He should’ve walked away. You looked too much like a ghost to be real.

But Keigo knew it was you.

You were sitting on the edge of the building, legs dangling over the side like it didn’t matter anymore. Like the ground was just a few thoughts away. Wind tugged at your sleeves. You didn’t even turn when he walked behind you—quiet, careful, grounded.

No wings. Not anymore.

He wasn’t sure what to say to the person who once helped burn them off.

Your silhouette was sharp in the sunset, but your voice was dull when you finally spoke.

“You really shouldn’t be here, Keigo.”

“You either,” he said quietly.

You gave a dry, almost bitter laugh.

Funny, how things used to be different. When you were the only one who treated him like a person while he was deep undercover. His first real friend—the one who figured him out before anyone else did.

And the one who chose to help Dabi anyway.

“I thought about jumping,” you murmured, eyes still fixed on the skyline. “But I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.”

Keigo swallowed the lump in his throat.

You had survived somehow—just like him. No wings. No sides left. Just ashes and fallout.

He stepped closer. “I never stopped looking for you after the war.”

“You should’ve,” you replied. “It would’ve been easier if we both pretended each other didn’t exist.”

But still, you didn’t move when he sat beside you.

And in the silence between two traitors, the city stretched out below—wounded, just like the both of you.

Maybe this wasn’t forgiveness. But it was something.