A/N: I don't own anything affiliated with My Hero Academia. I do own a whimsical imagination and writing style, though. Please be merciful.

I was pure euphoria.

Every pore seeped boundless energy and exuberance, like a kid on a holiday morning, or a fan about to watch the season premiere of their favorite show.

I did it. I had survived my first full week of classes.

The final bell was the sound of angel trumpets, releasing tides of students and faculty into the vast, free world. I will never look at weekends the same way again.

"Miss Tsutomi! Have a good weekend!"

Momo, Tsu, and a few others stood in the doorway, grinning and wishing me a happy night. I waved back and desired them the same, happy to have students whose mind I even crossed outside of the classroom. I entered the hallway to wish others a good weekend and received a warm reciprocation from many of my new, curious students.

The more I taught, the more I learned; about quirks, about my students and their mentalities, about a world I'd never been much interested in. My new favorite target was moving quickly down the hall, angry face turned away like I wouldn't be able to recognize his pissed-off stomping and spiked hair anywhere.

"Bye, Bakugo! Try not to kill anyone over the weekend, okay?" I called sweetly, even going so far as to throw in an overzealous wave. The ticking time bomb flinched at my voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as his pace increased tenfold. I smirked, mission accomplished.

"Harassing my students once again, Tsutomi?"

Aizawa unfortunately appeared opposite me, reliving a few morning's ago occurrence. Was this the nightmare edition? My nose wrinkled before I could stop myself from reacting, giving him a once-over.

"You challenge them physically- I challenge them mentally. Brains over brawn, you know," Shit, where'd that fire come from? "Er, though I'm sure in the hero program, both are imperative,"

"Mmm," Aizawa grunted. His mouth was a straight line but his eyes were doing something strange; was he actually...intrigued? I didn't realize I was worthy of even his remote attention, let alone the direct-eye-contact kind.

We were going to have to spend an nearly three whole days together in just one short week. Me and this sour, exhausted, half-mute of a man. The memory of my one attempted sleepover in grade school rose like oil in water.
After two short hours I'd faked a stomach ache and asked to call my mom, crocodile tears dripping down my face. Like the savior she was Mom had arrived within half an hour, stopped for fast food on the drive home, and spent half the night watching Sailor Moon with me in our own pillow fort.

I doubted this situation would be nearly as ideal.

"So...Next weekend," I tried. Aizawa raised a hand, eyes closing.

"I already tried to get out of it. Apparently Principal Nezu thinks my approach towards students directly after traumatic training is 'too intense'" He actually made parenthesis around the last two words, looking sullen. "I highly disagreed, but as you'll find out the principal isn't one to back out of his own ideas. He seemed pretty adamant on us both going, even though you don't directly deal with traumatized students,"

"You know we share the same students, right?"

"Your relationship with the students ends at the bell; mine doesn't," He shrugged. "As irrational as taking away valuable class time for unnecessary, non-mandatory events seems to me, All Might will be leading their training Friday in my stead-"

"Why are you such an asshole?" I blurted, unable to control myself. Anger raged in my veins, bubbling like molten lava; my relationship with the students ended with the bell? Who the fuck says that? As if he were closer to them? I'd been here a single week and already knew half their names without a roster; I wondered if Aizawa could say the same about half the academy's population.

"Why do you just assume I'm here for a paycheck? Because that's what it is, isn't it- you think I don't care but you do, and that misconception leads you to believe you're better than me or something, right?"

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was not the girl who talked back- I couldn't even send back a wrong order at a restaurant. The tips of my fingers were trembling before they grew into fists at my sides, a newfound burst of confidence warming my chest as I stepped closer, feeling seconds away from breathing fire across his ignorant face.

"I'm new, and I get that, but don't just assume you know or are better than me, alright? Because you don't know me; you don't know anything about me."

Silence.

The great eraserdick seemed...speechless. Good, I thought righteously.

In a blurring, second-long motion, his whole face changed.

