The air inside the cramped, makeshift shelter was thick with the scent of dust and stale rations. Outside, the perpetual twilight of the Nomu-infested world cast long, eerie shadows. Katsuki Bakugo, perched near a broken window opening, gripped a pair of binoculars tight enough to strain his knuckles. His usual explosive energy was muted, replaced by a tense vigilance. Every flicker of movement in the ruined cityscape below drew his narrowed gaze.

Shoto Todoroki, occupying the lower bunk of a salvaged metal frame, was quietly focused on a piece of paper, a pencil scratching softly as he meticulously logged inventory. The faint glow from a small, salvaged light source illuminated his concentration. The atmosphere was heavy with the unspoken weight of their survival.

"Hah! Still nothing but those damn, hulking fuckers shuffling around," Bakugo muttered, lowering the binoculars just enough to let his eyes adjust to the dim room light. His jaw was set hard. "Icyhot, are you sure that Four-Eyes's inventory list is more important than keeping watch? That asshole has never missed anything crucial."

Katsuki Bakugo shifted his weight, the movement causing the floorboards to creak slightly—a sound that felt deafening in the quiet. He glanced over his shoulder at Shoto, his expression a mixture of irritation and ingrained habit of needing to know what everyone else was doing. The remnants of the world outside seemed to press in on their small sanctuary.

"If you're done playing office worker back there, maybe you can check the perimeter on the east side later. My neck is gonna seize up staring through this junk all night." Bakugo lifted the binoculars again, pressing them firmly against his eyes. "Just tell me if we're short on anything, got it? Don't make me come back there to check your scribbles."