settling into your chest.

You ran your hand over your heart, trying to process what any of it meant, but at the textured feel of the apron you were wearing, you suddenly remembered you were on a tight deadline.

The first-years!

What was the next hero mantra? Something about courage? Yes, courage! You sprinkled a dusting of cinnamon. You’re braver than you realize, you thought as you reactivated your quirk and went through the final steps of preparing the sugar cookies.

But when you wiped one of your hands on your apron again, you thought of the courage you’d need to tell Amajiki how you really felt about him. 

Amajiki was so very kind, sweet, and tender-hearted. But then again, he was kind to you in the same way he was kind to Nejire or Mirio. Was that all you were? A good friend? If you confessed to Amajiki and he did not feel the same way, Amajiki wouldn’t be outwardly cruel. But what if he started to avoid you, thinking he was doing you a favor?

No, no, you couldn’t think like that. You had to have courage. You were both in your third year at UA. How much more time would you allow to pass? Perhaps things would work out in your favor. Tell Amajiki you love him, you commanded your own brain as you painted the cookie tops with egg. You’d kept the secret closely guarded in your chest for long enough. You are terribly, desperately, and madly in love with him, and he deserves to know. 

A joyous memory floated through your mind, back from your first year at UA together.

You’d been inundated with work and exams, trying desperately to keep up. Late into the evening, you were hunched over the table in the common room, only for a soft voice to stir you from your studies with the question, “It’s... your birthday is tomorrow, right?”

You hadn’t expected anyone to remember, let alone the cute boy with elf-like ears from your heroics cohort. “Oh! Yes, it is.”

“Are you planning on doing anything special?” He asked, his cheeks burning red for some reason.

With a small shrug, you looked up at him with a sad smile, gesturing toward your assignments. “Homework. I fell behind and have an essay due tomorrow, too, so I probably won’t have any time to celebrate.”

His face twisted. “That’s awful.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” you fibbed, hoping he found you more believable than you did. Part of getting older meant that birthdays weren’t as big a deal, wasn’t it? Or at least that was what you had told yourself when you realized you wouldn’t get a chance for an actual birthday celebration.

But then, the next day, you had secluded yourself in your room, doing everything in your power to finish your research paper in the time you had left in the day. When you were finally finished, you submitted the essay just a few minutes shy of midnight. 

You stood up to stretch, already planning on putting something together downstairs for a late night snack, only to hear shuffling right outside your door, followed by a couple of voices, speaking in hushed tones.

“She’ll love it!” the first one said with bright enthusiasm.

“This is a bad idea,” the second one insisted.

“Just leave it!”

“She might be asleep already.”

“The light’s on! She’s totally still awake.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh, no, you won’t.”

You opened your door to find Mirio and Amajiki frozen mid-struggle. Mirio had his arms wrapped around Amajiki from behind with Amajiki’s heels half-lifted off the floor and his body angled away from your door—caught at the exact moment of trying to flee. 

The two of them looked at you wide-eyed like a pair of deer caught in headlights.

For a few heartbeats, no one said anything.

“...Hey, guys,” you finally said, breaking the silence. 

Mirio was the first to move, adjusting Amajiki’s rigid, immobilized form to face you before finally settling him down.

Your gaze drifted, inevitably, to a small box you now noticed Amajiki was holding. It was clearly important. Then your eyes trailed back up to his face, which was already burning red. “What’s that?” you asked.

Mirio grinned. “Oh! I think someone just called me. Sound’s urgent. Bye!” He then released Amajiki and stepped backward, body vanishing into the wall and leaving behind his clothes to crumple to the floor.

The hallway fell silent again.

Amajiki stood there, hands still locked around the box, shoulders tense, staring intently at the carpeted floor.

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I—um—s-so I thought m-maybe—” He swallowed hard and adjusted his grip. But his words kept tangling on themselves. “Mirio and I—no, well, I-I thought you might—”

He took a breath, bracing himself, and then shoved the box forward with both hands, his arms rigid and locked straight. “Here.”

“Oh!” You accepted the box automatically, careful to handle it with care. You lifted the lid slowly, curious to see what could possibly be so important.

Your chest tightened the moment you saw it.

Inside sat a small homemade cake, complete with frosting that wasn’t completely smooth and a Happy birthday piped across the top in wobbly lettering.

Your eyes shone as you looked up at him again with absolute fondness, instantly endeared by Amajiki’s gesture. “You made this? For me?” You laughed softly, touched beyond words. “Amajiki, that’s…that’s so kind!”

He shrugged, before forcing himself to look up from the floor. “I wanted you to have a nice birthday.”

You hugged the box to your chest, mindful not to squish the contents inside, holding it like the precious item it was. “It’s a much better one now,” you said with complete sincerity. “Thanks to you.”

Amajiki’s shoulders loosened.

“I-I’m glad.” Amajiki said with a wobbly smile before looking back down at his feet. “You’re probably tired. I should go. Good night.” He turned on his heel.

“Good night!” You said with bubbly enthusiasm, although you were far from tired now.  

You watched Amajiki gather Mirio’s abandoned clothes from the floor into his arms. At the end of the hall, he hesitated, and then glanced back over his shoulder, stealing one last look at you, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest bit, before disappearing around the corner.

