In a world where everyone is a superhero, I have a dream just like everyone else's.

You'd think by now the whole defender of justice thing would get old. People would get used to the amazingness and awesomeness of superheroes. That they'd be just like a cool police or something you saw every other day. You'd get used to the gigantic ladies running through the streets to save civilians, or wooden tendrils shooting out to stop villains, or even All Might's climate changing Detroit Smash.

I mean, if you see something amazing every single day, how can it still hold on to its amazingness?

The thing about being a superhero, however, is that it never gets old.

Being so hands on with the whole 'helping people' business just seems so… amazing. Just watching those defenders of justice alone is already enough to fill me with an elated admiration, and a 'I want to be that' strong enough to almost make it true already.

Yet, even with that will and belief, I still fail Yuuei's practical entrance exam.

I do get into General Studies, but it's just not the same being at the best hero training school in Japan without actually training to be a hero.

I sometimes pass by the training arenas the Heroics' use. Well, I don't actually pass by in the sense you think of, but more like, take the very long way around when I ask to use the bathroom or my teacher requests something from the faculty room. That's probably why my teachers never really ask me to get anything anymore. I never really come back.

Due to my little detours, I've become familiar with a face or two of the students in the Heroics Courses. Honorable mentions include 1-B's class rep with the fist enlargement quirk (I always just have the greatest urge to follow her around and call her 'onee-sama' for some unexplainable reason?), and Steel Boy who has the most adorable name ever. There's also that one blonde kid who I kind of just want to slap sometimes, but going into detail on that particular predicament would take all day.

1-A has an even more colorful bunch. There's the one really hot guy with the ice and fire quirk who I've dubbed 'Hot and Cold Prince' (creative right), and then the even hotter soft spoken girl who pulls crowbars out of her boobs (I want to do that). Their class rep also seems like a fun guy despite being a real stickler to the rules. I can tell because the guy and the girl he always hangs out with always seem to be laughing and having a good time. The aforementioned guy who hangs out with Class Rep-kun seems like someone I should keep my eye on, but at the same time…no? It's a bit hard to explain.

Oh, and how could I forget, Bakugou Katsuki.

That boy is the angriest studmuffin I have ever seen in my entire life. I've never seen somebody so darn emotional before. It's powerful in a way I can't help but keep watching. Though the studmuffin part doesn't really help stop the watching either. From a purely aesthetical point of view, that boy is stacked.

The angry part does, however, usually stop that part of my thoughts.

I really want to talk to him. Maybe ask him for some pointers about... well, everything. But he looks so mean and so angry all the time, I never get the courage to say or do anything.

We ride the train together, and today, as per usual, he's at his typical place, holding onto the hand rail and standing casually. I shuffle to stand to my usual place. Except, as any good beginning starts with your typical plot twist, there's a man standing in my usual spot. It would be fine, if there wasn't yet another person standing in my #2 designated spot, and even an honest to goodness group of teenage girls from seemingly nowhere crowding in my #3 spot of choice. It's like the universe is pushing me to jumpstart any conversation I was putting off because of nerves.

I sigh and heft my bag up higher on my shoulder and move to stand next to Bakugou, reaching up to hold the hand rail. My hand meets thin air, and I blink up at the nonexistent metal triangle that's supposed to keep me from falling.

This is not good.

I was fine with the crowded train and out-of-comfort-zone standing spot, but now, without anything to support me from flying into the next cart through any rough turbulence, I'm suddenly very worried about this plot development the universe has forced upon me.

I think the universe may have misinterpreted my want to talk to the guy as 'shoujo fodder'.

I stand a bit stiffly next to the blonde, and widen my stance just a little in an attempt to keep myself from falling. The train finally takes off from the station, and I brace myself for this unsteady ride.

A few minutes in and I feel like I've found the exact staccato I need to stay upright, and I quietly sigh in relief. The scenery is a little nicer from here. I can see the entire city of Musutafu in all its industrial glory. I hadn't even known I had an appreciation of tall skyscrapers until this moment, but I suppose you're bound to find something new to like outside of your norm.

Pretending I had a hard on for huge building was in no way a distraction from the obvious chance I was giving up on starting a conversation. Sure this is a great opportunity to do so, and yes, it probably won't present itself again, but he's just so mean looking. I could always strike up a conversation with someone a little more pleasant in the Heroics class. It doesn't have to be this angry looking fellow. Even if we always ride the same train, and I never seem to have the guts to talk to anyone from either Heroics class anytime soon.

