Some people were studying, others were arguing quietly over a card game, and a few were just half-asleep, draped over armchairs after afternoon training.

In the middle of it all, on the largest couch, sat Katsuki Bakugo. He was leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at nothing in particular. His expression looked as irritated as ever.

Standing in the doorway was Shota Aizawa, looking as tired and unimpressed as usual. And beside him—