You looked back down at your unexpected gift and smiled.  

To this day, it was still one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for you. 

Since then, even more moments and memories had endeared Amajiki to you. So, here you were, years later, starting the second trimester of your last year at UA, harboring a massive crush, and running out of time. 

You set the thought to the side for now. At this moment, there were more pressing things to worry about, so you slid the cookies into the oven closest to you and set a timer. 

Ten minutes later, you removed the freshly baked, golden-brown cookies and divided them into two plates—one for Class 1-A and another for 1-B. You pulled on your school bag, glancing at the time, and made your way to drop off the sugar cookies, as promised.

Given the direction you were coming from, you stopped by 1-A first, delivering the cookies directly to Aizawa right as his students started to trickle in like zombies. They had showered and changed since the last time you’d seen them, but just like earlier, they were covered in minor injuries and clearly still terribly exhausted.

A pink-haired girl covered in scrapes walked in, noticed the cookie plate, and asked with a dull, tired voice, “Are you going to share, Mr. Aizawa?” 

Aizawa pushed the plate to the front of his desk with obvious disinterest. “They’re not for me. Eat them. Feel better. You know the drill.”

That alone changed the mood of the room entirely.

“Cookies!” someone yelled out and the students who were sitting at their desks scrambled to the front.

Before you could slip out unnoticed, Aizawa announced, “She’s the one who made these and the cookies you had at camp.” Then he added, more command than suggestion, “Thank her.”

“Thank you!” the 1-A cohort said in messy unison, mouths half-full with dessert. 

“Of course!” you said, smiling as you ducked out of the class, second plate still in hand. 

You started to head towards 1-B’s classroom. However, right as you turned the corner, you crossed paths yet again with Amajiki and Mirio, and now Nejire had joined them.

Amajiki raised one hand to greet you with a closed-mouth smile, and beside him, Nejire waved at you with unabashed excitement, as if you didn’t see each other every day in class or around the dorms.

“Wish us luck!” Mirio said, bright-eyed and leading the trio.

“Good luck,” you said, locking eyes with Amajiki for a fleeting second.

“Th-thanks,” Amajiki said, his nerves getting the best of him, before he ducked his face down, ears turning red.

Your cookie delivery to 1-B’s classroom was met with even more enthusiasm. 

You’d even gotten a proposal out of it.

“Holy shit!” the 1-B underclassman with a metallic quirk said. “You brought us cookies? Marry me!”

Laughter ripped through the classroom.

“These smell so good! When I have my own hero agency, I’m hiring you to be my personal chef!” another one said, grabbing a large fistful.

Several heads nodded in agreement.

A blond student—the one you remembered from the Sports Festival had a copy quirk—complained, scowling around a mouthful, as you started to leave. “How is it possible that 1-A had these all to themselves during camp, Mr. Vlad?”

“I didn’t think you’d need them,” you heard Vlad King say with a huff before the door clicked shut behind you. 

You glanced at the time again. You were cutting it close for your first class of the day, since it was on the opposite side of campus, but if you hurried, you could make it before it started.

You’d just started moving when raised voices echoed from down the hall, right where you’d been just minutes prior. 

“Back up, please! You’re making him nervous!” Nejire called out, her tone betraying a hint of nerves.

The worry in her voice had you rushing down the hall to see what was happening, just in time to watch Mirio attempt to quell the commotion. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Normally we’d love the enthusiasm, but let’s take it down a notch, yeah?”

Instead, there were multiple voices, most of them belonging to 1-A students you had yet to officially meet, all of them trying to speak at once, clustering around someone you couldn’t see well.

“Please, I just want to talk to him!”

“Hey, man, let me take you out to lunch. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

It wasn’t until a particularly high-pitched voice yelled out, “Amajiki! Please! I love you, and you deserve to know,” that your stomach dropped.

It…It had to be a coincidence, right? 

What were the odds? 

But then another bright voice joined in, screeching above the rest, “No, I love you!”

Then someone else. “No, I do! I’m the one who loves you!”

This newfound commotion continued to escalate, more yelling, more squirming, more trying to push past Mirio and Nejire to get to your favorite elf-boy at the center. 

The frenzy of it all became too much, and something snapped inside Amajiki. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “I want to go home!” and in the next moment, he was running away from the chaos in a full-on sprint, repeating that exact phrase over and over, “I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.” 

Unfortunately for him, the crowd decided to follow, successfully breaking the two-person barricade and knocking Neijire to the ground in the process. 

Mirio ducked down to carry Nejire out of the way and set her to the side. “You okay?” He asked in a serious voice.

Nejire nodded quickly. “Yes, go, go! Don’t leave him alone!”

Mirio took off after Amajiki, disappearing into the wall to catch up on the other side, his school uniform left behind, collapsed into a familiar heap of fabric on the floor. 

You rushed over to Nejire and helped her to her feet. Then, hoping to make sense of what you had just seen, you asked, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” She said with a pout. “Eraser Head stepped out to get some coffee while Mirio and I were just doing basic introductions, and when I said, ‘Amajiki, do you want to go next?’, someone said, ‘Oh my gosh! He’s Amajiki?’ Next thing, they were swarming around him! It was scary! Like something took over them!”

