Shoto and Bashira didn't normally walk to class together. They left the house together sometimes, sure, but Bashira naturally moved at a quicker pace than Shoto and always ended up leading him by a few meters. And since Shoto didn't seem to care, she would pull ahead of him and glance back once they were close to campus to exchange a nod of goodbye before they both went their separate ways.

Other mornings Shoto left by himself early. Bashira assumed it was because he had an errand to run or some extra work to do. He didn't seem like the type to shirk or make excuses just to avoid her – as opposed to the way she'd gotten used to hiding from him.

Just in case Monday was one of those days when Shoto planned on getting a head start, Bashira set her alarm an hour before she would have otherwise gotten up. In anticipation, she was ready way too early and ended up tip-toeing out of the bedroom and around their living space, cleaning up the last of the mess she'd made over the weekend.

Shoto came out of his room around his normal time and raised a brow at Bashira: a fully dressed and prepped Bashira who'd decided 7:00 AM was the time to dust and sanitize all of their furniture.

"Sorry if I woke you or interrupted anything," Bashira said, straightening up and putting her arms behind her back. Shoto wasn't sure if it was so she could fiddle with her clothes or her fingers (as she often did, he'd noticed) or to try to hide the rag she'd been holding, as if he'd forget what a strange thing she'd been doing. "I couldn't sleep."

Shoto didn't believe her excuse for a second but he ultimately wasn't concerned about whatever Bashira was covering up. He only told her not to worry and went on with his usual routine. He slowly became aware, however, that Bashira seemed to be hovering and trying to keep a tab on him. Her out-of-character antics continued as the morning went on and the two left the house, when she walked at an obviously delayed pace beside him.

"Hey…" Bashira put forth half way through their trek. Shoto glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He was almost amused by the fact that her lips stayed parted awkwardly. Unbeknownst to him, the pause was because she literally just didn't know what to call him. "Shoto" felt too intimate. But was "Todoroki" too formal?

Bashira fake-coughed into her shoulder. Shoto was already paying attention to her anyway so why even address him at all? "…I just wanted to say…"

Bashira stalled again. Damn it. Not matter how many times she'd rehearsed what she wanted to say she was still sounding too lame. Too submissive.

Bashira cleared her throat – for real – and straightened up. "I want to tell you that I know you've been looking out for me, in your own way. And I appreciate it. But I think we'll only really get along if we face each other more head on, you know?" The dark haired girl paused to let the bulk of what she said sink in. Was it too much to dump all at once? It sounded like a lot, especially when she hadn't even taken a breath in between. "I don't care if you're blunt with me. I just think we need to talk to each other more."

Shoto kept his gaze leveled, still staring at ahead, as he mulled over the proposal. He was both impressed and surprised but maybe he shouldn't have been. Bashira had never exactly struck him as the meek type.

"Okay," Shoto said. "It seems like you may be interested in knowing something in particular though, to be bringing this up now. Do you want to be honest about that?"

Bashira's cheeks immediately flushed and she shot Shoto a brief glare. The two kept strolling for a few beats, Shoto unbothered and Bashira processing.

"You went to see your family over the weekend, right?" the girl said. "Not that I mean to be snippy, but could you be more straight-forward with that kind of thing in the future? Even if you don't want me involved, I'd appreciate at least knowing where you are. Just in case."

Shoto continued to regard his wife. "Do you want to be involved?"

Bashira reeled back, just slightly. "I didn't mean that. I just want us to be more open. Whether we like it or not we are a core part of each other's' lives now. It won't do either of us any good to keep distancing ourselves."

There were a number of remarks Shoto could have made, ranging from practical to downright snarky. But he chose to refrain. Instead he considered Bashira's perspective and how much effort it must have taken her to approach him about her point. It really wasn't asking too much for them to get closer, but was it really necessary?

Shoto faced forward again. "I went to see my mother this weekend," he confessed, his tone a little clipped. "She was recently released from the hospital."

