Chapter Text
The bell's shrill ring echoed through U.A.'s third-year corridor, and you were already there—planted outside Class 3-A's door like a sentinel. Your heart hammered against your ribs, and you could feel your hair beginning to shift with nervous energy, the strands lifting slightly at your shoulders. Calm down, you told yourself, pressing your business card between your thumb and forefinger until the edges left small indents in your skin.
The door slid open with a metallic whoosh, and the familiar chaos of Hero Course students spilled into the hallway. Laughter, the shuffle of feet, the crinkle of snack wrappers—
There. Red spiky hair, that unmistakable sharp-toothed grin.
You stepped directly into their path.
"Why the fuck are you blocking our way?" The blonde one—Bakugo—stopped short, his red eyes narrowing with immediate suspicion.
The yellow-haired one—Kaminari—leaned around him with an easy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Maybe another love confession? No wonder, it's already almost graduation time."
You watched Bakugo physically flinch, his shoulders going rigid before he actually shifted behind Kirishima's broader frame. The move was so quick, so instinctive, that you almost felt bad for him. You'd heard the rumors about the swarms of admirers after the war.
"Red Riot?" You focused on the redhead, keeping your voice steady and professional despite the way your hair was probably giving away every anxious thought. "You don't know me, but I really need to talk to you—in private, if possible?"
Kirishima blinked, and a faint pink dusted across his cheeks. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck. "Uhm? What's this about?"
"So this IS a love confession!" Kaminari's grin widened as he elbowed Kirishima in the ribs. "But for Kiri! Who would have known? I'm jealous, bro—she's cute."
Heat flooded your face instantly, and you felt several strands of your hair curl forward defensively. But you forced yourself back into business mode, squaring your shoulders. "Would you mind sparing some time right now? We could have lunch together and I'll explain everything."
Kirishima glanced at his friends, then back at you, clearly uncertain. Kaminari, however, was already pushing him forward with an exaggerated wink. "Go on, man! Don't keep the lady waiting!"
"Fine, fine," Kirishima laughed, waving off his pestering friend. "Lead the way."
The hallway smelled like floor polish and the faint lingering scent of Bakugo's quirk—burnt caramel and nitroglycerin, sharp in your nose even after he'd stormed ahead with Kaminari trailing behind, still teasing.
Kirishima walked beside you with an easy, loose-limbed gait. He was taller than you'd expected up close, and there was something genuinely warm about his presence, like standing near a space heater.
"Hey."
The familiar voice made you turn. Monoma approached from a side corridor, his blonde hair perfectly styled as always, his grey-blue eyes sharp with curiosity beneath those distinctive eyelashes. He looked polished as usual—like he'd stepped out of a magazine spread even in his school uniform.
"Monoma-kun," you greeted, feeling your hair shift slightly with the surprise of running into him here.
His gaze flicked between you and Kirishima, and his expression shifted to genuine confusion. "What are you doing with Red Riot?"
There was something pointed in the way he said it—not hostile, but definitely skeptical. You knew Monoma and Kirishima had trained together, fought alongside each other during joint exercises, but they'd never exactly been friends. Class A and Class B rivalry ran deep, even in third year.
"Just business," you explained quickly, not wanting to get into details in the middle of the hallway.
Monoma studied you for a moment longer, then seemed to accept it. He turned to Kirishima, and despite the underlying competitive tension, his voice carried a note of something almost like approval. "Don't worry, you're in good hands."
There was unmistakable pride in his tone—like he was personally vouching for your abilities. It made sense, considering what you'd done for him over the past few months. When the Business Course had assigned you to shadow a Hero Course student for a management project at the beginning of the school year, you'd expected it to be difficult working with Monoma's reputation. Instead, you'd found someone who was surprisingly professional and genuinely appreciated competence.
You'd boosted his social media presence from barely 200 followers to over 100,000. You'd helped him design his professional hero costume for post-graduation, convincing him to lean into a more flamboyant, eccentric style that would make him stand out. He'd been skeptical at first, but when he saw the mock-ups and the projected public response, he'd been sold.
The project had ended weeks ago, but somehow you'd stayed friends. He was good company when he wasn't being theatrical, and you understood each other's ambitions.
Kirishima blinked, clearly not understanding the context, but nodded anyway. "Uh, thanks?"
You gave Monoma an apologetic smile. "I'll explain later?"