But before she could explain further, there was a resounding crashing bang down the hall and you both exchanged looks of confusion and horror. The two of you rushed over, wanting to help but unsure of what you were about to find.

It seemed Amajiki and Mirio had ducked into the nearest classroom—1-B—for cover and the 1-A students weren’t handling it well.

You paused, straining to remember their names or quirks from the Sports Festival highlights, but only a handful of them surfaced in your mind. 

You remembered the one with the speed quirk came from the Iida family, and your eyes zeroed in on him in the crowd. He was standing right next to the door, where he kept making a chopping motion through the air while speaking directly to the door. “Amajiki, I really must insist on speaking with you. It is an urgent matter of the highest importance.”

He struck you as someone who would respond to reason, so you tried him first. “Iida!” you called out. “This isn’t rational!”

Iida turned to look at you, his glasses catching a glint of light, and said with complete sincerity, “Matters of the heart rarely are,” before returning to pleading with the door. 

You scanned the crowd for someone else you could try and ration with. 

One of the girls with a high ponytail looked familiar, and you realized it was because she had been the only girl to medal at the Sports Festival. Her family name was Yaoyorozu. 

“Please, if you would only join me for tea,” she said to the door before looking surprised at herself, like she didn’t expect those words to come out of her mouth. She froze, clearly conflicted, worry knitting her brows, as she continuously glanced between the closed door and another one of the girls, the one with a quirk that had something to do with her ears.

This was an emerging pattern because another Class 1-A standout, the student who won the entire tournament last trimester, Todoroki, was looking just as conflicted and confused, frozen in place like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Yaoyorozu! Todoroki! Can’t you see that Amajiki wants to be left alone? Why are you doing this?” you asked.

She turned first, making eye contact with you, and you noticed a shimmer of iridescence in her eyes. It was subtle and also looked vaguely familiar…and your stomach sank when you pieced together why.

They were all acting wild and mad and terribly desperate, like they had lost their minds or…like they were desperately in love. 

Your thoughts from earlier resurfaced in your head: Tell Amajiki you love him. You are terribly, desperately, and madly in love with him, and he deserves to know.

Was…was it possible? You combed through your memory, but now you weren’t sure if you had remembered to turn off your quirk when your mind had started to wander.

But even if you hadn’t…your quirk wasn’t anywhere near this powerful. 

And yet…

You tried Todoroki again but pulled him to the side to get him away from the crowd. “Todoroki! What do you want to tell Amajiki?”

He stopped and considered your question, “I think…I want to tell him that I’m in love with him?” 

The vague iridescence in his eyes flickered. You tried to remember anything else you knew about him. Didn’t he have a girlfriend? “What would your girlfriend say if she knew you were in love with someone else?”

“My girlfriend?” he asked, and his eyes searched the crowd for her. Yet again, the iridescence flickered. The effect was losing its hold.

“Do you love her?” you pressed. 

He stopped searching, and a fond smile made its way to his face. You followed his line of sight and found a girl who looked just as conflicted and confused as Yaoyorozu and Todoroki had seemed when you’d first encountered them. 

“I do,” he finally said. “I love her very much.”

Just like that, the iridescence flickered off, like turning off a light, and he blinked repeatedly. When he looked up, his eyes had returned to normal.

He looked around, taking in the commotion. “What’s going on?”

“They’re under the effect of a quirk,” you rushed to explain. “I need your help. I need you to go find Eraser Head, but first, can you block this door?”

“Sure,” he said with one quick nod. He motioned his right hand, and a massive block of ice materialized before the door instantly, buying Amajiki a little more time before Aizawa arrived. Then Todoroki broke off into a run and disappeared around the corner.  

Just when you started to get the sense that things were going to be okay soon, one of the smallest students climbed onto the wall to bypass the block of ice entirely, using what looked like large purple grapes to scurry upwards, and the movement inspired others to do the same. 

The girl with the green hair and large eyes was the first to mimic the idea. Within a second, she jumped and landed on the opposite wall. Then a boy with tape coming out of his arms started to use the tape to climb upwards like a spider.

Those who couldn’t climb resorted to other measures.  

The pink-haired girl started flinging a type of liquid up against the glacier, the liquid starting to quickly eat away at the ice.

“Monsieur, please! You’ll adore me once you see what I can do with my quirk,” the twinkly blond (whose name started with an A, maybe?) said before jutting his hips forward once and sending out rays of light from the belt around his waist in all directions, some of them damaging the glacier as intended but others bouncing against the walls of the hallway unpredictably.

The members of the crowd ducked in response, shielding their faces from the stray beams of light and uttering comments like Watch it and Stop!

The brunt of the glacier was gone almost as fast as it had appeared and at that moment, Mirio’s face popped up from behind the door to try and placate the crowd. “Hi all, if you calm down, Am—”

But then one of the stray beams of light hit the side of his face before he could finish his sentence, making him pull back instantly.  

You covered your mouth. People were getting hurt because of you! 

You rushed forward, pressing through the crowd, trying to guide the frantic, starry-eyed freshmen away from the door. “Please, I’m sure he’ll come back if we all just calm down.”

