Chapter Text
The gym was alive with the sounds of clashing quirks, shouts, and laughter—or maybe it was groaning, depending on who you asked. Hitoshi Shinso stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching the chaos with his usual calm detachment. The training exercises for Class 1-A and Class 1-B were in full swing, and while most of the students were eager to show off, Shinso’s focus was sharper, colder—analyzing patterns, predicting movements, and waiting for the moment he could step in and use his voice quirk effectively.
That’s when the announcement came.
“Random pairing for the next exercise!” A teacher’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers. “Everyone grab your partner and report to your stations!”
Shinso’s stomach sank slightly. He didn’t care much for partners—he liked working alone, thinking alone—but the loud, obnoxious voice behind him made him tense.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar, shrill voice said. “Looks like the losers are getting paired up. Hope you can keep up, brainwash boy.”
Shinso’s head slowly tilted toward the voice. Monoma. Neito Monoma. The ever-theatrical, ever-annoying, ever-infuriating Class 1-B student who seemed to exist solely to irritate everyone around him.
Shinso narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need to keep up. I just need to win.” His voice was calm, quiet—but there was a steel underneath it that made Monoma’s grin falter just slightly.
“Oh, the quiet one’s feisty! I like that.” Monoma flounced toward him, chest out, his cape-like jacket swaying. “Maybe this time, I won’t have to carry your sorry ass!”
Shinso resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Typical Monoma. Loud, obnoxious, full of himself.
The teacher gestured for the pair to step onto the training field. “Your objective: subdue each other without using lethal force. Your quirks are active, your goal is to work together strategically… and then defeat each other.”
Shinso’s stomach twisted. Together strategically. Not exactly his forte with someone like Monoma. Monoma thrived on chaos, on showing off, on… irritating Shinso until he snapped.
The exercise started. Monoma lunged immediately, voice quirk ready, attempting to mimic Shinso’s movements with over-the-top flair. “Watch this! I bet you’ve never seen skills like these before!”
Shinso sighed. “Your theatrics won’t save you.”
And yet, the boy’s movements were sharp, surprisingly calculated for someone who liked to boast. Shinso noticed it immediately—Monoma wasn’t just chaos; he was careful chaos. Someone used to being watched, evaluated, and expected to perform.
Shinso took a breath, eyes narrowing. “Let’s see how well you listen.”
He activated his quirk quietly, just enough to subtly control Monoma’s movement. Monoma jerked slightly mid-lunge, barely maintaining balance, and froze. A small smirk curved Shinso’s lips. Easy enough.
“You—wait! What—” Monoma stumbled, catching himself with an almost imperceptible twitch of his quirk. “Hey! Hey! That wasn’t fair!”
Shinso’s lips twitched. “All’s fair in strategy.”
Monoma stomped his foot theatrically, hands on his hips. “Strategy? You mean… cheating!”
“Perception,” Shinso corrected, his voice low, even, and calm. There was no malice, just fact.
Monoma’s face flushed—not with anger, but something else. Frustration? Embarrassment? Shinso didn’t comment. Instead, he watched carefully as Monoma adjusted, recalibrated, and lunged again, more carefully this time.
And for the first time, Shinso noticed a subtle shift—Monoma’s eyes, usually glittering with mischief, had a sharp edge. A focus. Not malicious, but intense, almost… serious. Shinso raised an eyebrow. Interesting.
The match continued like that: Monoma charging, theatrics intact, Shinso countering with precision. A few minutes in, both were breathing slightly heavier than before—an uncommon occurrence for Shinso, who rarely exerted himself unless necessary.
Then it happened.
Monoma made a daring move, charging straight toward Shinso with a feint he had clearly practiced. Shinso anticipated it, moving aside with a smooth step, but Monoma’s momentum carried him forward—directly into Shinso’s chest.
Both stumbled slightly, and for a fraction of a second, they were too close, their faces inches apart. Shinso could smell the faint tang of Monoma’s energy—overconfidence, sweat, and… something else. Something human.
Monoma froze, eyes wide, realizing how close they were. “Uh… hi there.” His voice cracked just slightly—an unintentional softness he didn’t know he revealed.
Shinso’s lips twitched. “Hi.” His voice was quiet, deliberate, almost teasing in its calmness.
Monoma coughed, stepping back quickly, shoving at Shinso’s chest as if to maintain distance. “Uh, yeah! Totally intended!” His voice was back to bravado, but Shinso caught the faint pink tint rising in his cheeks.
The match ended soon after, neither fully defeated, both slightly winded. They stood apart, silent for a beat. Monoma adjusted his jacket, clearing his throat.
“You… weren’t bad. For a brainwashed hero wannabe,” he said. And, despite himself, Shinso noticed the hesitation before the jab. Almost like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.
Shinso’s gaze softened fractionally. “You weren’t as annoying as usual.”
Monoma blinked, caught off guard. “Wait… did you—compliment me?”
Shinso’s expression was unreadable. “Observation.”
Monoma huffed, trying to mask a smile. “Right… observation. I’ll take it.”
As they left the training field, the energy between them had shifted. The teasing and tension remained, but beneath it—something unspoken lingered. A spark, tiny and fragile, that neither of them admitted yet.
Shinso thought: This could be… interesting.
Monoma thought: Why does this feel… different?
And neither knew it yet, but the exercise had planted the first seed of something more than rivalry—something that could turn into connection, trust… and eventually, love.