Even if she did get along with Shoto's class, Bashira didn't make any effort to seek out their company afterwards. The interactions had rejuvenated part of her spirit but she preferred to focus the extra energy on getting herself back on track.
The U.A. gym facilities were geared more towards combat training, but they did have regular machines like treadmills and weight equipment. Bashira didn't considered herself particularly athletic but she liked to put some energy towards maintaining an average level of fitness. Despite the lack of a drive to be a Hero herself, Bashira did have her provisional license (although she wondered it that even applied in her new, urban prefecture; Ashoro was probably a lot more lax with those legalities, after all). But if anything did happen to go down while she was around, she wasn't about to be dead weight.
Bashira had sucked up all of her sulking and started eating regularly. By the end of the week she figured she'd recovered enough for a workout.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise that the U.A. gym was pretty packed in the hours before dinner. Aspiring Heroes would, of course, want to train as much as possible. Luckily enough for Bashira the battle simulators were slightly more popular than basic equipment, so she wasn't met with too much waiting time during her circuit training.
Unluckily for Bashira, just a few weeks of slacking had taken its toll on her endurance level. It'd been more difficult than it should have been for her to complete her usual routine. She was relieved to get through the self-disciplined session, but the amount of fight it had taken was almost equally discouraging.
After a brief shower Bashira trudged her way to the cafeteria. Her hair was tied up, still wet, and her face was bare. She wasn't so conceited that she wouldn't face the world without makeup but she wanted to avoid speaking to anyone regardless. She wasn't in the best of moods.
Of course, no such fate was in her favor.
The only people she knew in the academy were Class 3-A, so it just went to figure that some of them would be the ones to spot her. Bashira had already gotten her food and was trying to find a secluded spot when Kirishima called out to her.
"Hey, Kobayashi!" the crimson hero called out. Bashira was a bit baffled by how loud he was, but more than that she was praising the gods that he'd at least used her own last name. "Over here!"
More to get him to quiet down than anything, Bashira scurried over to the group. Kirishima was seated with Kaminari, Jiro, Sero, and Bakugo. She hovered close to them, not yet willing to take a place at the table.
"Hi, guys," Bashira exhaled. Her grin had to have been ridiculously artificial-looking. "What's up?"
"Not much, just the obvious." Kirishima smirked, gesturing towards their food. "Were you heading for your friends? You could sit with us, if you want."
Bashira wasn't sure how to respond. Seeing her hesitance, Sero flicked a bit of food towards Kirishima. "She's taken, Hard-Head. What makes you think she'd sit down with a bunch of eligible dudes without her beau's supervision?"
("I'm here, too," Jiro grumbled under her breath, without much notice.)
The boys scuffled a bit, but Bashira froze. That was the situation now, wasn't it? She was off the market – she belonged to someone.
No other respectable guy would ever be interested in her again. Even if, as Kirishima assured soon after, he didn't mean anything "weird" by it.
On the opposite end, Bashira wouldn't be able to flirt freely again either. She would never get to enjoy another crush. The next time a boy gave her the warm-and-fuzzies it would only be taboo. Bashira would need to smother the flutter of butterflies until they were dead and decaying corpses adding to the bleakness of her soul.
'Maybe that's too heavy of a way to put it, but...'
Bashira made her decision and plopped her plate down. "If you all don't mind, I will sit here."
The boys (minus Bakugo) seemed pleased. Jiro, though, gave Bashira a dry look.
"Maybe if you join us more often," Earphone Jack remarked, "they'll remember that I'm actually a girl, too."
Jiro's tone had been dark, and Bashira related to the other girl's blight instantly. It was almost too perfect of a scenario.
"Boys are dumb," Bashira said simply. "You can't expect much from them."
The males around them balked, but Bashira and Jiro shared brighter glances.
It was the first time that Shoto had noticed Bashira in the cafeteria, and what had drawn his attention to her was only the rowdiness of his classmates.
Shoto was seated two tables away, at a wide angle from Bashira's seat. He knew she'd gotten along with everyone pretty well at the class dinner, but watching her settle in so comfortably with the group of guys (minus Jiro) put just the slightest pinch in his stomach.
From a distance, Shoto watched as Bashira smiled. She laughed. She brushed some stray hair out of her face, bit her bottom lip, and shifted her gaze during some kind of coy banter. She was natural with that group, he surmised. She had more of a connection with them than she'd had with him.
Maybe, in another world, someone else would have been a better match for her. If everything hadn't been set in stone for them, Bashira could have lived more passionately and picked whichever man excited her the most as a partner.
Shoto got that impression from her – that Bashira was a free spirit. Her style made that relatively clear. Besides her appearance, there were hints of Bashira's taste that Shoto had noticed. That morning, for one, the music playing in their bedroom while she'd gotten ready had been punk rock rather than pop. Bashira struck Shoto as the type of girl who was hard to pin down, in every way possible. He doubted she had a "type" when it came to boys, so long as they attracted her in the moment.
