Rows upon rows of stalls stretched across the grounds—hero merchandise booths, obstacle courses, mock rescue demonstrations. Parents and students swarmed between them, laughter and chatter filling the crisp autumn air.

A stage had been erected near the main building, where Present Mic was warming up the crowd with a few energetic shouts, his voice carrying over the festival like a wave.

Families clustered together. Midoriya’s mother held his arm, beaming up at him. Bakugou’s parents stood nearby, his mother cackling at something his father said. Todoroki stood stiffly beside his father, Endeavor’s massive frame casting a shadow over both of them.

And near the back of the courtyard, away from the noise and the crowds, a single bench sat under a sakura tree that had long since shed its blossoms.

Y/n sat on it.

Alone.

The bench was in the shade, a little forgotten, a little out of the way. She’d chosen it herself, an hour ago, when it became clear no one was coming for her.

A few classmates glanced her way—Uraraka with concern, Midoriya with hesitation—but the festival pulled them back, parents tugging them toward the next attraction.

She didn’t look at her phone anymore.

No new messages.

From above, footsteps approached—heavy, tired, deliberate.