Her mother claimed that Midoriya's first words were "justice".

Of course, this wasn't nearly the case—Midoriya was never one to believe in happenstance. Abstract concepts such as "destiny" and "determinism" were just that: abstract. Heroes, fundamentally, were a consequence of willpower and unadulterated drive. Things like luck had no place in hero society.

For her own sanity, Midoriya reminded herself of these ideals every day.

Today is bright, isn't it? Her waking words weren't something that could be written within the annals of gospel. Frankly, you couldn't frame them on a fridge without a tinge of embarrassment. Midoriya, ultimately, was a simple girl with a simple dream. Perhaps that was one of her greatest flaws.

For all her preparation, she never expected to reach the end goal.

Attending Aldera Junior High had become something of an automatic response for Midoriya, particularly as a side effect of her alarm going off. It wasn't that Midoriya disliked school—much the opposite, in fact. School was a time of betterment and education, two skills that Midoriya felt were quintessential towards becoming a greater hero. However, Bakugou ruined most enjoyment that she could hope to garner.

It was around the twenty-first of April when it first happened. A sudden wrench that seemed to disrupt the well-worn pattern at the very seams. The reintroduction of Bakugou into Midoriya's life.

For reasons she wasn't made aware of, Bakugou did not attend the beginning of the spring season, instead arriving to Aldera Junior High a scant two weeks later. He arrived in traditional Bakugou fashion, throwing open the door with a sneer and parade of nobodies, each one seeking to gather any amount of prestige they could by riding his coattails. With a singular motion, they quickly dispersed, and his expression became something more akin to apprehension.

"Hey Deku, got some time after school?"

It flowed from his lips like a gentle river, clean of the usual Bakugou eccentricities. Those were the first words he said to her. A tone foreign to Midoriya's ears.

She hesitated before responding.

"I—…"

"That wasn't meant to be a question," he growled, "it's an ultimatum—come behind the school at four or die."

With that, he trudged away, hands in his pockets and an irritated expression plastered against his rugged face.

—...Huh?

Midoriya could scarcely comprehend what had just happened.

Bakugou's first words almost sounded foreign, having dealt with his superiority complex for nearly nine years now. They were shaky, almost unsure, as if any moment the fiery youth would backtrack and attempt to punish her lack of understanding with an explosion to the face.

Yet instead, she had got an awkward request that transitioned straight into a ire-filled demand.

Bakugou, what are you thinking—..?

Bakugou was late.

Midoriya was standing behind the school, as requested. The spring breeze brought with it a blinding array of cherry blossoms, threatening to blindside her with their alluring yet distracting dance. Her job, as it were, was to focus on Bakugou's arrival, on the off chance this entire scene was a backdrop to a sneak attack, or perhaps an extended bullying session brought upon by their lack of communication.

Summer built up stress for Bakugou, after all.

Unexpectedly, though, Bakugou arrived rather solemn. His feet were almost indecisive, yet he pushed forward as if the mere thought of turning back disgusted him. When he glanced up finally, he was a scant five feet from Midoriya, and his face was lined with irritation.

Actually, it was a mix of irritation and confusion, like he didn't yet understand what he was doing.

"...Midoriya."

"—...Oh, er, Kacchan?"

Midoriya phrased it like a question.

"Go out with me."

—…

—...Wait, what?