The flyer for next Sunday's UA Celebration Party had officially become legendary.
One copy hung askew on the bulletin board, surrounded by glitter stickers Toga added in stealth-mode. Another had mysteriously ended up on the inside of Denki's closet door. And Mina?
She practically inhaled the announcement and exploded with joy.
Mina found Kirishima mid-dumbbell rep, drenched in post-training sweat, headband barely holding back his adrenaline aura. She skidded into the room like someone being chased by destiny.
"KIRI!!!" she yelled, arms out dramatically.
He flinched, dropping a dumbbell with a loud thud. "Whoa—what's wrong?! Did someone steal your sparkle polish?!"
"Nothing's wrong," she gasped. "EVERYTHING'S PERFECT. Because—PARTY. NEXT. SUNDAY."
His brows lifted.
Then dropped.
"…Ah."
Mina lunged toward him with faux desperation.
"Please be my dance partner! You're rhythmically superior and emotionally stable and you lift me like I weigh six sparkles!"
Kirishima grinned. "Babe, I was gonna ask you myself!"
She squealed, leapt into his arms, and planted a kiss on his cheek like she hadn't seen him in months.
—————
Meanwhile, in the lounge corner, Denki sat curled in his hoodie—hands deep in pockets, legs stretched out, fake-smile already activated like muscle memory.
He stared at the flyer on the coffee table.
People.
Noise.
Eyes.
He loved parties.
But hated the spotlight.
Because ever since the accident, the whispers lingered louder than the laughs.
And keeping his mask up for that long?
It felt like voltage holding against floodgates.
Jiro padded into the lounge, sleeves half-swallowed by her favorite oversized Pikachew hoodie—Denki's hoodie, technically.
She noticed his stare.
The flicker behind his smile.
And without fanfare, sat beside him, nudged his arm softly.
"So… party's next week."
Denki nodded. "Yup. Totally ready to embarrass myself in a dance battle."
She chuckled. "You don't have to perform, you just have to show up."
He smirked. "Same thing."
A pause.
Then—
"So," she said casually, "be my dance partner?"
Denki blinked.
Eyebrows lifted.
Heart jumped.
He almost deflected—almost joked it away.
But then saw her. Soft smile. No pressure. Just warmth.
And something inside him flickered brighter.
He nodded slowly. "Only if I get to spin you dramatically at least once."
Jiro grinned. "Deal. But no spark-shorts mid-dip."
Denki raised a hand solemnly. "Voltage promise."
—————
Bakugo, over in the corner, eyed the flyer with a scowl.
"Extra's playground," he muttered.
Aleasha peeked over her book. "You don't want to go?"
Bakugo clicked his tongue. "Sounds like a waste of oxygen."
She didn't reply.
Just glanced at the flyer again.
Bakugo hesitated.
Because he knew what came next.
He'd go.
He always did.
Not for the crowd.
For his people.
And deep down?
He kinda liked it.
Even if he'd die before saying that out loud.
—————
The apartment was quiet.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft stripes, casting warm shadows across the floor. Aizawa sat on the couch, legs stretched out, a mug of lukewarm coffee in one hand and a stack of grading papers in the other.
Across from him, Eri sat cross-legged on the carpet, coloring a picture of a unicorn wearing a UA hoodie. Her tongue poked out slightly in concentration.
Then—
She looked up.
"Daddy?"
Aizawa blinked, not looking away from the paper. "Hmm?"
"Who are you going with?"
He paused.
Lowered the mug.
Raised an eyebrow.
"…Going where?"
Eri tilted her head like he was being deliberately dense. "To the party!"
Aizawa blinked again. "What party?"
Eri rolled her eyes with the dramatic flair of someone who'd been hanging around Mina too much. "The UA party next Sunday! Dancing and games and quirk battles and snacks and sparkles and—"
Aizawa groaned. "Right. That thing."
Eri nodded, eyes wide. "So? Who are you going with?"
He smirked, dry and amused. "You."
Eri frowned instantly. "No, Daddy. I'm going with Kota."
Aizawa's smile faltered. "Kota?"
Eri nodded proudly. "He said he'd hold my juice and not let me trip during dancing. He's my bro."
Aizawa blinked. "I thought I was your bro."
Eri patted his knee. "You're my dad. Different category."
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Then—
She tilted her head again, eyes gleaming with innocent mischief.
"You should go with Emi."
Aizawa froze.
Flushed.
Visibly.
Like someone had just activated a quirk that turned his blood into lava.
"…No."
Eri blinked. "Why not?"
Aizawa rubbed his temple. "Because—no. Just—no."
Eri squinted. "You smiled when she brought you coffee last week."
Aizawa groaned. "That's not a reason."
Eri grinned. "You blushed when she called you 'Zawa-kun.'"
Aizawa buried his face in his hands. "I'm cancelling the party."
Eri giggled. "You can't. It's already canon."
Aizawa had faced villains.
He'd faced Nomu.
He'd faced sleep deprivation, paperwork avalanches, and Denki's accidental hallway explosions.
But this?
This was worse.
Eri, sitting cross-legged with glitter pens and emotional precision, had just said the one thing that made his blood run cold.
"You should go with Emi." She repeats, her big eyes sparkling.
Aizawa blinked.
Paused.
Then muttered, voice low and dry:
"Anyone but her."
Eri tilted her head. "Why not?"
He rubbed his temple like he could erase the memory of Emi's last visit—her loud laugh, her dramatic hair flip, the way she called him Zawa-kun like they were in a romcom he never auditioned for.
"She's… chaotic."
Eri grinned. "She's funny."
Aizawa groaned. "She's terrifying."
Eri blinked. "You're not scared of anything."Aizawa stared at her. She stared back. Then—softly, with the kind of innocent wisdom only Eri could wield— "You're scared of her. Not even Nomu made you blush."
