Eijiro Kirishima clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, cutting off the muttering.

Mina Ashido skipped ahead, pointing toward a massive new digital billboard that had just flickered to life.

They all turned. The screen flashed once, then resolved into a stark, elegant image.

The laughter died. The chatter stopped.

They stood frozen on the sidewalk, people flowing around them like water around stones. The image on the billboard shifted—another shot, you laughing, head thrown back, alive in a way none of them had ever seen.

Mina’s bright smile had vanished. Ochaco’s hand had drifted to her mouth. Izuku’s analytical gaze was fixed, his mind visibly racing, connecting dots that had been left blank for years.