Eyes like saucers, jaw hanging to reveal a set of square, white teeth. In the same instant he recovered, burying his hands in his pockets, face disappearing under that annoying, unkempt hair. What was he thinking? I stared, wondering if I should apologize or just simply walk away, when his left cheek pulled at his mouth. Was that...Is he trying not to smile?

"You're right," Aizawa returned simply, "I don't."

I feel like there's more to this sentence.

We were still standing just feet away from one another, eyes locked, when a great force crashed into my body. Immediately my oxygen supply was stolen and I scratched at the absurdly strong arms carrying me out of the hallway. Two dark eyes watched me, barely above the degree of mild interest, as I was abducted and returned to my own classroom. It wasn't until I flailed my hands out to the sides, wrapping my fingers tightly around the arms of my captor, that I realized it was not the person's arms suffocating me.

"Hello there!" She all but purred, body wiggling. In turn, the hefty breasts suffocating me bounced against my temples. My regulation fell off kilter in embarrassment and she squeezed me tighter, enveloping my entire head into her chest. AI focused on the liquids within her arms and, as softly as possible, gently pushed, allowing just enough time and space for my frantic escape.

"Miss...Kayama," I exclaimed between each sacred, newfound breath. Onyx hair flounced as she stalked around my room, picking up items and ooh'ing at the glowing ceiling like so many had this week. Her face reminded me of those bad little boys in grade school who used magnifying glasses to incinerate ants.

"Chiyo Tsutomi, right? I'm Nemuri Kayama, but you seem to already known that,"

"You were on the hiring committee."

"Correct! I was impressed with your cool disposition and well-thought answers!" She turned and gave me a cheesy thumbs up, grinning like a madman. Her hero costume was just as scandalous up close as it was on television. I had wondered why Mineta wasn't constantly ranting over Midnight, considering her...image. Maybe she's even crazier than me.

Kayama fake swooned, an elegant hand draped tragically against her closed eyes.

"The road of teaching is long and full of terrors, but those who survived are rewarded in the bounty of the weekend, karaoke, and getting shit-faced among the weary peers who understand your woes,"

"Er, shit-faced?"

"Drunk! Hammered! Juiced! Loaded up! Freeing our true selves through the elixir of the life," She was coming towards me again, eyes flashing and deadly, smile positively serpentine. I backed up on reflex, crawling backwards over the floor, anxiety spiking when the vixen hero took a tight hold on my shoulders, face only centimeters from my own.

Definitely crazier than me.

"Well, what do you say?"

"To clarify, you're asking if I just want to go to the bars with you, right?"

"To start, yes," She licked her lips, as if anticipating a tasty snack. "But who knows where the night will lead us, young Tsutomi? You are like a blossomed peach, just ripe for the picking-"

"That's enough, Kayama. You're going to scare her into never coming back,"

"Toshinori!" I exclaimed, grateful. The thin face of my friend smiled back from the doorway, blushing slightly at my relieved tone. My limbs were pulled by a natural force towards him, towards safety from this madwoman, when Kayama suddenly pulled me into her ample bosom once again. This time my struggle was immediate.

"Please- can't- breathe-"

"You have to share, Toshinori. You can't keep this young tilf to yourself,"

"Tilf?"

"You know, like milf; teacher I'd like to-"

"AHAHAHA, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE REFERRING TO- I- WE ARE JUST-"

My brain began to slow, consciousness slipping due to a medley of oxygen deprivation and pure embarrassment. At least if I die, I won't have to face Toshinori after this.

The heroine of scandal at last released me. I fell like a fish out of water, slipping into a chair and gasping for air. Instantly wild blonde hair surrounded my vision. Toshinori moved my face side to side, checking for signs of permanent damage. "Don't you think you went a little overboard? Chiyo's not like us; she's not used to such treatment-"

"She better learn before tonight," Kayama hummed, unbothered by my half-dead appearance. What kind of "fun" did professional heroes have? I racked my brain for a reason why I couldn't be able to go- would they believe I had lesson plans? Grading? Maybe I should pick up my old movie job just to avoid situations like this.

