Chapter Text
Chapter 1:
Pilot
The afternoon sun was bright and warm as I pulled into my driveway, stopping just in front of the gate. The engine kept humming, and the radio played softly in the background. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat for a second, feeling the heat of the day.
I looked at the clock in my car. It was half past three.
I never felt so relieved to see my own house even if life did feel a bit lonely at times. My family used to live here, but now it’s just me. I pretty much inherited this house from my parents. Well- not exactly inherited–they are still alive. They decided that life in the city was not for them so they decided to go back to my mother’s hometown where life moved at a slower pace.
As for my sister… well… she’s still studying at university.
So now I was left with a two-story house of my own.
I got out of my car and pushed the gate to the side. The gentle breeze brushed past, carrying with it the faint scent of rain in the air. It wasn’t a heavy downpour yet, but I could feel it coming. I moved my car inside and stopped the engine, the seat pushing itself back to give me room to leave. I stepped onto the porch with my bag slung on one shoulder, my body already craving rest after a long year of teaching.
Being a teacher was exhausting. Often, your work bleeds into the weekends and if you have to deal with little gremlins. If you’re really lucky, (or unlucky) they would have you be a substitute teacher for another class. God forbid you get assigned to classes at the very back. You know, the classes that’s basically a free-for-all.
I was grateful for this month-long break, though as happy as I was to not bear the rowdiness of teenagers, (some of them were outright rebels, by the way) there was a tinge of somberness because they were the ones that kept my life from feeling too lonely. I had been teaching them for a year, after all. It’s not like I’m gonna see them in my class after the break, anyway.
I sighed. Perhaps I should adopt a cat or a small dog to keep me company…
I unlocked the door, slid off my shoes and leaving them by the door. Stepping inside the cool, dimly lit living room, I felt that the house felt quieter than usual. My footsteps echoed off the tiled floors as I shuffled past the small hallway table, my mind drifting back to the chaos of the classroom. Even with all the complaints about noisy students and endless paperwork, I couldn't help but miss the energy they brought to the school. Still, the solitude of my home was something I needed—my own space to recharge.
I hung my keys on the hook by the door and glanced at the living room. The couch, the coffee table, everything just how I left it, still sitting in an almost eerie stillness. A small part of my mind wanted to tell me something was wrong but I shook that thought away. I dropped my bag beside the entrance, the soft thud of it hitting the floor the only sound in the house.
The quiet felt heavy like it had substance. I wasn’t the paranoid type, but something about the air inside the house felt different tonight. I glanced at the darkened corners of the living room as I switched on the lights, the warm yellow glow spilling across the space.
“Alright, Daniel,” I muttered to myself. “You’ve been watching too many of those ‘scary stories from the internet’.”
I moved toward the kitchen. The thought of cooking dinner crossed my mind, but the sheer effort felt monumental after the day I'd had. Maybe instant noodles and a fried egg would suffice—simple, quick, and comforting. I set a kettle of water on the stove and went to grab a pack of noodles-
I felt my tie move and before I could react, it was wrapped around my neck. I tried to scream but there was a hand covering my mouth, making me inaudible to the outside world. All I could see was green.
「これが報いだ、この役立たずの悪党め！」A voice yelled out. I couldn’t understand them.
“Mmmmmmmphh! MMMMMPH!” I tried yelling out. Eventually, I felt a thud and my head lolled to the side before everything went black.
When I came to reality, my head was throbbing, and my wrists were bound with what felt like duct tape. My back rested against the cool tiles of my living room floor, and the figures that had invaded my home were now huddled together, speaking rapidly in Japanese. Their tone was sharp and worn out, presumably in a panic.
My first instinct was to speak, but my throat was dry, and all that came out was a weak groan. The noise caught their attention.
「おい、悪党。何か言いてぇのか？」
My eyes were still glassy and unfocused so I couldn’t identify who was speaking. On top of that, it seemed my glasses had slipped off my face. Although, as I saw it, they all had interesting silhouettes. “Who… who are you? What do you want from me?” I asked with a raspy voice.
One of the figures stepped forward, towering above me. Their silhouette became clearer, and I noticed the unmistakable spikes of hair and the aggressive stance that could only belong to him. Even though my memory of the show was foggy, I recognized the explosion-prone hothead from Class 1-A.
I tried to rub my eyes just to make sure it didn’t deceive me but my hands were still tied. He grabbed me by my tie and pulled me up.
His crimson eyes burned with intensity, the kind of glare that could make even the most stubborn student sit down and shut up. His scowl was deep, his teeth gritted like he’d been clenching his jaw for hours.
「貴様、何を企んでやがる！」 he barked, shaking me slightly, his grip tight enough to make me choke on my own breath.
“I—I don’t know what you’re saying!” I croaked, my voice strained and cracking from the pressure around my neck. He released his grip, letting me fall onto the carpeted floor with a floor.
「かっちゃん！いきなり落とすなよ！」
I coughed as I tried to clear my foggy mind, but my head still felt like it was spinning from the blow I had taken. His words, though aggressive, didn't make sense to me. What were they saying? The Japanese sounded familiar, but I couldn't put it all together.
A second voice joined in, this one softer but still laced with urgency. 「彼を無駄に傷つけるな、爆豪。」The voice was firm, but I could tell it was trying to mediate.
Then another, higher-pitched voice—calm, almost scholarly—spoke up. 「落ち着いて、爆豪。彼が反応したから、大丈夫かもしれない。」This one was more reassuring, though I still couldn’t understand everything. The tone, though, was more familiar. It almost reminded me of... Deku?
“Goddamn it! Let me go!” I snapped, my voice cracking.
The moment I spoke, there was a pause. The figures surrounding me seemed to stiffen, their focus sharpening. I heard a faint rustle, and then someone knelt beside me. It was the voice I recognized—Deku’s, though his words were still incomprehensible to me.
「彼が理解できてないみたいだ。」 The soft voice muttered, and I could hear the frustration seeping into his tone.
“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying!” I managed to rasp, trying to shift my arms to loosen the duct tape, but my hands were still securely bound. “Please... just let me go.”
I heard a soft sigh, and the weight on my chest felt heavier. I couldn’t tell if it was anxiety, confusion, or just the weight of being in a completely foreign situation, but something inside me told me this wasn’t just some strange prank.
Then, a new voice cut through the air, this one slightly broken and accented but surprisingly fluent in English. “We… we did not mean to hurt you.” The voice was female, and it was clear that she was trying to communicate. “But we had to defend ourselves.”
I blinked, trying to focus on the person who spoke. My brain was still foggy from the hit, and now this new voice in English was cutting through the confusion. She sounded concerned, but I wasn’t sure whether to believe it. Was she a part of this chaos?
