Shota’s POV

I hate this. The helplessness. The reliance on someone else for even the simplest tasks. But more than that, I hate how much I enjoy having her around.

Mailin has settled into my life so seamlessly, it’s almost unsettling. She’s there when I wake up, teasing and helping, filling the space with her soft voice and gentle touch. And even though I should be pushing her away, I can’t seem to do it. Every time she’s near, I find myself letting her in just a little more.

But now, as we head to U.A. together, I can feel the weight of my students’ stares before we even walk into the classroom.

“Shota, maybe I should handle your papers today,” she says, her voice teasing as we walk side by side down the hallway.

“I can manage,” I grumble, but the truth is, I know I’ll need her help. My arms are useless, and the thought of trying to navigate a normal day without her is... exhausting. Still, I’m not about to admit that out loud.

We reach the classroom, and as soon as the door slides open, I can feel all twenty pairs of eyes land on us—specifically, on Mailin and the way she’s helping me walk. I straighten, trying to act as though I don’t notice the way they’re all staring, but it’s no use.

Tenya stands up, calling the class to order with his usual efficiency. “Everyone, be seated.”

But before anyone can actually sit down, the whispers start.

“Isn’t that Aizawa-sensei’s...?”

“They’re so close!”

“They came to work together!”

“Did she... dress him?”

I can hear the teasing comments from every corner of the room, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to snap at them. Instead, I force myself to focus on the task at hand.

“Quiet down,” I say, my voice carrying that familiar authoritative tone. The class falls silent, but I can still see the glances being exchanged, the not-so-subtle grins on a few faces.

“I know you’re all wondering about my condition,” I begin, addressing the elephant in the room. “But it’s nothing to worry about. The battle may be over, but for you, there’s a new challenge ahead.”

I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in before I continue. “The U.A. Sports Festival is coming. This is your next battle.”

The class straightens, excitement and anticipation replacing the whispers. But even as I focus on the festival, I can’t help but notice Mailin at my side, her presence steady and calming.

---

Mailin’s POV

As Shota addresses the class, I can feel the teasing glances directed at us. The students aren’t subtle, and while I try to maintain my composure, there’s a part of me that finds it amusing.

But more than that, I’m proud of him. He’s still their teacher, still commanding the room with that quiet strength I’ve always admired. Even with both arms broken, he’s still Shota.

I glance at him, watching as he explains the importance of the sports festival, his voice steady and authoritative. But I can see the strain beneath the surface, the fatigue he’s trying so hard to hide.

When he finishes, I gently place a hand on his arm, my fingers brushing against the bandages. “You did great,” I whisper, and for a moment, he glances down at me, his eyes softening.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Between classes, grading papers, and keeping an eye on Shota, I barely have time to think about anything else. But every time I look at him, I’m reminded of how much I care for him—how much I always have.

As the school day comes to an end, we walk down the hallway together, my arm lightly brushing against his. It feels natural, easy, and I can’t help but smile.

“Are you hungry?” I ask as we step out into the cool afternoon air.

Shota glances at me, his expression softening. “I could eat,” he admits, and I laugh softly, nudging him with my shoulder.

“Good,” I say, leaning in closer. “Because I’ve been thinking... how about we make dinner together? I’ll do the cooking, you can just... supervise.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the idea. “Supervise, huh?”

I grin. “Yeah. After all, someone has to make sure I don’t burn the apartment down.”

Shota chuckles, and the sound is so rare, so genuine, that it makes my heart swell.

After dinner, the apartment is quiet, the warmth of the meal still lingering in the air. I glance over at Shota, who’s sitting on the couch, his cast-covered arms resting awkwardly at his sides. He looks more relaxed than he did earlier, but there’s still that familiar tension behind his eyes. It’s been there since the USJ incident—since before, even.

I sit down next to him, leaning back into the couch as I let out a satisfied sigh. “I think I’m getting better at this cooking thing,” I say, my voice light, trying to keep the mood comfortable.

Shota raises an eyebrow, glancing at me with that quiet smirk that always sends a little flutter through my chest. “You didn’t burn anything this time. I’ll give you that.”

I nudge him playfully, earning a small chuckle in return. Moments like this—when it’s just the two of us, away from the chaos of U.A.—it’s easy to forget everything else. The responsibilities, the injuries, the unresolved feelings we’ve both been avoiding for so long.

