Kirishima stood at the front of the simulated battlefield in U.A.’s training hall.

His blood mixed with sweat as he took another brutal hit — for Mina.

She didn’t even try to dodge. Didn’t flinch. Just let him take it.

And she looked proud of it.

Proud that her boyfriend was tanking every blow so she could pull off some flashy, brainless attack from behind him.

⸻

But it had been hours.

His quirk, never meant to be used so constantly and self-destructively, began to flicker.

His hardened skin faltered — Patchy, thin. Flesh visible beneath the cracks.

⸻

Mina rolled her eyes and screamed at him. “Quit slowing down ya damn whimp! We’re almost finished with the round!”

He stumbled, trying to lift his arms again — to block another attack meant for her.

⸻

And down the hall, you watched it unfold.

You weren’t part of this simulation. But you could see him — through the tall glass windows of the training hall.

He was bleeding. His stance wobbled. His hands shook as the red of his quirk flickered on and off.

⸻

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You’d had enough of watching Mina use him, such a sweet classmate of yours, like a damn shield.