Mailin's POV

The day of the Provisional Hero License Exam arrives, and while the students of Class 1-A are focused on the challenge ahead, my attention is snagged by an entirely different issue.

Shota walks beside me, his usual composed and gruff self, and I feel a familiar comfort in his presence. It’s easy to relax when he’s around, knowing that no matter what’s ahead, we’ve got each other’s backs.

But my calm vanishes the second Ms. Joke skips over, grinning like she’s about to drop the most hilarious punchline of the century.

“Shota!” she exclaims, her voice filled with that annoying sing-song cheerfulness. “Long time no see! Miss me?”

Shota barely glances at her, his tone flat as he responds, “Not really.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop her. Ms. Joke leans closer to Shota, practically draping herself over him as she laughs. “Still so cold! You know, I’m still waiting for you to accept my proposal.”

I freeze, eyes narrowing. Did she just—

Oh, hell no.

Before I can speak up, Tsuyu comments, “You two seem close, Mr. Aizawa.”

Close? Not on my watch.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it!” Ms. Joke grins, glancing at me with that smug smile of hers. “I’ve been proposing to him for ages. Isn’t that right, Shota? Come on, this could be our year!”

Shota sighs, his usual deadpan expression in place. “Still not happening.”

But Ms. Joke isn't fazed. “Don’t be like that! We make a great team! Admit it, you’ve thought about it.”

Before I know it, I’m stepping forward, closing the gap between Shota and myself. I slide my arm around his waist, staking my claim. “I think he’s made it clear he’s not interested.”

Ms. Joke glances at me, her eyes twinkling with amusement as if she’s only just noticed I’m there. “Oh, Mailin, right? You’re the new girlfriend. How cute!”

I grit my teeth, my hand tightening around Shota’s waist. “Very cute. And very serious.”

The tension crackles between us, but instead of backing down, she lets out another laugh. “Oh, I like you! Feisty. But don’t get too worked up. Shota and I go way back. Isn’t that right, Shota?”

Shota looks between us, but I can see it—the faintest smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. He’s enjoying this. And who wouldn’t be? Two women practically fighting over him.

A cat fight, as they call it. It’s almost cliché at this point—the kind of scene you see in anime. Features bouncing, tension rising. I catch Shota stealing a quick glance at me, his eyes flicking down to where my chest has lifted in my indignant stance.

Yeah, he’s definitely enjoying this. Like any guy would.

And to be fair... I would too, if I weren’t the one in the middle of it. Even I can appreciate a good cat fight, and it’s clear Ms. Joke knows how to push buttons. But she’s messing with the wrong girl.

I lean into Shota, pressing just enough to make my point clear. “He doesn’t need a joke. He’s got all the excitement he needs right here.”

Shota lets out a small chuckle, one only I catch, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. He’s mine. And everyone here, including Ms. Joke, needs to understand that.

“Ladies,” Shota finally intervenes, his voice low but amused, “as much as I appreciate this... display, we’ve got an exam to focus on.”

Ms. Joke laughs loudly, throwing an arm around Shota’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t worry! This isn’t over, Mizuhime. I’m not going anywhere.”

I narrow my eyes at her retreating back, feeling my fists clench at my sides. But then I glance at Shota, and my irritation melts a little as I see the faintest gleam in his eyes. He’s loving this, the quiet thrill of me fighting for him. My chest still rises and falls heavily from the confrontation, and I know he’s more than aware of it.

“Jealous?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement.

I scoff, though I can feel the heat creeping up my neck. “Maybe a little.”

His hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, and he leans down, his breath warm against my ear. “Good. I like it when you’re possessive.”

A shiver runs through me at his words, and suddenly the whole thing feels more like a game—one I’m definitely winning. I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, feeling the heat between us simmer as I whisper back, “Just remember who you’re going home with.”

Shota smiles—just a flicker, but enough to make my heart race.

And as we walk toward the stadium, I feel more confident than ever. Ms. Joke might try to push her luck, but Shota is mine. And I’m not afraid to show it.