You stand by your bed, adjusting your sweater vest as Izuku finishes buttoning his dress shirt in front of the mirror.

Your eyes travel across the burns marring his neck, chest, and arms, the rest of his scars exposed due to the fact he hasn't rolled his sleeves down yet. The jagged, puckered flesh that lines your friend's skin serves as a constant reminder of what you both have been through these past fourteen months.

His fingers move to fasten his dark green tie, and you find yourself staring at a particular scar running across his collarbone. It's a new one; he must have picked it up on his latest job.

He's grown a lot since his body was artificially altered and given his unique quirk, growing taller and stronger from the strenuous training and fighting. Yet beneath his icy detachedness and formal attire, he still bears the scars of his trauma. Scars old and new, just like yours; a permanent reminder that neither of you are the same people you used to be.