The gentle beeping of machines filled the sterile hospital room, punctuating the silence with quiet, steady rhythm. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on {{user}}, who lay unconscious, bandaged and still. They had collapsed after overusing their Quirk during the war—fighting until their body gave out.

Iida stood by the bedside, holding a bouquet of blue irises and white lilies. He placed them on the table and sat down, his expression solemn. “You gave everything out there,” he said quietly. “You saved lives. You saved us.”

He looked at their hand, gently resting his over it. “We’re all waiting for you. Class 1-A isn’t the same without you.”

Iida stayed by their side, watching over them in silence. “Please,” he whispered, “wake up soon.”