I managed to catch a glimpse of her, a tall girl with dark hair and sharp features. I recognized her—sort of. She was the one who had spoken up earlier in that unfamiliar language. The shock hit me then. Momo Yaoyorozu, if I wasn’t mistaken. But… What were they doing in my house?
Part of me wanted to geek out. I was a big fan of My Hero Academia, albeit two years ago. Unfortunately, while I had the enthusiasm of meeting them, they didn't know who I was and they definitely didn’t share the same enthusiasm as I did.
I'm not sure if they knew that they were from a show and... I didn't think I had the heart to tell them.
Not… yet, at least…
I wasn’t even sure how to process the situation. How could I explain this to them, or worse, how could I make sense of it myself? Heroes from a show, in my living room, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen an episode. My head felt like a muddled mess of confusion, and everything was happening too fast.
If I were to tell them, I need to at least pick my words very carefully. There was no denying I had to let them know at some point, but if I were to be the reason that eight kids had gotten into an existential crisis, I didn’t think I would be able to forgive myself.
Yaoyorozu, the girl who had spoken in broken English, knelt down next to me, her dark eyes studying me with concern. "You… you are injured?" she asked, her English thickly accented but surprisingly understandable.
I swallowed dryly. "I... I'm fine. I just... my head." I managed to mutter through the fog that clung to my brain. But what in the world was going on? I had been teaching secondary school kids , going about my normal life, and now-now I was here, tied up on my own living room floor surrounded by strangers who clearly weren't from around here.
Through blurry vision, I saw a silhouette, clad in silver armour… It was… Tenya Iida, I think… He turned to Dek- uh- Midoriya and Yaoyorozu and muttered something to them in Japanese.
Gah! I don’t get Japanese names! Are you supposed to call them by their first or last name?
I remained on the floor with my wrist taped tightly together. “Ugh… why… Why my house?”
Yaoyorozu glanced at me, her brow furrowing slightly. "We... do not know," she admitted hesitantly, her gaze shifting back to her companions. "It was... an accident?”
I sighed and looked at the clock. It was 7.30 in the evening. “Look, I know you’re in a tough circumstance but I’m not sure if I can help you.”
Yaoyorozu tilted her head, her brow furrowed in concentration. She repeated the word slowly as if tasting it. “Circum… stan… ces?”
“Yes. Situation. Problem,” I clarified, doing my best to keep my voice steady despite my rising frustration. “Why are you here? Why are you-” I gestured around my living room, “-in my house?”
Her eyes widened slightly, and she exchanged a quick flurry of Japanese with the others. I caught the name ‘Midoriya’ somewhere in the mix, which meant they were likely debating whether or not I could be trusted. Great. Just what I needed—my fate being decided by a group of fictional teenagers.
Then, Midoriya crouched down next to her, his face earnest and apologetic. His English wasn’t much better, but at least he was trying. “We… not mean to come here. It was…” He tapped his chin, struggling for the words. 「アクシデント... アクシデント... アクシデント...」
“Ah! Accident. We fought… villains.”
“Villains?” I repeated, trying to sit up straighter against the wall. My wrists were still taped together, but at least I could shift enough to make eye contact with Midoriya. “You fought villains… here?”
Midoriya shook his head quickly, his messy green hair bouncing slightly. “No, no! Not here.” He gestured broadly with his hands, searching for words. “Fight there. Big fight. Then…” He paused, making a swirling motion with his hands, his. “Boom. Light. And… here.”
I stared at him, trying to piece together what he was saying. So, some sort of portal or dimensional accident brought them here? That explained how they ended up in my house, but it didn’t explain why they assumed I was a villain and knocked me out.
“Why the hell would they pick my hou-”
Before I could ask more questions, Bakugo barked something in Japanese, his voice sharp and impatient. 「なんでこいつと話してるんだよ？さっさと状況を把握しろ！」 His glare was as fiery as I remembered from the show, and even without understanding the words, I could tell he was irritated.
Yaoyorozu sighed softly and turned back to me. “He doesn’t… not trust you.”
I sighed in defeat. “I can tell…”
Yaoyorozu nodded slowly, seeming to process my words. She translated for the others, her voice calm and steady despite Bakugo’s annoyed grumbling in the background. As she spoke, Midoriya tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. It seemed he was trying to gauge whether I was telling the truth.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he responded, “We… sorry. You are… not bad. We made… mistake.”
I huffed, exasperated. “You think?”
Bakugo barked something else, louder this time, and I flinched. Even without understanding his words, his tone was clear enough—he was pissed. Yaoyorozu sighed again, clearly used to dealing with him. “He says… why trust you?”
“Wha- Seriously-? You’re the one in my house! I should be the one asking you that!” I snapped. Seeing this guy in the anime was one thing, but meeting him in real life was getting unbearable.
This earned a snort from Bakugo, who crossed his arms and looked away, muttering something under his breath. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or just dismissive.
My hand was starting to ache and numb, fueling my frustration. “CAN YOU ALL UNTIE ME?!”
The room went dead silent at my outburst. Midoriya flinched, his body crackling with power. Bakugo’s eyes narrowed as he aimed his grenade gauntlet at me and Yaoyorozu’s brow furrowed, though she still looked calm. Even Iida, who had been standing like a statue, turned his head sharply in my direction.
Yaoyorozu glanced at Midoriya, and they exchanged another flurry of Japanese. I caught bits and pieces: 「危険?」「安全？」and something that sounded like 「爆豪、黙って。」 Finally, she turned back to me.
“You... promise not to hurt?” she asked, her voice cautious, almost pleading.
I was tired of asking questions back and forth. “Yes. I won’t hurt you,” I said softly, though my patience was already wearing thin. Yaoyorozu carefully removed the tape from my wrists, her fingers gentle yet efficient. Once my hands were free, I rubbed my sore wrists, wincing at the sting as circulation returned.
“What happened, exactly?” I asked, keeping my tone as calm as I could manage, despite everything. “You said you fought villains, and then… you’re in my living room. I get that, but why here? Why me?”
Yaoyorozu exchanged a glance with Midoriya, who nodded and then began to speak, his words stumbling over each other in his rush to explain. “The fight… with big villains… The class… uh… split… And then there was big explosion… portal. We don’t know why… you here. But we come through… because of the portal. And you… we hit you by accident.”
I sighed, rubbing my face with a hand. “A portal . Right. So, you’re from some other world. I’m not dreaming this, am I?”
“Another… world?” Midoriya said, his face frowning with worry.
「俺たち、ほんとに別の世界にいるのか？」Yaoyorozu said, sharing the same expression as Midoriya.
Then, another voice spoke up. 「何ですか？ また別の世界ですか？」It was the… red-haired guy… Ah- Kirishima.
