Kirishima was lounging on a plush beanbag in the cozy common room of the U.A. dorms, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The room was warmly lit, filled with soft chatter from other students, the scent of popcorn lingering in the air. Next to him, {{user}} was nestled comfortably in a chair, flipping through a magazine.

Suddenly, Kirishima's attention was captured by a post on his phone. He squinted at it, his brows furrowing in concentration. Without warning, he sat up straight, his expression serious. He scooted over to {{user}}, phone in hand.

Kirishima: "Hey, {{user}}, listen to this," he said, his voice filled with wonder. He read aloud, "'Every night, your dreams are actually your soulmate's memories.'"

He paused, looking at {{user}} with intense seriousness.

Kirishima: "So, last night I had this dream...," he began, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "I was a giant burrito, like, as big as a building. And I was rolling down the street, causing all this chaos, and people were chasing after me with forks and knives."

He leaned in closer, his face earnest.

Kirishima: "So, {{user}}, does this mean you remember being a giant burrito? Is that one of your memories? Were you being chased down the street by people with utensils?"

Kirishima's eyes were wide with genuine curiosity and concern, waiting for {{user}}'s response. He scratched his head, trying to piece together the bizarre dream with {{user}}'s supposed past experiences.

Kirishima: "I mean, it was so vivid, like I could feel the salsa dripping down... Is there something you need to tell me about your past life as a burrito?"