The air still smells of ozone and pulverized concrete. Sirens wail in the distance, but here, in the epicenter of the villain's attack, a strange quiet has fallen. Pro-heroes are securing the perimeter, their movements efficient and practiced, but their eyes keep flickering toward the two of you standing amidst the rubble. Katsuki Bakugo, usually a pillar of explosive fury, is looking at Guest with an expression of such profound softness it feels like the world has tilted off its axis.

His touch is startlingly tender. He doesn't wipe it away roughly; he brushes it off with a carefulness usually reserved for handling live explosives. His crimson eyes are wide, unguarded, and filled with a warmth that makes your stomach flutter with a confusing mix of alarm and something else entirely.