Classes passed uneventfully the next day. Bashira thought about finding that girl – Wakako or whatever – but ultimately she didn't care enough to pursue giving an apology. Bashira didn't even bother looking for the other girl's weird, twirled brown hair among the heads in class. She only put effort into paying attention to the lesson, which took up enough energy on its own.

Lunch was an entirely separate spectacle. Bashira had tried getting used to doing things alone yet other people were popping up more and more often in her life. Similarly to what had happened a week or two before, Kirishima noticed her and called out as she carried her food away from the serving station. Obediently, once again mostly just to get him to shut up, Bashira joined his group. It was more or less the usual gathering: Kirishima, Kaminari, Jirou, Sero, and – keeping an empty seat between himself and the rest of them – Bakugo.

"I guess you don't mind if I sit here, right?" Bashira half-joked as she put her tray down. She liked everyone just fine but wasn't totally sure if they felt the same about her or only acted on behalf of Shoto.

"Depends what you picked for dessert," Sero drawled with an exaggerated grin. "I'll take some mango ice cream, if you got it."

"Sorry," Bashira simpered, "but I skipped the sweets."

While Sero made a show of deflating, Kirishima was as genuine as ever. "No worries! We're asking you, not your food."

Convinced as much as she could be, Bashira settled in. She would have followed Bakugo's lead and left one seat open between herself and Jirou but that probably would have only made things awkward.

"How's it going?" Earphone Jack asked, keeping her focus on her food. It didn't seem like she was being rude or disinterested, though, and Bashira remembered that Jirou was one of the only girls in Shoto's class that seemed to have a more normal, toned-down personality.

"Good enough," Bashira offered, deliberately keeping her answer lackadaisical. Jirou didn't seem to mind at all but Kaminari piped in with exuberance.

"That's all you've got to say?" the blonde challenged. "Aren't you a newlywed? The 'honeymoon phase' should have you feeling great! Don't tell me Todoroki's falling short, if ya know what I mean?"

Bashira could feel her face (and heart, and blood flow) freezing. Did he really just go there?

Thankfully the rest of the group saw the blinding fault in Kaminari's comment.

"Did you let one too many electrical currents fry through your brain?" Jirou spat. She dug her elbow into Kaminari's side to drill in the point.

"Yeah, that's so not manly," Kirishima added with a frown. Kaminari flustered and did his best to defend himself.

"Hey, hey, relax. It was just a jab! I didn't mean anything by it. Seriously!"

"But really," Sero grumbled. Bashira could tell by the way he lowered his voice and spoke through his teeth that she wasn't supposed to hear what he hissed over the table. "Why would you go and say something like that to a girl at all, huh? Let alone one who got forced into a phony marriage."

If Bashira's insides had been petrified before, Sero's words made everything holding her together feel like they'd simultaneously shattered.

So they knew that she and Shoto were a sham. At least she didn't have to keep wondering. Was it better or worse that there wasn't so much pressure to keep up a pretense anymore? How would things change if she didn't have to fake anything?

"Phony?" Kaminari blinked obtusely. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh my god," Jirou groaned, her forehead falling forward onto the table. "For real? You didn't figure it out?!"

"What? What am I missing? Tell me!"

The exchange sounded like it was underwater to Bashira, but Sero snapped her back.

"Ignore this idiot, Kobayashi."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Kirishima added. "You don't need to feel weird about anything. We're still your friends. Just be yourself with us."

Bashira thought she probably looked about the same as Kaminari had a second ago as she stared dumbly. Kirishima offered her a smile, his eyes wide and bright but soft with understanding. She didn't even have the space to think about how he looked as cute as a puppy.

The others didn't seem to mind when Bashira retreated within herself. They let her process while they sparked up a new topic (after Bakugo lost it and ordered – loudly – for Kaminari to stop whining). She felt a little guilty for being so disengaged but she had bigger things to worry about.

How was she supposed to be herself again? Was she even the same person? She hadn't even figured that much out yet to begin with.

It'd only been a few weeks, but Bashira doubted she could ever go forward as if she was the same person she'd used to be. How we she just supposed to bounce back? And did she even want to?

Not for the first time, Bashira realized that she had to find even ground with where the new turn of events had left her.

Paying attention to afternoon classes somehow came easier for Bashira. The lectures and note-taking were a welcomed distraction from her existential crisis. It wasn't like the revelation was new to her, really. She'd obviously realized her life had been turned upside down and wouldn't settle into anything regular any time soon, and she was well aware her behavior and mind set had been erratic lately. So what? Who could blame her? Like anyone else would have reacted any better.

While the news that everyone (being Shoto's class) knew about the arranged marriage put Bashira more exposed and on edge, it was also liberating. No one really expected her to be a blushing bride after all. Maybe they hadn't been judging her as much as she'd thought. Her antisocial-ness was understandable to them then, wasn't it?

Kirishima had called them all her friends. Was he just bullshitting to make her feel better? She hadn't exactly given anyone any reason to legitimately like her. They probably just sympathized and still felt some duty to Shoto to treat her nicely.

Then again, she'd been civil enough where no one could reasonably hate her either, right?

"Kobayashi-san?"

Bashira blinked back to reality. She'd been vaguely aware of class ending but hadn't bothered to move. As her eyes drifted to the left, though, she immediately recognized the twirl-ended hair and orangey eyes beside her.