Aizawa's eye twitched.
"I didn't blush."
Eri held up her drawing. It was a unicorn. Wearing a scarf and hoodie. Blushing.
"This is you."
Aizawa sighed. "I'm cancelling the party."
Eri giggled. "You already said that. Twice."
He slumped back into the couch, defeated by a six-year-old with emotional x-ray vision.
Eri crawled up beside him, curling into his side. "But I like her."
Aizawa glanced down. "You do?"
Eri nodded. "She makes you smile. Even when you pretend you don't."
He didn't respond.
Because no matter how cute Eri was…
No matter how much he trusted her judgment…
No matter how much he might secretly enjoy Emi's chaos…
He was not ready.
Not for dancing.
Not for flirting.
Not for Zawa-kun echoing across the common room.
—————
The wind rustled through the trees like it was eavesdropping.
Darkcreasa walked with purpose, boots crunching against the gravel path, her hands tucked into her coat pockets like she was trying to hide the nerves crawling up her spine.
She found them exactly where she expected—Shigaraki, Dabi, and Toga—lounging beneath their tree like it was a villain-exclusive clubhouse.
Shigaraki was half-asleep against the trunk, hoodie pulled low. Dabi was tossing pebbles at a leaf target like he was training for a passive-aggressive Olympics. Toga was upside down on a branch, humming a tune she probably made up on the spot.
Darkcreasa cleared her throat.
"There's a party next week."
Three heads turned.
Toga flipped upright instantly. "A party?! With dancing and sparkles and snacks and emotional chaos?!"
Darkcreasa nodded. "UA-sanctioned. Class A's hosting. Everyone's invited."
Dabi raised an eyebrow. "Even us?"
Shigaraki blinked. "They want me to dance?"
Toga grinned. "They want you to feel, Shiggy-kun."
Darkcreasa rolled her eyes. "Anyway. There's dancing. Partner dancing."
A pause.
Then—
Dabi groaned. "We didn't make friends with any of the Class A girls."
Shigaraki muttered. "They all flinch when I walk past."
Toga shrugged. "I didn't flirt with any of the boys. Too much hair gel and not enough emotional depth."
Darkcreasa sighed. "So we only have each other."
Toga's eyes lit up. "Ooooh. So it's a villain pairing showdown!"
Darkcreasa's stomach dropped.
That meant her partner would be… Shigaraki or Dabi.
And suddenly?
Her boots felt heavier.
Toga noticed instantly. Her grin turned smug. "You're nervous."
Darkcreasa glared. "I'm not."
"You SO are."
"I'm just… being strategic."
Toga twirled a ribbon around her finger. "You want me to pick first?"
Darkcreasa nodded. "Yes."
Toga smirked. "Nope."
Darkcreasa blinked. "Why not?"
Toga leaned in, eyes glinting. "Because watching you squirm is so much fun."
Dabi chuckled. "This is better than popcorn."
Shigaraki, now fully awake, tilted his head. "You're really nervous."
Darkcreasa crossed her arms. "I'm not nervous. I just don't want to make things weird."
Toga gasped. "You think it'll be weird because you like one of them!"
Darkcreasa flushed instantly.
Dabi sat up straighter.
Shigaraki blinked rapidly.
Toga squealed. "This is the best day of my life."
Darkcreasa groaned. "I'm going to dance with a tree instead."
Shigaraki muttered, "I'm better than a tree."
Dabi smirked. "Debatable."The air was thick with tension.
Not the explosive kind.
Not the quirk-fueled kind.
The emotional kind—the kind that made even hardened villains shift uncomfortably on tree branches.
Darkcreasa stood with her arms crossed, face flushed, voice tight.
"Toga. Please. Just pick first."
Toga grinned. "Nope."
"I'm begging you."
"Still nope."
"I'll give you my extra eyeliner."
"Tempting. Still nope."
"I'll let you borrow my boots."
"Cute. Still nope."
Darkcreasa groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "Why are you like this?"
Toga twirled a ribbon around her wrist. "Because watching you panic is better than dessert."
Dabi chuckled from his perch. "I second that. Honestly, I'd be flattered if you picked me… but watching you squirm is way more fun."
Shigaraki, quiet until now, shifted slightly.
His voice was low.
Barely audible.
Like he hadn't meant to say it out loud.
"I… kinda hope it's me."
Darkcreasa froze.
The words hit harder than any quirk blast.
Not because they were loud—
But because they were real.
Toga gasped. "SHIGGY-KUN!"
Dabi blinked. "Wait, you want it to be you?"
Shigaraki shrugged, hoodie pulled low, eyes flickering with something raw.
"I don't know. She's calm. I like that."
Darkcreasa's heart stuttered.
Something fluttered.
Something traitorous.
Something she didn't give permission to feel.
She turned away, cheeks burning, voice tight.
"I'm drawing a name."
Toga squealed. "YES. FATE DECIDES!"
Darkcreasa pulled a scrap of paper from her coat pocket, hands trembling more than she wanted to admit.
She scribbled two names—Dabi and Shigaraki—folded them with precision, and dropped them into her empty tea tin.
She shook it.
Hard.
Like she could rattle the nerves out of her bones.
Dabi leaned in. "This is better than any quirk battle."
Shigaraki watched silently, fingers twitching against his sleeve, eyes locked on the tin like it held the answer to something he hadn't dared hope for.
Toga bounced. "DRAW! DRAW! DRAW!"
Darkcreasa reached in.
Her hand hovered.
The tin felt heavier than it should.
She closed her eyes.
Pulled one.
Unfolded it.
Paused.
Her breath caught.
Her fingers clenched.
Her eyes widened.
And then—
She didn't speak.
She just looked up.
And whatever name was written there?
It changed everything.