"Tonight? Oh! Chiyo, are you coming with us?"

"Toshinori, you go too?" I asked, surprised. He didn't strike me as the type to drink. Was this the reason he actually looked so unhealthy? "Someone in your condition really shouldn't be risking their organ vitality-"

"Oh, come on now," Toshinori laughed, hands up in defense. "I'm not that pathetic,"

"Yo, you sure about that?"

Shades, metal throat, and cockatiel hair. I noticed, absently, that Present Mic and Aizawa wore nearly identical clothing under their individual accessories. What's that about?

"So, you comin'?" He lowered his glasses to view me over their sepia shade. "Good. Ever since I saw you at that slammin' interview, I've had an itch to get to know you. And, coincidentally, your nails look just long enough to find that scratch," Present Mic crooned, eyebrows wriggling like epileptic caterpillars. I stared, wholly perturbed, before the blonde bird was knocked to the ground by two fists. Toshinori and Kayama grinned apologetically.

"Sorry about him," Toshinori said, handing Kayama a pillow.

"He's a bit of an idiot," Kayama continued, placing the pillow over the struggling MC's face and squashing his protests. I nodded, still stunned at the scene unfolding before me. Are these really...professional heroes? The same people I've seen on tv? They seemed more like a comedy act. Present Mic escaped and Kayama held out her foot, tripping him.

A low-budget comedy act, at that.

"So! Will you come out with us tonight? I promise to keep Yamada under control. It's been so long since I've experienced the company of a young woman-" She was practically salivating and my fear sprouted a new limb. What did these people do at bars?

"I won't let Midnight take advantage of you, either," Toshinori quickly assured, stepping in front of Kayama. The raven-haired heroine shot Toshinori a glare full of derision. The urge to smile gradually eclipsed my desire to run.

"You're not going to make me sing karaoke, are you?" I asked cautiously. Toshinori's sweet grin, head shaking no, locked my answer in, all the assurance I needed. I sighed in submission.

"Tonight, then! I'll text you the place. We usually head out around nine-thirty, ten. Can't stay out as late as we used to, now that we're old."

"Speak for yourself," Kayama sniffed, indignant. I noted that, like her chest, the layered spikes of her hair bounced with every movement. Present Mic twitched beneath her when she'd spoken; after the failed escape and resulting scuffle, she had placed the pillow tossed by Toshinori over Yamada's face and promptly sat on it. I wondered if he was quiet out of bliss or suffocation.

"Sounds good," I declared. With a few cheers and assurances of fun the trio left, each maintaining a tight grip on Yamada's arms as they unceremoniously dragged his unconscious body out of the room.

What had I agreed to, exactly? I could count on one hand how many times I'd drank in my life, and couldn't quite recall if I'd ever actually been inside a bar before; the majority of the time I was just at some friend's house, or sharing a glass of wine with my mom over dinner out.

Should I have mentioned that? I wondered, packing my belongings up and heading out for the weekend. A spike of adrenaline flooded like a river as a realization hit me; not only would I be experiencing a bar for pretty much the first time, but I'd be doing so with two well-known professional heroes. I threw my bags into the passenger seat of my car, hitting my leg with the closing door and cursing in pain.

Will they be recognized? I wonder if they sign autographs? Seeing that Present Mic and Midnight had bigger than life personalities, I bet they did. At least Toshinori will be there to stand like a wallflower with me.

I sat, pensive. I had no idea what to even wear. Should I go out and buy something? Should I take a nap beforehand?

A willowy, slow-moving figure appeared out of the mouth of the school, catching my attention.

Hands in pockets with nothing but a thin slice of silver under his right arm. He's only taking his computer home? Not even the charger?

