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The Class 2-A hero course at U.A. was overflowing with loud personalities, which was why silence was never a good sign. Right now, the only sound filling the room was that of pencils scraping against paper, the math exam tormenting the nation’s most promising young heroes for the past fifty-eight minutes. Even the highest achievers of the class stared at the sheets with such intensity that the teacher at the front began to wonder whether it had truly been the right decision to resume normal lessons so soon after the catastrophe caused by Tomura Shigaraki and All For One.
Ectoplasm and the other teachers had debated the matter extensively. Most of their students had endured tremendous trauma, had lost almost an entire year to a war no teenager should have been forced to fight. But life went on, and the time would come when students had to return to the classroom. Despite all the pain they carried, the students refused to wait any longer. They wanted to graduate as soon as possible, to earn their full licenses and work as professional heroes. After much deliberation, they had been given two months to recover enough to return, and classes had resumed.
Now, a few more months have gone by and they were in the final exams of the second trimester, staring down the last calculus test. Not essential for hero work, maybe, but required by the national curriculum all the same.
When the timer finally buzzed at the sixty-minute mark, it felt as though a spell had been broken. Students erupted in exhausted sighs and frustrated groans.
“Pencils down, exams to the front. You’re dismissed—classwork is finished for the day.”
“Ahhhh, finally! I really hope my hard work paid off!”
“Mina-chan, I’m sure it did. Ribbit.”
The girls clustered around Uraraka’s desk, who looked especially distressed over the exam.
“I’m really sorry, guys. Just think of me when you’re all pro heroes, because I don’t think I’m going to make it…”
“Don’t say that, Uraraka!” Hagakure’s invisible hand patted her back. “That exam was awful for everyone. Just look at Iida.”
The class rep, still gathering the exam sheets, moved with even more rigidity than usual.
“I must admit it was difficult for me as well,” Yaoyorozu intervened gently. “We had so little time to study, and with the stress of these last months… I wouldn’t be too hard on myself if I failed.”
The entire class knew that was impossible.
“Hah! Pathetic.”
Bakugo stood with a smile dripping sarcasm.
“You fought for your lives against a bunch of worthless bastards less than a year ago, and now you’re crying over a damn calculus test?”
Izuku, who had been lamenting internally over how difficult the test had felt, lifted his eyes just as Bakugo snatched his paper to take it to the front.
“That’s just like Kacchan…”
The blond ignored the comment, walking forward with the exams clutched in his left hand. There was something almost comical in the way he moved—his right arm completely immobilized, bandages wrapped under his uniform forcing him to take shorter steps. The faint limp was, to Izuku, strangely endearing… but he couldn’t admit that, not when it was the result of wounds that had nearly killed him.
Of everyone in the class, the ones who had suffered the most damage were the two of them and Iida. Their injuries restricted their quirks severely—which, for the teachers, was a blessing, since it forced them to focus on recovery. Aizawa joked that at least their wounds had finally stopped them from stirring up trouble. Still, being forced to halt their progress hit Bakugo and Iida hard. And for Izuku… his situation was worse. Piece by piece, he was losing One For All.
Izuku tried to remind himself that even if his quirk was slipping away, he still had the right to finish school alongside his friends. No matter how bright his smile was during the day, his nights were filled with nightmares and spikes of anxiety over the looming return to “normal”, quirkless life just months away.
“Man, how can you be so calm?!”
Kaminari lunged towards Bakugo, ready to grab him by the shirt in frustration, but stopped himself at the last second, remembering his friend’s injuries. He ended up clutching at the air instead.
“Simple. I’m not an idiot. Now get out of my way—pick shitty-hair up off the floor.”
Izuku followed Bakugo’s line of sight to find Kirishima sprawled dramatically across the ground in exaggerated defeat.
“We’re toast… completely toast…”
“Oi.”
The voice beside his desk made Izuku turn towards the blond.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Ah, yeah, Kacchan!”
Izuku quickly grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders, then reached for Katsuki’s too before following him out of the room.
“See you later, guys!”
“Bye, Midoriya-kun!”
Uraraka sat up, watching her classmates leave the room. Even with the teachers’ attempts to restore a sense of normalcy, it was difficult with the war’s marks etched into her friends. She still wasn’t used to Midoriya’s new haircut, nor to the sight of the usually explosive Bakugo moving slowly, his arm splinted for months, his temper softened by the temporary inability to blow up the hallways. He could still use his other arm, of course—he’d proven an impressively quick learner, turning his left hand dominant in just a couple of weeks. But it seemed the war had tempered more than just his body. He was still rude, still arrogant, still calling everyone by nicknames, yet he was gentler now, less reluctant to let his thoughts show.
It was almost funny, seeing the two of them leave together, both wrapped in oversized scarves that looked strangely alike, bracing themselves against the cold on the way back to the dorms.
