After what felt like hours of relentless studying, the atmosphere in Uraraka’s room was steadily collapsing. Most of the girls looked half-dead. Uraraka was draped across the table with her cheek squashed against her open math book, Mina had surrendered entirely to the floor, holding her physics notes above her face as if gravity might force the knowledge into her skull. Hagakure, unfazed, was explaining art concepts to Jirou, who gave polite nods between distracted strums on her pencil. By the window, Tsuyu sat upright with a quiet smile, the steady curtain of rain outside filling her with a simple, steady happiness.

  Momo, ever the responsible one, sat beside Robinn with a patient but strained expression, guiding her through yet another section of Japanese history. Robinn’s notes were a storm of scribbles, ink smudging faintly under her wrist.

  "I really can’t think of a way learning this would help us in hero work," she muttered, jotting down something about the Meiji period with more speed than care.

  Momo exhaled softly through her nose, shifting her weight. "Just focus on learning it. We should strive for good grades." She didn’t press further. Arguing with Robinn would waste even more time.

  Across the floor, Mina finally let her notes flop out of her hands with a groan. "Hey, is anyone else getting hungry?" She sat up, scanning the room hopefully.

  Robinn was the first to answer, stretching as she straightened her back. "I could go for a bite."

  "But it’s pouring outside…" Jirou pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

  That only seemed to energize Robinn. She stood with a deliberate stretch, glad for an excuse to stop staring at dates and events. "Yeah, so I’ll go get some food. What does everyone want?"

  The others stared at her as if she’d suggested running laps in the rain for fun.

  "But doesn’t Uraraka have food here?" Momo tried, reaching for reason.

  From her seat at the table, Uraraka slowly lifted her head, guilt already shadowing her face. "I don’t have enough for seven people."

  Robinn seized the answer without hesitation. "See? So what does everyone want? I’ll even pay if you need me to."

  Mina perked up immediately. "Well… if you’re paying…"

  "Uraraka, what food places are around here?" Robinn pressed.

  Uraraka fidgeted, voice quieter. "There’s a little restaurant a few minutes away, Japanese food, lots of variety."

  "Robinn, we could just order food," Momo argued firmly.

  Hagakure chimed in. "Yeah, you don’t have to do that for us, Robinn."

  But Robinn just blinked, her expression more puzzled than defiant. "You can just order food now?... Nah. Why should someone else go out in the rain when I can do it happily?"

  She walked to the door with casual finality, grabbing her bag and pulling on her shoes. "Everyone text me what you want. I’ll be back in a bit."

  The door opened and closed before anyone could protest further.

  There was a beat of silence, and then Tsuyu hopped to her feet, her chair scraping back. She slipped on her shoes quickly, pausing at the door to address the group in her steady, matter-of-fact tone. "I’ll go with her to help carry our stuff."

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  The door clicked shut again, leaving the others behind.

  For a moment, the room felt heavier. The girls began murmuring among themselves about what to order, but Uraraka sat frozen in her seat, clutching her flip phone with both hands. Hosting was supposed to mean providing, and she hadn’t been able to do that. She hated the feeling of taking handouts, even from friends.

  Eventually, she forced herself to the fridge, praying something... anything, had materialized since the last time she checked. The door creaked open to reveal the same barren shelves, a few condiments, scattered vegetables, and a half-eaten leftover meal she didn’t even want to identify.

  Her shoulders sagged. She closed the fridge with more force than needed and leaned her forehead briefly against the cool surface. With a small sigh, she pulled out her phone again, her thumbs hesitating before she typed out her order to Robinn, shame curling inside her chest as she hit send.

  The rain was relentless, hammering the pavement in silver streaks. Tsuyu spotted Robinn sprinting ahead, her hair plastered wetly against her cheeks as she charged down the street. With a few quick hops, Tsuyu caught up easily, but something about the scene made her pause. Robinn hadn’t even noticed her.

  Her face was different out here, no easy smile, no bright spark. Just a flat, cold expression that made her look like a stranger. It took several more leaps before Robinn finally registered her presence. Even then, Tsuyu braced for that cheerful grin that usually came as naturally as breathing. It never came.

  "Asui? Why’d you follow me? I can do this fine alone." Robinn’s tone was casual, but the warmth was gone.

  She didn’t slow down either. Tsuyu had to hop alongside, awkwardly keeping pace with her longer strides.

  "I just wanted to help carry the bags," Tsuyu explained after a beat, though the words felt thinner than usual.

  "And?" Robinn pressed, her voice clipped.

  They reached a street corner, and Robinn pivoted sharply. Water splashed up from the gutter as Tsuyu skidded, then bounced forward to match her direction.

  She looked away, then admitted quietly, "I wanted to talk to you alone, Robinn."

  That earned a response. Robinn’s steps eased, her pace slowing enough for Tsuyu to fall in beside her on foot.

  "About how you think I’m not normal?" she asked flatly.

  Tsuyu shook her head slightly, meeting her gaze despite the prickling nerves in her chest. "Not exactly... You’re very secretive… but I’ve noticed that since you got here, I haven’t seen a real smile on your face."

  Robinn didn’t flinch. If anything, she seemed mildly curious. "A real smile? What makes a smile fake?"

  Tsuyu’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected that... Robinn’s casual coldness, her voice blending so easily with the chill rain around them. It unsettled her.

  Before she could form an answer, the glow of the restaurant’s lanterns cut through the downpour. They approached the small takeout window beneath the dripping eaves.

  What made a smile fake? Tsuyu didn’t know. She only knew Robinn’s always seemed off.

  Robinn dug into her bag and pulled out her phone and wallet. The screen was scratched, corners dented, no case protecting it. She read off the orders crisply to the worker, then turned back. 'You never told me what you wanted."

  Caught adrift in her own thoughts, Tsuyu blinked, then quickly scanned the menu. She pointed at an option and ordered sheepishly.

  Robinn paid without hesitation, slipping crisp bills from her wallet, larger than necessary. She waved away the change with a small gesture, but the worker refused, sliding it back across the counter.

  Robinn’s lips curled into something faint and rueful. "I forget giving tips over here isn’t normal. Habits from America die hard."

  Tsuyu studied her carefully, her impression shifting again. Every time she thought she had Robinn figured out, another crack appeared.

  "Thanks for paying. I owe you a meal," she offered.

  Robinn shook her head, sliding the phone and wallet back into her bag. "It’s okay. I’m happy to pay. You don’t owe me anything."

  A sudden flash of lightning split the sky. The thunder followed instantly, rattling the restaurant’s windows.

  Robinn didn’t flinch. She kept her eyes on the drenched streets and the cars sending puddles spraying across the asphalt. "Y’know, Asui, you’re pretty secretive yourself."

  Tsuyu blinked, thrown again. "…I guess so, but-"

  "Just because someone doesn’t share personal stuff doesn’t mean they’re hiding things," Robinn cut in smoothly.

  Tsuyu’s gaze dropped to her shoes, the words sticking. "I know that... it's just... I’m just saying… I can’t explain it, but something about you doesn’t feel right, and I wanted to tell you."

  "Well, let’s continue this conversation when you get some concrete evidence that something’s off with me. Not just a feeling." Robinn turned back to the counter, where their bags were stacked neatly and ready.

  They collected the meals, thanked the workers politely, and stepped back into the storm. The walk home was silent, the rain filling in every space where words might have gone.