Class 1-A & Aizawa

(The Heights Alliance common room is usually deafening. On any given afternoon, you would hear Mina blast music, Bakugo scream at Kirishima, and Ida chop his arms through the air while lecturing someone. But today, the silence is heavy. It has been heavy for weeks, ever since a dark cloud of severe depression settled over you. You haven't laughed. You barely speak. You move through UA High like a ghost, completely numb to the world around you.)

(Class 1-A has tried everything. Midoriya left stacks of meticulous, encouraging notes on your desk. Uraraka and Tsuyu tried inviting you to baking nights, offering sweet treats you barely touched. Even Class 1-B got involved—Monoma surprisingly swallowed his pride to offer a quiet, genuine word of support, and Kendo brought over tea. Mr. Aizawa has been keeping a watchful, deeply worried eye on you from the shadows, adjusting your training schedule just so you wouldn't drown under the pressure. Yet, nothing seemed to reach you. You remained locked behind an invisible wall of profound sadness.)

(Seeing you sitting alone on the common room couch, staring blankly at the floor, Koda suddenly snaps his fingers. A rare spark of determination lights up his gentle eyes. He quickly whispers his plan to Jiro, who nods eagerly and passes the word around. Within two minutes, the entire room coordinates in absolute silence.)

Shoto Todoroki: "Hey... we want to try one more thing. Please trust us." Todoroki steps up to you, his voice incredibly soft.

(Before you can protest, a soft, dark fabric blindfold is gently tied over your eyes by Yaoyorozu. You are carefully guided to sink back into the plush cushions of the couch. The room falls completely dead silent. You can hear the faint, anxious breathing of twenty-something classmates watching you.)

(Then, you feel a faint rustle. Koda kneels carefully right in front of your knees. With utmost reverence, he places a small, incredibly soft, warm weight directly onto your lap. It’s a tiny, white and brown speckled bunny rabbit. It wiggles its nose against your hands, its fur impossibly silken and warm against your skin.)

Koji Koda: "T-This is Clover," Koda whispers, his voice trembling slightly with pure hope. "He... he wanted to meet you. You don't have to talk to us. Just... just hold him."

(From across the room, Bakugo leans against the wall, crossing his arms and looking away, though his eyes remain fixed on your reaction. Aizawa stands near the doorway, hands buried deep in his yellow sleeping bag, waiting silently to see if the tiny creature can finally bring a spark of warmth back into your eyes.)

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(The Heights Alliance common room is usually deafening. On any given afternoon, the walls would shake with the bass of Mina’s music, Bakugo’s explosive shouting matches with Kirishima, and the rhythmic, aggressive air-chopping of Iida’s arms during a lecture. But today, the silence is heavy. It has been a suffocating weight for weeks, ever since a dark, impenetrable cloud of severe depression settled over you. You haven't smiled. You haven't laughed. You move through the halls of UA High like a ghost, completely numb, detached, and hollowed out from the inside.)

(Class 1-A has tried everything within their power. Midoriya left stacks of meticulous, fiercely encouraging notes on your desk, his handwriting shaky with tears. Uraraka and Tsuyu invited you to baking nights, leaving sweet treats outside your door that went completely untouched. Even Class 1-B got involved—Monoma swallowed his immense pride to offer a quiet, genuinely frantic word of support, and Kendo brought over traditional soothing teas. But nothing reached you. You remained locked behind an invisible, unbreakable wall of profound sadness. It got so bad that Mr. Aizawa finally had to elevate the situation, quietly bringing in the faculty and top Pro Heroes. The teachers and pros have been pacing the faculty lounge for days, terrified that one of their brightest stars was fading away permanently.)

(Seeing you sitting completely isolated on the edge of the common room couch, staring blankly at the floorboards with dead, unblinking eyes, Koda suddenly snaps his fingers. A rare, fierce spark of determination lights up his gentle face. He quickly whispers a coordinated plan to Jiro, who nods eagerly, using her jacks to signal everyone. Within two minutes, the entire room—classmates, the faculty, and a heavy contingent of anxious Pro Heroes who just stepped through the front doors—moves into absolute, breathless silence.)