From his peripheral, Shoto tried to gage Bashira's reaction.

"Oh," Bashira murmured. "Was she hurt? Is she okay?"

Shoto debated his answer. The only person he'd ever told about his childhood was Midoriya, and that was mostly just because he'd been riled up during their first Sports Festival.

"She was in the hospital for a long time, ever since I was little," Shoto responded. "My dad only released her recently."

This time, Shoto deliberately didn't try to read Bashira. He only continued to walk with her, wondering if she'd caught on to the implication. If he had to judge by the lapse before her response she was at least mulling over what he'd said. His answer had been vague but he'd given her enough of a clue to put the pieces together. Would she?

"My mom was in the hospital for a while too," Bashira eventually said. Shoto shot her a look. That was one thing he hadn't expected to come out of her. "I used to hate visiting her. I never actually wanted to see her, but my grandparents made me."

There was something about her tone, and even her expression, that Shoto realized was different from before. She'd always been guarded but something about her had turned outright detached when she brought up her parents.

It was ironic, really, that Bashira had started the conversation out of a desire to connect the two of them more. Yet both of them were only speaking in half-confessions, semi-riddles that still left gaping lines in between to decipher. Shoto didn't find himself minding too much, though. Normally he could pin his lack of curiosity to the fact that he genuinely just didn't overly care about most others' pasts and personal problems. It didn't feel quite the same with Bashira but there was still a certain amount of apathy on his part.

"With any luck," Shoto said, "my dad will get himself torn apart some time soon. Then we can both move on with our lives without him interfering."

Bashira perked up a bit, tossing a raised eyebrow at Shoto. "Do you hate him that much?"

Shoto scoffed but couldn't bring himself to give a solid answer. Instead, he replied with his own arched brow. "Do you not? We're only here like this because of him."

Bashira's lips pursed. "I only met him that day at the courthouse, and he didn't even look to me. He was intimidating. I thought it was because he's so huge, plus being the Number One Hero and all. But if his own son thinks so little of him, maybe Endeavor just isn't someone who deserves to be respected."

With his brow now pinching, Shoto leered at Bashira. Her words came out too easily and they hit him the wrong way. "You've barely even met him but decided who he was so quickly, just because of one thing that I said?"

Bashira frowned, suddenly looking a little irked as well. "Well, one second you're saying that you hope the guy gets himself killed – now you're snapping at me for judging him? Which one is it?"

"…It's more complicated than that."

A small snort came from Bashira. "Obviously. That Bakugo kid really has it right when he calls you 'Icy-Hot', huh?"

It was strange, but there was some tiny corner, somewhere near the size of his pinky toe nail, where Shoto felt self-conscious. It was one thing for him to open up with his classmates – his friends and comrades who all fought and encouraged and suffered together – and it was another to feel exposed to a girl he hadn't really planned on developing any kind of serious relationship with at all.

Talking to Bashira was getting irritating, honestly. Would in only be worse if they made forcing conversations a habit?

Almost like she knew what he was thinking, Bashira turned to Shoto sent him a softer smirk. "What I meant was that I trust you," she declared. "You have way too many friends to be a bad person, or a shitty judge of character."

And just like that, the annoyance that had tinged Shoto's mood vanished. He watched Bashira with a bland expression as the two kept walking. Bashira turned ahead, keeping her gaze determinedly forward, her features loose.

He'd never noticed it much before, but were a lot of girls so ambiguous?

Shoto harrumphed to himself and looked straight again. They were almost on campus.

"My mother asked about you," the boy said after a few more beats. He tried not to focus too much on the words. It was just something he felt compelled to tell Bashira in that moment. "She's worried about you feeling isolated and lonely."

Even though he didn't look over, Shoto somehow knew that Bashira was smiling. He could hear it in her voice when she responded.

"That's nice of her, but you can tell her that I'm doing just fine."