Despite the fact that they were formally married, Shoto wouldn't really blame Bashira if she had interest in other guys. It was a normal teenage thing, and their circumstances could only escalate her desire to explore some forbidden fantasies. Why wouldn't she imagine – and pursue – a better life for herself? She'd already admitted to having a rebellious streak anyway.
Shoto didn't care, personally. If Bashira took things too far it wouldn't be good for either of their reputations – or their inescapable relationship – but that wasn't a huge concern to him at the moment. It got him thinking, actually, about something similar being an option. What if Bashira did catch feelings for someone else, and Shoto just let it happen?
Marriage was only a legal binding. And Shoto did respect Bashira enough to give her a freer reign than would have normally been expected.
Endeavor would be furious if he found out, of course. But the only reason Shoto's father had arranged the marriage so early was because he knew that it took time for a couple to build trust in each other. Endeavor had been surprisingly direct with that fact on the day the he'd presented the news to Shoto. Once everything had sunken in, the half-and-half prodigy had been surprised that his father had an "interpersonal development"' motive rather than a "start baking kids ASAP" drive.
Shoto didn't know the details behind his parents' newlywed days but he could be sure that they hadn't been even slightly as relaxed as his and Bashira's. It seemed like Endeavor had at least learned something from his own mistakes; Shoto and Bashira weren't anywhere near ready to be procreating.
Procreating. Shoto had to scowl at the idea. He'd never had those sort of ambitions. He hadn't even achieved his own goals yet so how could he think about the next generation?
As a resolution, Shoto decided that it was fine if Bashira wanted to bat her eyes at other guys. He wouldn't be bothered by it. It might even be better for them in the long run. Bashira wouldn't be nearly as oppressed as Shoto's mother had been.
And otherwise, if nothing else, it would just be the smallest way to stuff it to Shoto's prick of a dad.
Bashira's spirits were higher than ever by the time she settled in for the night. It was still pretty early but there wasn't much else for her to do but scroll through her phone, browsing the web in bed. Usually she would have rather watched TV but there wasn't one in her and Shoto's room. Only the living room had a television, and Bashira hadn't extended her comfort zone that far yet.
Bashira didn't own many books to begin with and she'd been blowing through them faster than she'd expected. She'd read a lot when she was younger but hadn't carried the habit as she got older; the elementary level novels she possessed weren't exactly long-winded reads anymore. Truth be told she'd only picked up the practice again after moving in, since she didn't want to seem like a total Internet-obsessed idiot in front of Shoto. Bashira made a mental note to explore the school's library at some point, though. Reading more wouldn't be the worst hobby for her to adopt in her down time.
A knock came to the door. Bashira called out for Shoto to come in and he did, sparing her a look before he went to the dresser for his pajamas. Bashira returned to her phone, expecting that they would just exchange a simple "good night" before he left her alone.
"Just so you know, I won't be around this weekend," Shoto said. Bashira glanced up. Shoto's face was as cool a mask as ever. "I was going to say you'd probably be able to get permission to head home as well, but weekend trips don't seem like an option for you."
Bashira blinked. She hadn't even considered going back home yet. It would ruin the adjustment, wouldn't it?
But it seemed like Shoto had been trying to be considerate, so Bashira smiled slightly. "No, it wouldn't be worth it. Thanks for mentioning it, though."
Shoto didn't respond. His stare was a little unnerving, making Bashira look away and start picking at the convers. Shoto apparently noticed Bashira's discomfort, or just finished with whatever thought had held him up, because he turned away and put a hand on the door.
"My classmates like you," he said as he made his retreat. "You should spend more time with them while I'm away."
Shoto left then, without the two exchanging their regular pleasantries, and Bashira's mood was left to dwindle.
It was hard to tell if he was angry. Had he seen her at dinner? He'd been the one to suggest that she meet his friends in the first place. Was Shoto actually the type of guy who didn't want her having male friends when he wasn't directly involved to supervise?
Bashira's expression sank while her chagrin rose. There was something else, too. Shoto had said that she could have gotten permission to go home as well. Meaning, he was going to the place he considered home and leaving Bashira behind, by herself, at the school.
It was hypocritical of her, she knew, but Bashira was still somewhat hurt. She didn't particularly want to be included into Shoto's circle just yet, but she still might have gone with him if he'd asked. She could have met his effort if he'd put the offer out. She'd stalked into the lion's den with all of his Hero friends already, hadn't she?
Still, Bashira couldn't really hold it against him. If she were being honest Bashira had never considered Shoto part of her family or notion of home either. They were still practically strangers. What could she expect, the Todoroki's to throw her a "Welcome to the Clan" party?
Bashira put her phone down on the bedside table and sunk into her pillow. The guys she'd sat with at dinner (minus Bakugo, and Jiro only since she was of course a girl) had been easy to get along with. Bashira hadn't felt so normal since before she'd ever heard the Todoroki name. She was glad that Kirishima had been so friendly in inviting her over. And besides that, he was cute.
It felt nice to be around a guy who was actually interested in her, even if it he only meant it platonically.
Screw it. Maybe Bashira would hang out with them more.
After all, she'd gotten Shoto's blessing.
And how much harm could some innocent flirting do anyway?