Wakako Ito was clasping her hands in front of her, the expression on her face trained in seriousness.

An uncomfortable moment passed between the two before Ito suddenly fell forward in a bow. It happened so quickly that Bashira almost startled. Ito pulled herself up just as jerkily as she'd gone down, her features still schooled.

"I'm sorry for the way that I approached you the other day," the other gird said. Bashira got the impression that Ito had practiced her lines. "You were right. None of us had done much to reach out to you before, and it wasn't okay for me to leap in and try to get so personal right away."

Bashira still offered nothing, only watching without a word or twitch.

Ito inched forward and went in for another bow, her mouth opening again to say something, but before she could make it all the way down her head smashed into the edge of Bashira's desk.

Bashira flinched back and choked on a "heh?" She'd meant to ask if Ito was okay but the full question hadn't quite made it out.

Stuck at seventy-five degrees, Ito was stiff and silent. The tension could have been cut with a brick.

"Ow," a small mewl came from the brunette. She still didn't move, which only made the moment that much more obscure.

Slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae, Ito pulled herself into a standing position. Her face betrayed none of the pain and embarrassment Bashira thought for sure she must have felt.

"As I was saying," Ito continued. It would have been a valiant effort if her voice wasn't a higher pitch than earlier. "I'm sorry that I was so forward. Please forgive me and give the class another chance to get closer to you more genuinely."

Bashira considered Ito. The sun-set-eyed girl must have had friends in this class if she'd asked Bashira to forgive them all. Then why didn't anyone step in when Ito had gotten hurt? When Bashira eyed the perimeter of the room she noticed a few looks directed towards them, but no action was taken.

How lame.

For whatever reason, Bashira's lips twisted up in a ghost of a smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll all have plenty of chances to make it up to me. Besides, I'm sorry for being a bitch, too."

Ito shook out her daze slightly, focusing on Bashira with clarity that she'd lacked before. Eventually, both girls were wearing some semblance of a smile.

Thankfully Ito didn't linger, taking Bashira's acceptance as her cue to shuffle away with an amiable word of parting. She was an odd one, without a doubt, and Bashira suddenly, and surprisingly, found herself curious about the other girl. At least she didn't seem as shallow and witless as she'd come across in their first encounter. Maybe Bashira should cut Ito some slack, like Class 1-A had done for her.

"Are these seats taken?"

It was a stupid question, given that there were about six seats empty at the table, so Bashira made sure to smirk and hope the quip came across as such. Everyone sent her warm looks to show they understood the jest – all except one.

"Dumbass," Bakugo seethed. "Either sit the hell down or get the hell out."

"That's just his way of saying you're welcome to join us, and you don't have to ask every time," Kirishima, ever the gracious host, assured. This time, at dinner on the same day, the only change in the lineup was Mineta taking the place beside Kaminari. Bashira eyed the puny purple boy but slid into her intended seat beside Jirou.

The group exchanged snippets of small talk for a few minutes between bites, chewing, and swallowing. Bashira had started zoning out until she heard her name.

"So, Kobayashi, what's your Hero costume look like? I've been super curious."

It was Mineta who asked, his slight lisp and gravelly voice making the addresser obvious. (And, other than the question on its own, its complete stochasticity drew all of the others' attention.)

"I don't have one," Bashira answered, keeping her tone detached. "I thought I told you all that I'm not on the path to be a Hero."

Sero slurped down the bite that he was working on before speaking. "Being in U.A. hasn't changed your stance at all? Laying low made sense where you grew up before, but you haven't considered making more of yourself now that you're here?"

The suggestion threw Bashira off completely. She was offended at first: as if being a Hero was what everyone was supposed to want? But as she thought it came back around to the fact that she was a student in a world renowned Hero school, so it was only to be expected.

"Not really," Bashira responded, playing nonchalant. "I think it's a little too late for me to change gears."

There was a beat before Kaminari stepped in. "Just make sure to remember my name once I go pro. I'm sure you'll hear a lot about me. I'm Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt!"

Kaminari beamed, full of hubris. Bashira sent him a deadpan.

"You mean your Hero name isn't Pikachu-2?"

The response was near instantaneous. As Kaminari turned to ice, the rest of the table erupted.

"Whaaaat," Jirou heaved, expelling her food from more than one hole. "Why haven't I heard that one yet!?"

"You haven't?" Bashira blinked in surprise. "It was an obvious comparison to me."

"There is a pretty clear likeness," Sero snickered.

"Yeah, he is a kind of mousey guy," Kirishima said through his teeth, holding a hand over his mouth to help cover his laugh.

"H-hey! C'mon, that's embarrassing! I'm not some cartoon character, I'm way cool!"

"Pikachu is really popular. What's the problem?"

As the cacophony continued, Bashira, grinning, found her eyes drifting away on their own. By seeming coincidence they found Shoto a few tables over. He was watching his table mates with mild interest, but his eyes snapped to meet hers as if he'd felt them.

There was a sort of lapse of time, and Bashira belatedly felt her smile slipping as she lost her concentration. On the other end, though, Shoto's lips quirked up at the corners in an expression she'd never seen on him. It was strange, but she wasn't against it. In fact, she liked that look on him, as well the feelings that it put in the pit of her chest when it was directed towards her.