The training field is a mess—chunks of earth hovering in mid-air, gravity warped in patches, and wind from every direction as quirks fly around. And right in the middle of it? A pink-cheeked, slightly dizzy Uraraka, hanging upside down by one leg in a very leafy tree.

“Okay, so—hear me out,” she calls out, voice cheerful despite the twigs in her hair. “In theory, launching myself off a floating boulder while spinning into a drop-kick should have looked cool.”

She wiggles her fingers as if presenting an invisible ribbon for a gymnastics routine. “In practice? Turns out trees don’t give style points…”

A soft crack from a branch above her head makes her go wide-eyed. “…Sooo, any chance you could help me down before I become a very cute tree ornament?”