But they were having none of it, your plea completely unheard. 

“YOU CAN’T KEEP HIM AWAY FROM ME FOREVER, YA MORON!” said an angry blond while he cut through the crowd. He banged his fist against the shut door, tiny explosions starting to pop in his other palm. “OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR OR I’LL BLOW IT TO PIECES!”

You found Nejire across the crowd, and her wide eyes betrayed her growing panic. She was just as overwhelmed as you with no clue what to do next. As one of “The Big Three”, her quirk was obviously formidable, and in any other context—a villain attack, an attempted robbery, even something as terrifying as hijacking—she would be quick to power up her quirk and save the day. But it had become clear that the freshmen’s rampage was not entirely of their own free will, and the last thing anyone wanted to do was risk injuring them. 

So, you’d just have to buy Todoroki and Eraser Head more time. 

You inhaled deeply and pleaded again, “Please, calm down!” but the crowd simply grew rowdier, and those closest to the door simply hit it harder, trying to push their way through. 

But if the chaos on this side of the door wasn’t enough, even more troubling sounds started to come from the other side.

Tamaki POV – Minutes Prior

Mirio slammed the door shut behind Tamaki, and the two of them immediately threw their collective weight against it, with Mirio bracing his shoulder and Tamaki planting his feet and holding it closed with the flats of his palms. 

The door rattled as something thumped on the other side.

“When I said I wanted to solo Class 1-A, this isn’t what I meant!” Mirio laughed, struggling to keep the door closed.

“At least you listened to me,” Tamaki said, referencing the custom-made, skin-tight version of UA’s training uniform Mirio had put on right before their presentation due to Tamaki’s insistence. Since it was made from the same materials as his hero costume, it completely eliminated any chance of Mirio accidentally flashing the underclassmen once he activated his quirk. 

Vlad King crossed the room in three brisk strides. “What’s going on?”

“Vlad-sensei!” Mirio said, finally acknowledging him. “Class A! They’re acting insane!”

A blond guy with sleek hair smirked. “Isn’t it obvious? 1-A has crumbled beneath the pressure of UA’s rigorous training, proving once and for all that they clearly aren’t the superior class.”

Beside him, a redhead reached over with a massive hand and smacked him in the back of the head. 

An annoyed look crossed over Vlad King’s face. “You were saying?”

“They’re chasing after him for some reason. It doesn’t make sense!”

“Did you try talking to them?” Vlad King asked like it was the obvious recourse. 

“I did!” Mirio insisted. 

“Let me try,” Tamaki said, finally speaking up, though his lip trembled the tiniest bit as he did. “Maybe…maybe they’ll listen to me.”

“You’re sure?” Mirio asked.

“No. Let’s try anyway.”

“Wait, I’ll let them know,” Mirio said before activating his quirk and sticking his head through the door. “Hi all, if you calm down, Am—”

Two seconds later, he pulled back.

“What happened?” Tamaki asked, horrified at the sight of the red burn streak trailing down Mirio’s face.

“I didn’t realize they had started activating their quirks.” Mirio tried to laugh it off. “It’s not a big deal. I should’ve been more careful.”

“This is getting out of hand,” Vlad King said before he opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a cookie he’d clearly been saving for later. He tossed it to Mirio. “This will take care of that burn. Amajiki, get away from the door. I’ll handle this.”

But then one of the 1-B students spoke up and said something Tamaki had already heard once before that made his blood run cold. “Wait. He’s Amajiki.”

Tamaki slowly turned his head towards the classroom full of students and saw an iridescent sheen cross over their eyes in near-perfect synchronization, like sleeper agents that had just been activated. 

“Please don’t,” he said in what barely counted as a whisper.

There was one long moment of quiet—the clock on the wall ticking, one, two, three—before everything broke out into chaos.

Chairs scraped against the floor. Desks were pushed to the side. Everything succumbed to an absolute frenzy as twenty-something students rushed forward to get to Tamaki, more confessions of love or admiration spilling from their lips. 

Quick to react, Vlad King summoned his quirk and yelled, “Get back! Get back!” while he tried to hold his students in place. He was doing a decent job, being a pro and all, but the fact of the matter was that he was still heavily outnumbered. 

Mushrooms began to sprout all over Vlad King’s body, taking him by surprise. Another one of the girls, the one with long green vines for hair, bowed her head, and the vines grew longer, extending in several directions past Vlad King entirely. 

“Stop that! Turn off your quirks!” Vlad King commanded, but none of the 1-B students listened. 

Instead, one of them covered himself in steel, tried to wriggle free from Vlad King’s hold while simultaneously yelling, “AMAJIKI, YOU’RE AWESOME. LET’S DATE, YEAH?”

Another student shifted into looking like a beast, roaring as he fought back with all his strength. A third student summoned blades from his arms, despite being otherwise too immobilized to use them.  

Still, it was disturbingly obvious that Vlad King couldn’t hold them back forever.

“Mirio, come on! We’ve got to go!” Tamaki called, trying to mentally figure out how they would get past all the students who were waiting outside.

“I don’t think so,” Mirio said, and something in the way he said it sounded different. Off.

