Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh, oh! And then she went BAM, and—AND WOOPOW! It was so freaking cool!!”

Haneul Jin couldn’t help but smile at his eldest son’s contagious laughter.

The day had been absolutely perfect. He’d started the morning by surprising his wife with breakfast in bed, taken the dogs out for a long walk, and then finally brought the kids to see Solaris: The Path of a Hero and they absolutely loved it.

“She was just so cool, Daddy!” Nari, his youngest, squealed, practically bouncing in place. She had been begging him and her mom for weeks about the movie, and he couldn’t have been happier that he had taken them. 

The movie itself was surprisingly well thought out. It was based on a three-book trilogy, with the first installment focusing on Aditya, a protagonist born with a sun-related quirk she struggled to control. Her inability to control her quirk made her life difficult—her peers avoided her, scared she’d accidentally harm them. The movie’s portrayal of living with a dangerous, unpredictable quirk felt uncomfortably real, capturing the fear and isolation that came with it. 

Aditya’s life had been miserable until she met an old woman with a similar quirk. After proving herself, the woman took Aditya under her wing, teaching her how to control her powers and introducing her to a completely new way of using them. With her newfound control, Aditya rose to become a powerful hero.

Or so it seemed.

The second movie—the one they had just watched—shattered the illusion of the perfect hero’s journey. This time, Aditya learned that the path of a hero wasn’t all glitter and gold. Pain, loss, and betrayal seemed to follow her at every turn. Throughout the film, she struggles to cope with the hard reality that she can’t save everyone, and that no matter how strong or determined she was some people just don’t want to be saved.

He doubts his kids fully grasped the concept of the movie, and in some ways, he hopes they never have to. While the movie was labeled as a Hero's tale it truly was more a tragedy than anything, and from what he remembered of the book, the third movie was going to be even grimmer. 

Still, it was a Hero’s movie, so Aditya would come out triumphing in the end, becoming a better hero because of everything she endured.

“Daddy, can we stop by the park today? Pleeease?” Nari asked, her big puppy-dog eyes practically sparkling as she tried to sway him.

Haneul Jin opened his mouth to answer, but Akio, his youngest son, jumped in with a groan. “But Mom said we have to go straight home after the movie, or she won’t let us go to the pool tomorrow!” he whined, crossing his arms.

Akio’s quirk made him a superconductor for heat, which meant he loved being in any body of water to keep his body cool. Missing pool time was basically a punishment to him.

Nari shot a glare at her brother. “What Mommy doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right, Daddy?” She batted her big doe eyes at him, tugging on his right arm with a sweet smile.

Akio growled and tightened his grip on Haneul Jin’s left arm. “I wanna go to the pool!”

“No, the park!” Nari countered, giving his arm another pull, tilting him to the right.

“The pool!” Akio yanked him to the left.

“The park!” Nari snapped, pulling him back to the right.

Right, left, right again—it was like a tug-of-war with him as the rope. Haneul Jin couldn’t help but laugh at his kids’ antics.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you two ask your big brother instead? Let him decide.”

Their eyes immediately locked onto their unsuspecting big brother, who was obliviously staring off into the distance, lost in whatever had caught his attention.

Haneul Jin’s gaze softened as he watched him. Denki, his eldest, was his pride and joy. His wife always joked that if Denki had been born with a full head of black hair, he would have been Haneul Jin’s perfect mini-me, an identical clone of himself running around causing trouble.

“Denkiiii!!!” Denki’s attention snapped back into focus at the twins whining. “Hm?” He smiled down at them, raising an eyebrow.

“Tell Nari that we can’t go to the park or Mom will get mad!” Akio huffed, arms crossed.

“No, you tell Akio to stop being such a stick in the mud!” Nari shot back, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

Both siblings glared at each other before turning their wide, pleading eyes on Denki. He sighed fondly at them. “It’s still a bit early so Mom probably won’t expect us back so soon, plus the park is close enough to the house for us to run home if needed.”

Nari squealed in excitement, practically bouncing on the spot. Akio frowned but reluctantly nodded. “Fine, but if I get in trouble, I’m blaming you, Nari,” he grumbled, crossing his arms with a dramatic huff.

“Fine by me,” Nari replied with a shrug, clearly too happy to care.

Haneul Jin looked over at his son and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Denki stifled a laugh, his grin only growing wider.

Yeah, today had been a good day.

Today was supposed to be a good day.

It had started off fine—great, even. Dad had surprised them with tickets to see the new Solaris movie, and afterward, they’d gone to the park to relax. Everyone had been happy, and smiling.

