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--XXXX--
DAYS AGO(Right before Akaza left for Bakugo's rescue)
The heavy, armored bus carrying the remnants of Class 1-A pulled away, leaving Akaza alone on the pavement. He watched it go, a cold, empty feeling in his chest. The adrenaline of the confrontation with Izuku had faded, leaving only the bone-deep weariness from the night before.
He turned and walked back into the lodge. Rumi was safe. But Bakugo was still out there.
He found Aizawa and Nezu in the small meeting room, a map of the forest laid out on the table.
"The transports are gone," Akaza stated, his voice flat. "Rumi is on her way to Musutafu General."
"Good," Nezu said, not looking up from his tablet. "The clean-up crew is almost finished with Muscular's… remains. And the police have apprehended the two remaining villains, Moonfish and the one who created the poison gas. A successful operation."
Akaza nodded, his gaze shifting to the window. He had one more request. One more loose end.
"Principal," he said, his voice quiet.
Nezu looked up. "Yes, Asura?"
"The dorms. When Rumi is cleared to be discharged… I want her with me."
Aizawa, who had been listening silently, turned. "Akaza, the dorms are separated by gender. That's a non-negotiable school rule."
"I don't care," Akaza replied. "She was targeted. She was almost killed. I am not letting her out of my sight. She stays in my room, or I'm not coming to the dorms. We'll find our own place. And you can explain to the press why your two top students, and the targets of the League, are living off-campus with no protection."
Aizawa looked at Nezu, but the principal was smiling, a wide, knowing grin. "A logical plan, Aizawa. You can't fault his reasoning. Her safety is important."
Nezu looked at Akaza. "Your request is granted. I'll designate a room for you both. Any particular specifications? A ground-floor suite, perhaps, for easy access and a quick exit?"
A small, rare smile touched Akaza's lips. "Actually, sir… I had something else in mind. Something... safer. More comfortable."
BACK TO PRESENT
"You're sure you're okay to walk?" Akaza asked for the third time, his hand hovering near Rumi's back as she walked towards the dorms
"Aki, I swear to god, if you ask me that again, I will break your other arm with my good arm," Rumi threatened, but there was no heat in it. She adjusted the sleek, black carbon-fiber cast on her left arm. Her body ached, but she was out of her bed. She was free.
He had told her what happened. The quick flashback to Nezu. His simple request for a room.
"You know," she said, walking beside him as they approached the Heights Alliance, "you asking for us to share a room is almost... domestic. Kinda sweet."
He just grunted, grabbing both of their duffel bags.
She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Just don't try anything naughty while you're 'helping' me, okay? I'm still injured."
Akaza's face, which had been perfectly calm, immediately flushed. A dark red blush crept up his neck. "I wasn't… it's not… I'm just trying to keep you safe, Rumi."
She grinned, seeing her victory. She leaned in again, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered her final blow.
"...Not that I'd mind, though."(Crazy rabbit)
He was still stammering when they reached their floor, a wing of the dorm they had apparently been given all to themselves. He stopped at the final door at the end of the hall.
"Alright," he said, his composure returning. "Wait here. And close your eyes."
She rolled her eyes but did as she was told, a small, curious smile playing on her lips. She heard the door open, heard him move inside.
"Okay, come in. But keep them closed. Give me your hand."
She held out her hand, and he gently guided her inside, maneuvering her around something. The air felt different. Warmer. Quieter.
"Okay," his voice was soft, right next to her. "Open them."
Rumi opened her eyes. And her breath caught in her throat.
This wasn't a dorm room.
It was a sanctuary.
The room was vast, at least twice the size of a normal dorm, and it was painted a deep, matte charcoal gray. There were no harsh fluorescent lights. Instead, the ceiling was dotted with warm, recessed track lighting, all focused on specific points. The entire far wall was made of stacked, dark stone, and set into it was a long, linear fireplace. Real, orange flames danced behind the glass, casting a warm, flickering glow over the entire room.
A massive, king-sized bed in the middle, covered in dark grey bedding and a plush, impossibly soft-looking grey-brown fur blanket. A thick, shaggy grey rug was soft under her feet. To the side, built-in black shelves were subtly backlit with warm LED strips. In the corner, a large, L-shaped black leather couch faced the fireplace, above which was a massive flat-screen TV.
It was dark, moody, and sophisticated, just like Akaza wanted. But it was also undeniably warm, comfortable, and, above all, safe. It felt like a place that could be called home.
.
THE IMAGE(Comments)
.
"Aki…" she whispered, her voice thick with an emotion she couldn't name.
"How?"
"I just… showed Nezu a picture of what I wanted," he said, shrugging, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "He said it was a 'reasonable request for a high-value asset's security and comfort'."
Rumi turned to him, her eyes shining. She was speechless. So she did the only thing she could.
"THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL!" she shrieked, her voice echoing in the large room. She started jumping up and down, her one good arm waving in the air. "A FIREPLACE! A KING-SIZED BED! A GIANT COUCH! AKI, YOU'RE THE BEST, THIS IS INSA-"
CRACK!