Aizawa stalked out towards the sidewalk, moving in the opposite directly of where I currently sat in my parked car. I had the sudden, distinct urge to follow him.

Chiyo, no. He probably already thought I was a little bipolar psycho with no business in his school, anyway. The slow, lackadaisical saunter he was currently performing seemed like the epitome of douche-baggishness, as if he were never in a hurry. As if there was never anything worth hurrying for, or being excited about. My knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

He was just so irritating. From the moment I'd arrived he'd given me nothing but shit, and for what? For not flaunting my quirk around? For not promoting my students to sacrifice themselves, like lambs to slaughter, as fledglings? The urge moved from following Aizawa to running him over with my car.

I crept along, unsure of my motives, pursuing eraserbrains at a single-block distance. Did he live around here, so close to the school? How could he afford that on a teacher's salary? He was also a professional hero, though. Two salaries, then.

Signals were going off like fireworks in my brain, flashing the same repeated message. I ignored them all like yield signs, steadily moving closer to my target.

3:45 PM: Shota Aizawa enters a nearby grocery store.
3:58 PM: Shota Aizawa leaves with four large grocery bags and an industrial sized bag of...cat food?

Odd. He didn't strike me as the type to have pets. He hardly seemed able to withstand humans.

4:16 PM: Shota Aizawa arrives at an Animal Shelter
4:36 PM: Shota Aizawa leaves Animal Shelter, sans bags and crowded by blushing old women, waving adoringly upon his departure.
4:36 PM: Chiyo Tsutomi realizes that she is the scum of the earth, and a stalker to boot.

The leather of the steering wheel felt cool against my forehead, hiding my shameful face.

I had followed Aizawa, assuming he was headed to some ritzy penthouse palace of a home, only to find he was as generous with money as he was with insults. I began to gently beat my head against said steering wheel. What if he had noticed me? How would I casually explain, 'Sorry, I was struck by the urge to follow you, so I did. But, good news! You're actually a way better person that me, so congratulations!'?

I carefully entered the flow of traffic, sure to travel in the opposite direction of my once-mark.

If I was so wrong about Aizawa, does that mean he was right about me?

I swallowed and tried to push the thought away. Maybe drinking wasn't a bad idea. At the very least, I could erase this memory from my mind...At least temporarily.

Feeling undeserving of a reward I headed towards home rather than the mall, still fretting over the frightening instability of my ethical and moral compasses and what outfit to wear tonight.

Meet us at Gemu Ni, 9:45
:-)

Toshi

I didn't know which was more bizarre; the fact that I was standing, immaculately uncomfortable and alone, in a bar filled with half-inebriated adults of various shapes, genders, and ages, sloshing drinks and screaming at the many vintage arcade games throughout the establishment, or the fact that Toshinori had made a smiley-face emoticon rather than just using an emoji.

Music beat like drumsticks against my skull, ingraining the rhythm into my bones. The song was a catchy one, interlacing Japanese with English, and there always seemed to be a steady buzz of people sing-shouting along, mumbling the non-lyrical melody during the English portions. I was relieved to see no karaoke station in sight.

Between the loud music, abundant amount of people, and flashing lights and sounds of the arcade games, I felt exposed. My palace was darkened apartments and a purring cat in my lap, not people my age and extrovertedness. I'd taken the time to straighten my hair and stepped out of my comfort zone with a low-cut silk camisole, compensated in scantiness by dark skinny jeans, and my arms kept crossing over my chest, unconsciously protective. Did I get here too early? Should I get a drink? If I leave, will they think I'm a flake?

"Hey,"

I turned, only to find a man I'd never seen before in my life. Mom's courses on How to Find an Adult and Other Safety Precautions arose like incessant thought-clouds which I brushed away quickly. We're in a very crowded place. There's nothing to be scared of.

"Name's Kato. I couldn't help but notice you from across the room," His voice was casual. I discreetly submersed myself into his body, noticing his heart rate was indeed average-paced. Calm. I tried to follow suit, shaking off my fear and bubbling nerves. I could do this; I could be that girl, the one people approached, wanted to talk to. I could be the one who laughs and engages in flirting and witty banter.