“Mirio…what’s going on?”

Mirio wiped the cookie crumbs from his mouth and an iridescent sheen like the one Tamaki had just seen crossed over Mirio’s eyes. “Tamaki, my man, I…I can’t believe I never realized how much you mean to me.”

“I’m one of your closest friends, I know. Let’s go.”

“No,” he started to walk toward Tamaki, who was still desperately trying to keep the door shut by himself. “It’s more than that. I think I’m…I think I’m madly in love with you, Tamaki, and you deserve to know that.”

“Can we talk about this another time?” Tamaki said, eyes glancing over at how badly Vlad King was struggling to hold back his class.

Long green vines snaked their way forward, wrapping around Tamaki’s ankle. “Bring forth my beloved!” Their user called out.

But right when the vines were about to tug Tamaki away, an air prison formed around him, holding him in place. 

“Keep your vines away from him, Shiozaki!” a boy with short brown hair warned. 

Fortunately, neither Mirio nor Tamaki were holding the 1-B door closed anymore because, before anyone could fully process what was happening, there was a sudden burst of heat, an ear-ringing explosion, and then the 1-B door was blown off its hinges. Mirio activated permeation in time for the door to fly through him and slam into Vlad King’s desk, crushing it.

Despite the smoke and debris lining the entrance to 1-B’s classroom, the 1-A students were quick to rush in.  

The pink-haired girl was one of the first. “Amajiki! Baby! There you are!”

Followed immediately after by more little pops of explosions. “GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU EXTRA! HE’S MINE!”

More and more of 1-A spilled in, which proved to be the breaking point when members of 1-B finally started to push past an exhausted Vlad King. 

They all rushed toward the same, unlucky person. 

But rather than get overwhelmed, Tamaki widened his stance, a fierce determination crossing over his face as he realized there was only one way out of this. He summoned his quirk, manifesting a large crab claw in one hand and sprouting several tentacles in the other. He cut the vines at his ankle with the claw and then pressed the tentacles against the sides of the air prison he was stuck in, pushing against the walls.

Mirio phased through the barrier.“Tamaki, I’ve told you how I feel. What do you have to say?”

“I’d say,” he said, a hint of struggle in his tone from the physical effort to break down the air-walls. “You already know who I have feelings for.”

With one solid push, the walls broke, and Tamaki sprouted wings from his back. From their weight alone, Tamaki could tell they were larger than ever before…maybe even large enough to carry his weight.  

He tested his theory and extended his wings to their full capacity and started to flap them—once, twice, three times—whipping down the surrounding air and causing Mirio to stumble back a couple of steps. Then, amazingly, Tamaki felt his feet lift off the ground. Mirio was just as surprised, never having seen Tamaki take flight in their several years of friendship. 

Tamaki took advantage of this surprise to attempt to soar past Mirio and the rest of the students out through the threshold of the classroom.

Unfortunately for him, several of them were quick to react. More vines. A frog tongue. A large piece of tape. Some sticky balls. All of these gripped and clung to Tamaki as he tried to escape, pulling him back down to the ground.

You ran toward him, desperate to pry him free, to intervene, to do something, when an angry voice you never thought you would be so relieved to hear yelled out, “Enough!”

You glanced back to see a flash of dark hair and red eyes.

It was almost surprising how quickly Eraser Head’s presence calmed the chaos. You were about to attribute it to how effectively scary his signature glare was, but then you pieced together the obvious: He was deactivating the effect of the quirk they had been under. 

So as more and more students rushed out of the classroom, more and more of them were freed from the grasp of the quirk—your quirk—that had taken hold of them. Todoroki was quick to rush over to his girlfriend to make sure she was okay. 

Overall, as the iridescent shimmer faded from their irises, some of the students looked dazed, some confused, some of them rubbing their eyes like they were just now waking up from a dream.

Other than Amajiki, you and Nejire were the only two students present who clearly hadn’t been affected and you couldn’t help but shudder when Eraser Head’s glare settled over you and he asked a question with two clipped words: “What. Happened.” 

It didn’t take much for Nedzu to piece everything together, which was how you found yourself sitting outside his office for the first time ever. After helping to shepherd some of the disoriented underclassmen to Recovery Girl’s office, you had been informed that Nedzu wanted to speak to you in his office. Since then, you had sat patiently and watched everyone else involved trickle in and give their account of the events that had unfolded, while you twiddled your thumbs. 

The door swung open and you straightened up immediately, only to find it was just Nejire leaving. The two of you made eye contact and she gave you a small somewhat encouraging smile. Then, right as even more dread settled into your stomach, Nedzu finally called out your name.

You walked into his office to find the head of your university sitting with his hands folded atop his desk. He smiled up at you pleasantly like you weren’t there for the scolding of a lifetime. 

He gestured toward an empty chair. “Please, take a seat.”

And if getting scolded by the head of your university wasn’t bad enough, Aizawa and Recovery Girl were also present, standing on either side of the rat’s desk. Worst of all, sitting in the only other available chair was…of course…Amajiki. 

“So,” the rat said, still smiling up at you. “I have a theory, but I need your help to prove it.”

“Okay,” you said, bracing yourself.

