Chapter Text
It is five-thirty am, it is Izuku Midoriya's first day at UA high school, the best school in Japan for academics and sports. Izuku just so happened to make the volleyball team, he is also a singer on the side which has been singing for around a year, and has become the top 4 in all of Asia in the span of just a year. He was super popular, which only made him nervous about going to UA as he didn’t want to get swarmed by fans for the fourth time that week.
Izuku wakes up, the sunlight spilling into his room from the slightly opened curtain, waking him up. He wipes the sleepiness from his eyes as he sits up and takes in his surroundings. He gets up and walks over to his closet and changes into his UA uniform that he was super proud of. He was almost vibrating from how excited he was, he managed to get into his dream school with a 4.0 GPA and his excellent volleyball skills. He brushed his iconic fluffy green curls and put on his guyliner which he always wore, it made him look super hot and he wanted to look amazing for his first day, which wasn’t a hard task.
He finishes getting ready and he grabs his backpack and volleyball that he uses for practice. He puts on his shoes and heads out the door. He walks on the sidewalk as he heads for the train station, trying not to get noticed by any fans, though there were a few people that took a picture but at least he didn’t get caught by the paparazzi again, he *can’t* be late.
He manages to get to the train station without getting noticed. He takes a free seat on the train and he puts in his earbuds to listen to music, he closes his eyes to try to ignore his surroundings and just focus on the music. Then a girl with purple hair, side fringed bangs, and headphones notices him. She was also wearing a UA uniform, her eyes widened when she saw him, she was a self proclaimed number one fan of his. She thought she would never get a chance to meet him, and there he was, a few feet away and has the same school uniform as her. She didn’t want to seem like a bother so she just sat next to him on the train, seemingly curious, trying to hold herself back from disturbing him with questions or trying to get an autograph.
The train arrives at their station, Izuku opens his eyes and gathers his things to head out of the train. The girl nervously taps his shoulder in hope of a positive response. Izuku turns his head, meeting her eyes, she was fully fangirling when she saw his pretty eyes. (This is not a ship btw.)
“Hm?” Izuku asks. The girl hesitates before asking.
“Uh— are you… Midoriya?" She asks nervously, Izuku responding with a faint smile.
“Yep, nice to meet you, looks like we’re both going to UA.” He says, trying to make small talk.
“Ah— yeah! Um… I'm like a huge fan, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person!” She says happily, Izuku chuckling softly.
“No problem, nice to meet you too.” He says sweetly, “We should probably get going before the train leaves again.” He says.
“Ah— right!” She says as she grabs her bag, “My name is Jirou by the way, i’ll see ya later!” She says as she exits the train station.
Izuku slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped toward the towering iron gates of U.A. They gleamed in the morning light, almost intimidating in their size. He scanned his student ID, the soft beep sounding louder than it should have in his ears. For a moment, he just stood there, watching the steady stream of students rushing past, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Inside, the hallways were a blur of chatter, sneakers squeaking against polished floors, and the faint smell of fresh paper and cleaning solution. Izuku kept his head low as he followed the signs to Class 1-A, his heartbeat matching the rhythm of his footsteps.
The classroom door loomed in front of him—taller and heavier than he expected. He took a breath, pushed it open, and slipped inside. A few heads turned immediately. So much for staying unnoticed. His gaze darted to the desk with his nameplate and, relief washing over him, he hurried over.
Right in front of his seat sat a boy with ash-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes, lounging with his legs propped up like he owned the room. The sight made Izuku pause—there was something about his presence, the sheer confidence rolling off him—that sent a flicker of nerves through Izuku’s chest.
“Oh. Emm. Gee!” A pink, short haired girl squeals. “Are you midoriya!?” She asks excitedly as she is looking at Izuku.
He chuckles softly, “Haha, yeah I am.” He says nicely.
“Can I get your autograph!?” She asks happily. Bakugo shifts slightly get a glimpse of Izuku.
“What is he like famous or something?” The hot-headed blonde asks. Mina’s mouth drops in shock.
“You don’t know Midoriya!? He’s like the fourth most popular singer in all of Asia!" She says, shocked that he doesn’t recognize him.
“Oh. That seems annoying. Imagine having paparazzi follow you all day? I could never.” Bakugo says sassily.
“Well you get used to it.” Izuku says, knowing he was right. Then he turns to look back at Mina, “And sure, you could have my autograph.” He says sweetly. Eventually, Mina got Izuku’s autograph and Aizawa, their homeroom teacher, settled the class down. Aizawa stands at the front of the classroom behind a podium.
