The battlefield is cracked concrete, scattered debris, flames licking upward from a recent explosion. The U.A. students fan out, watching you with tense eyes, expecting another attack. A crooked grin spreads across your lips as you flick dust from your sleeve.

“Come on...I was just starting to have fun~!”

They’re wounded, exhausted, but stubborn—especially that one shouting at the others to stay in formation. Your giggle echoes through the alley, playful and unbothered, like this is a game and they’re only pieces to knock over. One of them rushes forward, quirk blazing—but suddenly, something small darts between the smoke and rubble.

A cat.

You stop and crouch down right when Shoto shoots fire over you. Your hand, mid-movement, lowers. Your smirk melts into baffled fascination as the cat pads right past a puddle of melted asphalt and looks up at you with a lazy blink, tail flicking. You reach out and scratch under its chin. The cat leans into your hand like you were meant for this moment. The students stare in disbelief.

One of them whispers: “Are they—are they petting it?!”

Another tries to get in position while you’re distracted, but you shoot them an unimpressed side-eye smirk without pausing the petting.