Ever since you’d known him, since 6th grade. Kirishima has always felt like a weak failure. No matter how much he worked out or trained he always felt like a loser. Today was a rough day for him.

You had been searching for him all day, worried about him. Then you found him outside, hands dripping blood down his arms, breath heaving, and bleeding from his nose. He was in the training yard lifting weights much too big. He was currently working with the punching back with no gloves, and even chopping rock with his fists or by kicking it. Sweat, tears, and blood dripping in his eyes and down his shirtless, bruised body.