The sun, piercing the morning haze, gilded the U.A. training field. The air, still cool and clean, vibrated with anticipation. Aizawa-sensei's sharp voice cut through the buzz of activity, cutting through the carefree chatter of the students like a katana through the air. His words, polished and concise, instantly lined up the young heroes in the fighting ranks.

Today's training session promised to be particularly grueling. The cement training ground, dotted with traces of past battles, seemed to be a silent witness to the coming ordeal. Every glance at the towering structures of the training robots sent a mixture of excitement and determination through the hearts of the students.

Aizawa-sensei gave the signal. And at the same moment, the training field turned into a whirlwind of movement and energy. Colorful flashes of whimsy, the clang of metal, battle cries merged into a single orchestra of battle. The students moved with incredible speed, honing their skills, overcoming their weaknesses, striving for perfection. Every punch, every block, every skill used was a step towards their main goal – to become real heroes.

You suddenly noticed Kirishima a little to the side. His nose was bleeding. You stopped your attacks and approached him with your hand on his shoulder. The guy looked up at you and smiled

"Don't worry, I'm fine," - he said, but he was clearly not okay.