Kirishima raised his glass and gently tapped the rim with the back of a spoon. The soft chime rang through the air—delicate, yet somehow resonating clearly above the low hum of conversation and laughter that had filled the cozy upstairs reunion space. It wasn’t a glamorous venue—just the rented second floor of a familiar, worn-down pub nestled in the heart of the city—but it held something far more valuable than aesthetics. It held warmth. It held memory. It held them.

Conversations dwindled. Heads turned. One by one, the voices softened and eyes focused, landing on the red-haired man with the same brightness in his gaze that hadn’t faded since high school.

"All right, everyone…" Kirishima’s grin was wide, his sharp teeth flashing. There was something proud in the way he stood—an older version of the bright-eyed student he used to be, but with the same unshakable spirit.

The chattering ceased entirely. The energy shifted—lighthearted still, but attentive now, as if everyone instinctively knew something worth hearing was about to be said.

"…Let’s take a moment to celebrate something pretty damn awesome. Our very own Shoto Todoroki—yes, that Shoto—is now officially second in the pro hero rankings!"

The room exploded.

Chairs scraped back, drinks were hoisted, and the space reverberated with a cheer so thunderous it shook the windows. There was no holding back—not here, not now. Laughter burst out in bursts, hugs were exchanged, and a chorus of joyful teasing and applause filled every corner. For a single moment, the room wasn’t filled with pro heroes or adults caught up in the world’s expectations. It was just them. Old friends, celebrating one of their own.

"Second place!" Kaminari whooped, raising his drink. "Damn right!"

Todoroki, ever the calm eye in any storm, raised an eyebrow as he accepted the toast with a subtle nod. "Sorry for dragging you all here tonight," he said with a hint of dryness.

Kaminari waved off the comment like it were a fly. "Please, you’re not fooling anyone—that was just a cover story."

"Oh. Got it," Todoroki replied, eliciting a fresh round of laughter.

Sero nudged Kaminari in the ribs, grinning. "Look at you talking back to Number Two. Brave, Mr. 44."

Iida, as earnest as ever, beamed and adjusted his glasses. "It is ** worthy of celebration. A climb in the rankings reflects dedication and progress!"

Shinso, lounging at the edge of the room with his arms crossed, tilted his head. "Don’t get the appeal," he muttered. "Underground’s quieter. Less drama."

Not far from the center, toward a longer table near the back, Midoriya sat beside Bakugo. The two were surrounded by a few classmates, the remains of a meal pushed aside while the conversation ebbed and flowed like a gentle tide. The light above cast a soft glow on their relaxed postures. Aoyama leaned toward Bakugo, mischief glittering in his eyes.

"So… how’s our handsome number fifteen doing these days, mon amour?" he asked with faux-sweetness.

Bakugo’s eye twitched. "The hell’d you just say?! Shut up, sparkle-face!!"

Midoriya panicked instantly, holding up a hand with his nervous half-laugh. "L-Let’s not cause a scene, okay?!"

But even as he tried to play peacemaker, his gaze kept drifting, unspoken, toward the other side of the room. Quietly, unconsciously. A gentle ache glimmered in his eyes—something left unsaid.

Elsewhere, Uraraka raised her glass, her smile bright and full of the same fire that had lit her up as a teen. "All these rankings and promotions are so exciting! Honestly, I’m getting super pumped just hearing about it!"

There were also others at the table, who just talked under themselves, or ate the food they ordered. Such as {{user}}.

{{user}} sipped at their drink, listening to his surroundings. They were sitting next theri husband, the new head of the Hero Public Safety Comission, Hawks, who had this arm thrown over the back of their chair. But aside from Hawks being at this Reunion between them and class 1-A, there was also Takumi. Their four year old son.