Kirishima’s voice was softer, a stark contrast to Bakugo's gruff tone. He seemed genuinely concerned. “Other world?” he repeated in heavily accented English, sounding as if the phrase was new to him.
I nodded slowly, trying to keep my voice even despite my growing headache. “Yeah… other world. You’re not… supposed to be here.” I gestured around my living room, emphasizing the absurdity of it all. “This is Earth—at least my Earth. You’re from… somewhere else.”
The group exchanged worried glances, their usual confident demeanour cracking under the weight of my words. It wasn’t every day you found out you might be stranded in another dimension.
The group exchanged worried glances, their usual confident demeanour cracking under the weight of my words. It wasn’t every day you found out you might be stranded in another dimension.
Kirishima’s hand clapped onto Bakugo’s shoulder, the sound startling in the tense atmosphere. 「爆豪、大丈夫だって！きっと戻る方法はある。」He grinned reassuringly, though it seemed more for the benefit of the others than for himself.
I sighed. I wish I had your optimism, Kirishima…
Bakugo growled something under his breath but didn’t shake Kirishima off. His sharp gaze flicked to me, and he finally barked in heavily accented English, “You! Nerd! Fix it.”
“What the hell do you want me to do, asshole?”
The room went completely silent at my outburst, save for Bakugo's low growl. My chest heaved with frustration, but I didn’t back down. It was one thing to be polite and try to figure things out, but being bossed around by a walking explosion in my own home? That was where I drew the line.
“Listen here, Bakugo,” I said as I got up wobbly on both feet. “I’m not some scientist or dimensional expert. I don’t have a clue how to fix this… but if you need my help solving YOUR problems in the first place, I suppose you will be staying in my house for a while.”
I leaned forward as much as I dared and whispered to him, “So if you want to survive in this… foreign world, I suggest you shut your mouth and show some respect.”
"Kacchan..." I whispered with an underlying meaning that I knew every little secret about him (because I watched the show).
Bakugo stiffened, his fiery glare locking onto mine. For a moment, I thought he might explode—literally. But then his expression shifted, ever so slightly. His eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with confusion and suspicion.
「なんでこいつが俺の名前知ってるんだ？」 he barked, spinning toward Midoriya.
Midoriya paled. 「わ、分からない！たまたまだよね？」 he stammered, glancing nervously between me and Bakugo.
The tension in the room thickened as Bakugo's glare intensified. His posture was stiff, almost like a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him, and I knew if I wasn’t careful, this situation would get out of hand. Still, I couldn't back down now—not when it felt like the very fabric of reality had unraveled around me.
“Forget about it,” I dismissed. “Whatever shit you guys are in, it doesn’t matter. What matters now is rest because- look at you all.”
The group was exhausted-visibly worn out from whatever battle or struggle they had been through. Their usual heroic energy was gone, replaced by tension and fatigue. Yaoyorozu was rubbing her temples, Midoriya was wiping the sweat off his forehead, and even Bakugo, despite his earlier fury, was standing with his arms crossed, looking less aggressive and more worn down than usual. Kirishima, despite his usual upbeat nature, had a worried expression as he glanced around the room. The same goes for Todoroki, Iida, Jirou and Uraraka who didn’t seem to want to converse in any conversation.
I was still quite crossed about getting knocked out cold but my mother taught me to help others whenever I could and I’m not gonna abandon her words just because I live alone now.
Even looking at this from the perspective of a teacher, my job was to assist students. And they were students.
They were all drained and desperate, and if I didn’t lend a hand to them now, I knew I’d regret it soon enough.
I sighed deeply and rubbed my temple, trying to ease the pounding in my skull. "Alright, listen," I began, trying to sound more composed. "You all need rest. You're clearly not in any shape to figure out whatever... dimensional nonsense brought you here. Honestly, neither am I."
The group exchanged hesitant glances, some more reluctant than others. Midoriya nodded, his expression grateful, while Yaoyorozu translated my words for those who hadn’t fully grasped the conversation. Bakugo, unsurprisingly, scowled, muttering something under his breath that was probably less than complimentary.
I felt my exhaustion slowly creeping onto me. “Okay, I got it.” I turned towards Yaoyozoru and Midoriya. “Go clean up. There are three bathrooms, one at the back, connected to the kitchen, two upstairs, one at the end of the hallway and one in the master bedroom. If you need any first aid kit, let me know… I’ll… I’ll try to find some spare clothes for all of you…”
The words barely left my mouth before Midoriya practically bowed, stammering his thanks in both English and Japanese. "T-Thank you! We... We will be quick!" His earnestness was almost endearing, though it didn't make up for the chaos they'd brought into my life.
Yaoyorozu gave a small nod of acknowledgement, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the others. She translated my instructions to the group, her voice steady despite their obvious discomfort with the situation.
I went upstairs and to the end of the hallway, opposite of where the bathroom was where a pile of boxes resided. I started rummaging through them in hopes of finding my old clothes for them to wear.
“What’s this… old printer… old files… oh- damn… that’s my diploma? Why is this here?”
Eventually, I managed to scavenge some oversized hoodies, a few pairs of sweatpants, some old t-shirts, shorts and even my dad’s old clothes (he was a big man) for Iida.
As I lugged the clothes and towels back downstairs, I couldn't help but feel the absurdity of the situation creeping back in. Here I was, playing host to a group of dimensionally displaced heroes from an anime I used to binge-watch during college. My brain was still struggling to reconcile what I knew from the show with the very real, very human presence of these people in my living room.
When I returned, I found that the group had started to settle, albeit awkwardly. Midoriya was pacing near the couch, muttering to himself in Japanese, his hands making erratic gestures as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Yaoyorozu was speaking quietly to Kirishima and Uraraka, likely explaining the situation further. Bakugo, of course, was still standing off to the side, arms crossed and glaring at nothing in particular, his whole demeanour radiating irritation.
...I think it was because I said his... childhood name…? Or rather, the way I said it. ‘Kacchan’ wasn’t a name you’d use lightly. It was personal, intimate—Midoriya’s nickname for him since they were kids. To hear it from a stranger like me, someone who shouldn’t know anything about their lives must’ve felt like a punch to the gut. No wonder he was tense.
I started to feel guilty but… I didn’t think he’d want my apologies anyway… not now, at least.
I set the clothes and towels on the coffee table, clearing my throat to get their attention. “Alright,” I said, trying to sound more authoritative than I felt. “Here’s what I could find. They’re clean, they don’t fit me anymore so they should fit alright on you guys, but they should work for now. Take turns with the bathrooms, and don’t fight over them. We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements after you’ve all cleaned up and eaten.”
“And Iida, this is yours since you’re a big man.”