"Yeah?"
Jesus Christ, Chiyo. What a conversationalist.

"Yeah,"
That makes two of us, I guess.

He looked at me expectantly. My eyes swiveled, looking for an answer to his unasked, unfathomable anticipation, wishing more and more I'd just stayed home. The best American sitcoms usually started their reruns soon, and I'd just started getting used to the fast-paced subtitle reading one had to learn in order to fully enjoy the slapstick punchlines.

"You have beautiful eyes,"

"Oh! Um, thanks." I took a breath; I could do this. I could be interesting. Engaging. "I'm having trouble adjusting to the light? Did you know your pupils aren't black, like, dots, but holes? So when you're exposed to darkness or, say, blindingly bright-colored dance lights, the pain you feel is actually those holes widening or shrinking to allow more or less light in. Isn't that so freaky to think about?"

I'd clearly lost this guy. Apparently he found me attractive, but not attractive enough to entertain the baffling mechanics of the body, interest roaming the room for a better candidate to escape to. Had he even heard anything I'd said anyway? The last song bled into another, just as vociferous as its predecessor. Eyes glazed and head nodding in that very obvious, unlistening sort of way, he at least had the decency to wait until I'd finished to ask, "Want to dance?"

"What? Oh, no. Sorry."

"So you're just going to awkwardly stand here alone?"

"I mean, probably," I replied, spirits falling to the scuffed wooden floorboards. He raised his eyebrows, downing the rest of his beer, and I wondered if anyone nearby had a marker I could use to write a giant zero on my forehead with.

Why. Am. I. Here.

"No offense, but you're one of the weirdest fucking girls I've met in a long ass time,"

I couldn't even think of a response.
Luckily, I didn't have to.

"Weird is just the simple-mindeds' word for daringly different, uniquely delicious, and otherworldly in nature,"

An arm slumped across my shoulder, pulling me in. Hello again, I thought, face mashing into the soft, pliable side of Nemuri Kayama's breasts. Her night out clothes were, if possible, more shocking than her hero costume, with nearly more skin showing than an exotic dancer. Fingers curled into my shoulder, protective, squeezing out some of my embarrassment to pour in assurance instead. She was staring down the now wide-eyed Kato man, whose pulsed immediately quickened. I pulled out of his system with a shudder, feeling his blood travel...elsewhere.

"Was your MO to degrade her into feeling like she needed you? Man, that's so weak," Present Mic- Yamada, just remember his name already- suddenly appeared to our left, gestures wild and disgust exaggerated. The metal gear was gone from his neck but I was sad to see the glasses and cockatiel hair remained. "Step off, dude. Her real friends are here."

At Yamada's words Kato returned to the land of the living, face flushed and curses muttered as he quickly made his getaway. Yamada puffed out his chest, looking impressed with himself, and I applauded.

"Thanks! You guys are life savers,"

"Yes," Yamada began with a cheeky flex, "Yes we are,"

"We almost didn't recognize you, Tsutomi! You look so hot!"

"Huh? Oh, um. Yeah. I don't- dressing like this isn't a norm for me," I admonished, feeling the need to cover up once again. Kayama smirked before taking me by the hand.

"Let's go get drinks- I'll show you how to get them for free,"

Being led between two known professional heroes was both amazing and terrifying. Every eye seemed to raise, at least momentarily, as the two all but slow-motion stalked to the bar, oozing confidence I'd never even dreamed of. What must it be like, to be admired by so many?

That, or they were just checking out Kayama. I couldn't really blame them if that was just the case. She was more sensual than any person- female, famous, or otherwise- I'd ever seen, down to the flick of her lashes and shape of her calves.

