"You’re awfully calm. Shouldn’t you be out running by now?"

  All Might’s voice was light, but his silhouette was tall even in his gaunt form, it filled the doorway.

  Robinn barely glanced up from the Material Science book propped open on her chest. She was stretched across her bed, legs dangling off one side, the room dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through closed blinds. Her hair fanned across her pillow in loose strands, unbound and relaxed for once. No need for formality.

  "I’m resting. I overdid it yesterday," she replied, flipping a page with clinical focus. Her tone was distant, unconcerned.

  She marked her place, closed the book with a muted thud, and moved with mechanical efficiency, sitting up, placing the text down on her desk, and pulling her quirk notebook into her lap. Notes on tungsten, heat resistance, and durability flowed in quick, pointed strokes. The pencil marks felt sharper than her voice had.

  All Might was still standing in the doorway. Watching.

  She finally glanced up, pencil still in hand. His posture hadn’t changed, but there was a shift in the air, tension creeping into the room like a storm on the horizon.

  "What do you want?" she asked, rising and stretching, arms over her head like she could shrug off the mood settling between them.

  "We need to talk."

  She paused mid-stretch. Of course. Those words.

  She hadn’t talked to him since the Sports Festival. Not really. Not since she’d stood on that stage and said what she said, said it publicly, loud enough that everyone watching would know what she was after. Since then she’d briefly talked to him and stormed off home alone, shut the door early, buried herself in her books and routines. Avoidance disguised as discipline.

  She approached him slowly, steps casual, even lazy. Her eyes flicked up as she came close, he still had height on her, even hunched.

  "Can you move? I need to get water." She said flatly.

  "Robinn, you can’t just avoid this conversation. Especially after that stunt you pulled yesterday."

  He didn’t budge.

  She rolled her eyes, scoffing. "The same stunt nobody would take seriously because I’m just a crazy high schooler? That’s what you said... right?" Her words were sharp.

  That hit. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, the way people do when they’re either disappointed or defeated.

  "I’m sorry for saying that," he muttered. "I was just caught off guard by your whole announcement."

  A beat of silence followed. Then his voice rose, tight with frustration.

  "And why didn’t you tell me about that first? I understand not telling me because I’m just your stepdad, but... I’m the Symbol of Peace. At least consult me before declaring you’ll be the next one."

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  Something cracked. Not in her face, she gave him nothing, but in the way she shoved past him without a second glance, walking into the kitchen with stiff, efficient movements.

  She grabbed her thermos, started filling it at the tap, eyes fixed on the stream of water but her attention burning sideways. She could feel him in the doorway still.

  "I’m gonna go run," she muttered, tying her hair back with practiced ease, pulling it into a tight, high ponytail. Her sneakers were already by the door. She slid them on without looking.

  He had dismissed her. Like it was a phase. A performance. Some childish dream instead of the plan she’d sharpened every day since the first time she stepped into U.A.

  She didn’t wait for him to answer. Didn’t spare a glance back.

  The front door slammed shut behind her.

  Kirishima had just started his run. Most kids would be sleeping in, taking advantage of the rare day off. But after what he saw yesterday he knew he needed to train harder than ever. The air was still cool, the edge of sunrise fading into midmorning haze as he rounded the first corner of the park.

  Still, his mind wasn’t fully on his run.

  Bakugo hadn’t responded to any of his texts. No calls, either. Not really unusual, but there were usually signs of life. A read receipt, a message, something. He shook off the thought and focused forward.

  His new shoes hit the pavement with satisfying rhythm, crimson red, a gift from his parents for making it so far in the Sports Festival. They matched his hair. Tight fit, comfortable.

  By the time he finished a lap around the park, his pace slowed.

  A familiar figure caught his eye.

  Robinn Reibach. The newly self-declared "next Symbol of Peace," sitting sideways across a park bench like she’d collapsed mid-run. Head tilted back, one foot up on the seat, looking every bit like a kid who’d been benched during socker practice.