“I’ve been informed that you volunteered to make healing cookies for the two first-year cohorts. I trust that is accurate?”

A quick nod. “Yes.”

“I thought so. Given this isn’t your first time doing so, especially for 1-A,  I would like to know if anything out of the ordinary happened earlier when you were preparing these.” He raised a plate with a couple of cookies left over. 

At present, they looked like leftover evidence of a crime. 

“I—” Your immediate instinct was to say no, but that wasn’t true. Amajiki had been there, and when his hand had grazed yours…it set off something in you. Your eyes drifted over to Amajiki. Why did he, of all people, have to be here? You were in enough trouble as it was. You didn’t want him to witness the height of your folly. But the last thing you needed was to dig the hole you were in even deeper by refusing to answer the rat’s questions. “There was…a brief interruption.”

“Oh? By what?”

“Me,” Amajiki said, cutting in.

“I see. Go on.”

“It wasn’t very long!” You were quick to add. The last thing you wanted was for him to be blamed over something that was entirely your fault. “He stopped by to gift me a lovely blue apron, and then he helped me roll the cookies into ovals. That was all.”

The rat nodded, but said nothing, his silence meant to encourage either of you to continue.

“I left when Mirio showed up,” Amajiki added. 

“Yeah, that was pretty much everything.” You could feel the blush starting to form on your cheeks.

“Pretty much?” the rat tilted his head. “Did anything else happen?”

“I—well—sort of,” you started to say, the words on the tip of your tongue. How were you supposed to explain it? After all, this wasn’t a sleepover between besties, meant to trade secrets and confessions. You were being interrogated by the head of your university! Along with one of your favorite professors! And your mentor! The last thing you wanted was to tell any of them about the dazzling sort of effect the man sitting just a foot away stirred up in you. 

But Amajiki spoke up first, sparing you for a moment more. “Our hands touched.”

At this detail, Eraser Head raised an eyebrow, as if to silently judge that such a trivial detail didn’t matter. 

That rat, on the other hand, seemed delighted. “Really? Did anything happen? What did it feel like? Any sort of spark?”

Now it really was starting to sound like Nedzu really was trying to swap confessions like a couple of besties. 

You looked at Amajiki, hoping to hear his answer, too. You knew what you had felt. But what if it had been entirely one-sided? Now was as good a time as any to hear what feelings, if any, the hand touch has sparked in him.

His face burned a bright red as he looked down, eyes fixed on the floor. “It, uh, felt nice, I guess.”

You tried to hide the tiny prick of disappointment. Was that all? Maybe it had been one-sided. Maybe the fluttery sort of feeling had been entirely the product of your rose-tinted imagination. 

The rat’s attention drifted to you. “Do you agree? What else can you tell me? Anything at all.”

You cleared your throat, gathering your composure. “I couldn’t focus after.”

“Please elaborate.”

“My mind…it kept wandering when I was finishing up the cookies.”

“Wandering to what, dear?” Recovery Girl asked, taking a tiny step forward. “What were you thinking of?”

You grimaced. Telling Recovery Girl was the least embarrassing of the options, but it wasn’t like the other three men in the room wouldn’t overhear everything. “Do I really have to say?”

Aizawa joined her in ending his time as a silent observer, cutting in to answer. “Your quirk involves your thoughts. It’s a logical question.”

“Okay, well,” Eyes locked on the floor, you started to explain with all the enthusiasm of getting your teeth pulled. “I was thinking about how…I’m in my third year at UA and…and so is my crush…which means we don’t have a lot of time left together here.” Face burning, you fought against every self-preservation instinct you had, ignored the voice in your head telling you to run, and forced yourself to turn your head so as to look straight at Amajiki when you said this next part. “So I need to tell him how I feel about him.”

Silence. 

None of the three UA officials knew how to respond to that. Worst of all was the silence coming from Amajiki. In the immediate aftermath of your confession, he stared back at you, mouth agape, the look on his face betraying his disbelief. 

But then he blinked himself back to life, rose dusting his cheeks, and his mouth softened into a smile. “You’re…sure? That you, uh, have feelings for…” He pointed at himself.

You nodded rapidly. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“I do too.” He stumbled over his own words. “For you! That is.” He grimaced a little but you found it so wonderfully endearing.

“You’re sure?” you asked, your voice a little higher than usual.

“I’m sure.”

“Interesting.” The rat said, reminding you that you weren’t alone. “I need the two of you to hold hands.”

Both you and Amajiki whipped your heads towards him, incredulous at what Nedzu was suggesting. That last thing you expected was for the rat to play matchmaker. 

“Oh, silly me,” Nedzu laughed. “It’s to test out my theory.”

“Oh, um, okay,” you said. 

Amajiki reached out tentatively and your hand found his. 

And it happened all over again. 

First that glittery, twinkly feeling—both soothing and thrilling, comfort mixing with chaos. And then the warmth. The same wondrous warmth that bloomed in your chest when your crush walked into the room, rapid and uplifting and all-consuming. 

You dared yourself to look up and found Amajiki looking back. For the first time, his gaze didn’t waver. Instead, you watched relief and joy dance in his dark indigo eyes, and you lingered long enough to study the curve of his long lashes.

