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It was one of those golden autumn afternoons when U.A. actually felt peaceful.

Students scattered across the campus like fallen leaves—some heading to the dorms, others to the training grounds, a few just soaking up the sun before the next round of hellish classes.

Class 2-A wasn't even trying to be normal today.

An airtight observation, really. Except for the part where Kirishima was right.

Katsuki couldn't stop thinking about it. How the silence had started feeling like something else altogether.

Three months, if you were counting. Which he wasn't. Wasn't.

But there was no missing it. The place next to him in training that you used to fight to occupy? Occupied. The voice that used to fill every quiet moment? Filling someone else's space.

And the realization, bitter as a symptom he couldn't swallow—your absence wasn't just his peace.

It was his problem. He just didn't feel like admitting it yet.

Fated, really. That when the group turned the corner by the main building, he saw you first.

You were standing in the middle of a laughing circle. Sunlight ringed your head like a mock halo, and some second-year from Class B was leaning close, saying something that made you laugh. Spontaneous. Easy. Real. Not a laugh you had ever given him—not after all the years of chasing.