Tsuyu's first attempt to have a real conversation with Bakugou ended quite disastrously.

Which was why, among other reasons, she texted Ochako asking if she could bring him along with the others outside after their "Room King" contest. Her friend's initial response had been lighthearted but also confused; though after a brief explanation that Tsuyu had "run into" the explosive blond at the cafeteria and a vague statement about feeling bothered from "certain tensions," Tsuyu suspected her friend was able to piece together what she was getting at. She definitely was, if her subsequent spam of heart-filled emojis was anything to go by.

Tsuyu took in a deep breath to try and clear her thoughts, sitting patiently on one of the benches outside Heights Alliance. It was a cooler night with a bit of wind, a welcome change from the afternoon's humidity, and listening to the steady buzz of insects from the nearby forest grounds was almost enough to set her heart at ease. Tsuyu didn't experience social anxiety often — her usual stoic self didn't give too much thought to her high school image. So when confronted with the real possibility she could lose the friendships she'd tried so hard to foster... It was an additional challenge to keep her feelings in check.

She pulled out her phone and glanced at the top of the screen. 10:05. She wasn't quite sure if Bakugou would agree to come or even be awake to answer the door, but whatever his response was, she needed to apologize and get her feelings out into the open — at least to her other friends — as soon as possible. Of course, Tsuyu hoped they still considered themselves friends.

The frog girl's accidental faux pas at the dining hall continued to eat at her throughout the day, which might've been irrational considering she didn't actually say anything off-color. All he did was excuse himself from the table, and she probably was just making a big deal out of it.

But her careless words didn't just discomfort Bakugou and distance yet another classmate — it also opened up her eyes to how unacceptable her recent behavior had been in general. On her way back to the dorms, Tsuyu was stung again by the memory of reprimanding her classmates for their plan to rescue Bakugou. And this time, she realized it wasn't just because what her friends did was heroic.

It was because her own actions were unheroic.

Vigilantism or no, their retrieval mission (which had been the main topic of students' conversations throughout the day) wasn't a reckless effort to fight the League as Tsuyu initially presumed. Iida and Momo were the most responsible two in their class, and doubting their ability to keep the others reeled in and safe only revealed a lack of trust in her fellow heroes-in-training. Most importantly, the incident dropped the curtain of idealism Tsuyu had of heroics. When the worst came to worst, her classmates had shown themselves to be selfless, and she had chosen to rebuke them as a bystander.

"Oh! Tsuyu!"

She whipped her head towards the front entrance. There the six — no, seven — of them stood, Ochako leading the group while waving her hand. Behind her were Midoriya, Iida, Kirishima, Todoroki, Momo… and Bakugou. Tsuyu swallowed as she got up to meet them. So they'd managed to get him up after all.

The blond in question trailed behind, looking like his usual grouchy self, but she thought there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Ochako greeted her with a cheerful smile that barely masked her underlying concern. As for the others, they all wore various expressions of confusion and worry. Well, except for Todoroki. He just looked confused.

Bakugou, surprisingly, was the first one to break the ice. "Hey, Froggy. This better be important if you woke me up for it."

Tsuyu walked forward, still deliberating all the possible words she could start out with. She stood next to Ochako, who gave her a nod of reassurance. "Tsu has something she wants to say to you all," she announced.

All eyes were on her. Guess I'll have to wing it.

"I always say what's on my mind, no matter what. But sometimes I have no idea what I should say," she breathed out. "You all remember what I said at the hospital. And… you've probably heard too, right, Bakugou?"

Realization dawned on each of their faces. Bakugou frowned, but turned his eyes away. "Yeah," he affirmed.

The box of emotion that Tsuyu kept welled up inside her was threatening to break, but she couldn't stop now. "My choice of words was really severe. And when I heard this morning from Aizawa-sensei that you guys went anyway… I just didn't know how I could face you after that."

Her fingers clenched at the hem of her shirt. "What you did was really heroic, and I don't even want to imagine what would've happened if you all listened to me. These negative feelings would just come up whenever you tried to talk to me. How could I keep chatting and laughing, pretending like nothing happened?"

Tsuyu lifted her head up, giving a feeble smile through the tears that were now obscuring her vision. "So — this is the only thing I could think of to set things straight. I'm sorry."

