The volleyball game ended with a final, aggressive spike from Bakugo that sent a sharp spray of sand arcing toward the spectators. He let out a triumphant shout, chest heaving, fists clenched, but it landed flat. Most of the others were already too exhausted to care about the score, slumped where they stood or bent over with hands on their knees, sweat streaking down their arms and legs.

  "Tch," Bakugo muttered, kicking at the sand as he stomped toward the shade. Each step left a deep footprint behind him. "It would have been over in five seconds if I could actually use explosion. Doing this quirkless is just a waste of time!"

  Midoriya looked at Bakugo. It had been a while since he’d heard the word quirkless come out of his mouth.

  "That was the whole point of the rules, Bakugo!" Mina called out, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Her hair clung to her temples, and her shoulders rose and fell with uneven breaths. She, Hagakure, and Uraraka had stayed in the game until the very end, the other two looked completely wiped. "It's supposed to be fair!"

  "Fair?" Ojiro asked, glancing over toward where Shoji was sitting. He nudged at the sand with his toes, tail flicking once. "It wasn't exactly fair for Shoji. He had to sit out just because he can't not use his quirk."

  Shoji didn’t seem to mind. He was a few feet away, hunched over a massive, incredibly detailed sandcastle he had been working on with Koda. The structure rose in careful tiers, little grooves carved into its walls. "It's fine," Shoji said calmly as he used one arm to smooth a spire while another braced the base. "I'm enjoying the change of pace."

  Kirishima laughed as he brushed sand off his chest, grains sticking stubbornly to damp skin already darkened by the sun. He clapped his hands together once and started waving everyone back toward the umbrellas and coolers where the rest of the class was already beginning to gather. The sharp energy of the match softened, melting into a more lethargic early-afternoon lull as people collapsed onto towels, dropped bags, or tucked themselves gratefully into the shade.

  Kaminari walked back with the rest of the class, breathing still a little heavy, head buzzing faintly from the heat. The sand felt warmer now, pressing up between his toes with every step. He didn’t feel like he’d played his best. There was a strange, restless sensation sitting in his chest that he couldn’t quite name, like he was waiting for something to happen but didn’t know what. His eyes kept drifting toward the girls' side of the camp, specifically where Jirou was sitting.

  She was still wearing that oversized shirt, the fabric darkened at the collar from humidity and sweat. She sat hunched slightly forward, focused on a slice of watermelon that Momo had probably handed her.

  He didn’t really think much of it, or at least that’s what he told himself. He just thought the shirt looked good on her, even if it was a bit big, then he caught himself wondering what she and Momo were talking about so intently. It wasn’t jealousy... he just felt a bit out of the loop.

  He dropped onto the edge of a cooler, the plastic cold and almost shocking against his legs, and accepted a drink from Sero without really looking at it.

  "Man, the water looks great from here," Sero said, leaning back on his elbows and squinting toward the horizon. "How long have those two been out there?"

  Kaminari followed his gaze. Far past the break, where the water shifted into a deeper, darker blue, a single head was still visible, cutting steadily back and forth in an unbroken line. Robinn. Tsuyu had started making her way back a few minutes ago, green hair trailing behind her like seaweed as she waded through the shallows. When she reached the sand, she wrung out her hair with practiced calm and walked toward the group, completely unbothered by the distance she’d covered.

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  "Robinn is still going?" Kirishima asked, sounding impressed as he cracked open a soda. The hiss was sharp in the heat. "She’s got some serious stamina. I think she’s been out there for over an hour now."

  "She said she wanted to work on her endurance," Tsuyu said as she sat down near Uraraka, accepting a towel that was passed to her. "She didn’t seem to be getting tired at all, so she told me to come back without her because she wanted to keep going."

  "Isn’t that just... like, her whole thing?" Midoriya said, eyes locked on the water, admiration mixing with that familiar analytical focus.

  Bakugo didn’t say anything. His jaw tightened as he stared at the distant shape cutting through the waves. After a long second, he turned his back to the ocean and aggressively bit into a piece of watermelon, juice dripping down his wrist.

  "Hey, Sero..." Kaminari said, voice trailing off as he stared at the condensation running down his soda can. "You think the food at the festival tonight is gonna be any good? Or is it just gonna be the usual overpriced stuff?"

  Sero shrugged, brushing sand off his knee. "I mean, it’s a festival, man. It’s always overpriced. But I heard they’ve got those massive grilled squid skewers. Those are usually worth it."

  "Yeah... I guess," Kaminari muttered. "I’m just starving already. This heat is taking it out of me."

  "You look like you’re about to melt, dude," Sero laughed, nudging him with an elbow. "Try not to short-circuit before we even get there."

  "I’m fine..." Kaminari said, even though he didn’t really feel like it. His eyes flicked back toward the umbrellas.

  Around him, the class was starting to get loud again as snacks were passed around and wrappers crinkled. Iida was lecturing someone about the proper disposal of watermelon seeds, arms slicing through the air in rigid, perfect angles. Mineta was being uncharacteristically quiet, mostly because he looked like he was one bad step away from passing out. Uraraka and Midoriya were talking quietly about internships, voices low and serious, while Mina tried to start a lopsided sing-along that absolutely no one joined.

  A few people had started digging through the coolers again, only to be met with lukewarm bottles and the slosh of melted ice.

  "Ugh, seriously?" Mina groaned, lifting a bottle and shaking it. "These were cold, like, ten minutes ago."

  "That’s what happens when you leave them in direct sunlight," Iida said stiffly, though he still accepted one with a sigh.

  Kirishima crouched next to the cooler and peered inside. "Think we can fix it, or are we just doomed to warm soda?"

  There was a brief pause before all eyes drifted, almost instinctively, toward Todoroki.

  He noticed immediately.

  "If you want," Todoroki said, already kneeling beside the cooler. He opened the lid and assessed the damage, expression neutral. "I can refreeze the ice. Just enough."

  "Yes, please," Uraraka said quickly, relief clear in her voice.

  Todoroki pressed his palm against the cooler’s interior wall. Frost spread in a controlled bloom, the water inside stiffening back into ice without freezing the bottles solid. A thin mist curled upward before fading in the heat.

  He shut the lid and stood, stepping back into the shade as drinks were passed around again, noticeably colder this time.

  "Thanks, man," Kirishima said easily, cracking one open.

  Todoroki nodded once, arms folding loosely as he took his place near the group. His gaze drifted toward the water, lingering on the distant figure cutting steadily through the waves, thoughtful but unreadable.

  Off to the side, a little removed from the louder knot of students, Tokoyami sat rigidly beneath the deepest patch of shade he could find. Dark Shadow hovered close, stretched thin and sluggish in the glare beyond the umbrella’s edge. Tokoyami’s posture was composed as ever, but the beach had clearly defeated him on a philosophical level. Sand clung to the hem of his pants, and he kept brushing it away with quiet irritation, as if offended by its persistence.

  Aoyama had taken refuge nearby, reclining dramatically on a towel with one arm draped over his eyes. He had tried, briefly, to enjoy the sun, and had immediately regretted it. His shirt remained buttoned, collar popped despite the heat, sunglasses perched just a little too precariously on his nose.

  "This environment is not designed for subtle brilliance," he lamented, shifting to avoid the sand sticking to his sleeves. "It is cruel to beauty."

  The sun was still high, heat hanging heavy over the sand. They weren’t quite ready to leave yet, but the energy of the beach day was already shifting, settling into the slow anticipation of night and whatever came next.