I handed Iida a neatly folded stack of my dad’s old clothes. He blinked in surprise, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you," he said, his English precise but formal. His rigid posture and careful movements made him seem more like a soldier than a student, but his gratitude was genuine.
However, I saw the others exchanging weird glances. Did I say something wrong?
Yaoyorozu translated for the others while Iida inspected the clothes, his brows lifting slightly as he unfolded one of the shirts. It looked like it might just fit him, though it’d probably still be a bit snug around his broad shoulders. Meanwhile, Bakugo muttered something under his breath again, his sharp eyes flicking between me and Iida. If I had to guess, he was probably complaining about how "stupid" all this was.
“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands to break the awkward silence. “Bathrooms are upstairs and down the hall. Don’t make a mess, and don’t clog the sink with your... quirks or whatever.” I paused, realizing how insane that sounded, then shook my head. “You know what I mean.”
Midoriya nodded quickly, his face lighting up with an earnest smile. “We will... uh... careful! Promise!” His enthusiasm was almost infectious, but it also reminded me how young they all were. Despite their powers and hero training, they were still just kids—kids who had been thrown into a world they didn’t understand.
I didn't want to make this my problem. I want nothing to do with this but... I felt obligated to help. Trust me, there was nothing I wanted more than to collapse on the floor and sleep. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not while these kids—because that’s what they really were—needed help. And despite how surreal this situation was, I couldn’t just ignore them.
After everyone went off to clean themselves off, I stared at the discarded equipment on the floor. Their gear was a mix of the familiar and the foreign. Midoriya’s gloves, scuffed and slightly charred, lay next to a utility belt with odd compartments that I could only guess held hero tools. Bakugo’s gauntlets were a sight to behold up close—massive, grenade-like contraptions that looked heavier than I’d imagined. A strange pang of worry tugged at me as I noticed cracks running along one of them.
I picked it up hesitantly, testing its weight. “How the hell do you even carry these things?” I muttered, setting it down before I accidentally triggered some kind of explosion.
Yaoyorozu’s equipment was more refined—a set of small capsules and what looked like a utility pouch filled with odd tools. They were so neatly organized that it was almost intimidating. Kirishima’s gear was the simplest: just a pair of reinforced arm guards and a battered chin guard or some-sort that was blinking faintly. I decided to leave everything untouched; the last thing I needed was to break something important.
(And considering that these were tools designed to help heroes, they’d probably cost a lot too.)
With the house eerily quiet, save for the sound of water running upstairs, I took a moment to collect myself. I sat down on my couch and gazed up at the ceiling. “What am I supposed to do…” I muttered to myself.
As if on cue, Bakugo’s voice boomed from upstairs, loud enough to make me wince. 「おい！デク、早くしろよ！遅いんだよ！」
I don’t think Dek- Midoriya has been in that bathroom for 5 minutes!
“Great,” I muttered, sinking further into the couch. “He’s going to blow up my house.”
It was a godsend that I lived in a corner lot house. The house beside mine was empty and up for rent, and there was just a forest to the other side and behind my home.
The sound of Bakugo's yelling echoed through the house, and I could only shake my head. Some things really didn’t change, even in a different dimension. His temper was like a force of nature—loud, volatile, and impossible to ignore-
"WOI! DIAM LAH BODOH!" I yelled.
The sudden outburst caught everyone off guard, and the room fell silent once more. My shout echoed through the house, making the walls feel even more cramped than before. Even Bakugo froze for a second, the words he had been shouting at Midoriya now hanging in the air like the silence that followed my yell.
I stared at the floor, taking in a slow breath. "I needed to say that," I muttered under my breath, regretting the outburst the moment it left my mouth. I didn't even know why I said it in Malay instead of English. It felt like the words just came out of me.
I went to the kitchen to make some food. The room felt sterile in comparison to the current state of my living room. I saw Iida at the other end of the room, waiting for his turn to use the bathroom. He greeted me with a simple wave and I waved back, albeit awkwardly.
I opened the fridge and I leaned against the counter as I thought of what to cook.
Let's see... I have... spaghetti... tomato sauce... sausages... onions... garlic... leftover chicken… and some mushrooms that were just about to go bad. Not exactly gourmet, but it'd do. Spaghetti sounded like the easiest option, considering the group size. I could whip up a simple tomato-based sauce and toss everything in. Hopefully, it'd be enough to feed a bunch of hungry teenagers- and one incredibly angry human grenade- I mean, all of them weren’t exactly normal, to be honest.
With a plan in mind, I pulled the ingredients out and started prepping. Cooking always helped me clear my head, and after the chaos of the last hour, I needed it. The rhythmic sound of chopping garlic and onions was oddly soothing, a small island of normalcy in an ocean of absurdity.
As my hands worked on autopilot, chopping up the garlic into tiny pieces, I thought about how I could group them into different rooms. I had three rooms, one of them was mine, and two of them were unoccupied and there were eight of them in total…
So… we have three girls… five boys… I could group the girls into one room and split the boys into… only one…
But that left the question of how to divide the boys. I can’t fit all of them into one room and putting Bakugo and Midoriya in the same room… this whole terrace block would be levelled by tomorrow…
And while Kirishima could probably handle Bakugo, I didn’t want him to play babysitter all night. Iida seemed the most level-headed, but his rigid personality might clash with Bakugo’s hot-headedness.
Footsteps knocked me out of my thoughts as I realised I had been chopping garlic for five minutes straight. My knife slowed down as I looked down at my chopping board only to realise the garlic had become more of a paste rather than diced.
Midoriya finally descended from upstairs, looking slightly flustered but otherwise cheerful. He gave me a sheepish smile. 「ごめん！シャワーの使い方、ちょっと時間かかっちゃった。」
I blinked, wondering what he just said. “...What?”
Midoriya blinked, realization dawning on his face as he fumbled for the right words in English. "Ah! Sorry! Uh... the shower... took... time?" He gestured awkwardly, mimicking the action of water falling from a showerhead.
I chuckled despite myself. "It's fine. Just don't hog it next time. Bakugo's about to blow a fuse."
Midoriya winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kacchan is... angry?”
"Isn't he always?" I said, shaking my head as I started tossing the garlic paste into a heated pan with olive oil. The sizzle filled the kitchen, and the smell of garlic quickly followed, making Midoriya perk up. His eyes darted to the ingredients on the counter.
"Can I... help?" Midoriya asked hesitantly, his hands twitching like he was itching to do something. His earnestness was almost endearing, even if his English was still a bit rough.
I glanced at him, then at the pile of onions waiting to be chopped. "Sure. You can chop the onions. Just... don't cry too much," I said, handing him a knife and a cutting board.
