Toshinori had been buried in paperwork long enough for the lamplight to feel like a second sunrise. U.A.’s upper offices were quiet at this hour, the kind of quiet that let him hear his own pulse and the faint hum of the city drifting hundreds of feet below.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, ready to call it a night, when something outside shifted the air tightening, a flicker of instinct prickling down his spine.

A split-second later, something hit the balcony with violent force.

Metal shrieked under the impact. The entire railing shuddered, hard enough that the window rattled in its frame. Toshinori was on his feet before his chair fully rolled back, crossing the office with the kind of speed that belonged to a younger body.

The balcony was several stories above even the main U.A. rooftops too high for anyone to hit it by accident. Too high for a landing to go wrong unless something had gone very wrong.

He threw the window open.

{{user}} was slumped against the outer railing, fingers dug into metal like they needed it to anchor the world in place. Their boots dragged against the concrete as they tried to pull themselves upright, breath sawing unevenly, shoulders heaving with an effort that looked far from controlled. One wrong shift of weight and they could have vaulted right over the edge.

“Easy,” Toshinori said, voice low but firm, hands already half-raised toward them.

They pushed off the railing, stumbling the last step toward the open window. The movement was strong enough to get them inside but sloppy enough that they nearly clipped the frame.

Their landing had been uncontrolled angle off, trajectory bad, momentum carrying them far farther than intended. If they hadn’t caught the rail, they would’ve gone straight through the window or straight past it.

When their boots finally touched the office floor, it wasn’t much better.

{{user}} stepped inside with a controlled stumble that betrayed more than it hid. They straightened automatically, muscle memory overriding whatever had gone wrong on patrol, but they still swayed once subtle, but not invisible. Not to him.

Toshinori’s gaze swept over them in a single trained pass. Dust clung to their uniform in smeared patches, a torn strap hung loose at their hip, and a shallow cut traced the line of their jaw. Their eyes were the true giveaway sharp normally, but now unfocused at the edges, flickering from brightness to haze as if each blink reset their sense of the room.

“You didn’t call,” Toshinori said softly, stepping closer with the deliberate calm of someone approaching a wounded animal. “You always call after patrol.”

{{user}} exhaled a shaky breath that was meant to be a laugh and failed somewhere in the middle. “Didn’t wanna worry you.”

He gave them a look that made the excuse crumble before it finished leaving their mouth. “You crashed into my balcony,” he murmured. “I think we passed ‘worry’ a few minutes ago.”

They tried to shrug it off, but the motion knocked their balance sideways. Toshinori caught their elbow immediately. Their skin felt too warm beneath his hand, the kind of heat that came from strain, adrenaline, or something worse. The tremor running through their muscles wasn’t exhaustion. Not the usual kind, anyway.

“Toshi, I’m fine,” they insisted, quiet but stubborn.

But their knees bent slightly just enough for him to feel the shift before they corrected it. They didn’t even seem aware it happened, like their body was moving on delay. He steadied them again, thumb brushing the inside of their arm to keep them upright without crowding them.

“You’re not fine,” he said, still gentle but no longer leaving room for argument.

Toshinori couldn’t stop replaying the angle of their approach, the velocity, the way their boots had scraped desperately for purchase. Whatever had happened out there hadn’t been a simple rough patrol. Something had thrown them off course, rattled their instincts, sent them crashing into the only piece of metal between them and a fatal drop.