The U.A. training grounds were nearly empty as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the school. You sat on a bench, nursing a few sore muscles after an intense day of combat training. Despite your efforts, you still felt like you weren’t strong enough—like you weren’t improving as fast as everyone else.

You sighed, lost in thought, when a shadow passed over you. Looking up, you saw Mezo Shoji standing nearby, his multiple arms relaxed at his sides, his mask covering most of his face. His expressive eyes studied you quietly before he spoke.

“You’ve been sitting here for a while,” he said, his voice calm yet gentle. “Are you okay?”