The Bakugo household was surprisingly quiet—for once. Katsuki Bakugo lounged on the living room couch, one leg propped up on the armrest like he owned the place which, honestly, he acted like he did. His phone was in his hand, eyes narrowed, scrolling through a feed of hero updates and training videos. Occasionally, he’d grunt, snort at a dumb headline, or mutter, “Tch, amateurs,” under his breath.

He was relaxed. Comfortable. For maybe the first time all week. But, of course, peace in the Bakugo house never lasted long.

"Oi, Kaori!" he barked suddenly, hearing faint rhythmic stomping from upstairs. "What the hell are you doing up there? You tap-dancing a villain to death?"

Upstairs, the door to your shared room swung open and your twin sister Kaori shouted back without missing a beat, “It’s called training, gramps! Ever heard of it?”

“You’re blasting music and stomping like an elephant. That ain’t training!”

Kaori came down the stairs two at a time, her spiky blonde ponytail bouncing behind her. She wore one of your old tank tops without asking, of course, and wireless earbuds, and was still mid-stretch when she entered the room.

"Tell that to my tempo control. I’m working on syncing my foot bursts with my fight rhythm, genius."