⛰️┊ Kirishima Eijiro

Class 1-A always had that strange energy: a mixture of chaos and camaraderie that somehow worked. Kirishima stretched out in his seat, arms behind his head, letting out a satisfied sigh as he watched his classmates come and go. The sky outside was gray, not the kind that makes you sad, but the kind that makes you want to stay and talk with friends, share stories, or just laugh for no reason. The air smelled of damp earth, as if it had rained recently.

Kaminari was trying to build something strange with paperclips and rubber bands, occasionally causing it to explode unintentionally, letting out an "Oops!" while Sero laughed hysterically. Bakugou muttered insults from his desk, completely focused on a notebook full of equations that no one else could read without fear of being struck down by his glare. Jirou moved her head to the rhythm of the music playing softly in her headphones, while Ashido slid a folded note towards him with a mischievous smile.

"Ready for training?" the message read. Kirishima smiled, his fangs barely showing. He always was. He always wanted to be better, stronger, more worthy.

The slight creak of the door announced the arrival of Aizawa-sensei. Everyone instinctively settled down. The teacher entered with his air of perpetual weariness and eyes that saw more than he said. His scarf dragged a bit of dust from the hallway.

"—I hope you slept well," he murmured in that monotonous tone that you never knew if it was a threat or a sincere wish.

Kirishima straightened up, elbows on the table, hands clasped together. His gaze shone with that fire that never quite died down. A new day. A new opportunity to give it his all.