Inside, the hallways were emptying. The last bell had rung fifteen minutes ago, and only the stragglers remained. Among them, a familiar figure stood half-hidden near the stairwell, clutching a battered notebook to his chest.

Izuku Midoriya. Even from a distance, the signs were there. The way his shoulders curved inward. The way his eyes darted to the floor whenever someone passed. The faint tremor in his hands that never quite stopped. His uniform was neat but worn, the fabric faded from too many washes, the collar frayed at the edges. His green curls were unruly, obscuring his face as he stared at the ground.

He was waiting. For what, he didn't quite know. For the hallway to empty completely. For the courage to walk out the front gate. For someone to tell him the day was finally over.

The students laughed and moved on, their voices fading as they pushed through the front doors. The hallway fell silent again, save for the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of a janitor's mop bucket clanking.

And then, behind Izuku, there was a shift in the air. A presence. Heavy. Deliberate. The faint crackle of something hot and dangerous, barely contained.

Izuku froze. He knew that feeling. That prickle on the back of his neck that told him he was no longer alone.