Mina leaned over her desk to whisper.
“Hey, hey, those two…”
“Huh? What about them?”
“Don’t you think they’ve been getting closer every day?”
“It wouldn’t be unusual,” Momo replied calmly. “Midoriya has always wanted to stay close to him.”
“But since we came back, Bakugo hasn’t been pushing him away like before!”
“Hmm, I can’t say I’ve been paying that much attention.”
“I know what I’m saying.” Mina puffed with excitement. “There’s something there.”
Uraraka laughed nervously, trying not to draw attention.
Of course there was something there. But it wasn’t her place to uncover it. And besides, remembering it wasn’t pleasant—a broken heart never is.
Before returning to school, Ochako’s heart had broken twice.
Not long after the war, while they were still recovering in the hospital, Ochako had visited Deku to confess her feelings. Despite the tears in both their eyes and the blush staining their cheeks, Izuku had gently turned her down, apologizing for not being able to give her his heart.
Ochako hadn’t asked further, but it was painfully obvious.
Outside the building, Izuku let out a long sigh, trying to shake off the stress that clung to him after the exam. Even with his eyes closed, he could still see letters and numbers drifting in the dark, like echoes of all the equations he’d been forced to solve.
“That was terrifying. I’m so glad it’s over. The teacher didn’t hold back at all when he designed it…”
Katsuki answered with a low grunt of approval. Izuku shifted slightly to the right to look at him from the corner of his eye, and for a full minute he found himself utterly lost in his features. A few years ago, he would have thought this impossible: he and Kacchan, walking side by side in calm harmony, no yelling, no threats, no constant rejection like in those long, bitter years of childhood.
Everything about Katsuki’s presence fascinated him—his heroism, his relentless drive toward victory, the way he never gave up. His intelligence, too, was something Izuku admired with aching reverence: not only a fearsome fighter but a brilliant strategist. Of course he’d torn through the exam without breaking a sweat.
And then there was his beauty. To Izuku, Katsuki was dazzling. Every part of him radiated strength and light, and even in recovery there was always something captivating: the sweep of his lashes, the sharp bridge of his nose, the softness of his lips, or the clean, honest line of his jaw.
“Kacchan, you’re incredible… With so little time to study, you still conquered that exam.”
Katsuki glanced to his left, not fully turning, and their eyes met for the briefest moment. Izuku could see a thought flicker across his gaze. Then, suddenly, Katsuki smirked and stuck out his tongue.
“Bullshit. That exam wrecked me. But no way was I gonna sink to the same level as those extras.”
Izuku stopped dead in his tracks.
“Eh?”
“You really think, in this wrecked state, I’ve got time to study calculus? If Yaoyorozu couldn’t pull it off with her giant brain and perfect condition, how the hell would I? Idiot.”
Despite the insult, Katsuki was still smiling.
Warmth swelled in Izuku’s chest, overflowing until it burst out as laughter.
“What the hell are you laughing at, nerd?”
“Kacchan…” He quickened his pace to catch up, laughter spilling out of him. “You’re so mean! They were already devastated about failing, and hearing you sound so confident just crushed them even more!”
“I never said I did well.”
It was so undeniably true that Izuku broke into laughter all over again. And there, beside him, Katsuki couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips as he discreetly brushed his left fingers against Izuku’s.
The green-haired boy caught the hint, laced their hands together, and they walked on, side by side, toward their destination.
Izuku had discovered a clearing in the little grove within U.A.’s grounds that he adored. It was ringed by trees—not too tall, not too small—wild grass that never grew too high, and a cluster of rocks where they could sit or lie back to watch the stars. The chill of late year was already in the air, but despite that, they kept seeking out this pocket of quiet under the open sky, where it was just the two of them. Sometimes they talked—about the war, about All Might, about their classmates’ quirks and how they could maximize them. Other times, they just stayed in silence, gazing at the night above. For Izuku, both were precious, because it was Kacchan beside him—no masks, no secrets.
Right now, they sat shoulder to shoulder, hands wrapped around cans of hot coffee fresh from the vending machine. Their breaths fogged faintly in the cold, mingling with the occasional rustle of nocturnal creatures moving through the trees.
Katsuki seemed lost in thought, distant. Izuku didn’t see him like this often—something in his gaze softened, his shoulders sagged. This Kacchan, weary, simple, introspective, was one that only he got to see. He guarded it jealously. He knew Kacchan had other close friends—Kirishima, and strangely enough, in the past few months, Monoma from Class B had become a constant presence too. It made Izuku’s nerves prickle. If he was honest, it made him jealous. Every new person in Katsuki’s life stole away a piece of the time that had always been just theirs. And yes, Izuku had friends of his own—Shoto, Iida, Uraraka—but none of them filled the hollow in his chest the way Kacchan did. Kacchan raging, Kacchan fighting, Kacchan slipping his hand into his when they walked down the hall.