Everything had been fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Crap. That was only 15 minutes away from them.

He bit his lip, scanning the area. All the other parents were either staring at their phones, reading the same alarming notifications, or exchanging worried looks with each other.

One parent, a pink-haired, plump woman, turned to face him. “What are the chances the attack will come here?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.

Haneul Jin’s mind raced, but he had no answers. He wasn’t a hero or a villain analyst. He was just an electrical engineer, for crying out loud. He couldn’t give her a confident answer.

Luckily, Haneul Jin didn’t have to answer, because another parent—a blue frog-looking man—chimed in. “It’s Endeavour on sight,” he said, voice low and serious. “I say we run now and run fast because that man wouldn’t know what collateral damage was even if it hit him in the back of the head.” The other parents exchanged grim looks, some nodding in agreement.

Haneul Jin took a deep breath and turned to call for his kids. “Denki, Akio, Nari! We’re going!”

The other parents quickly followed suit, gathering their children and preparing to leave. Denki grabbed his younger siblings, guiding them toward his dad. As they got closer, he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Did something happen?”

Haneul Jin gave him a strained smile. Denki had always been more perceptive than he let on.

“There’s a villain attack nearby,” Haneul Jin whispered back, keeping his tone as calm as possible.

Denki nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment, then quickly put on a smile to avoid alarming his younger siblings. “You’re right. Mom would notice if we stayed any longer.” He turned to the others. “Come on, guys, let’s go.”

The family quickly left the park, taking a different path to get home. The streets felt quieter now, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut through.

They had been just five minutes away from home. 

Five minutes.

It only took five minutes for the whole trajectory of Denki’s life to change.

Haneul Jin let out a sigh of relief as they finally made it out of the danger zone. He stopped at a convenience store, giving his kids a moment to catch their breath. Before he could address them he got a message notification from his wife. 

Yeobo

There’s a villain attack close by the Tanaka’s

grocery store. Where are you guys?

His stomach sank. His face turned pale as he looked up and noticed Tanaka Akemi hurriedly boarding up her store.

“Dad?”

Haneul Jin glanced down. His youngest son was tugging at his jacket, confusion clear on his face. “Is something wrong? Why is Tanaka-san boarding up the store?”

As if the universe itself had been waiting for his son to say those haunting words, a blazing beam of fire slammed into the front of the building. The explosion tore through the air, taking out the front half of the two-story building and one of its support beams.

For a moment, a singular moment , everything went silent. 

Then chaos .

The kids screamed, their voices barely audible over the chaos. Smoke filled the air, thick and choking, burning Haneul Jin's eyes and throat. He yanked his kids closer, holding them tightly as debris rained down around them.

People on the street were running now, their footsteps pounding against the pavement, mixing with the panicked shouts and distant sirens. Somewhere nearby, another explosion ripped through the air, the ground shaking under Haneul Jin’s feet.

“Get down!” he shouted, his voice cracking as he tried to be heard over the noise. He crouched low, pulling his kids under his arms, his mind racing. They had to get out of here.

They couldn’t stay.

But as he held them, his wife’s text played over and over in his head like a bad dream.

The attack wasn’t behind them.

It was right here.

They couldn’t stay here.

Haneul Jin scanned the area, looking for any way out of the collapsing building. To the side, a section of the wall was barely hanging on, the thin wood cracked and ready to give. It didn’t look like much, but Haneul Jin figured he could punch his way through it.

His daughter’s sobbing cut through the noise, pulling him into action. He grabbed his youngest children’s hands and motioned for his eldest to follow, guiding them through the crumbling space, doing his best to avoid falling debris.

Adrenaline shot through Haneul Jin like a jolt of electricity, every noise around him sharp and deafening. He forced himself to stay focused, pushing through the chaos.

Finally, they reached the wall. Haneul Jin let go of his kids’ hands, his fingers already searching for the weakest point in the crumbling surface. His breath came faster, but once he found it, he didn’t hesitate. He punched the wall, the impact rattling through his bones.

Pain exploded through his hand, but he ignored it, throwing another punch. Then another. His arm screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop until the wall finally caved in.

With a quick look back, he pulled his kids through the hole, urging them out.

They were out.

But they weren’t safe.

They had made it so far..! They had even gotten out of the building.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Over here, sir!” A woman in an emergency response uniform called out to him, waving him over.

Haneul Jin let out a shaky sigh of relief. A medic! Thank goodness. If anything went wrong, at least someone was here to help.

“My Hero name is Theron,” she said quickly. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No, ma’am, we’re all fi—”

A sickening thud cut him off, the sound echoing as something heavy hit the ground.