She handed me a mason jar of unnatural blue, topped with a pink parasol and two ripe cherries. I immediately ate the cherries, ignoring the way Yamada teased my childish behavior. Kayama had a matching drink (or, did; it was gone before I'd even taken the first sip of my own) while Yamada sipped a soda-laced beverage, bubbling and shiny under the lights. I didn't know how long we would be out, but knew they would surely be able to hold their liquor better than myself. I raised my glass and drank through the straw, focusing on separating the liquids traveling up the straw to sip only the fruity syrup and soda. What they won't know won't hurt them, anyway.

"Where's Toshinori?" I nearly had to shout; had they turned the music up? Kayama shrugged, straw tucked between her red lips.

"He's probably having a mental breakdown, trying to decide what to wear,"

"Really? His clothes always look so...I mean, I didn't realize he cared about stuff like that,"

"Oh, he doesn't. Usually, anyway," Kayama's eyes went dark and glittering. I reflexively leaned away, not wanting to hear any sinister secrets about my sweet friend just quite yet. Quickly, I downed the rest of my drink, afraid she'd comment if I didn't, and took her by the hand. Yamada had already disappeared into the growing, dancing crowd, and I intended to follow suit.

"Dance with me,"

"I thought you'd never ask," She purred.

I realized my drinking mistake as soon as we started to move. The world tilted for the smallest fraction of a second, legs wobbling, before I caught myself. Whatever liquor had been in that drink, I'd virtually just taken a straight shot of. Live and learn, I guess.

Yamada may be the master of speech, but he proved a fool on the dance floor. A ring of wary dancers moved around him, rightfully fearful of the swinging arms and out-of-sync girations of the blonde. Yamada seemed oblivious to everything but his own moves to the music. My attention was swiftly pulled away and to the serpentine woman I'd chosen to dance with, ample body molding against mine. My vision momentarily swam, colors like a kaleidoscope. Nothing could be done about my already-buzzed brain, so I surrendered to the loving arms of Midnight. Hands grabbed my waist and led my movements, ears catching calls of praise as I caught the rhythm of her body.

We took a breather, drinks topped off and haziness growing. Kayama only needed to look in a man's direction and suddenly drinks were everywhere. In a similar fashion, Yamada could get a line of shots just by using his quirk to shout out a "How's everyone doing?" Fully liquored and needing a break, we at last checked out the plethora of machines strewn about the room. Turned out the games were free and we took turns embarrassing Yamada at racing and hunting games alike, destroying his inflated self esteem along the way.

On my first drink, I was ditzy. By my second drink, I was already halfway gone. My smiles were quick, laughter faster, and I could barely contain myself when a slender, absurdly tall figure appeared. I squealed, throwing myself in his arms.

"Where the hell have you been?" I shouted, play-punching his shoulder. Toshinori rubbed his arm as if wounded. Was his face always so red? Were the drinks blurring my lines of reality? I tried not to giggle, realizing my lost consciousness would most assuredly not be funny, and vowed not to have another drink.

"Work stuff. I'm going to get a drink; do you want one?"

"Yes, please!" I cheered.

He returned with matching glasses; both of which were downed quickly.

"Want to dance?" I heard myself ask.

"I'm not really a dancer," Toshinori admitted. My body seemed far away, mind watching from a far away television, as I took his hand, trying to mirror Midnight's allure.

"Maybe you just haven't been dancing with the right person,"

He was awkward; all knees and elbows, red-cheeked and nervous. By divine grace a dance anthem came on and I screamed, flailing in harmony with the tide of sweaty, drunk dancers. The erratic, pointless movements were something Toshinori could evidently follow as he too began to bounce, fist in the air.

All of my problems, from student loans to the incensed, hot face of Shota Aizawa, dissipated as I let go, experiencing nothing more than the symbiotic relationship between myself and the music.
Wait, hot?

A hand on my arm brought my attention to earth. I smiled at my tall, skinny friend, grabbing hold of his arms as well.

"I'm so glad Aizawa isn't here!"