Midoriya nodded eagerly, taking the knife with a determined expression. "I will... do my best!" he declared, his voice filled with the same enthusiasm he had when facing villains. It was almost comical how seriously he took the task of chopping onions.
I stirred the garlic in the pan, letting it brown slightly before adding the onions. The kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of cooking food, and for a moment, it almost felt normal—like I was just cooking dinner for a group of friends. Except, of course, these "friends" were fictional characters who had somehow ended up in my house.
I’m sorry! I couldn’t help but mention it one too many times! This was just too surreal to me.
I couldn’t help but glance back at Midoriya, who was cutting up onions with determination.
As Midoriya chopped the onions with the same intensity he'd use to fight a villain, I couldn't help but smile a little. The kid was trying so hard, even though his eyes were already watering from the onions. He sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve, but kept going.
"You're doing great," I said, stirring the garlic and sauce in the pan. "Just don't cut your fingers off. I don't have a healing quirk.”
“Or a quirk for that matter…” I muttered under my breath.
However, as I glanced back at him I noticed his expression wasn’t determination, but more of… worry? Perhaps lost in his own thoughts.
I decided not to press him on it. If there was one thing I knew about Midoriya, it was that his mind never really stopped moving. He was probably analyzing everything—our situation, how we got here, how to get back, what this world meant.
Instead, I focused on the sauce, letting the onions caramelize before tossing in the diced tomatoes and leftover chicken. The sound of sizzling filled the air, and the warm, savoury scent of home-cooked food began to spread.
Midoriya, however, was still lost in thought, his knife moving slower now. His brows furrowed as if struggling with something, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
For a few minutes, we worked in silence, the only sounds being the soft sizzle of food cooking and the occasional clatter of utensils.
It was nice. Peaceful, even.
A small part of me wished it could stay like this, just for a little while longer-before reality came crashing down again. But of course, peace never lasted long.
A loud crash from upstairs made both of us freeze. It was followed by a sharp yell.
「おい、デク！このクソ野郎！」 Midoriya flinched.
I sighed, already dreading whatever nonsense was happening up there.
Before I could even take a step toward the stairs, Uraraka appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking slightly frazzled. "Uh, everything's fine! Just a small... uh... accident?" She forced a nervous laugh, waving her hands.
Just then, Todoroki came out of the shower, giving Iida the bathroom.
「また爆豪のこと？麗日。」 he said.
「そ、そう…」Uraraka said, smiling sheepishly.
Todoroki sighed and draped his towel around his neck.「そりゃそうだ。」
“...What happened?" I asked, my voice already tired.
She hesitated. "Well... uh... Kirishima and Bakugo were kinda arguing about who gets the bathroom next and... well... long story short, Kirishima may have used his Quirk at the wrong moment, and Bakugo might have... slipped on some water.”
I paused, lowering the heat on the stove as I turned towards her. “Hang on. If Kirishima and Bakugo’s arguing, what does he have to do with this?” I pointed towards Midoriya.
Uraraka’s eyes darted toward Midoriya, who stiffened, looking like he very much did not want to be involved in whatever was about to be said.
“Well…” she started, rubbing the back of her neck, “Kirishima kinda… laughed? And then Bakugo got… uh… angry? And then—”
Todoroki, who had been quietly drying his hair, finished the sentence for her. “He blamed Midoriya by association.” I was quite stunned by his near lack of accent.
Midoriya sighed, shoulders slumping. “It is... normal.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course it is.”
I let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing my temples. "Alright. Nobody's dead, right?"
Uraraka shook her head quickly. "No, no! Just, um... some uh… spilt water and maybe a… あざ... bruised ego."
"Great. Fantastic." I turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce absentmindedly. "Can one of you go make sure they don’t actually kill each other?"
Todoroki simply nodded and headed upstairs without another word. Midoriya, still at the counter, hesitated before glancing up at Uraraka. She gave him a small, reassuring smile before jogging after Todoroki.
By the time the spaghetti was done, the yelling had mostly subsided. I figured that meant Todoroki either talked some sense into them, or they just got too tired to argue. Either way, I counted it as a win.
Setting the pot of spaghetti and sauce onto the table, I grabbed a handful of plates and set them down as well. "Dinner’s ready!" I called out.
It didn’t take long for the others to filter in. Everyone had changed from their hero costume to the clothes I gave them. Kirishima looked sheepish, a faint bruise forming on his arm. Bakugo, of course, looked absolutely pissed but said nothing, plopping down onto the chair with a scowl. Todoroki and Jirou sat down calmly, while Iida, now looking refreshed from his shower, took the seat next to him. Uraraka and Yaoyorozu helped set the table, making sure everything was in place.
I watched as they all settled in, their expressions ranging from exhausted to grateful. For a moment, the chaos from earlier seemed like a distant memory.
I couldn't help but notice how they all seemed to shift into a kind of routine, despite the strangeness of our situation. Yaoyorozu, always the attentive one, made sure everyone had a proper serving, even offering a few tips on how to eat spaghetti more neatly (which, surprisingly, Bakugo didn't outright dismiss). Uraraka was chattering away, asking everyone how the food tasted while looking at me with a bright, almost apologetic smile. I appreciated it—she was trying to ease the tension, and despite everything, it felt like the right thing to do.
Midoriya, still a little awkward from his earlier slip-ups, picked up his fork with determination. His usual energy was muted tonight, replaced by quiet concentration as he twirled the pasta. He caught my eye for a brief second, giving me an apologetic smile before continuing to eat.
The room was a mixture of exhaustion and relief, the quiet hum of conversation mingling with the clink of utensils against plates. I watched them all for a moment, each one trying to adjust in their own way. Bakugo, despite his scowl, ate with an intensity that suggested he didn’t care what world he was in—spaghetti was still spaghetti, after all. Kirishima tried to keep things light, cracking jokes here and there, his voice loud enough to fill the awkward silences.
“So…” I started. “How are we gonna split you guys up for the… uh… bedroom? I have two spare bedrooms. You girls can go into one room just fine but I'm not sure if the five of you can fit in one room..." I gestured towards Midoriya, Todoroki, Kirishima Iida and of course, Bakugo.
Bakugo scoffed, stabbing at his spaghetti with his fork. 「俺はどこでもいい。」
"Bakugo says he's fine anywhere," Yaoyorozu translated, her voice prim as she delicately twirled her pasta.
I highly doubted that. I could already imagine him blowing up my couch in his sleep just from a bad dream.
Iida cleared his throat, posture straightening as he glanced between the others. "I believe it would be best if we distribute ourselves based on… uh- compatibility." His English was careful, but his formal tone made it sound like he was giving a speech. Again, I was shocked by his near lack of accent, but it was still more pronounced than Todoroki’s
Kirishima laughed. 「爆豪と緑谷を別の部屋にすればいいんじゃない？」
"Separate Bakugo and Midoriya?" I repeated, watching as Yaoyorozu nodded in agreement.
