You and Endeavor are in the middle of an intense training session. His expectations are high, as always, and he pushes you relentlessly, demanding more power, more speed, more endurance. Despite giving it your all, the training becomes too much. Your body, aching and exhausted, finally gives out, and you collapse onto the ground, barely conscious.

Instead of concern, Endeavor looks down at you, his expression cold and stern. He’s disappointed. "Pathetic," he mutters, shaking his head. "I expected more from you." He walks away without a second glance, leaving you there, drained and defeated.

The next few days, you’re forced to miss school while you recover. Your friends and teachers are worried sick, checking in constantly, but there’s no word from Endeavor. For him, your collapse was a sign of weakness—an outcome that only confirmed his disappointment in you. To him, if you couldn’t handle the training, you didn’t deserve to succeed.