“Kacchan…”
“Mm?”
Oh no. He hadn’t meant to call him, but Katsuki’s name had been singing in his mind, spilling out from his lips before he could stop it.
“Uh, umm… Are you staying in the dorms over the holidays?” Izuku scrambled to cover.
“Nah. The old folks want me home at least for a week. If I were in proper shape, I’d be interning with Best Jeanist already, but when I suggested it, he shut me down hard—threatened to blacklist me if I didn’t finish recovering first.”
“Not surprising,” Izuku said, smiling softly at the pro hero’s stubbornness.
“Honestly, I’d rather stay here at U.A. My parents have this stupidly sappy tradition every Christmas Eve, and they’re unbearable around that time. It’s disgusting.”
“A… tradition?”
Izuku’s cheeks burned just imagining it.
“Yeah. My old man’s a sentimental fool, so my mom crams all of his emotional needs into one night. Sometimes they fill the whole damn house with candles—candles, with our quirks! Can you believe they’re still that gross after almost eighteen years of marriage?”
Katsuki was talking more than usual, and Izuku soaked in every word with quiet joy.
“At my house, nothing like that happens. Mom usually just watches her holiday TV specials that night. If it bothers you that much… what if you spend the 24th with me?”
That was when Katsuki’s eyes snapped to him, and Izuku realized what he had just suggested.
Christmas Eve was the date for couples. Somehow, it had become the tradition—if Valentine’s Day was for confessions, Christmas Eve was the night to show the world you were together. Of course Kacchan’s parents, passionate as they were, would flaunt their love on that day.
Heat spread furiously across Izuku’s face. And unless his eyes were playing tricks, Kacchan’s face was burning just the same.
“Are you serious?”
Izuku had a chance to backpedal. He could laugh it off, say, ‘Yeah, come over, let’s watch TV with Mom or play some games.’ He could insist it wasn’t a date at all, just a refuge from his parents’ theatrics. But… did he really want to?
He loved Katsuki. That was the truth. He hadn’t realized how deep it went until recently. The thought of losing him—of a world without Kacchan—was unbearable. He had been ready to die in battle, until he saw Katsuki rise from the chaos to save All Might. His heart had started beating again that day. And after Katsuki’s raw honesty in the hospital, when he admitted heartbreak over Izuku’s dream of being a hero not coming true, all it did was pull him deeper, past the point of return.
Katsuki didn’t look angry at the suggestion. If anything, there was a flicker in his eyes—like he was caught in the same possibility. But depending on what Izuku said next, everything could change.
Friendship. The word was beautiful, priceless, something Izuku never wanted to lose. But lately, it felt too small for what he felt. His longing only grew, insatiable, with every side of Katsuki he was allowed to see. He wanted more. Always more.
Izuku swallowed hard, gathered every scrap of courage, and said:
“Yes.”
Katsuki blinked, like snapping awake from a dream.
“Kacchan, do you want to spend Christmas Eve with me?”
Now Katsuki’s blush was obvious. Suddenly, he scowled, and Izuku’s heart lurched—was he about to be rejected?
Instead, Katsuki used his good hand to punch him lightly in the arm.
“Damn it, Izuku! Don’t look so fucking nervous.”
Izuku let out a shaky laugh, half in relief, half in joy.
“I will.”
“Huh?!”
Katsuki was staring down at the ground between his boots.
“Let’s go out on Christmas Eve.”
Izuku’s eyes flooded with tears.
“Kacchan!”
“Ahhh, shut the hell up already!”
Katsuki stood and walked a few steps away from the green-haired boy.
“Don’t get so worked up. It’s not a big deal…”
No, Katsuki. It was a big deal.
For Izuku, it was a glimpse of the future—a sign that maybe his feelings weren’t completely rejected.
A date. He had a date with Kacchan. His heart surged with joy, adrenaline coursing through his veins as if he were about to jump into battle. The space Katsuki had put between them felt devastating, but running after him wasn’t the answer. Izuku had learned to respect Katsuki’s boundaries, especially when vulnerability was at stake. Still, if he didn’t move now, his heart might explode. He rose to his feet and followed slowly.
“Kacchan…” His voice was unusually low, an almost superhuman effort to keep it steady.
“What do you want, nerd? I already said yes. You can’t take it back.”
That earned a small laugh from Izuku, who stepped closer and gently tugged at the sleeve of Katsuki’s uniform.
“Kacchan, can I… can I hug you?”