I lean into him a little, my shoulder brushing against his. “So... about last night,” I start, my voice soft, but I can feel my heart racing in my chest. It’s a conversation we need to have, but the words feel heavy on my tongue.

Shota’s body stiffens ever so slightly beside me, and I can tell he’s not exactly eager to dive into the subject either. But he turns his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine, and I see something there—something raw, unguarded.

“What about it?” he asks, his voice gruff, but I can hear the uncertainty beneath the surface.

I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before I speak. “What does it mean... for us?” I ask quietly, my hand resting gently on his thigh. The warmth of his body seeps through the fabric, grounding me.

Shota’s gaze flickers, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, the way he’s trying to figure out how to put whatever he’s feeling into words. He’s always been like that—closed off, guarded. But now, after everything that’s happened, it feels like something’s shifted between us.

“I don’t know,” he admits after a long pause, his voice low. “But... I don’t regret it.”

I feel a warmth bloom in my chest at his words, a soft smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Neither do I.”

We sit there for a moment, the silence stretching between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels... right. Like we’ve finally reached a point where we can stop pretending.

“So,” I say, my fingers tracing small circles on his leg, “what are we now?”

Shota lets out a slow breath, his eyes dropping to where my hand rests. “I’ve never been good at this... at relationships,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper. “But with you... it’s different. It’s always been different.”

My heart swells at his confession, and I shift closer, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s different for me too,” I say softly, my words barely above a whisper. “I’ve always... cared about you. Since high school.”

Shota leans his head against mine, and I can feel the tension in his body slowly melting away. “I know,” he says, his voice rough but filled with a kind of softness that I don’t hear from him often. “I’ve always cared about you too.”

We sit like that for a while, just... existing together. The weight of our words hanging in the air, but there’s no rush to define anything. We don’t need to. Whatever this is—whatever we are—it feels right. It feels like something we’ve both been waiting for, even if we didn’t know it.

Shota shifts slightly, his arm awkwardly bumping against mine as he tries to get comfortable. “I hate these damn casts,” he grumbles, and I laugh softly, leaning back to look up at him.

“Well, if you hadn’t gotten yourself nearly killed at the USJ, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” I tease, but there’s no real bite to my words. I reach up, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. “Besides, I don’t mind taking care of you.”

He gives me a look, half exasperated, half amused. “I’m sure you don’t.”

I lean in closer, my lips brushing against his neck as I whisper, “No, really. I don’t.”

Shota tenses for a second, but then he lets out a low hum, his head tilting slightly to give me more access. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he mutters, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

I press a soft kiss to his skin, my hand resting lightly on his chest. “Only for you.”

---

Shota’s POV

Her lips are soft against my neck, her touch gentle but firm, and it sends a shiver down my spine that I can’t ignore. Everything about this—about her—is messing with my head in ways I’m not used to.

I’ve never been one to rely on others. I don’t like being vulnerable. But Mailin... she’s always had this way of breaking through the walls I’ve spent years building. And last night...

I don’t know how it happened. One minute, I was fighting to keep my distance, to maintain control. The next... I was hers.

And now, sitting here with her curled up beside me, her body warm and soft against mine, I can feel the weight of everything we’ve left unsaid pressing down on me. But for once, I don’t feel the need to run from it.

I turn my head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re not leaving, are you?” I ask, my voice quiet.

Mailin looks up at me, her blue eyes bright and filled with something I don’t quite know how to name. “No,” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the tension I’ve been holding onto for so long finally eases. Because for the first time in a long time, I’m not alone. I don’t have to be.

We sit in comfortable silence, her head resting on my shoulder, my arms useless but not minding it so much now.

“I guess this means we’re... something, huh?” I murmur, more to myself than to her.

Mailin lets out a soft laugh, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And even though I’ve spent years avoiding this—avoiding anything that might pull me away from the life I’ve built—I can’t help but think that maybe... just maybe... this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“Don’t worry,” Mailin teases, looking up at me with a mischievous grin. “I’ll take care of everything.”

And as much as I hate to admit it, I know she’s right.

Because with her... I’m finally letting myself be taken care of.