Neither of you let go, instead, staring at each other, caught in a blissful haze…

Until the rat cleared his throat. “You may let go now.”

“Right. Sorry,” Amajiki said, looking at the floor, his face a burning red. 

“It’s okay.” You glanced down at your hand and there it was clear as day, the same iridescent shimmer from last time, except this time it was covering your entire palm. 

Nedzu opened a drawer and pulled out a granola bar. “Now for the second part of the experiment.” He held out the granola bar. “Command me to do something. Make me believe it’s what I want.”

“But sir, that’s not how my quirk works.”

“Humor me. Won’t you?”

“Oh…alright.” You reached for the granola bar and activated your quirk, tiny iridescent sparks falling from your fingertips, a bit brighter than usual. 

“Don’t say it out loud," he added quickly. “I don’t want to know what it is beforehand.”

You nodded before you looked around the office for inspiration. At the sight of your former professor, you came up with an idea. You want Eraser Head to be the head of this university. Make it so.

A moment later, you shut off your quirk and offered the granola bar back to Nedzu. “It won’t be very strong,” you said, sounding apologetic, “since I didn’t make the food myself.”

“I’m counting on that,” the rat said before taking a bite. He swallowed, and a few seconds later, an iridescent shimmer crossed over his eyes, covering the entirety of his irises. He looked over at Aizawa. With a smile, he said, “You know, Eraser Head, you’d make a good university head, don’t you think?”

Aizawa quirked an eyebrow at Nedzu before shifting his gaze to you. “Uh, no?”

The rat then shook his head and blinked away the shimmer, his eyes returning to normal. “Fascinating. It seems my theory was correct.”

“Which was?”

“You two have a type of bond. I’ve heard it called many things—chemistry, alignment, soulmates—the exact name doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, for reasons science cannot explain yet, sometimes that bond can result in boosting one another’s quirks. Depending on the nature of the bond, the boost may be reciprocal, or it may not. But in this case, excuse me for being blunt, her feelings for Amajiki manifest every time they touch, and as a result, her quirk was boosted.”

“Boosted how?”

“Your quirk can plant thoughts into people’s minds, yes? Normally, it would just be a fleeting thought, but with this boost, your quirk can make people genuinely believe whatever you say.”

“Like brainwashing?” you asked, horrified, looking at your own hands. After all, you had a healing quirk! Was your quirk really capable of such a dreadful thing?

“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful? Think of the applications!” The rat’s laugh became a full-on cackle, but after a few seconds, he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “My point is that boost is what caused today’s…situation.”

You stood up. “Oh! The first-years! How are they? Did anyone get hurt? Oh, they must hate me, don’t they?”

Recovery Girl smiled. She had all the wisdom (and patience) of someone who was very used to quirks going wrong. “The first-year students are fine, dear. I doubt they’re upset with you.”

You would bake them something new, lots of things—no quirk enhancements this time—as a part of your apology.

“If they are upset, you could just feed them more food and convince them they aren’t,” Nedzu chimed in. 

You stared at him, mouth agape, expecting him to throw in a Just kidding. 

None came.

Eraser Head cleared his throat. “You can go on an apology tour later.”

“So,” you dreaded having to ask this next part. “Am I in trouble?”

“Nope! It was an honest mistake.” Nedzu glanced at the time. “By now, Cementos should be done repairing the damage done during the incident. The only person who got hurt was Mirio, and he found it more amusing than anything.”

You made yourself a mental note to apologize to Mirio, too, and make him something extra.

Eraser Head looked at you in that fatherly way of his. “Just take this as a learning moment. No more getting distracted when you make quirk-enhanced food, alright?” 

You nodded quickly. “Alright.” You glanced over at Amajiki and started to feel fidgety. “Was that all?”

“That was all!” Nedzu chirped. 

“Bye, dear,” Recovery Girl said.

Then Eraser Head waved you off. “Get out of here.”

You scurried out of the office, and Amajiki followed a half-step behind, the door clicking shut and muffling the voices of the two pro heroes still in Nedzu’s office. You and Amajiki made your way down the hall, and at the first sign that the two of you were truly alone and out of anyone’s earshot, you stopped and spun around to speak with him. 

It must’ve been too rapid a change because Amajiki almost bumped into you at your sudden stop. He was quick to apologize. “S-sorry.”

“No need,” you said with a smile, resting your hand on his jacket sleeve now that he was standing so very close to you.  

A fluttering, giddy sensation was bubbling in your chest threatening to spill over if you didn’t acknowledge his confession inside Nedzu’s office.

Amajiki had feelings for you! Perhaps the hints and signs had been there before—the way he went out of his way to speak to you, to cook alongside you, to be particularly kind and attentive—but to have him confirm it, in front of UA staff too, that made it something solid.  You now had witnesses that this was more than just a rosy daydream you’d tuck into the corner of your mind to secretly revisit and replay. 

This was real!