The train breaks.

I am in no way prepared for the loss of vertigo.

This is about the moment where I'm supposed to do something distinctively girly. Like grab onto Bakugou's arm or lightly fall into his shoulder or anything that was certainly not what really happened.

What really happened was that I panicked, grabbed his waistline, and nearly take down his pants in an attempt to keep myself from falling.

"The hell?!"

"I'm sorry!" I should let go at this point, but the train moves again, and I cannot for the life of me remove my death grip.

"Um," what type of excuse would someone accept in order for me to keep holding his waistband? "Just, uh, let me hold on until the train stops."

"Hell no!"

Then he starts struggling. I simultaneously have to somehow hold on to dear life and hold up his pants. He pushes a palm into my face to force me away, and I, well, Bakugou Katsuki maybe one very strong individual, but I have pride on my side, and a huge need for self-preservation.

One of those may be giving me more strength than the other.

We stay like five year olds having a fight for a bit, and woah were there people staring. As soon as I see the train pulling into the next station, I finally let go of him and rush to the exit, even when it isn't my spot. The stares are turning my face a red I had not known was possible and I'm in a rush to run out. It's only when I'm safely outside the train do I realize my bag isn't in my hands.

I spin back, just in time to hear, "Hey, pervert!"

Something smacks me in the face.

I hold my aching nose as the projectile falls to my feet. Squinting through my fingers, my bag peeks out by my shoes. I sigh in relief before I remember that 1) I got off at the wrong station 2) Bakugou Katsuki just threw a bag at me and 3) I finally managed to talk to Bakugou Katsuki and it ended with him calling me a pervert.

I think you can tell by now that me and good first impressions are about as foreign to each other as Japan and Australia.

Listen, I don't really know how I have the balls to get onto the same train the next day either, ok? It's just that, I was late, and, again, self-preservation in the face of school rules is a good way to forget just about anything, especially in the morning, and it isn't until I'm on the train baring the blunt of Bakugou Katsuki's glare do I remember that yeah, yesterday sort of happened.

I'm sweating bullets for more than one reason.

He doesn't say anything, neither this day or the day after that or the even the day after that. He keeps glaring at me, though, and ok, I get that I kind of deserve it, but it's really starting to bug me. It's gotten so bad people have gotten used to it and are seemingly ignoring the mental daggers Bakugou insists on throwing my way, and I just really can't take this pressure.

So, a week later, when he's still keeping up the glaring act, I steel myself and stand next to him, where they've thankfully finally replaced the hand rail.

I try not to get offended when he backs away from me and legit growls.

"Can you please stop glaring at me?" I ask quickly, and why oh why does that makes his snarl even worse?

"Why should I listen to a pervert?"

My face burns. I want to bury the red in my hands but I can't because the last thing we need is for me to fall again.

"That too. Will you please stop calling me that?"

He's about to protest again, and I have the most horrible premonition he's going to yell something like "I have no freaking obligation to listen to you, perverted bastard! Buzz off!" and make this situation even worse than it already is, so I quickly add, "I'll do anything! I'll buy you, uh—cake or something!"

"Huh? Why would I want cake from a pervert—"

"You know what!" Wow, I did not previously know my fuse was this short. "I don't even care! Call me a pedophile for all I care! See if I give a damn!"

This new development has people looking again. Me being even louder than Bakugou certainly hadn't helped.

"Never mind. I do care. A lot. Can we please start over?"

He gives me a look equivalent of the one you'd given gum at the bottom of your shoe. I am undeterred.

I hold out a hand, before I remember that 1) I'm not some American wannabe and 2) he already thinks I'm a pervert so a touchy feely handshake is probably not the way to go.

I retract my hand, and do not miss the pointed look he gives me.

"I'm Nareta Nanashi. Nice to meet you, Bakugou-kun."

This is a great improvement from my first impression. I have half the mind to throw some sort of party in celebration.

"Oh so you're a stalker too, hah?!"

I honestly don't even know what I did wrong this time around. Was it the word 'nice'? Was it because he was mad and there was nothing nice about this meeting to him? What was I supposed to say, it's horrible to meet you?

"What?"

"How the hell do you know my name?!"

Ah, that's a good point.

"Uh." How do I go about this without sounding overly creepy? Maybe I can use our matching uniforms and his hopefully stereotypical bad boy-ness to my advantage. "We go to the same school?"