Katsuki turned his sharp gaze on him, calculating. A few seconds later, he reached out with his good hand, gripping Izuku by the nape and pulling him close. Izuku slid his arms carefully around his waist—avoiding the injured arm, mindful of the bandaged torso. That waist felt so slim beneath his hands, it shook Izuku’s very sense of reality. He pressed softly until no space remained between them and sighed, melting into the warmth. Katsuki’s hand relaxed against his shoulders, and Izuku allowed himself to savor it.
Then, a reckless thought came.
“Kacchan, would you… be scared?”
“Scared of what?! There’s nothing you could do that’d scare me.”
Izuku took it as permission. He tightened his hold on Katsuki’s waist—careful of his wounds—and lifted them both off the ground.
Katsuki stiffened instantly, clutching at Izuku’s neck with both arms, good and injured alike. Izuku couldn’t help but laugh softly.
One For All’s gifts were fading, peeling away in the order he’d received them. A few weeks ago, Blackwhip had disappeared—leaving Izuku hollow, lonelier than he could admit. But Nana Shimura’s quirk still lingered, weaker but present.
And Deku, sentimental to his core, couldn’t let go of the dream of flying through the sky with Kacchan. Not when his feelings had just broken free between them. He couldn’t hold back his yearning anymore.
“Damn it, nerd… You’d better not lose this quirk midair and turn us into jam”
Katsuki sounded breathless. From the climb, Izuku thought—though maybe from the closeness too. He kept ascending, clinging tighter to Katsuki, until the sprawl of the city stretched beneath them. The air was sharper up here, colder, but Izuku’s face still burned hot. They wouldn’t stay long. He just needed the distance from the ground, the quiet, for what he had to say.
“Kacchan… There’s something I want to tell you.”
At their closeness, Izuku swore he could feel Katsuki’s heart speed up. He leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. They gleamed, reflecting the streaks of sunset still burning faintly on the horizon. Above them, the sky was dark, but the last warm traces of day lingered far away.
“I want to spend Christmas Eve with you—but not just this one. I want to spend every Christmas Eve with you. Even if I can’t be a hero by your side, even if I can’t catch villains or soar through the sky anymore. I could give up being a hero, I could give up One For All, but I can’t give up on you.”
His heart thundered, wild with fear. He didn’t even care if the quirk failed and dropped them from the sky.
“Kacchan, will you be my boyfriend?”
Katsuki’s eyes widened, lips parting, brows shooting up as if he’d been struck. Then, slowly, the most radiant smile Izuku had ever seen bloomed across his face. His eyes shone, wet with the hint of tears. His cheeks flushed—whether from the cold or from emotion, Izuku couldn’t tell.
“You had to drag us up here just to ask that?!”
But his voice carried none of his usual bite.
“Mhm!! I’m a damn sentimental fool too.”
Katsuki broke into laughter.
“Fine, you idiot, I’ll be your boyfriend! Now get me the he—”
Izuku cut him off with a kiss. Small, tentative, but powerful enough that they both shut their eyes and clung to the moment. Katsuki stared at him afterwards for a beat, as if memorizing his face, then leaned back in to kiss him again.
This time it was longer, deeper. Katsuki’s arms tightened around Izuku’s shoulders—not from fear, not for balance, but from sheer need.
Izuku didn’t know how many kisses or how much time passed before their bodies began drifting down, as if the quirk itself had decided they could finally return to earth. Slowly, without parting completely, the night sounds returned around them: trees stirred by the wind, small creatures rustling through the grove.
Their feet touched the ground gently, and when they finally pulled apart, they couldn’t help laughing again. Their faces were a total mess—eyes puffy from crying, cheeks burned by the wind, lips red and swollen after their midair kissing session.
“You’re such an idiot. What happened to the classic love letter, huh?” Katsuki ruffled his hair with his good hand, mocking him.
“No way. Kacchan deserved the full panoramic view.”
When they returned to the dorms, most of their classmates stared at them.
“Uh, guys… did you fight or something?”
Kirishima looked genuinely worried.
Denki, who was a bit quicker on the uptake, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away.
“You’re hopeless, man!”
Katsuki glared at them all, anger simmering, but his hand stayed firmly, almost gently, linked with Izuku’s. The stares didn’t stop as they crossed the common room towards the elevators, and Izuku started to fold under the attention.
“Kacchan, we don’t have to keep holding hands… you can let go if you want.”
“Shut it. Don’t worry about them.” Katsuki released Izuku’s hand just long enough to flip everyone off and yell, “MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS, LOSERS!”
Then he grabbed Izuku’s hand again, dragging him into the elevator. The doors slid shut just as Izuku buried his burning face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.
Back in the lounge, with a full view of the scene, Mina Ashido practically vibrated.
“Girls… girls… I freakin’ told you so!”
The others, caught somewhere between shock and embarrassment, couldn’t form a proper response. Tsuyu, ever the mature one, kept calmly eating her dinner.
“I’m happy for them, ribbit. But it’s really none of our business.”