A connection beyond reality!

Chapter 1

For the third night in a row, Midoriya found himself standing in the same dream.

A never-ending field of daisies stretched endlessly in every direction, their pale yellow and white petals swaying gently under the touch of an unseen breeze. The sky above was a soft, endless sunset, unbroken by clouds, the world always bathed in a warm, golden light. The air smelled fresh—clean, with the faintest hint of something familiar, something he couldn't quite name.

He walked forward, though there was no path to follow, only the sensation that his feet knew where to take him. There were no houses, no trees, no landmarks—just the vast ocean of wildflowers shifting with the wind, as if whispering secrets only he could understand.

Yet, despite its emptiness, the place never felt lonely. If anything, it felt expectant. Like something—someone—was waiting to come back.

—

In the morning.

Midoriya groaned, disappointment settling over him like a heavy blanket. His dull morning routine, the same unfulfilling college schedule—reality always hits harder after a dream like that. His life wasn't bad. Good grades, a structured schedule, a part-time job at a café—by all means, he was doing fine. But something felt... off. Like he was drifting through life rather than living it.

A buzz from his phone. Four unread messages from Todoroki.

Shoto: "Izuku, this rude guy just shoved me while I was trying to ask him something."
Shoto: "I think he's new here, though."
Shoto: "This guy is seriously insane."
Shoto: "And loud."

Midoriya snorted, already imagining Todoroki's unimpressed face. "He probably just had a bad day."

Shoto: "Well, yeah, and he's making it everybody's problem. I had a bad life, I don't use it as an excuse."

Shoto: "Anyway, when are you getting here? You're late."

"Almost there, Shoto."

He arrived just as the professor walked in, sliding into his seat with practiced ease. His bag hit the floor with a soft thud, and he barely had time to pull out his sketchbook before the lecture began. His breathing was still uneven from the sprint across campus, but he forced himself to sit still, ignoring the heat on his face.

As an art major, Midoriya often found himself in overlapping courses with Todoroki, who was studying architecture. Their fields weren't identical, but there was enough crossover that they shared a few classes, mostly in design and conceptual planning.

Not that Todoroki needed the extra help. The guy was effortlessly good at everything—his sketches were sharp, clean, almost mechanical in their precision. It was the kind of skill that left professors nodding in approval while the rest of the class struggled with their compositions. But despite his talent, Todoroki never bragged. If anything, he often looked... uninterested, like he was just going through the motions.

Their friendship, though, went all the way back to high school.

Todoroki had always been the kind of person people admired from a distance. He had this quiet, effortless coolness to him—sharp features, unreadable expressions, an air of mystery that made people hesitate before approaching. People respected him, sure. They whispered about how intimidating he was, how powerful.

But no one really talked to him.

Midoriya had noticed that early on. How Todoroki would sit alone during lunch, flipping through his textbooks like he didn't care that no one was beside him. How his face remained neutral, but his shoulders were just a little too tense for someone who was truly unbothered.