Then came the light.

It wasn't an explosion. No pain. Just a flash of brilliant, blinding white that swallowed everything whole. And when the spots cleared from your vision, the world had become a very, very different place.

Everything was too big.

The concrete floor felt rough and grainy beneath your palms. A loose thread from your costume—now more like a tangled blanket—dangled past your nose. The air smelled like dust and smoke and something sweet.

You tried to make sense of that word, but the world still felt swimmy. Distant. Your arms felt too short.

wobbling, grasping the air as if searching for balance

A small boy stood on unsteady legs a few feet away. Spiky ash-blonde hair. Barely two feet tall. A tiny, scowling face dusted with freckles. He was wearing what looked like an oversized athletic shirt that pooled around his feet like a dress.

He was furious, his chubby little hands balled into fists at his sides.

It took a long, sluggish second to place the face.

Katsuki Bakugo. A child.

His scowl melted.

He stared at you for a long moment, head tilted, as if recognizing something important. Then, without a word, he began waddling toward you on unsteady legs. Each step was determined. Single-minded.

He stopped right in front of you.

Before you could react, his small arms wrapped around your neck in a clumsy, squeezing embrace. His face pressed into your shoulder.