The rest of the group stood in place, still shocked by her disclosure. Ochako placed a comforting hand on the frog girl's back as she croaked quiet sobs. "You're okay, Tsu… all of us feel bad about what happened. I think that's why we started the Room King contest earlier." She paused to find her words, before raising a fist. "We gotta keep smiling. There's no use putting blame on anyone now that we've come so far, so… let's just keep working hard! Together!"

As soon as Ochako finished, the anxious tension hanging in the air finally disappeared. The others rushed forward, giving Tsuyu words of reassurance as tears ran down her face at a rate that could rival Midoriya. Momo gave her a gentle hug from the side as Kirishima put a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Tsu! Thank you for talking to us!"

"Apologies, Asui."

"Asu – Tsuyu!"

Even after all their hardships, her friends refused to be resentful... she was too blessed. Tsuyu would have felt totally in the moment if she hadn't seen Bakugou still standing at the edge of the group, appearing nonplussed.

"Hold on," she interrupted, wiping at her cheeks. The others fell back and followed her gaze towards the blond, who froze at the sudden spotlight. Tsuyu fidgeted, but kept her expression even as she met his eyes. "I know this is really awkward, Bakugou, but I need to apologize to you… because of what I said at the hospital. It was short-sighted of me, and I hope you don't have bad feelings because of it."

A strange mixture of emotions showed in his features. Initial uncertainty. Realization. Then a muted anger — but as he began to speak, Tsuyu realized it wasn't directed towards any of them.

"You don't get to beat yourself up about it," Bakugou muttered, staring back at the ground. "It was my fault for being weak and getting caught in the first place."

The entire group fell silent, taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. Midoriya tensed before taking a step towards him, hesitation in his voice. "...What? Kacchan, what are you talking about?"

Bakugou clenched his fists. "You know what I'm talking about, you shitty nerd. It won't happen again, but I was weak. It's why you all banded together to cover my ass!"

"You weren't weak!" Midoriya retorted. "You were kidnapped by villains — you didn't have a choice."

Bakugou's jaw tightened, glaring at the other boy and bristling at the implication. "Didn't have a choice?" he repeated, eyes narrowing. "I had plenty of chances! I could've blasted those bastards to hell if I was just a little faster at the camp — if I hadn't let my guard down in the first place."

"Kacchan—"

"I screwed up, Deku," he snapped. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"Bakugou," Kirishima said quickly, stepping forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Stop. You know it's not all on you. None of us blame you for what happened."

"You think that makes a difference?" Bakugou barked, his voice rising. "Heroes don't just get a free pass 'cause no one's blaming them. They've gotta own up to their screw-ups! You think the public gives a damn how I feel about it? No, they're wondering how anyone could fucking replace All Might."

"You are correct in saying that is the duty of a hero," Iida cut in, pushing his glasses up with a somber expression. "But part of being a hero is learning from mistakes… not drowning in guilt. Believe me, Bakugou, I know how that feels."

Momo nodded, stepping beside him. "That doesn't make you weak. What happened to All Might wasn't your fault."

"Bullshit!" he growled. "You think it doesn't eat at me every time I look at him now? Every time he sees me and smiles like everything's fine?" His voice cracked, ever so slightly, and Tsuyu's breath hitched. "He lost everything saving my ass. And all I did was sit there, tied up like some helpless kid!"

"All Might made a choice."

The others looked at Todoroki. His voice was calm, but firm. "He used everything he had because he wanted to show the world what he stood for. That's his strength, not your weakness."

The group fell quiet again. Tsuyu watched Bakugou, unsure of what to say. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and for a moment, he looked as though he was about to keep yelling — to keep pouring everything out — but then his gaze flicked around the circle. The moonlight highlighted his expression: regret, anger, and something else… embarrassment.

His eyes landed on her for a brief moment. Tsuyu held his gaze, steady and open. Finally, she spoke.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Bakugou. But thank you for being here. And for listening." She bowed slightly in appreciation.

The blond opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Another pause. Then, he turned sharply on his heel. "Tch," he grunted, "Forget I said anything."

Bakugou shoved his hands into his pockets and walked off into the night, his slippers scuffing against the pavement as he disappeared around the corner of Heights Alliance. The tension hung in the air like smoke.