But before you could bask in the adulterated joy of his confession, there was something you had to do first because Amajiki was the person who had been the most affected by your quirk’s boost.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” you started. “I’m sorry about today’s events…I had no idea my quirk was capable of such chaos. I should’ve been more careful.” You bowed your head. “It won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright,” he said and he dipped down slightly to catch your eyes. The look on his face was so very gentle and earnest. “It was worth it. Now I don’t have to…guess how you feel about me.”  A flush crept up his neck, coloring his cheeks, as he stammered out his next thought, nerves finally catching up to him. His fingers twitched as he gathered his courage and then reached for your hand. “I—I do have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“You’re finally dating? It took ya long enough!” Mirio said, bright eyes sparkling with amusement. “I thought he’d never ask!”

“Your matching aprons are so cute!” Nejire commented, head resting in her hands as she leaned on the kitchen counter. “He bought his when he bought yours! Did you know that?”

“I did not,” you said with a smile as you glanced over at Tamaki, your sweet and thoughtful boyfriend, who was trying very hard to ignore both of his friends while he cut the matcha brownies into squares. 

“Oh yeah, he’s had a HUGE crush on you since our first year,” Nejire added and then leaned closer. “Want to know all the stuff he’d say?”

“Nejire,” Tamaki, finally spoke up, the warning tone in his voice telling his friend to drop it.

“Absolutely, I’d be delighted to hear all of it,” you poured fudge brownie batter into a baking pan lined with parchment paper. “Once I’m done with all of this,” you gestured to the several baking projects you currently had in the works.

Your eyes scanned the selection of confections you’d already made—the matcha brownies Tamaki was cutting, plus cheese tarts, miso butter cookies, and several flavors of macarons—to name a few. But would they be enough? 

As if reading your mind, Tamaki said your name in the softest voice he could muster. “Hey, you’ve made plenty.” He searched your eyes. “No one is actually mad at you, okay?” Then he looked up at his friends. “Right?”

“Not at all!” Nejire assured you.

Mirio picked up one of the finished desserts, a mini Hokkaido baked cheese tart, and plopped it into his mouth, and before he was done chewing, he said, “Even if they were, they’d for sure forgive you after a bite of these.”

“Okay, we need to focus,” Tamaki said, shooing his friends away.

Mirio laughed, and lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! We’ll stop distracting you. Call us when the banquet’s ready!”

“We’ll be waiting!” Nejire added as they both turned to leave.

The door slid shut, a peaceful quiet settling over the kitchen. 

You slid the baking pan into the first oven, the heat blooming warmly against your face. Beside you, Tamaki set a timer with careful precision. Then you sidestepped to where another bowl waited, half-finished, and began stirring again.

Tamaki followed you, asking over your shoulder. “Is that the one Mirio requested?”

“Mhmm,” you sighed. “But I can’t quite get the filling right.”

“What have you tried?”

You started to list the experiments that hadn’t worked and why exactly they had failed—too heavy, too dull, wrong texture. All the while, Tamaki listened with complete attention, nodding along, never interrupting, eyes soft and focused on you like this was the most fascinating problem in the world. 

When you finally paused, he said, “That makes sense. It’s delicate.”

“Would you like to try it?” you asked.

“I’d love to.”

You lifted a spoon up to your boyfriend’s lips and he leaned in, smiling as he tasted it. “It’s wonderful.”

You scrunched your nose at him. “You say that about everything I feed you.” You tried it yourself, humming thoughtfully. “Hmm, I think it might need more sugar?”

He hesitated, and you felt it before you saw it, the way his gaze dipped down, just briefly, to your lips. 

“You have a little…” He gestured to your mouth.

“Oh!” You searched around for a napkin, eyes quickly scanning over the counter.

“I’ve got it,” Tamaki said, taking a step toward you. 

The kitchen felt smaller then. The hum of the ovens. The warm air. Tamaki standing so very close to you. Holding a napkin, he lifted his hand, stopping just short of your bottom lip. He lingered there for a moment, ears turning pink as another thought crossed his mind.  

“M-maybe I should…taste it again?” he asked, setting the napkin back on the counter, his eyes still on your mouth. “T-the filling.”

You blinked, then caught on. 

With a small smile, you said softly, “By all means,” and tilted your head up towards him. 

His throat bobbed as he gulped, gathering his courage. He took a breath, steadying himself, then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for the first time, ever so sweet and gentle, and you sighed into him, a twinkly sort of feeling fluttering through you, rich and warm like freshly baked bread.

After a wondrous moment, he pulled back, eyes dazed, ears burning, and concluded shyly, “Tastes sweet enough to me.”

You looked up at him starry-eyed. Thoughts of sweets and deadlines and banquets drifted away, suddenly unimportant. 

Instead, a little breathless, you replied with, “You should kiss me more often.”

“Y-yeah?” Tamaki asked, searching your face for certainty.

You nodded quickly, cheeks warm, and your gaze dropped, very deliberately, back to his lips.

Before either of you could act on it, a timer went off, and you both jumped. 

“Oh!” you laughed, smoothing your apron. “Right. The banquet.”

Smiling, Tamaki slipped on an oven mitt to pull the poppy seed scones from the second oven. He set them down gently, steam curling into the air.

“Let’s finish up here.” He said, and, then, having built up a little more confidence, he leaned down just enough to brush a kiss against your cheek and murmured, “Then…I’ll kiss you as much as you’d like.”