Her celebration was cut short as her injured left arm, still in its cast, smacked hard against the sharp corner of the stone fireplace.
A new, different, and far more agonizing shriek tore from her lungs. "AGH! FUCK!"
She collapsed to her knees, clutching her injured arm.
"RUMI!"
The calm, collected Asura vanished, replaced by a panicking, terrified teenager.
"Oh my god, Rumi, are you okay? Idiot, you have to be careful!" he yelled, dropping to his knees in front of her. He gently, frantically, tried to examine the cast, his hands hovering, afraid to touch. "Is it broken again? Did you break it again? I'll get Recovery Girl-"
"I'm… ow… I'm fine…" she gasped, wincing as a jolt of pain shot up her arm. "I just… I hit it right on the... ow... the break…"
She looked up, and through her pained tears, pouting, she saw his face.
He was pale, his black eyes wide with panic for her. He was completely losing his cool, and it was the most adorable thing she had ever seen.
The pain faded, replaced by that familiar, overwhelming warmth.
"Hey, Aki," she said, her voice breathy.
He was still inspecting the cast, his brow furrowed. "Does this part hurt? I should really call someone…"
"Aki."
He looked up, his face still a mask of pure concern. "What?"
She used her good arm to grab the front of his shirt, pulling his face down to hers. She kissed him, soft and slow.
He froze, his panic melting away, replaced by a confused, gentle warmth. He kissed her back, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
She pulled back, her eyes still wet with tears, locking onto his. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For always being with me."
He just stared at her for a long moment, the world narrowing down to just her face, her scar, her eyes. He smiled, a true, soft smile that reached his eyes.
"And thank you," he whispered back, "for being in my life."
He leaned in and kissed her again, more passionately this time, a kiss of relief and promises and a shared future. He carefully scooped her up, mindful of her arm, and carried her the few feet to the bed, collapsing onto it with her. He lay back, and she immediately settled on his chest, her head tucked under his chin, her good arm thrown over his stomach.
They were exhausted. From the hospital, from the move, from the pure, overwhelming emotion of it all. Within minutes, wrapped in the comfort of the fur blanket and the warmth of the fire, they were both fast asleep.
*****************************
An hour later, in the common room, the mood was still heavy. Aizawa's order to unpack had been followed, but there was no joy. Class 1-A sat scattered on the couches.
Momo Yaoyorozu, her arm also in a sling, looked at her classmates. She saw their shame, their guilt, their fear. This wasn't a class. It was a fractured group of survivors. And she, as vice-president, felt a crushing responsibility to fix it.
"Everyone!" she announced, her voice trembling but clear, forcing a strength she didn't feel. "We are all moved in, but… this doesn't feel like a home yet. And it won't, if we… if we just sit here like this. I have an idea! Why don't we have a… a room-viewing contest? A 'Best Room' competition!"
The reaction was lukewarm. Kaminari just grunted. Jiro looked away.
"Yaoyorozu…" Iida started, "I am not sure now is the appropriate-"
"No!" she insisted, her voice rising. "This is exactly the time. We… we've been through a trauma. We are not okay. I know that. But we can't let it fester. We can't let this divide us forever. We have to try to come together. We have to try to be a class again. Please?"
Her plea, so full of desperate hope, resonated with them. Kirishima was the first to stand up, his expression firm.
"She's right," he said. "We can't just mope around forever. It's… it's not manly. I'll show you my room! It's the manliest room you'll ever see!"
It was a start. The ice was broken. Slowly, the class moved, following Kirishima to the boys' wing. It was forced and awkward, but it was something.
They went from room to room. Midoriya's was an All-Might shrine that made everyone feel a little uncomfortable. Tokoyami's was a pit of gothic darkness. Aoyama's was a blinding disco ball. Ojiro's was painfully normal. Iida's was, predictably, lined with bookshelves and had a rack of spare glasses.
Then, they went to the girls' wing. Jiro's was a cool, punk-rock instrument shop. Hagakure's was aggressively pink. Mina's was a vibrant explosion of black and pink animal print. Uraraka's was a simple, sparse room that revealed her family's financial struggles. Finally, they reached Momo's, which was so large and filled with antique furniture that it barely fit in the building.
The contest ended, and Sato was declared the "Room King" for the cake he had baked. It was a small, forced moment of fun.
"Well," Uraraka said, trying to smile. "I guess that's everyone…"
"Wait," Kirishima said, looking around. "What about Bakugo? And Akaza and Usagiyama?"
"Like I'd let you shitty-eyed fakes into my room. Get lost," Bakugo's voice growled from the end of the hall. He hadn't even opened his door.
"And… Akaza-kun and Rumi-san?" Izuku asked, looking at the door at the far end of the hall, the one that was set apart from the others.
"They are probably asleep," Shoto said, his voice quiet but firm, ending the discussion. "She's still recovering. We should leave them alone."
The group stood in the hallway, the forced cheer of the contest evaporating, leaving the heavy, somber reality. They had tried to be a class. But the four strongest, the four who had been at the center of it all, were not in the mood.
--XXXX--
This chapter was more of setting the class mood.
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