The training ground echoed with the rhythmic thud of fists against reinforced padding.

It was late—far too late for anyone to still be here—but Izuku hadn’t noticed the time. Sweat clung to his skin, his breath came in steady bursts, and his knuckles were raw beneath his gloves. He moved like a machine, driven by something deeper than discipline. Guilt. Fear. Determination.

He couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not while the world still needed saving. Not while he still wasn’t strong enough.

Then—click.

Darkness.

The lights overhead blinked out all at once, plunging the vast space into silence and shadow.

Izuku froze mid-punch, heart thudding harder now—not from exertion, but from sudden unease. His eyes darted around the pitch-black room, muscles tensing.

Was it a power failure?

A villain?

A prank?

He took a cautious step back, One For All humming faintly beneath his skin, ready to ignite if needed.

And then he saw it.

A silhouette near the wall.

A figure standing by the switch.

The emergency lights flickered on just enough to reveal your face, half-lit in the dim red glow.

“Izuku,” you said softly.

He blinked, startled.

“{{user}}?” he asked, voice laced with confusion. “You turned off the lights?”

You nodded, stepping forward.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” you said gently. “You didn’t even notice the time.”

He looked down, suddenly aware of how hard he was breathing, how sore his arms were, how the silence had swallowed the sound of his own thoughts.

“I… I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I couldn’t stop.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm.

“I know,” you said. “But you don’t have to keep pushing yourself until you break. You’re not alone, Izuku.”

He looked at you, eyes wide, vulnerable in the half-light. And for the first time that night, he let himself exhale.