"I didn't know he was… bottling that up," Ochako murmured, hugging her arms to her chest. "He never talked about what happened. I thought he was just… angry."

"I think it's more than just anger," Momo said quietly. "It's shame." Next to her, Todoroki hummed in agreement.

"I should've seen it earlier," Kirishima muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I knew something was eating at him, but he always shuts me down when I try to ask." He sighed and shook his head. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Once he's simmered down."

"I believe that would be best," Iida said with a solemn nod. "Tonight was heavy for all of us."

Midoriya hadn't said a word since Bakugou left. He stared at the spot where he stood for a long moment before whispering, "He's been carrying that since Kamino."

Tsuyu turned her gaze down to her hands, curling them loosely at her shorts. Her heart was still beating fast.

She had expected resistance. A scoff, maybe a snide remark when she singled him out for an apology. She hadn't expected him to bare his teeth at himself.

How long had he been shouldering it alone? The thought made her chest tighten.

Tsuyu had spent all day thinking she was the one who messed everything up — by scolding her friends, by saying too much to Bakugou, by failing to act when maybe she should have. She knew her explosive classmate had been regretting how things played out, but not to this extent.

He had been suffering, too. In his own way. Quietly. Furious with himself. Beating himself up with expectations no one had placed on him but himself.

They were more similar than she thought.

Katsuki stared down at his math textbook, eyes scanning over the same calculus problem for what had to be the fourth time. His pencil hovered above the page, unmoving.

He was supposed to be solving integrals. Finding the slope of some useless graph or whatever. But his brain wouldn't shut up long enough to carry a number through.

His thoughts were still back outside, hours ago, where he'd opened his mouth and let something slip—something real, something ugly—and made a complete fool of himself in front of seven of his damn classmates.

His stomach twisted. "Forget I said anything," he'd spat, and then bailed before they could say anything else. Like a damn coward.

They all tried to uselessly comfort him in their own way. He couldn't remember half of what they'd said, and the other half he didn't want to think about. Deku probably had a whole speech locked and loaded, but never got the chance to say it. Katsuki was glad for that, at least.

But one comment stuck out in his mind more than any of them.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Bakugou."

It was the only thing that didn't sound like pity.

She'd just said it—quiet, like it wasn't supposed to be anything big. Like she meant it. And weirdly enough, it helped.

Katsuki groaned and shoved the textbook off his lap, letting it land on the bed with a dull thud. It was already past midnight. He wasn't getting anything done like this. He needed to cool his head.

Chamomile tea. That's what his mom was always drinking to "soothe the nerves." Not that he believed in that holistic crap, but it couldn't be worse than lying in bed and spiraling.

He grabbed a mug from his shelf, slipped on his house slippers, and trudged out of his room toward the kitchen.

The dorm's kitchen was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the under-cabinet lights. Katsuki filled the kettle, set it to boil, and leaned against the counter, arms folded.

He hated how much the silence left room for his thoughts.

He'd never wanted anyone to see how messed up Kamino had left him. Not his parents. Not his classmates. Definitely not Deku.

But tonight he'd blown that wide open. The second he let those words slip, he knew he'd be thinking about it for weeks. And then, that dumb thought surfaced again—what kind of future Number One Hero has a breakdown in front of half his class?

His scowl deepened. And just to make everything worse, Deku was already pulling ahead with that freaky new quirk of his. Everyone else had noticed. All Might was spending more time with him. Coaching him. Watching him.

And where did that leave Katsuki?

The kettle clicked off. Katsuki grunted and reached for the chamomile teabags when—

"Bakugou?"

He turned. Standing in the doorway, blinking up at him with that usual frog-eyed calm, was Asui.

She was wearing a loose-fitting green sleep shirt covered in cartoon frogs, paired with matching shorts that looked like they hadn't seen an iron in weeks. Her hair was damp, probably from a late-night shower, and she rubbed at one eye.

He blinked, caught off guard. "The hell are you doing up, Froggy?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied simply. "I was thinking about things." Her gaze shifted to the kettle. "Is that chamomile you're making?"

Katsuki exhaled through his nose, reaching for a second mug in a nearby cabinet. "Yeah. There's enough for two."