The two had reached the main path leading to their respective buildings by then. They stopped and turned to half face each other.

Bashira sent Shoto another one of her one-sided, uneven smiles, then reached out unexpectedly to bop him in the arm with her fist.

"You can tell your mom that you're taking care of me just fine."

With that Bashira turned away, throwing up a hand as a parting wave. Shoto was momentarily rooted where he stood.

He frowned after her retreating back.

"Excuse me, Kobayashi-san?"

Bashira lifted her eyes to the girl in front of her. Lunch break had only begun thirty seconds ago, and Bashira hadn't even finished packing up her things when she was confronted by a classmate. The girl had a round, non-threatening looking face, but Bashira couldn't help but tense up.

This girl leaned forward in a half bow, grinning congenially. "I'm sorry that I haven't introduced myself before, but my name's Wakako Ito. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Wakako had chestnut brown hair that curled a little oddly around her shoulders, and her eyes were a striking orange. Despite the girl's friendliness, Bashira wasn't settled. Nice to "finally" meet her, huh? Bashira had been going to classes for over a week; what did Wakako want from her all of a sudden?

Wakako caught up to the fact that Bashira hadn't responded and was wearing a soldier-like expression.

"Awe," the girl started, straightening up and rubbing her neck sheepishly. "I don't mean to be too forward, but some of us have been wondering. We've seen you walking with Shoto Todoroki a few times. And you've eaten with some of the 1-A Hero Course students. So… what exactly is your connection to them?"

There it was. Credit had to be given to for Wakako being an honest one, at least. She definitely didn't bother beating around the bush when it was obvious that Bashira wouldn't be humored by it.

Bashira regarded Wakako coolly. Inside, her thoughts were jumbled. People had started taking notice of her habits, then? They'd noticed her. Was that a "whatever" thing or would it end up being a huge pain in the ass?

"Todoroki and I live in the same building is all," Bashira fabricated. "We're related. Distantly."

Wakako blinked in an exaggerated kind of way. "Wow, really? A few people had guessed something that. Then that means you know the Hero Endeavor too, don't you?!" The brunette had steadily lurched forward over Bashira's desk in excitement.

Bashira pulled back. On an impulse, or maybe even instinct, she turned to take in the rest of the room. Half of the kids in her class had left already to get their food elsewhere but a good number of them were still hanging around. There were a few minding their own business and eating quietly. One larger group in the corner was trying a little too hard to be casual, though.

One of the boys met Bashira's eye when he glanced over. He visibly jolted and turned away, leaning into the person next to him as if for cover.

The morning had started off pretty well. Bashira had been in a good mood. She and Shoto had covered some ground. She thought that they'd gotten one step closer to understanding each other and was happy about it.

Now these kids in her class were treating her life like it was a game, apparently. That group in the corner must have been the main gambling ring. Bashira wondered how long they'd been talking about her. Starting rumors. Was there actually money on the table? "200 Yen says she's a secret love child," or "Whoever scores the lowest on the next assignment has to be the one to ask her!"

Maybe she was just being paranoid. But she'd obviously been a matter of interest to the others.

Problem was that Wakako was the only person to ever introduce herself, and that bothered Bashira.

A Lot.

Something snapped. There was some fraction of Bashira's mind that knew it was irrational, and a phantom voice whispered for her to calm down. There really wasn't any reason for her to get upset so quickly. There was no reason for her to be angry.

She just was.

Bashira picked up her pace and stuffed the last of her things into her bag. "I don't know Endeavor," she said, standing. "I mean nothing to him, and next to nothing to Todoroki. So you can all just go back to ignoring me, alright?"

She was being rude and brash, and maybe a little unfair, but Bashira really didn't care. She just slung her bag over her shoulder and stalked out, thoroughly miffed.

That afternoon, Bashira didn't return to class.

And that night, a conflicted Shoto waited for her to return home.