  And she looked bored. Unbelievably bored.

  He jogged closer, watching her. She didn’t so much as blink.

  "You just gonna keep standing there?" she said flatly, without looking.

  Kirishima chuckled. "Hello to you too."

  He hovered by the bench, uncertain for a beat. Then said, "Y'know, I can't recall the last time I saw you relaxing."

  "Neither can I."

  He raised an eyebrow, amused. "So what? Already tired of the expectations you just placed on yourself?"

  She shook her head, still staring at the sky. *I’m not tired. Or relaxing. I’m resting, because I overexerted myself yesterday. That’s about it. And I already planned on having those expectations."

  She didn’t say it defensively. Just plainly.

  He scratched the back of his head, guilt creeping into his voice. "Hey, by the way... I’m sorry for calling your fighting style dishonorable. Now I understand that you had a lot riding on you winning or losing."

  That made her glance at him... just briefly.

  "Huh? Why are you sorry? I agree with you to a certain point. But in our future line of work, being ‘honorable’ could be the difference between saving or not saving a life."

  He nodded slowly, taken aback. "Rightt... But I... guess I thought you'd be beating yourself up about that. Turns out I was dead wrong."

  She didn’t reply. Just leaned her head back again, the sunlight catching her features in a way that made her look quieter than usual.

  "So I guess our class is, like, even more famous now, huh?" he said, easing onto the other side of the bench. "Even more so with your viral moment at the end there. Have you seen the views it’s been getting on social media?"

  "Nope. I don’t use that stuff. And it going viral was inevitable, to be honest. I also presume I’m getting slandered by All Might fans, aren’t I?"

  He blinked at her. Half surprised she wasn’t online. Half not.

  "Yeah, I’ve seen some nasty stuff said about you..."

  He let it hang for a beat. Then, carefully continued.

  "Hey Robinn, this may be a weird question, but like... why did you do that? I mean like why do you want to be the next Symbol of Peace?"

  She exhaled slowly, her body slumping a little deeper into the bench.

  "It’s a thing that our society is going to need," she finally spoke. "We can’t keep relying on All Might. He’s getting older. Weaker. And our society isn’t ready to not have a symbol."

  He sat with that, turning the words over. She wasn’t just determined. She sounded... solemn. Focused in a way that felt heavy.

  Still, something else seemed off. Not just the weight of her dream.

  "Hey Robinn. Are you good?" he asked, watching her carefully. "Seems like something else is bothering you."

  She lowered her gaze from the sky, blinking slowly until her eyes met his. Her pupils, usually dark and hard to read, seemed gentler under the sun.

  "I’m okay. I just had a fight with my dad. It’ll pass."

  Kirishima blinked.

  Robinn talking about her personal life? That was rare. He hesitated, unsure whether to step forward... or step back.

  He stepped forward.

  "What’d you fight about?" he asked, shifting slightly on the bench.

  She sighed. "He wasn’t very happy with my little announcement. Or me winning the festival."

  "Wait, what?" he blurted out. "I mean, I kinda get the announcement part. But the win? Does he like not want you to be a hero or something?"

  Her voice was quieter now. "What? No... not that... never mind."

  "Anyways..."

  There it was. He’d pressed too far.

  She pivoted. "Shouldn’t you finish your run?"

  He blinked. Huh? That was fast.

  "Well I was basically done with it, so-"

  "No you weren’t. You still have like thirty minutes left."

  He froze mid-word. Her tone wasn’t accusing... just... correct.

  He’d only ever mentioned that once. Some dumb smalltalk about routines. She remembered?

  "I, um... yeah. I guess you’re right. I got my times all confused."

  The silence that followed was brutal. Heavy with the weight of his own awkwardness. Why had he lied? No reason. None. But now it hung between them, obvious and dumb.

  He stood up too fast, his legs moving before his brain could catch up. Started jogging in place like that would make it less weird.

  "Nice talking to you, Robinn. I’m gonna go finish my run now."

  "See ya later."