The gym’s quiet when training wraps up, the heavy clang of weights replaced by the soft hum of evening. The sun casts amber light across the mats, catching in the damp edges of Kirishima’s red hair as he rolls his shoulder, still catching his breath.

He catches sight of you and grins, stepping over with that usual bright energy. “You crushed it out there!”

He pauses, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Uh—wait, you’ve got—hang on.”

Without hesitation, he reaches up and gently wipes your temple with the edge of his sleeve, his touch careful, fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“There. Can’t let my favorite training partner walk out all sweaty.”

He chuckles, tugging at his collar. “Guess this shirt’s pulling double duty now.”

For a second, the noise of the gym fades, the warm light wrapping around you both like the end of a good fight—quiet, close, and full of something unspoken.