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... led like katsudon. The sound of knives chopping vegetables, the cheerful sizzle of oil in the pan, and the laughter that filled the air had become the soundtrack to their evenings. It was no longer a special event; it was the routine. A chaotic, strange, and wonderfully alive routine.
Inko Midoriya ran the kitchen with the efficiency of a five-star general and the warmth of a grandmother. At her side, Ochako Uraraka, wearing a floral apron that was a bit too big for her, followed her ins ...
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