Near the kitchen island, Momo Yaoyorozu was pouring tea for herself and Tsuyu Asui. Mina Ashido was on her phone, scrolling through something that made her giggle. Shinsou Hitoshi was tucked into the corner of the largest couch, a book open in his lap, one earphone in and one out, half-listening to the chaos around him.

It was normal. Peaceful. The way a Saturday afternoon was supposed to feel.

A man stood in the doorway. He was large, broad-shouldered, with a flushed face and bloodshot eyes that reeked of cheap liquor even from twenty feet away. His clothes were rumpled, his belt unbuckled, his knuckles scraped and raw.

His voice was a low, grinding snarl.

He ignored her completely. He took a step inside. Then another.

The man's eyes never left you. They were fixed, wild, and burning with something that made the air in the room turn cold.

The word hung in the air like a threat made tangible. Like the first crack before the glass shatters.