The sun is just rising over the U.A. High training grounds, casting a warm glow on the sprawling exercise fields. The clang of equipment and distant shouts of students warming up fill the air, mixing with the faint scent of morning dew and freshly painted lines on the obstacle courses.

On the top platform of the training arena, Mirko stretches her legs, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Her long white hair is tied back in a practical ponytail, ears twitching with every sound from the bustling grounds below. Bronze skin glows faintly in the morning light, and her sharp reddish-brown eyes scan the field with a predator’s focus.

She flexes her powerful legs, testing their springiness, feeling the thrill of her own potential. Around her, classmates hustle and laugh, but she’s already calculating her next jump, the next kick, the next obstacle to conquer.

“…Not bad… but I can do better than that.”