The sleek, black door of the Yaoyorozu town car clicked open, and the interior let out a puff of chilled, expensive-smelling air that felt like a dream against the sticky, salt-heavy humidity of the coast. Momo stepped in gracefully, her movements fluid and practiced, followed by Hagakure, who was already babbling about the gourmet snacks and tea pairings they would have for dinner.

  Jirou stood by the open door, her fingers tightening around the phone Kaminari had barely begun charging before he had to stop. The plastic casing felt slightly warm from the transfer of energy.

  "You guys go ahead," Jirou said, her voice sounding a bit more impulsive than she'd intended, catching in the heavy air.

  Momo paused. "Are you sure? It's no trouble to drop you off."

  "Yeah, I'm sure," Jirou said, carefully avoiding Kaminari's surprised look. She felt that small, nagging prick of guilt again as she looked at him. He was standing there on the curb, visibly exhausted, his posture sagging from literally serving as a human battery for her because she'd been too bored to put her phone down earlier. "I'll wait with Kaminari. His mom is coming anyway, right? It's fine."

  Momo looked between the two of them, her expression shifting into something soft and knowing, though she didn't say a single word. She simply nodded, the door closed with a muted thud that spoke of high-end engineering, and the car pulled away into the gold-tinted, late-afternoon traffic.

  Silence settled over the sidewalk, broken only by the distant, rhythmic crash of the waves against the shoreline and the faint, high-pitched hum of Kaminari's quirk still vibrating in the air.

  "You didn't have to do that, you know," Kaminari said, though the lopsided, goofy grin was back, lighting up his tired face. "I'm a pretty good waiter. I could've handled the boredom."

  "Shut up," Jirou muttered, though there was no bite in it. "You're already at four percent. Just keep charging."

  The bus was a different world entirely. It was crowded and cramped, the air thick with the smell of dried salt, sunscreen, and the low, mechanical drone of the engine struggling with the incline.

  Midoriya sat by the aisle. His eyes were fixed on the back of the seat in front of him, his mind clearly replaying every frame of the day's events with his usual analytical intensity. Beside him, Uraraka was leaning her head against the vibrating window frame, her eyes half-closed from the day's exertion, but she kept glancing toward the seat across the aisle.

  Bakugo was sitting there, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a line so rigid it looked painful. He was staring at the floor of the bus as if he were trying to ignite the linoleum with sheer force of will.

  Robinn sat directly behind them. She was the picture of perfect, unsettling composure. Her back was perfectly straight, not touching the grime of the seat, and her hands were folded neatly in her lap. To anyone else on the bus, she looked like a tired but pleasant student reflecting on a lovely day, the polished image of a future hero. But to Kirishima, who was sitting next to her, she felt remarkably distant.

  "Good game, huh?" Kirishima said softly, his voice barely audible over the engine, trying to break the heavy silence between the boys.

  Bakugo didn't even look up. "Waste of time," he bit out, his voice a low, gravelly growl that didn't invite further conversation.

  Midoriya flinched slightly at the tone, his grip tightening on his pen. He looked like he wanted to say something, to defend the fun they'd had or perhaps apologize for things he hadn't even done, but the tension in the air was so thick it felt like it might snap if he breathed too loudly. He looked back at Robinn, only to be met with a silent glance. Her black eyes were flat and somewhat intimidating in the dim bus lighting. He slowly turned back forwards, still not quite sure if they should talk, they hadn't since he slipped up about having a connection to All Might.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The car ride with Kaminari and his mother was far less tense, though significantly more embarrassing for Kaminari.

  "I'm so glad Denki found a friend who actually appreciates his little 'spark,'" Mrs. Kaminari said with a bright laugh, glancing at Jirou in the rearview mirror. She was an energetic woman who seemed to possess all of her son's enthusiasm and none of his hesitation. "He's usually so scatterbrained, I'm surprised he remembered to charge his own phone, let alone yours."

  "Mom, please," Kaminari groaned, sinking so low into the passenger seat he was almost invisible.

  Jirou sat in the back, her phone now at a comfortable forty percent. She looked out the window as they drove through the narrowing, sun-baked streets of the suburbs. "He's... he's helpful," she said, the word feeling a bit small for the effort he'd put in.

