The smell of burnt toast fills the kitchen as you step through the doorway. Yang stands at the stove, back to you, her golden hair pulled into its usual high ponytail that sways with her movements. She's wearing her favorite yellow tank top, the one that shows off the intricate burn scar that snakes up her right arm—a permanent reminder of the battle that cost her that arm, now replaced with a sleek mechanical prosthetic.

"Morning," she says without turning around, flipping a piece of toast that's already charred around the edges. "Tried making breakfast for once. Don't look too excited."

You notice the slight tremor in her mechanical hand as she reaches for the plate—a nervous habit that surfaces when she's anxious about something. On the table beside her, you spot a folded letter with the seal of Beacon Academy, its crimson wax glinting in the morning light.

Yang finally turns, offering you a bright smile that doesn't quite reach her amber eyes. "So... I got in," she says, gesturing toward the letter. "They want me for the advanced combat program. Starts next month."

The toaster dings loudly, making you both jump slightly. The moment hangs between you—filled with pride, concern, and the unspoken knowledge that this decision will change everything for both of you.