Shoto Todoroki: "Hey... we want to try one more thing. Please trust us." (Todoroki steps right up to you, his voice lower and softer than anyone has ever heard it, carrying a plea of pure desperation.)

(Before you can even find the energy to protest, a soft, thick silk blindfold is gently and securely tied over your eyes by Yaoyorozu. You are carefully guided by Kirishima's sturdy but incredibly gentle hands to sink back into the plush cushions of the couch. The room falls completely, deathly silent. Without your sight, your senses sharpen. You can hear the faint, synchronized, anxious breathing of twenty classmates, the heavy treading of Pro Heroes, and the ticking of the wall clock.)

(Then, you feel a faint rustle of fabric, followed by the quiet pad of small paws. Koda kneels carefully right in front of your knees, his breath catching in his throat. With utmost reverence, he places a small, incredibly soft, radiating weight directly onto the left side of your lap. It’s a tiny, white and brown speckled bunny rabbit. Instantly, it wiggles its damp nose against your limp knuckles, its fur impossibly silken and warm against your cold skin.)

(A second later, a slightly lighter, vibrating warmth is gently deposited onto the right side of your lap. It is a second, equally tiny bunny—this one a velvet-soft, midnight-black rabbit. The moment its paws touch your thighs, it immediately curls into a tight, heavy crescent moon right next to the speckled one, tucking its chin into your side and letting out a tiny, comforting huff of air. The first bunny leans its small head right under your palm, demanding to be held.)

Koji Koda: "T-This is Clover..." (Koda whispers, his voice trembling violently with pure hope, his eyes welling with tears.) "...and the little one next to him is Mochi. They... they both asked to see you. They knew you were hurting. You don't have to talk to us. You don't have to be a hero today. Just... just hold them."

(From the far corner of the room, Bakugo leans heavily against the wall. His jaw is clenched so tightly it aches, and his arms are crossed so hard his knuckles are stark white. He looks away toward the window, but his eyes keep cutting back to your face. His usual fiery anger is completely gone, replaced by a raw, overwhelming sorrow. A terrible guilt eats at him; he is secretly convinced that his harsh words, his explosive temper, or some failure on his part pushed you into this dark place. His chest heaves silently as he fights back tears, terrified that he broke you.)

(Right beside him, Kirishima is openly wiping tears from his eyes, gripping Mina's shoulder as she hides her face against his chest, unable to bear the tension. Near the entryway of the common room, a line of Pro Heroes stands completely frozen, refusing to make a sound. Mr. Aizawa stands at the front, his hands buried deep within his yellow sleeping bag, his dark eyes wide and unblinking as he watches you from behind his capture scarf. Next to him, Present Mic has his hand resting heavily on Aizawa's shoulder, his usual loud demeanor entirely vanished into a somber, protective silence. Even All Might, in his deflated form, stands near the back wall, leaning on a cane, his blue eyes burning with an intense, paternal worry as he prays for the two small animals to break through your isolation.)

(The faculty staff stands in a protective crescent behind the kids. Midnight holds her breath, hands clasped tightly under her chin, while Cementoss and Ectoplasm stand like stoic, grieving statues. Principal Nezu rests quietly on Recovery Girl's shoulder, his usual cheerful, calculating expression entirely gone, replaced by a profound, heavy sadness. Peeking out from behind Aizawa's leg is little Eri, clutching a small bandage in her tiny hands. Her big red eyes are glassy with tears, looking at you with a desperate hope that you'll be okay.)

(The midnight-black rabbit nuzzles its wet nose directly into the crook of your wrist, its tiny heartbeat steady and calming against your skin. The speckled bunny shifts, pressing its warm, fragile body flat against your stomach, offering nothing but pure, uncomplicated comfort. For the first time in weeks, the heavy numbness in your chest feels a fraction lighter, challenged by the sheer warmth of the two small souls resting in your lap, waiting for you to come back to them.)