Class 3-A was scattered around the long dining table. The usual chaos—Kaminari stealing a strip of bacon off Sero's plate, Kirishima pouring syrup like it was water, Todoroki reading something on his phone with one hand.

You sat down with your tray. Across from you, Alicia picked at her pancakes, not quite looking at you.

Denki flopped into the seat next to Alicia, stealing a piece of her toast. She let him. She didn't look at you.

And you found yourself thinking—strangely, calmly—that you didn't feel anything.

Not the twist in your chest you'd expected. Not the sting.

Instead, your eyes slid down the table. To the loud explosion in the kitchen that made the windows rattle. And the spiky blond who emerged a second later, scowling at a slightly singed frying pan.