  "So," Kaminari said, turning around in his seat to look at her, desperate to change the subject before his mother started showing baby pictures. "You're coming tonight, right? To the festival?"

  Jirou looked down at her lap. "I don't know. I'm pretty wiped. And I don't really have anyone to go with, since Momo probably isn't."

  "I'm going," Kaminari said, his voice uncharacteristically serious for a moment. He didn't have his usual smirk, he just looked tired and sincere. "And I know Kirishima and Sero are going too. You should come, Jirou. It's not like the beach. There's no training, no Iida yelling about rules... just food and lights. You'd like it."

  Jirou caught his eye. For a second, he didn't look like the class clown or the boy who short-circuited his own brain. He just looked like a friend who genuinely wanted her to be there.

  "I'll think about it," she said, and for the first time that day, she actually meant it.

  Back on the bus, the atmosphere hadn't thawed. Uraraka had been dropped off a while ago, and the tension only truly began to dissipate once Bakugo and Midoriya's stop appeared on the horizon. Bakugo shoved his way past, pushing Midoriya back as he almost bolted out of the bus the second the doors hissed open. The green-haired boy scrambled after him, apologizing and waving a quick goodbye to the two others, leaving just Kirishima and Robinn sitting next to each other. They hadn't said a single word to each other for ten blocks.

  Suddenly feeling the weight of the awkwardness, Kirishima spoke up. "So did you have fun today? I barely saw you."

  She turned to look at him, her face blank. "Well, I got to swim for a while. I hadn't done that in a long time. I'm considering maybe including it in my routine."

  "Yeah, I did see you cutting through the waves..." He replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "By the way... what's up with all that sunscreen? You looked like a marble statue." The comment came out of his mouth before he could really think it through. Stuff like that wasn't something you joked about with girls, what if she had a skin condition or something sensitive?

  Robinn didn't really react... she just replied with her usual tone. "I always put a lot on. I get sunburnt really easily because I'm ginger."

  He wasn't really surprised at her reaction, he'd gotten used to her breaking the social norms of 'small talk' in those aspects. But looking closely now, he noticed a subtle, healthy tan on her, her freckles even more prominent against her skin than they had been that morning.

  "I never thought about that. Huh..." He said, quickly looking back toward the aisle when he realized he'd been staring at her face for a beat too long.

  A bit of silence followed, the kind that felt heavy with the end of the day. Then he filled it again, cracking his neck and looking back towards her. "Oh yeah, and are you coming to the festival with the others tonight?" He asked eagerly.

  "Nope."

  "Wha... why not?" He asked, caught off guard by the finality of it.

  "Well, I already came to the beach day, and I don't really see any physical or social benefit to going to the festival," she said, a purely logical, flat tone to her voice.

  Before he could argue, the bus lurched to a halt at their stop. He filed out first and she followed, both holding their bags and damp, salt-crusted towels. The air was a lot colder outside the bus, the familiar streets painted in deep oranges and purples by the sunset.

  "You really should go," Kirishima said, looking up at her as she started scanning the street like a hawk, already calculating her route home.

  "I won't. You go and have fun... I guess," she replied. She started walking toward her home, waving a hand behind her without looking back to see if he was still watching.

  He watched her go, a frown growing on his face as the wind and the dying sunset lit up her hair with a fiery glow, just like it always did.

  The Kaminari car dropped off Jirou and started the final leg of the trip home. Kaminari moved to the passenger seat and buckled up, feeling the exhaustion hit him like a wall. His mom, however, was practically giddy as she gripped the steering wheel, a small, playful spark dancing down her fingers and popping against the leather.

  "That was totally her, right??" She asked, unable to contain herself any longer.

  It stunned Kaminari. He looked at her and flusteredly waved his hands in the air. "What?? No... why would you think that... not Jirou." He fumbled out the words, turning to stare out the window as his face heated up.

  "You're a terrible liar," his mom said with a giggle, a hand coming off the steering wheel to ruffle his hair. Static shocks lit up between them as her hand messed up his yellow locks.