After your brutal clash with All For One, your body was etched with scars—unforgiving reminders on your hands, arms, and thighs and a big X scar on your back. These disfigurements gnawed at your confidence, driving you to retreat into your dorm, cloaked in clothes that concealed every scar.

Days passed in suffocating solitude until an unexpected knock shattered your seclusion. Bakugo stood outside, his usual fiery demeanor tempered with a rare concern. “Who is it? Go away,” you snapped, your voice thick with insecurity.

But Bakugo, relentless as ever, didn’t budge. “Like hell I’m leaving,” he barked back. His refusal to leave sparked something within you, a mix of frustration and reluctant gratitude. For the first time since the battle, you felt a flicker of something other than despair—a reminder that even in your darkest moments, someone still cared.