MHA REINCARNATION!

The flashing cameras were blinding, even more so than usual. My ears rang with the shrieks of my fans – my precious Angels, as I called them. I plastered a smile on my face, waved, and did my best "sparkly idol" pose, hoping I looked as effortlessly perfect as my stage persona, Nejire Hado, demanded.

Inside, though, my stomach churned with a familiar anxiety. This wasn't about performing. This was about navigating the suffocating world of celebrity parties, a landscape populated by industry sharks, gossiping socialites, and the ever-present threat of unwanted attention. Luckily, I wasn't alone.

On my left, stood Tamaki Amajiki, a brooding fortress of quiet strength. His dark hair shielded his eyes, and he hunched slightly, as if trying to disappear into the impeccably tailored suit he wore. On my right, Mirio Togata beamed, his usual sunny disposition radiating outward, a protective shield against the vultures circling.

Tamaki and Mirio. My best friends. My bodyguards. And the dual source of a romantic torment that had plagued me since our days at UA High.

We were inseparable. We'd tackled villainous villains together, endured grueling training, and shared countless late-night confessions and laughter. We knew each other inside and out. We'd even built a unique fighting style that relied on our perfect synchronization, a testament to our bond.

The irony was, our bond was also the problem. How could I, a J-Pop idol constantly in the public eye, risk confessing my feelings? The fallout could be catastrophic, jeopardizing my career and, worse, damaging the precious friendship we shared. And then there was the terrifying thought: What if they didn't feel the same way?

The party was a dizzying blur of forced smiles, strained conversations, and lukewarm champagne. People tugged at my sleeve, requesting selfies, offering unsolicited advice, and whispering promises of lucrative collaborations. Through it all, Tamaki and Mirio remained vigilant, discreetly deflecting unwanted attention and keeping a watchful eye on my safety.

"Having fun, Nejire?" Mirio chuckled, flashing that blinding smile.

"As much fun as one can have wading through a pool of ambition," I replied, rolling my eyes good-naturedly.

Tamaki, surprisingly, spoke up. "Too… too many people. Overwhelming."

"Tell me about it," I sighed. "I swear, I saw someone trying to pitch me a cat food endorsement."

Mirio burst out laughing. "Only you, Nejire, could attract that kind of attention."

His laughter was like sunshine, chasing away the shadows that constantly nipped at my heels. It was a sound I cherished. A sound I desperately wanted to hear directed solely at me, not just as a friend, but as something more.

Then, a particularly flamboyant producer with a cloud of silver hair swept towards us. "Nejire-chan! Darling, you simply must join us for a round of 'Seven Minutes in Heaven'! It's the highlight of the evening!"

"Seven Minutes in Heaven?" I echoed, my stomach plummeting. The game was infamous for its awkwardness and potential for… well, potential romance. My eyes darted to Tamaki and Mirio. Their faces were unreadable. Tamaki looked constipated, and Mirio's smile seemed a little strained.

"Oh, come on, don't be a party pooper!" the producer insisted, practically dragging me towards a darkened room. Mirio and Tamaki exchanged a quick glance before falling into step behind me.

Before I could protest, I was pushed into the dimly lit room. It was small, barely bigger than a closet, and smelled faintly of stale perfume and desperation. A hat sat on a small table, filled with slips of paper.

"Go on, Nejire-chan! Pick a name!" the producer chirped, shoving the hat towards me. He then gave a knowing wink at Mirio and Tamaki before closing the door, leaving us in the claustrophobic darkness.

The silence was deafening. I could feel the weight of Tamaki and Mirio's gazes even in the dim light filtering in through the crack under the door.

"Okay, you two," Mirio said, trying to lighten the mood. "Seven minutes starts… now!" He pulled out his phone and started a timer.

The silence returned, heavier than before. I could practically feel the tension crackling in the air. I wanted to say something, anything, but my tongue felt thick and clumsy.

Finally, Tamaki spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Nejire… I…" He trailed off, unable to meet my gaze.

"You what, Tamaki?" I prompted gently, my heart aching for him.

He took a deep breath, and for the first time since we'd entered the room, he looked directly at me. "I… I've liked you, Nejire. For a long time."

The confession hit me like a tidal wave. Relief, joy, and a burgeoning hope washed over me. "Tamaki…" I breathed, reaching out to touch his cheek.

Before I could say anything else, Mirio spoke, his voice tight. "Time's almost up, you two…"

My hand dropped. I turned to Mirio, and I saw something in his eyes that mirrored my own feelings – a vulnerability he rarely allowed to surface.

"Mirio…" I started, but he cut me off.

"No, Nejire. It's okay. I… I understand." He looked down at his feet, kicking at the floor.

But I didn't understand. I didn't understand why he looked so heartbroken.

"Mirio, look at me." I reached out and cupped his face in my hands. "I like you too. I like both of you. I have for years."

The words hung in the air, a truth finally spoken after years of silent longing. Mirio's eyes widened in surprise. He stared at me, disbelief warring with hope on his face.

"You… you do?" he stammered.

"Yes, Mirio. I do." I turned back to Tamaki, who was watching us with a hesitant hope. "Both of you. I'm hopelessly in love with both of you."

The timer on Mirio's phone buzzed. Seven minutes were up.

The door swung open, revealing the eager face of the producer. "Well? Well? What happened? Spill the tea!"

We ignored him. We were too lost in the moment, too caught up in the shared confession that had finally broken down the walls we had built around our hearts.

Mirio looked at Tamaki, then back at me. A slow smile spread across his face. "Well," he said, his voice filled with a newfound lightness, "I guess we have a lot to talk about."

Tamaki nodded, a genuine smile finally gracing his lips. "A lot."

The producer, completely forgotten, sputtered in confusion as we walked out of the room, hand in hand. We didn't know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of hope. A sense of possibility.

The path ahead wouldn't be easy. Being a J-Pop idol with two boyfriends was a logistical and PR nightmare waiting to happen. But we were a team. We always had been. And together, we could face anything.

As we stepped back into the brightly lit party, the flashing cameras seemed less intimidating, the gossiping whispers less threatening. Because I wasn't alone. I had Tamaki and Mirio, my best friends, my bodyguards, and now, hopefully, something more. And maybe, just maybe, that's all I ever needed.