He pauses at that, and seems to look me over to make sure I'm not lying or something. I'm obviously not lying, by the way. You can't really just go and make your own Yuuei uniform look as legit as the real one without some kind of cool fabric quirk or something.

I personally wish I had a cool cloth quirk instead of my useless Becomes Untouchable at Loss of Breath. I don't even have the courtesy of full invisibility. It's just that I can pass through just about everything if I hold my breath. Yes it does have its perks, but I want to be a hero, and it isn't much of a hero ability. I can't even think of a cool name for my quirk.

Bakugou doesn't really say anything after that. Just sort of ignores me. I'm just glad he's stopped glaring. I'm also glad he doesn't take me up on the cake offer because my wallet would literally find a way to manifest a quirk and slap me if he did.

The next day, just about when I've washed my hands of the situation and ignored the part of me bemoaning lost opportunities, Bakugou himself walks up to my #1 usual spot and announces gruffly, "You're not in my class."

The reason for the delayed answer clicks about a moment into my gawking.

"You had to—" —check?

How antisocial was this guy that he didn't even know the faces of his own classmates?

I obviously am not going to say any of that out loud. I'm not suicidal. Though my response does come out a bit grumbly. "I'm in General Studies."

I'm not really happy about it. Wanting to be a hero and getting into Yuuei kind of coincided. Imagine what it felt like to get into your dream school, but not into the courses you wanted. They do give some classes here and there for general control of quirks, but nothing like the intense dedication and care you'd receive in the Heroics course.

There's hope though. I've filled out all the necessary papers for them to reconsider me in the upcoming the Sports Festival. All that's left for me to do is prove I'm physically worth it, and my dream will be within reach.

Which, you know, might actually make me suicidal if I still sort of want to talk to the man whose half a second away from calling me a 'perverted pedo stalker' in public.

"Ok, listen," the trains jerk out of the station and I steady myself against the wall next to the door before continuing. I'm mega jealous of Bakugou's firm unwavering stance. He hadn't even wobbled. "I pass by Heroics a lot because... I like to see your training exercises. Not yours in particular, but like, the whole class. But you get yelled at a lot, so I kind of memorized your name. That's the honest truth."

It's at this point where the whole stalker thing makes some sense from a different point of view, but I beat down that sensible side of me in favor of seeing if this response is going to get me anywhere.

"Why?"

Confusion takes me hard.

"What?"

"Why do you watch?"

Wow, we're already at the heart-to-heart conversation stage! This has got be an improvement from perverted pedo stalker stage!

"I was, uh, hoping to gain some insight on how to improve and stuff. I'm trying to reapply to the Heroics Course after I sort of failed the entrance exam and, so I like, like to watch to gain knowledge and stuff."

To my surprising disappointing, Bakugou doesn't return my hearty revelation with one of his own. He just sort of grunts and leans against the glass next to the train wall all brooding and passive aggressive like. I try not to let the stab of internal 'don't kid yourself' hurt like it usually does. In a way, I know I'm all talk, that I cram and ask questions and feign hard work and talk about my dream just so to can rid myself of the regret of doing nothing. Believe it or not, I never used to be like this, but failing the Yuuei practical exam really hit a lot harder than I expected it to.

"What's your quirk?"

Wow does this guy now the right questions to ask. Please note the sarcasm in the last statement.

"I can, like, phase through things if I hold my breath."

I close my mouth, and wave my hand through the train door. It passes through like there's nothing there. I pull back and release a sigh.

"It's stupid, I know, but it's what my quirk is."

Again, Bakugou doesn't say anything. The train pulls into a station and I move out of the way to let people pass by. I really wasn't sure where any of these conversations were going but I hadn't expected to get a dose of depression this early in the morning.

"Hey." I blink up, and back up fully into the wall. Bakugou is eyeing me with the intensity of a lion, and I'm a mere lamb compared to it. It's also really , really creepy, and I don't do well with creepy. "You want to be a hero, right?"

"O-of course." It's an automatic answer, really. It doesn't matter if I believe I can be one or not. I will always want to be one regardless.

Suddenly, he reaches out and yanks me by the front of my shirt. His gaze is even more intense and creepy up close.

"Tomorrow. Training area 4. Don't be late or I'll kill you."

He releases my shirt, and I'm left more than a little flabbergasted and confounded as he stalks off like some cool antagonist who's just called a truce with the hero.

Huh.

That was... weird.