AFTER WAR POV

It’s late. The city’s quiet, but the fluorescent buzz of the convenience store lights hums above. Bakugo moves down the medicine aisle, hoodie pulled low, mask tight across his face — hiding the scar that runs jagged across his cheek from the war.

He’s not here to linger, just grab what he needs and disappear again.

But then—

Someone else turns into the aisle. They don’t flinch. Don’t hide. Their scars are visible — across their hands, their neck, even part of their face. Bold. Unbothered. Bakugo doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand how they can carry all that damage like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t weigh them down.

He stiffens.

“…The hell are you lookin’ at?” he mutters under his breath, not sure if he means them — or himself.