"Yeah?" Toshinori laughed. I nodded furiously. The action wavered my balance but Toshi caught me, hands tentative before quickly pulling away.

"He's the epitome of killjoy. Seeing his face every morning is worse than period cramps. I do wish someone else was here, though,"

"Oh? Who?"

My face felt like I'd stuffed it into an oven. The real me, sitting in that far away place, screamed into the void, demanding I shut up immediately.
Good thing she was on mute.

"I just- it'd be really amazing, you know? If All Might suddenly showed up."

Toshinori lost the beat of the new song. I pouted, moving closer and taking his hips like Kayama had done to mine centuries ago. My neck felt close to snapping just to see his face above mine, hair falling across the arm Toshinori awkwardly place around the small of my back. "You are so tall!"

"Why would you want All Might to show up?"

"I've told you before; he's delicious. He's the only hero my mom every let me look up to." I swayed to the new, slower melody. My balance was consistently maintained by Toshinori's touch, gently prodding me whenever I started to lean too far one way or another. My face grew dreamy. "When I was younger, I swore to myself I was going to marry him. Then mom'd never have to worry again,"

"Worry about what?"

"About me! About my safety. About ever being harmed by someone's quirk, or having my heart broken. He's the strongest man in the world, but more importantly, he's the most genuine. I've watched him, the way he talks about his job, the people he saves," I sighed, resting my head against the bottom of Toshinori's rib cage. His heart was lost in the cacophony of our surroundings but his body stilled, lightning-struck, before melting back into mine. Lips pulled on their own, moved by his purity.

"He's not why I applied to UA, but when I saw him at my interview, I wondered if it was a sign. Then I remembered what a clumsy, scatter-brained idiot I am, and how I'd never stand a chance in hell,"

My laughter was loud and wild; free in a way I could never be sober. My skeletal friend, though, was abnormally silent. I pulled away in confusion. His face was unreadable, though because my state of mind or his own hidden internal feelings, I wasn't sure. I tried to calm down, lips twitching with the effort.

"I don't think those things about you," He said quietly. My heart burst, punch drunk.

"I'm glad. At least I have you, Toshinori."

Something crossed his face again. I pulled away further, using his hand to twirl me in a small circle. My laughter proved infectious and a smile simmered on his long face. Good, I thought. His unhappiness is like rain on a Saturday morning.

"Oh- Hey," A phone appeared out of his pocket, screen glowing as he read a text. His fingers shot a response before he grinned down at me, snapping the device shut.

"I have to go- work-related business, again. I hope you have a great rest of your night, Chiyo. And don't forget to call a cab! Do not walk home."

I let out a tremendous whine, wanting nothing more than for him to stay. Toshinori shook his head, smiling, making eye contact with Yamada across the room and waving him over. Kayama was nowhere in sight and I absently wondered if she was the type to lure men home with her.

"Sick moves, Chi-Chan!" Present Mic declared, shimmying in my direction. I laughed.

"I could teach you some! It might help your reputation!"

"Ouch! How you wound me,"He exclaimed, holding a clenched hand to his chest. I shook my head. Everything seemed more vibrant now, colors and people blurred on the edges but beautiful, like the world on a merry-go-round.

"One more song, and then I've gotta head out," I pledged. Yamada gave me a thumbs up, jiving his way towards the speakers. Sweat was dripping down my spine, shirt sticking like flypaper to my skin, and I wished I'd worn shorts or a skirt rather than my stupid, tight bluejeans. My face felt damp, make-up itching, and I was almost completely out of breath.

The first few words to my favorite song came on. Every ailment fled like a getaway car.

Kayama didn't need to lead my body as it pulsed, arms raising, pulled by the words.
I turned, dazed, moved by the lyrics.

A broad, shadowed figure was abnormally walking, rather than swaying, in my direction.

