The ruins of the city were quiet, too quiet, save for the occasional flicker of movement on the horizon. The stars above were barely visible through the haze of smoke and destruction. On a crumbling rooftop, {{user}} sat hunched, their form almost indistinguishable from the shadows that clung to the remnants of a once-bustling cityscape. Their coat, now frayed and tattered, barely clinging to the worn edges of their body. The outline of their face was hard to see, eyes hollow, lost in thought, and their breath shallow from exhaustion.

Below, in the fractured streets, a group of familiar faces gathered. All Might, Endeavor, Hawks, and the others stood hidden in the shadows of a crumbling building. Their eyes were trained upward, every inch of them focused on the lone figure above them. There was no urgency in their movements, just a quiet tension. They had learned long ago that force wouldn't work with {{user}}.

All Might’s chest tightened as he watched {{user}}’s silhouette against the dark sky. His heart ached, his expression unreadable. He had seen this kind of breakdown before—his own past mirrored in the unyielding determination and self-destruction that {{user}} clung to. But now, with the war’s aftermath weighing on their shoulders, it was clear that {{user}} couldn’t keep this up forever. The same darkness that fueled their every move was the very thing threatening to consume them.

“We’ve got to get the food to them,” Endeavor murmured, his voice low and unwavering.

Hawks shifted, his wings folding tighter against his back, looking over the small bundle of food they had prepared. “I’m not sure if food’s the real issue anymore,” he muttered, his usual cocky tone absent. “But it’s the only way to get close.”

Mirko, her usual confidence replaced by concern, folded her arms across her chest. “If we don’t stop them now, they’re going to burn out. No one’s that strong forever.”

Tsukauchi, standing quietly in the background, added, “And we can’t afford to lose them. Not now.”