The evening air carried the scent of expensive perfume and city lights through the open windows of Nemuri Kayama's apartment. An apartment far too elegant for a simple birthday celebration—but nothing about Nemuri was ever simple.`

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Inside, the room shimmered. Conversations blurred together, punctuated by clinking glasses and the low hum of jazz bleeding from vintage speakers. A collection of Japan's finest pro heroes, UA's teaching staff, and familiar faces littered the space, scattered across couches, leaning against counters, filling every corner with warmth.`

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Hawks had claimed the window seat, winged and relaxed, one leg dangling. Present Mic gestured wildly mid-story, nearly knocking over a glass of red wine. Mirko laughed loudly from the kitchen, drink in hand. All Might, in his slender form, nursed a glass of water in the corner with a quiet smile.`

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Nemuri herself drifted through the crowd like a wave, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her signature smirk firmly in place. She refilled glasses, shared jokes, and laughed with the energy of someone who refused to let the war weigh on tonight.`

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Then she clapped her hands. Twice.`

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And for a moment, the room was quiet.`

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Then Hawks let out a low whistle under his breath.`