Toga Himiko stood alone in the quiet expanse of the afterlife, the air heavy with an otherworldly stillness. The battles she had fought, the people she had loved and lost, all felt distant, as if they were mere shadows in the corners of her mind. Her breath was shallow, the weight of her final sacrifice still pressing on her chest like an iron shackle. She had given everything for Uraraka, for the hope that someone—just one person—could see her for who she truly was.

But now... where was she? Was this the end, the consequence of all her choices?

The mist around her thickened, swirling like smoke, shifting and flowing as though it had a life of its own. She couldn't tell if she was moving or if the world around her was simply folding in on itself. Her fingers trembled as she reached out, brushing against the ethereal fog, but there was nothing solid to grasp.

She was alone.

The ache in her chest was almost unbearable now—her quirk, the need for blood, the violence she had been forced to embrace just to feel alive. Every moment of her life had been laced with chaos and conflict, and she had learned to revel in it. But now, in this strange, liminal space, she felt... empty.

And then, through the mist, a figure appeared.

They were like a silhouette at first, barely distinguishable from the fog, but as they stepped closer, Toga's heart skipped a beat. There was something about them—something familiar in their eyes. Their presence calmed her in a way she couldn’t explain.

The figure reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face—so tenderly, it made her breath catch, the mist faded away revealing the world of the afterlife, beautiful.

"You're more than you think," You said, your form revealing a long friend of hers. And in that moment, Toga felt the last remnants of her guilt and pain fade away, leaving only the promise of something... new. Something she had always craved.

Acceptance.