“Please do.” Todoroki muttered.
Midoriya gave a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "I am... okay with that!" he said quickly. "Uh, if it helps, I can... uh... sleep anywhere?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Alright. So, girls get the master bedroom. That leaves one rooms for the five of you." I looked around, weighing my options. "How about this? Iida, you bunk with Midoriya and Todoroki. That should be a pretty chill group."
Todoroki gave a small nod of approval, while Midoriya looked relieved. Iida adjusted his glasses. "Understood."
That left Bakugo and Kirishima. Kirishima was grinning, clearly already expecting this. Bakugo, on the other hand, just grunted. 「うぜぇ。」
“Kirishima, you’re okay with sleeping on the couch, right?” I asked.
「もちろん！」Kirishima laughed, waving off my concern. “I am okay,” he said, giving me a thumbs-up.
I sighed in relief. That worked out better than I expected. “Okay, great! In that case, Bakugo sleeps in my room.”
Bakugo’s head snapped up. 「はぁ？！」
I barely had time to register the immediate tension in the air before he slammed his fork down onto his plate with a loud clang.
「おい、なんで俺がてめえの部屋で寝なきゃならねぇんだ？」
Yaoyorozu barely got the translation out—"Why do I have to sleep in your room?"—before I was already rubbing my temples. I knew this was going to be a problem, but I was too exhausted to care anymore.
“Because you’ll probably kill someone if I let you room with literally anyone else.”
Bakugo's glare could have melted steel as he narrowed his eyes at me. "Tch," he muttered, stabbing the last of his spaghetti and shoveling it into his mouth like it had personally wronged him.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Good. We’re all on the same page then.”
Kirishima, ever the peacekeeper, grinned. 「まあ、なんとか落ち着いたみたいだね。」 He winked at me, giving Bakugo a friendly slap on the back. 「まるでお泊まりみたいになるよね？」
Bakugo’s eye twitched, but Kirishima was too cheerful for Bakugo to do anything more than grumble under his breath. 「絶対に、もう一言でも言ったら—」
"Let’s not start that again," I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "I’ve had enough yelling for one day."
The tension in the air finally started to dissipate as everyone focused back on their food. I let out a quiet sigh, glad that at least the room assignments were settled—even if Bakugo looked like he was about to explode at any given moment. I figured he’d get over it… eventually.
As I finished up my plate, I stood up and started gathering empty dishes. It wasn’t long before Yaoyorozu and Iida got up to help, ever the responsible ones. Yaoyorozu moved efficiently, collecting utensils with practiced grace, while Iida took his role a little too seriously, carefully stacking the plates with precision.
"Thank you," I said, glancing at them. "You guys don’t have to, you know."
Yaoyorozu shook her head with a polite smile. "It is... important to help," she said, her English careful but composed. "You cook... we clean."
Iida nodded vigorously, adjusting his glasses. "Yes! It is only proper that we contribute… to household… duties!" His voice was filled with so much enthusiasm that I half-expected him to start directing the others like they were part of some elaborate cleaning drill but at the same time, I noticed his speech slowing down, as if trying to translate his words in real time.
I sighed but didn’t argue. It wasn’t like I was going to say no to free help. “Alright, then. Thanks.”
As I stacked the last of the plates into the sink, I heard the others chatting behind me. Uraraka and Kirishima were still giggling about Bakugo’s earlier outburst, while Jirou, who had been mostly quiet during dinner, leaned her chin on her palm and muttered, 「まじで...これが現実なの？」
I couldn’t understand her exact words, but I caught the tone. And honestly? I felt the same way.
Midoriya, now seemingly out of his earlier slump, was flipping through his notebook, probably taking notes on this world already. I wondered if he was going to start interrogating me tomorrow about the laws, the government, and the history of this place.
I shook my head, focusing on the dishes. The chillness of the water and the repetitive motion of scrubbing was comforting—one of the few things in this absurd situation that still felt normal. As I arranged the plates onto the drying rack one by one, I asked them, “So, what happened to you guys?”
For a moment, the room was silent, save for the quiet clatter of utensils and the faint sound of running water as I washed the dishes. I could feel their hesitation, the unspoken weight of their situation hanging over the table like a storm cloud.
Midoriya was the first to speak, his voice quiet but firm. "We... were fighting." He paused, searching for the right words in English. "Villains. Very strong." His brows furrowed as he gestured with his hands as if trying to piece the memory together. "Then... bright light. And then... here."
I frowned, drying off my hands before turning to face them properly. "That's it? Just—boom, and you're in my house?"
Midoriya slumped back and gazed down at his charred notebook on the table. “Y- yes…” he said in defeat. 「もうちょっと頑張ってれば、あいつを捕まえられたのに。戦いはまだ終わってなかった…もう少しだったのに…他のみんなはあいつらにどう立ち向かうんだろう？」
Everyone seemed to agree with Midoriya, even Bakugo who had a scowled expression directed at the table. I turned my attention to Yaoyorozu for a translation.
Yaoyorozu, noticing my gaze, nodded and gave a soft sigh before translating. “He said… he feels like they could have caught the villain if they had tried harder… but it all happened so fast.”
I sighed. “Come on, stop with the ‘ifs’... There’s no use in thinking about the past. You can’t change what’s already done.” I walked towards the table seating everyone. “I mean, that’s how life goes, you know? If my mom had balls, she’d been my dad but that didn’t happen did it?”
The room fell into a short, stunned silence as everyone processed my words. 「は？」 They said in unison before exchanging weird glances as I realised what I just said.
Oh god… I really said that did I? I’ve gotten really used to saying that to throw people off but I accidentally said it unironically during their stressful times.
Thank you, Mr. Verstappen.
The silence hung in the air for a few moments longer, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. What the hell was I thinking? Why would I say something like that, of all things, to a bunch of people who were probably still processing what just happened to them?
“I’m- so sorry…” I cleared my throat awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. “Uh, what I meant was… Well-” I chose my next words very carefully. “You’re here now and you can’t exactly go back now and change that can you?”
Iida straightened up, his serious expression returning like a switch had been flipped. “That… is correct,” he said, nodding sharply, as if trying to erase the strange comment from his memory through sheer force of will. 「今の状況に集中して…適応しなければならない。」
Yaoyorozu, ever the diplomat, quickly picked up on the shift in the room’s mood and offered a polite smile. “Yes. Focus on… now,” she echoed, her words gentle but firm.
Kirishima let out a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head. 「はは、ダニエルの言い方はちょっと変だけど、言いたいことはわかるよ。」 He shot me a thumbs-up, his grin easy and warm. “Good heart… strange words,” he added in choppy English, his laughter light enough to finally break the lingering tension.