“Ok class, here’s how the day’s gonna go: you’ll have homeroom, then second and third block, while also having a lunch break between second and third, then for fourth and fifth block you’ll go practice for your sport that you do. Then you’ll come back for the sixth block then you’ll go home. Simple as that.” Aizawa says lazily, as he’s tired like always.
The class nods in agreement.
Soon after the bell is heard, people start gathering their things to head to second block when bakugo comes up to Izuku’s desk.
“Nerd.” Bakugo says to get the broccoli haired boy’s attention.
“Hm?” Izuku responds, kind of surprised that he’s talking to him.
“What sport do you play?” Bakugo asks straight up.
“Uh… I play volleyball… why?” He responds confused.
“So I can make sure I avoid you, obviously! Just— stay away from the football field or locker room, nerd!” Bakugo says, caught off guard and kind of flustered, but he would never admit that.
“Ok? There’s no need to be so rude, you know. I did nothing to you.” Izuku says, offended.
“Whatever, just stay out of my way nerd.” He says annoyed that Izuku responded with a hint of sass in his voice.
Moments later, the hallway had already emptied, even Aizawa sensei left for the teachers lounge. Lockers clicked shut, sneakers echoed off linoleum, and the last bit of chatter faded as everyone drifted toward second block.
Izuku lingered, pretending to double-check the papers in his binder, but really he just needed a second to breathe. Bakugo’s words — stay away from the football field or locker room — were still sitting heavy in his chest, like he’d swallowed them wrong.
When he finally stepped out of the classroom, he didn’t notice Bakugo leaning against the doorframe just outside.
“Watch it, nerd.”
Izuku nearly collided with him. He stumbled back, books tilting. Bakugo’s hand shot out automatically, catching the top one before it hit the floor. Their fingers brushed — a brief spark of contact — and both froze.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the sound of students far away and the hum of the ceiling lights. Bakugo’s hand hovered halfway between them, still gripping the edge of the notebook. His jaw was set tight, but his eyes flicked down, then up again — quick, restless, like he wasn’t sure which direction to look.
Izuku swallowed hard. “You— you said to stay out of your way.”
“I did,” Bakugo muttered. He handed the notebook back, rougher than he needed to. “Didn’t mean you had to run into me.”
Izuku tried to smile, but it didn’t quite happen. “Guess I’m bad at avoiding people.”
That earned a small, sharp breath from Bakugo. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh.
Izuku’s heart wouldn’t slow down. The space between them felt smaller than it should have been; the hallway too quiet. He could smell the faint trace of detergent from Bakugo’s jersey, and it made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t understand.
Bakugo noticed him staring and stepped back first, clearing his throat. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like—” Bakugo cut himself off, shoulders tensing. His voice dropped lower. “Forget it.”
Izuku wanted to. He really did. But the look Bakugo gave him — equal parts irritation and something softer, unguarded for half a second — rooted him to the spot.
Bakugo turned away, but not before Izuku caught the smallest tremor in his hand, like he’d been holding himself still too long.
When Bakugo finally walked off, the air seemed to move again. Izuku exhaled, pressing a hand over his chest, trying to calm the rhythm there.
He told himself it was just nerves.
He didn’t quite believe it.
A few hours later, it was time for everyone to go to their sports for practice, until the school intercom ringed throughout the halls.
“Attention students of UA,” the voice announced, a hint of static undercutting the words. “Due to a scheduling mix-up, the freshman football team and the freshman boys’ volleyball team will both be practicing in the gym today. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Bakugo froze mid-step, then let out a sharp breath through his nose. His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with irritation.
“Of. Fucking. Course,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets so hard his knuckles whitened.
He glanced toward Izuku’s desk. The green-haired boy was quietly packing up his history notes, earbuds in, completely absorbed in his music. The sight alone made Bakugo’s eye twitch.
He stalked over and slammed his palm down on the desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Izuku jolted, looking up wide-eyed to see Bakugo glowering at him—every inch of him bristling like an angry pomeranian.
“Listen up, nerd,” Bakugo growled, leaning in just enough to make his words sting. “You stay on your side of the gym. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, don’t even breathe in my direction. Got that?”
Izuku blinked, still half in a daze from the sudden shock. He tugged out one earbud, his mouth parting like he wanted to argue—but Bakugo was already turning away, muttering something under his breath that Izuku couldn’t quite catch.