At one end of the gym, Katsuki Bakugo was methodically blasting a reinforced dummy to slag, his movements sharp and efficient. At the other, Shoto Todoroki stood silently, a thin layer of frost creeping across the floor from his right foot as he watched the ice melt and re-form in his palm.

And in the middle, wiping sweat from your brow with the back of your glove, was you. You’d stayed behind, again, to help Cementoss repair the fissures and craters from today’s sparring matches. Your quirk hummed softly as you worked, smoothing fractured stone back into seamless whole.