The bus smells like smoke and antiseptic.

  Seats creak as the students slump into them. Some are bandaged, some bruised, all silent at first.

  The U.S.J. dome still looms behind them, distant now, the broken roof a jagged scar against the sky.

  Iida finally exhales. Loud. Stiffly, like he’s trying to reset into class rep mode.

  “That... could have gone much worse,” he says, as if it might comfort anyone.

  “No one died,” Tsuyu offers, voice soft. “That’s something.”

  Uraraka nods beside her, clutching her knees to her chest. “Aizawa-sensei, though...”

  “They said he’s alive,” Kaminari mutters, trying to sound upbeat. “He’ll probably look cool with that bandage, right?”

  “Thirteen too,” Momo adds, with more certainty. “She’s stable. I asked the detective.”

  The silence that follows is heavier. It clings.

  “Nomu...” Mina murmurs, the name like a curse. “What was that thing?”

  “The end of the line,” mutters Bakugo, leaning against the window. “And it still lost.”

  He’s not proud. Not smug. Just stating a fact.

  “Ojiro was on his own,” Sero says, trying to shift the mood. “He fought solo. Held off a lot of villains without backup.”

  Ojiro rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It wasn’t anything big. I just-”

  “No,” Kirishima cuts in from the row behind. “That was manly. But it wasn’t just Ojiro.”

  Everyone glances back.

  Kirishima sits with his arms crossed, bruised and scuffed but upright. His expression is serious, for once.

  “Robinn was alone too. None of us saw her.”

  Kaminari blinks. “Huh? I thought she got hurt early on...”

  “I don’t know what happened after she got warped,” Kirishima says, his voice rising.“But when we met up on the way to the center, she looked exhausted and muddy.

  “But she still ran faster than us.”

  He leans forward a little.

  “We only got to that Kurogiri guy because she stopped. Faced three villains alone. Didn’t even flinch.”

  A breath.

  “She blocked a flying knife. It was aimed right at me.”

  “I thought she collapsed?” Jirou asks, frowning. “That’s what the teachers said.”

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  “She did collapse,” Kirishima replies. “After. Not during.”

  Silence again.

  But this time, it’s impressed. “She didn’t even brag about it...” Mina murmurs.

  “She never does apparently” Momo says thoughtfully.

  “Where is she now? She didn’t say anything before we got on the bus... just climbed into one of the ambulances.”

  “Same as Midoriya,” Iida answers, adjusting his glasses. “Hospital. Recovery Girl treated him onsite, but they needed to make sure. Both his legs were... ” He stops. “...He used his Quirk again.”

  Nobody laughs.

  Tokoyami shifts. “Those two... they fought like real heroes.”

  “Yeah,” Kirishima says, more to himself than anyone. “They were."

  The bus rattles down the road. Outside the window, the U.S.J. fades into trees and sky.

  Inside, the silence is quieter now. Not gone. But settled.

  They’re still processing. Still bruised. Still scared.

  But together. For now, that’s enough.

  The next morning, no one’s at U.A.

  The teachers called it a rest day. Said they needed time to process everything, that they’d “reassess group dynamics” before resuming classes. Kirishima didn’t really get what that meant, but it sounded like “go home and be normal.”

  He tried. For a few hours. Ate breakfast with his folks, stared at the TV, scrolled through old hero fight clips. Nothing stuck.

  So he runs.

  Same route as always: down the street, across the park loop, cut through the back roads, and home. His hoodie sticks to him awkwardly, the bandages underneath pulling a little with every stride. It’s not the good kind of sore. But it’s better than doing nothing.

  He checks his phone as he rounds the corner into the park. Just past 7.

  That’s when he sees her.

  Robinn. Coming from the opposite end of the path. Ponytail damp with sweat, shirt clinging, face focused. Her pace is strong. Not fresh, though. She’s been at it a while.

  Kirishima slows a little as they pass. “Yo Robinn”

  She gives him a nod and doesn’t stop.

  He turns and jogs a few steps to fall in beside her. “Didn’t expect to see anyone else out here.”

  “I like the quiet,” she says. Her tone is neutral, not unfriendly. Just matter-of-fact.

  “How long’ve you been running?”

  She glances at him, sweat dripping from her jaw. “Since about 4:50.”

  Kirishima blinks. “Dude.”

  She shrugs, breath steady. “I woke up early.”

  “That early?”

  Robinn doesn’t answer. She just keeps running.

  He keeps pace for another beat. “So... what now? Just heading home?”

  “No,” she says. “U.A.”

  Kirishima stumbles a little. “Wait, what? You’re going in? Today?”

  “I’ve got things to work on,” Robinn says.

  Kirishima furrows his brow. “It’s a day off.”

  She doesn’t even glance at him. “That doesn’t change anything.”

  There’s no edge in her voice. No defiance. Just that same calm, clipped rhythm, like it’s obvious. Like she can’t imagine doing anything else.

  Kirishima watches her for a few more steps. Then he slows.

  Robinn doesn’t. Her pace stays even, disappearing into the path ahead.

  “Don’t overdo it,” he calls out, but it comes out softer than intended.

  Kirishima’s breath was still uneven as he stepped through the door, sweat dampening his shirt. The quiet hum of the apartment felt good after the noise of his run, and the chaos of the U.S.J. incident still swirling in his mind.

  “Back already?” A voice called from the kitchen.

  His older mom peeked around the corner, wiping her hands on a towel. “That was a quick run.”

  “I’m still tired from yesterday,” Kirishima admitted with a small smile. “But I needed to get moving.”

  His younger mom appeared, holding two mugs of tea. “About yesterday... You okay?”

  He took a mug, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

  “About?” she asked, sitting beside him at the small table.

  “Robinn,” he said quietly while sitting down. “I bumped into her on my run. She’s pushing herself hard, even today.”

  His moms exchanged a glance and both spoke. “Her again?”

  “She’s stubborn,” Kirishima added, chuckling softly. “Says she’s going to U.A. to train, even with a day off. Guess she’s not the type to sit still.”

  “You’ve always admired people like that,” his older mom said.

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “I just hope she’s taking care of herself.”

  His younger mom reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’re a good friend to notice.”

  Kirishima nodded, a quiet resolve settling in his chest.

  Outside, the morning sun spilled through the window, promising a new day.