His grey-blue eyes held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded slowly. "Of course." His tone was perfectly professional, but you caught the curiosity beneath it. He wanted to know what you were doing with a Class A student, especially one he'd traded blows with in the past.
As he walked away, you couldn't help but notice the slight stiffness in his shoulders. Monoma might be okay with it, but he definitely had questions.
The cafeteria hummed with the usual lunchtime chaos—overlapping conversations, the clatter of trays, Lunch Rush's cheerful shouts from the kitchen. The smell of curry and fresh rice made your stomach growl, reminding you that you'd been too nervous to eat breakfast.
You and Kirishima had grabbed simple onigiri—easy to eat, easy to hold—and found a corner table far from the main crowd. The bench was cold through your skirt, smooth plastic against your legs.
You took a breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached into your blazer pocket. "I should properly introduce myself first."
Your hair was already starting to lift with nervous energy as you pulled out your business card, the crisp cardstock catching slightly on the fabric lining. Several strands of hair curled forward, as if trying to hide what you were doing, and you had to brush them back with your free hand before extending the card to Kirishima.
"I'm from Class 3-J, Business Course," you said, watching him take the card carefully between his fingers. Your name was printed in clean, professional font, along with your contact information and a subtle logo you'd designed yourself. "I'm currently job hunting, and I was hoping you might be able to help me with something."
Kirishima studied the card for a moment, then looked up at you. His entire posture relaxed, shoulders dropping as he let out a visible breath of relief. "Oh, thank god—not a confession then?" A sheepish grin spread across his face. "Sorry, that sounds bad, but after Kaminari said that thing in the hallway..."
Despite everything, you felt a small laugh bubble up. "No, nothing like that. But..." You reached across the table and grabbed his hands before you could lose your nerve.
His palms were rough—really rough—callused and warm, the texture of his hardening quirk evident even when he wasn't activating it. You felt him stiffen in surprise, saw the red creep back up his neck, confusion replacing his relief.
"You're the only one who can help me!" The words tumbled out in a rush. "Please keep what I'm telling you to yourself."
Kirishima nodded slowly, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. "Okay... yeah, of course."
"You see..." You took a breath, the scent of soy sauce and seaweed grounding you. "I sent my resume to Fatgum's agency. Weeks ago. But I never heard back." The confession came faster now, your hair probably doing embarrassing things you couldn't control. "I've been trying to get work experience there before graduation. And maybe I'd like to work there permanently afterward. I mean, technically I could work anywhere—I'm pretty good at what I do. But you and Fatgum, you're both really nice and cool and—"
Your voice dropped to barely above a whisper, face burning.
"There's another highly unprofessional reason why I want to work there."
The admission stuck in your throat like cotton. You could feel every strand of your hair curling inward, trying to hide your face from view as the words came out mouse-quiet:
"I'm sorry, I—what I'm trying to say is—I have a terrible crush on Suneater. Tamaki Amajiki." His name felt precious on your tongue, like something fragile. "He's so cute and shy and—I thought I could forget about him after he graduated, but I'm completely hung up on him. When I was a first year, I tried to confess several times. He always ran away and hid."
You forced yourself to meet Kirishima's eyes, even though your hair was probably a disaster.
"It was frustrating. But I thought—maybe if we worked together, in close proximity, he'd open up to me. Maybe I could finally convey my feelings properly. I know it's unprofessional and probably stupid but—"
"That's such a cute, romantic idea!" Kirishima's laugh was warm and genuine, and were those tears in his eyes? "Yeah, it can be pretty difficult to approach Tamaki-senpai. But he's a really good guy, I promise."
Hope bloomed in your chest like something physical, making your heart race. "So... could you push my application? Would you really do that for me?"
"Yeah, of course! That's super manly of you, being so determined!" His grin was incandescent, and he gave your hands an encouraging squeeze. "I'll talk to Fatgum-san today."
Relief crashed over you like a wave, and your hair finally settled, draping normally around your shoulders as the tension bled out.
"Thank you, thank you so much, Kirishima-san!" You could feel the prick of grateful tears at the corners of your eyes. "I really owe you one."
"Nah, don't worry about it!" He released your hands and picked up his onigiri again, that easy smile never leaving his face. "Besides, if you're as good at your job as Monoma said, then Fatgum-san's agency would be lucky to have you."
You ducked your head, a genuine smile tugging at your lips as warmth spread through your chest.
Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.