Blonde hair. Granite jaw. Muscles cut like diamond.
Everything inside me froze.
Even half-drunk, I would've recognized that face anywhere.
He stopped in front of me, the man of my teenage dreams.
Starry-eyed and blissful, mouth slow to smile. My tipsy head tilted.

"Are you...real?"

"You can pinch me, if that'd help,"

I was joking with All Might. All Might had just jokingly gave me permission to touch him.

I blinked stupidly, basking in his golden light. A smile twitched his lips.

"Awfully tragic song," He commented.

"Only if you want it to be," I responded, used to such an opinion concerning the dark-soul songstress's lyrics. She'd gotten me through high school, feeding my hungry, angsty soul like no friend or novel ever could. Feeling comfortable in a topic I was well-versed in- even, apparently, half-drunk- I was able to ease into a calmed state. A hand appeared and I took it, fingers cool within his.
I barely came to his ribcage. He was all but radiating heat, as if that golden light he emitted was tangible, blood quick in his long veins. It swirled, pumped doubtlessly by a massive heart, stronger than a rapid's current. The flow was interrupted in one area and foggily I reached for it with my mind's eye, wondering what caused such an abnormality. Was he constructed differently than us? If feels as if it's damaging him.

My half-baked thoughts dissolved as a muscular arm gently wrapped around my waist. My hair fell across his skin like a glossy sheet; the only cover he seemed to have against our surroundings.

"People are looking at you," I noticed with a taste of sudden self-consciousness. Eyes were attuned to our every breath, glued to our movements. Our bodies were practically one in the same as he cradled me, delicately, to him, more protective than even Midnight had been. With normal clothing and around tipsy civilians he still couldn't hide; that tall, golden hair, his towering height, gave him away every time.

Almost as tall, my brain processed, sluggish, as Toshinori.

His chuckle pulled my brain upright, refocusing on the handsome face suspended above mine.

"No," He answered, smile warm and voice soft, "They're looking at you,"

By association, I suddenly recalled the uncomfortableness of my body coated in make-up and sweat. His grip was unyielding as I flinched in response, face warming. His head shook slowly.

"You look beautiful; stop overthinking."

I relaxed into him like one does in bed at the end of a long day. He was so warm. Like Nasu's fur after lying in the window sill all afternoon. I could bask in it for two lifetimes over. The song swelled with its final chorus and I wished desperately for an eternity more of this, of slow dancing with the most noble hero in the world and just being.

The song faded, like Cinderella's clock striking twelve. I sighed, blissful.

"I should probably go,"

"Going to turn into a pumpkin soon? Please, allow me to walk you out to your carriage,"

I laughed, surprised by the connected reference. He blushed at the sound and in that moment my mind was filled with another face, similar in color and sweetness.

"Thank you. For coming, I mean. And please thank Toshinori, too," All Might looked surprised and my smile grew wry, pulling away, holding his large hands in mine. "I know he asked you to come. He's too good a person to say so, but I know he left to go call you,"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," All Might answered dubiously.
The night air was cooled, relieving my burning skin. I sighed into it, watching as the most chivalrous hero hurried near the road to hail a taxi. He returned, triumphant, and I allotted him a small round of applause.

"I'll see you around school," His voice was deep but soft. I nodded, stepping closer one final time.

"I hope you have a good night. Don't forget to thank Toshinori for me, and give him this," Even on tiptoe I was nowhere near my target. I grabbed his shirt and gently brought his face down to my level, pressing my lips against the farthest edge of his mouth. His entire body grew still, and then glowed red. I laughed, letting my fingers roam down the bones of his jaw as I pulled away.

I'd started this night anxious, fearful, and self conscious, and ended it calm and blissful, tumbling into a waiting taxi, world's greatest hero watching me with a blush on his face. Is this how Cinderella really felt, leaving the dance of her dreams?

"Good night," I waved from the window, feeling suddenly forlorn. When will I see him again? He started, regaining his posture at last, and raised a hand of his own, words just reaching me as the taxi pulled away.

"Good night...Chiyo,"