For the record, I’m not usually this stupid!
Bakugo, of course, wasn’t going to let it go that easily. He shot me a sharp glare, muttering under his breath, 「馬鹿か、こいつ。」 I didn’t need a translation for that one. The tone said it all.
“Glad we’re bonding,” I muttered dryly, crossing my arms.
Kirishima chuckled, the sound light and friendly. 「まぁ、たしかに、君の言い方はちょっと変だったけど、悪気はないだろ？」 He slapped Bakugo on the back again, clearly trying to keep things light.
Bakugo shot him a look that could wither plants. 「触るな、くそ!」
I snorted despite myself, finding the dynamic between them more amusing than I probably should have. The room's tension eased a little as everyone went back to their own thoughts, though the awkwardness still lingered like a cloud in the background.
Midoriya, who’d been quiet for a while, looked up, his green eyes wide with curiosity. "Can I ask you something? Uh…”
“Sure…” I trailed off, realizing I forgot to introduce myself. I slapped my forehead, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry. I should’ve done this earlier, but I never properly introduced myself.”
Everyone turned their attention toward me, looking slightly confused. Bakugo was still scowling, but even he paused, his irritation temporarily overshadowed by curiosity.
“I’m Daniel,” I said, giving a slight bow of my head. “I’m just a regular guy, a teacher. I don’t know how or why you guys ended up here, but... well, you’re stuck with me now. And uh… what did you want to ask again?”
"How does your world… work?" he asked slowly, as though he was testing out his words. "I mean, is there... Quirks here? Or are we... the only ones?"
Ah. Of course. The inevitable question. I paused, unsure of how to explain. How could I tell them that Quirks were fictional here? How could I tell them that everything they’d been through—everything they were—was just part of a show to people in my world?
“Well, no... no Quirks here. Nothing like that,” I said, scratching my head. “I mean, not the way you know them. We don’t have superpowers, just... regular humans, I guess.”
Everyone seemed to process this, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in their heads. Bakugo growled lowly. 「つまり、この世界は弱いってこと？」
Yaoyorozu, to her credit, was a bit more thoughtful in her response. "So... no people like us?" She looked around at the others, then back at me, still trying to piece this all together. "That... must be strange for you."
I smiled awkwardly, unsure of how to phrase it. “I mean… no… Not at all. It’s completely normal for me, the same way having quirks is normal for you.”
Then I suddenly felt the weight of their situation again—their lost battle, their displacement. They didn’t even know if they could go home.
Uraraka, who’d been quiet for a while, spoke up. “So… we wait here?” Her voice was soft, a little uncertain. “What do we do while we’re… stuck?”
I hesitated, looking at each of them-the exhaustion in their eyes, the uncertainty hanging over them like a shadow. What could I even say? I didn't have answers nor I was capable of getting said answers. I wasn't some genius scientist or a hero.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know," I admitted honestly. "But... for now, you eat, sleep, and try not to burn down my house. We'll… we’ll figure something out.”
There was a brief pause, as if they were all waiting for me to suddenly pull a brilliant plan out of thin air. But nothing came. Just the faint hum of the ceiling fan overhead and the sound of thunderstorms of the monsoon season.
Midoriya nodded slowly, his expression a mixture of determination and exhaustion. "Okay," he said softly, as if accepting that—for now—that was enough.
Jiro leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a sigh. 「まぁ、それしかないか。」
She glanced at me, her sharp eyes softening just a bit. "Thanks," she muttered in English, the word awkward but genuine.
I gave her a small nod in return. “No problem.”
As I turned to get some water, I froze. “Hold on- You guys aren’t hurt are you?!”
A chorus of startled reactions followed my question. Some shook their heads, others instinctively patted themselves down, as if only now realizing they hadn’t done a proper damage assessment.
Midoriya was the first to speak up, but not to me. 「ねえ…ケガしてたのは覚えてるけど、今は全然平気だ…。みんなも同じ感じだった？まさか俺だけってことはないよな？」
Todoroki, who’d been mostly silent, shifted in his seat, his mismatched eyes narrowing slightly. He pressed a hand to his side, where I assumed an injury might’ve been. 「俺も確かに斬られてたはずだ。でも…痛みも傷もない。」 His fingers brushed over the spot as if expecting to find blood or the tactile feeling of a scar.
Kirishima furrowed his brows, patting down his arms and torso and finding himself unscathed. 「それは…変だな。切られたのは覚えてるんだけど…」
Yaoyorozu’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she gently touched her shoulder, her brows knitting together. 「私も、攻撃を受けたはずなのに…傷がない。どういうこと？」 She looked at the others, clearly unsettled.
I watched them with growing confusion. They remembered being injured, but now… nothing? No bruises, no cuts, not even a scratch? That didn’t make any sense. Unless—
No. That was impossible.
“Wait,” I muttered, trying to wrap my head around it. “You’re saying you were hurt… but now you’re not?”
Midoriya nodded, his expression filled with equal parts confusion and concern. “Yes. Very hurt. But now…” He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if expecting pain. “Nothing.”
Bakugo scoffed, clearly annoyed, though whether it was at the situation or just in general was anyone’s guess. 「くだらねえ。誰かが俺たちを治したんだろ。」 But there was an edge to his voice, a rare flicker of uncertainty beneath the usual bravado.
“Okay. Just to confirm; nobody is hurt?”
Everyone looked around at each other, checking themselves over once more. The silence that followed was pregnant with disbelief. Each of them seemed to be grappling with the surreal nature of their situation—being ripped from their world, facing the aftermath of a battle, only to realize they were somehow unharmed.
“No injuries…” Todoroki confirmed, almost hesitantly, as though waiting for a wound to suddenly reappear.
THANK YOU WHOEVER HEALED THEM! I DON'T HAVE TO SEND THEM TO A HOSPITAL!
Exhaustion crept onto my being as I rocked side to side.
"D- Daniel-sensei! Are you... okay?" Uraraka exclaimed, using her quirk to hang on to me before releasing it as soon as I nodded.
I steadied myself against the counter, still reeling from the shock. “I’m… I’m fine,” I managed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. My voice sounded brittle in the sudden silence that had replaced the earlier chaos. “Also, you don’t have to do… all that th- formalities.”
“I suppose we… sleep, I guess…” I said while rubbing my temple. “Remember the sleeping arrangement; you three girls in the master bedroom, Iida, Todoroki and Midoriya in the room at the end of the hallway to the right, Kirishima sleeps on the couch and Bakugo sleeps with… me. There should be extra blankets, pillows and probably a mattress too if you're lucky, in the closet. Might be a little bit dusty but just pat it clean or smack it against the wall and you should be alright."