Tsuyu gave a small nod and padded toward the counter, settling into one of the stools. "Thanks, kero."

They didn't speak as he prepared the tea. Just the rustling of the teabags, the pour of hot water, and the faint tick of the kitchen clock above the fridge.

But strangely, the silence didn't feel uncomfortable. It felt... still.

Katsuki handed her the mug. "Here."

She took a slow sip, steam rising up around her cheeks. "Thanks."

More silence. And then—

"I meant what I said earlier," she murmured. "Thank you for coming outside and listening to my apology. I know it wasn't easy."

He grunted. "You don't need to worry about me."

"I do," she said.

He looked up, mildly surprised.

She kept her eyes on the tea. "I know you think taking all the blame on your shoulders makes you stronger. But it doesn't. It just makes you tired."

"Tch. If I'd been strong, none of this would've happened. We wouldn't have been sent to live in these stupid dorms, either," he muttered. "I just need to work harder."

"And how long do you think you'll last if you keep punishing yourself?"

He didn't answer.

Tsuyu tilted her head, studying him. "Have you had any therapy since Kamino?"

Katsuki scoffed. "Some government shrink. He talked like he didn't want to be there." He paused, lips tightening. "My parents just kept treating me like I was gonna fall apart. Babying me like that'd fix anything."

She nodded slowly, contemplative. Quiet.

Katsuki found himself thinking—not for the first time—that her silence wasn't bad. It didn't make him feel pressured, or pitied, or like he had to talk more than he wanted.

Most of the extras who hung around him—Kaminari, Sero—they were always so damn loud.

He hesitated, staring into the swirl of steam rising from his mug.

"…Asui," he said slowly, "would I make a good villain?"

He hadn't mentioned it to any of his classmates – hell, he hadn't even mentioned it to that stupid therapist – but the fact that the League of Villains tried to get him to join their side after they kidnapped him was stuck in his mind ever since. It was always a rule he stuck by to never care about what extras thought of him. But if a bunch of villainous low-lifes thought he'd fit in… how did everyone else see him?

Tsuyu blinked. "No. Of course not."

"You say that like it's obvious."

"It is," she said. "You're the furthest thing from a villain. We're all heroes-in-training."

He scoffed. "Well, some of the shittiest villains in this country seemed to think otherwise."

"And how do you know that?" she asked.

Katsuki frowned. "They tried to recruit me when I was captured. Said I'd fit in."

Tsuyu didn't flinch. She just brought a hand to her chin, thinking.

"Well," she said after a pause, "for one thing, you have the most determination to be the strongest out of anyone I've ever met."

"Glad you think so," he grimaced. Villains wanted to be strong too.

She took another sip of her tea.

"What drives you to be the strongest?" she asked.

The question hit harder than he expected. His grip on the mug tightened.

"You're starting to sound like that damn therapist."

She didn't apologize. Just watched him, patient. He shifted in his seat.

"…I want to be like All Might."

A small smile spread across her face. "And that's why you're here at U.A."

He looked away.

"I don't think anyone who desires that as strongly as you do could be villainous," she said softly.

Katsuki met her eyes again. There was something warm in her gaze. Calm. Steady. It made his throat feel tight. But no, that had to be the tea.

"Besides," she added, "I practically called my classmates villains for doing something heroic, and then I just sat and watched."

His brow furrowed. "That's not the same."

"It isn't," she agreed. "But I let fear get the better of me. And crying it out earlier really did help."

She tilted her head, almost like she was talking to herself. "Friends really are something else. Don't take them for granted, Bakugou. Vulnerability isn't always a bad thing."

She rose from the stool, carried her mug to the sink, and rinsed it out.

"I'm going to head back to my room now. Thanks for the tea."

She paused at the hallway, turning slightly.

"And Bakugou… you're strong, for coming out of there in one piece. Still you. Don't forget that."

Then she was gone, footsteps fading toward the elevator.

Katsuki sat alone in the quiet kitchen, the last of his tea cooling between his hands.

Strong.

He wasn't sure if he believed it. But for the first time in a long time, the words didn't sound like hollow praise. They didn't bounce off the armor he'd built around himself.

Tsuyu Asui meant them.

And somehow, that made all the difference.