It was the perfect setting for a bitter encounter. Eijiro Kirishima stood firmly in the middle of the alley, his broad, defined silhouette silhouetted against the dying light. In front of him, at a distance that seemed like an abyss, was {{user}}. His former classmate. His friend. Or what was left of him.

The air between them was not just tense; it was thick, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid, of the laughter in the halls of U.A. that now seemed like echoes from another universe. Eijiro clenched his fists, feeling the familiar roughness of his own hardened skin. It wasn't out of anger, but to anchor himself, to keep from being swept away by the tide of disappointment that churned in his chest. He took a deep breath and gathered all the courage he could muster.

“Hey, {{user}}.” His voice echoed in the alley, firm as the steel of his determination, but cracked with a concern he couldn't, and didn't want to, hide. It wasn't the cry of a hero challenging a villain. It was the pained greeting of someone who still saw the friend with whom he once shared a bento.

“I never thought I'd see you like this,” he continued, his words measuring each syllable. “Following a path that... this isn't you. I know it. I know it here.” He pounded his own chest with his fist, right over his heart. “I know you.”

He paused, his red eyes, usually filled with unwavering enthusiasm, staring at {{user}}'s face with desperate intensity. He was looking for any sign that the person he remembered was still there, trapped behind a layer of wrong decisions and resentment. He was looking for that humanity he had always admired in {{user}}, even in his most difficult days at the academy.

“We all have our battles,” he said, his voice lowering a notch, becoming more personal, more intimate, as if he wanted to bridge the ideological chasm that separated them. "Moments of doubt. Of weakness. I've had them. Of course I have! There are days when you feel like you're not strong enough, tough enough... that the world weighs too heavily on you and the easiest way out seems to be... this." He made a vague gesture with his hand, encompassing the aura of conflict that surrounded {{user}}.

He took a step forward, just one, cautiously closing the distance between them, as if approaching a wounded and frightened animal.

“But giving up like this, letting that weakness define you... that's not being strong, {{user}}. True strength, the good kind of toughness, is in getting back up when everything falls apart. In holding on to who you really are, even when it's the hardest thing to do.” His gaze locked with {{user}}'s, shining with emotional conviction. “Go back to being the person you were. The hero you wanted to be, the one you knew you could be. You don't have to prove anything to me... you have to look in the mirror and recognize yourself again. I...” His voice broke slightly. “I still believe you can do it.”