Bakugo clicked his tongue, clearly displeased with the arrangement—though that was nothing new. 「チッ、わざわざ説明しなくてもわかってる。」 He shot me a glare, like I was the one who had decided to teleport him into my life.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly sign up for this either,” I muttered under my breath, not expecting a response.
To my surprise, Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, like he somehow sensed the sarcasm even if he didn’t understand the words.
Iida straightened up, his arm chopping through the air with the kind of rigid precision you’d expect from a drill sergeant. 「了解しました、ダニエルさん！規律を守ることが重要です！」 He gave me a sharp nod that was probably meant to be reassuring, though it mostly just made me more anxious.
“Cool. Great. Love the enthusiasm,” I mumbled, pushing myself off the counter. The exhaustion hit me like a freight train now that the adrenaline had drained away. My head felt heavy, my limbs like lead. “I’m going to shower, then I’m going to bed. I don’t care if the house burns down—don’t wake me unless someone’s dying.”
I trudged toward the bathroom, each step heavier than the last. As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it for a moment, letting out a deep sigh I didn’t realize I was holding. The muffled sounds of their voices seeped through the walls—Japanese words I couldn’t understand, mixed with the occasional loud bark from Bakugo and Iida’s authoritative responses.
Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower and let the cold water hit me. The shock of it helped, at least a little. My thoughts spiralled with everything that had happened: Eight strangers with powers straight out of an anime, speaking a language I barely understood, now living under my roof.
Trust me, I would’ve laughed like a madman if I wouldn’t have been so exhausted.
I closed my eyes, letting the water run down my face, trying to drown out the mental noise.
When I finally emerged, feeling slightly more human, I found the house quiet—eerily so. The lights in the living room were dimmed, and everyone had retreated to their designated spots. Kirishima was already sprawled on the couch, snoring softly, his arm dangling off the edge like a giant, friendly Labrador. Iida’s voice drifted faintly from the guest room, lecturing someone—probably Midoriya—about something I was too tired to care about.
I shuffled down the hallway toward my room, dreading the inevitable encounter with Bakugo. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see the faint glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and stepped inside.
Bakugo was already there, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his arms crossed, scowling at nothing in particular. His eyes flicked up briefly when I entered, then back down like I wasn’t even worth the energy. His gauntlets and hero gear were piled neatly in the corner, though the way he’d dumped them suggested “neatly” was probably just an accident.
I had a queen-sized bed, enough for two people but given our relationship, or lack thereof, that bed will not fit both of us.
I stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of how to navigate the situation. It was my room, technically my house, and yet here I was feeling like the intruder. I was debating whether I should say something or just collapse onto the bed and pretend he wasn’t there. The latter was extremely tempting.
But no, of course not. Bakugo wasn’t the type to let silence do the heavy lifting.
「何見てんだよ。」 His sharp tone cut through the quiet like a blade.
I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair. “Nothing. Just wondering how I got roped into sharing a room with someone who looks like they’d murder me in my sleep.”
He scoffed, not even bothering to hide his disdain. 「するわけねぇだろ、バカ。」
Didn’t need a translator for that one either.
I ignored the jab, moving to the small wardrobe and pulling out an extra blanket. The air felt heavy with tension, like we were both waiting for the other to make some kind of move—a standoff of pure stubbornness. I could already tell this was going to be a long, exhausting arrangement.
Dropping the blanket onto the floor, I grabbed a spare pillow, planning to make myself a makeshift bed. But Bakugo’s sharp voice stopped me.
「何してんだ？」
“You already claimed the bed and I’m too tired to argue with you so…” I shrugged.
Bakugo’s scowl deepened as if my answer personally offended him. 「は？バカか？そんなこと気にするかよ。」 He huffed, rolling his eyes and flopping back onto the bed with all the grace of a sack of bricks. His arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it had insulted his mother. “Sleep. I don’t care.”
I paused mid-crouch, blinking at him. “Wait… seriously?”
He opened one eye and jerked his thumb toward the bed, his face twisted in that signature ‘I’m-angry-but-also-don’t-know-how-to-express-basic-human-decency’ expression. 「ベッドで寝ろ。別に気にしねぇし。」
Well, if he didn’t care, then neither did I.
I stood up, turned off the lights, grabbed the pillow and blanket, and climbed onto my side of the bed, making sure to stay as far away from him as physically possible without falling off the edge. The gap between us might’ve been small, but it felt like a canyon carved out of pure stubbornness.
Bakugo didn’t move. Just lay there, arms still crossed, glaring up at the ceiling like he was trying to intimidate the light fixture.
I turned onto my side, back facing him, staring at the faint outline of the wardrobe in the dim light. Sleep wasn’t coming easily, not with everything racing through my head—the absurdity of the day, the fact that there were literal superheroes in my house, and of course, the growing realization that tomorrow wasn’t going to be any less weird.
After what felt like an eternity, Bakugo broke the silence.
「…お前、なんでこんなに落ち着いてるんだ？」
I didn’t understand the words, but his tone was different this time. It was lower and less aggressive like he wasn’t expecting a fight.
I turned my head slightly, glancing at him over my shoulder. His face was half-shadowed, but his eyes weren’t filled with the usual rage. Just… frustration, maybe. Confusion.
“I don’t know what you just said,” I replied softly, “but if you’re asking why I’m not freaking out… I guess I don’t have the energy to.”
Bakugo didn’t respond right away. The room remained filled with that heavy, quiet tension, only broken by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint creaks of the bed as I shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position.
After a beat, he let out a low grunt. 「バカみたいだな。」
I huffed a dry laugh, not needing a dictionary to figure out that wasn’t a compliment. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I stared back at the ceiling now, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. I kept thinking about how surreal this all was—how just yesterday, my biggest concern was whether I’d locked the house properly and now I was sharing my bed with an explosive teenager who could probably vaporize me in my sleep if he sneezed too hard.
There was a rustle as Bakugo shifted, rolling onto his side, and facing away from me. The mattress dipped slightly with the movement, and for some reason, that small, normal thing—the feeling of another person shifting beside me—grounded me more than anything else had that day.
Maybe that was why, without really thinking, I whispered into the darkness, “I hope you find your way back home.”
It wasn’t meant to be profound. Just… honest.
For a while, I thought he’d ignored me. But then, so quietly I almost thought I imagined it, I heard him mutter, 「…ああ。」 A soft, begrudging acknowledgement.
I closed my eyes after that, letting the exhaustion finally pull me under. The chaos of the day faded into the background as sleep claimed me, though part of me knew this was only the beginning.
Tomorrow, there’d be questions. Plans.
Probably more yelling.
But for now, just sleep.
WC: 10489 words