“DAD!”

Denki didn’t even know which of them had screamed. Maybe it was him, maybe it wasn’t. All he could focus on was the sight of his dad lying motionless on the ground.

He had been fine just a second ago. He’d been talking to the Hero. And then—out of nowhere—a brick struck the back of his head.

There was so much blood. Too much. How could someone bleed that much?

Denki felt his breath catch in his throat, his mind spiraling, but the panicked cries of his siblings pulled him out of it. He had to keep it together. He grabbed them, holding them back as they tried to rush to their dad.

“You can’t!” Denki’s voice was shaking, but he forced it to stay firm. “They’re trying to help him, you can’t disturb them!”

His siblings clung to him, their cries growing louder, but he didn’t let go. The emergency response team was already working, and the last thing they needed was more chaos.

Even as Denki tightened his hold, his eyes kept drifting back to his dad. The blood was pooling beneath him. It just wouldn’t stop.

“Someone get the defibrillator!” the Hero, Theron, yelled to one of the other emergency responders.  

“It’s not here!” came the panicked reply.  

“Damn it! Okamura, help me stop the bleeding. Then you, me, and Shiroma will turn him over—carefully. We’ll go from there.”  

The team snapped into action, working quickly to stop the blood pooling beneath Haneul Jin’s still body.  

“Are you kids okay? Is anyone hurt?” one of the responders, a man with a steady but urgent tone, asked as he crouched near them.  

Denki finally tore his eyes away from his father’s lifeless form, his chest tightening painfully. It took everything in him not to burst into tears right then and there. But he couldn’t. His siblings were watching him. They needed him to stay strong.  

“Um, just some scratches, sir,” Denki replied, his voice wavering slightly.

Before the man could respond, Nari’s voice broke through, trembling and desperate. “Will Daddy be okay!?”

The man pressed his lips together, then gave her a strained smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo. As long as Theron is on the case, she’ll do everything in her power to keep your father alive.”

That seemed to calm Nari and Akio just a little, but Denki wasn’t fooled. He knew better.

His dad had been hit on the head. You don’t just walk away from something like that. Even if their dad survived this, things would never be the same again. Denki felt his eyes sting, the tears threatening to spill over, but he forced them back.

“Theron! He’s going into cardiac arrest!”

The words hit like a punch to the chest.

“Damn it!” Theron cursed. “If only we had a defibrillator—if only we had electricity !”

Before Denki even realized what he was doing, the words came tumbling out. “I have an electricity-related quirk!”

Theron’s head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing in thought before flicking back to his dad. She hesitated for only a second before barking out orders. “Keep trying CPR!” she snapped at the other responders, then focused entirely on Denki.

“We’ve got four minutes before your dad sustains permanent brain damage—and nine before we have to call it.” Her voice was sharp, urgent. “I need you to tell me exactly how your quirk works, and I need it now .”

Denki could feel his heart pounding in his throat, but he forced himself to steady his resolve. “My quirk lets me draw electricity from things and discharge it in a strong aura.”

“How strong are we talking?”

“My current limit is five hundred thousand.”

Theron’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she snapped back to focus. “Alright. Can you discharge it in small increments, say... 150 volts?”

Denki bit his lip. Getting below a thousand was hard —it took all his focus. But he’d only absorbed around seven thousand volts of electricity today, so it wasn’t impossible.

“Three minutes!!” the woman doing CPR on his dad shouted, her voice edged with panic.

Denki swallowed hard. “I can try,” he said, his voice firm despite the fear swirling inside him.

Theron nodded sharply. “Alright. Everyone, move aside! Give this boy some space!”

Denki gently released his siblings’ hands, ignoring the way Akio whimpered quietly, and rushed to his father’s side. The emergency responders had torn open his dad’s shirt— the shirt—the one he and his siblings had spent weeks saving up to buy for Father’s Day. The sight of it lying in tatters nearly broke him, but he shoved that feeling aside.

“We need to move fast,” Theron instructed. “Place your left hand here—” she guided him to a spot near his father’s side, “—and your right hand over his heart.”

Denki’s hands hovered for a moment as doubt clawed at him, but he pushed it back down.

He had to do this.

Chapter Text

“Okay, start small—100 volts,” Theron instructed firmly.

Denki took a shaky breath and released 100 volts of electricity. It took everything in him to concentrate, his whole body tense as he fought to keep from overdoing it.

His dad’s chest jolted.

Nothing.

“200.”

Jolt.

Still nothing.

Denki’s hands started to tremble, a faint stinging sensation creeping up his arms. “You’re doing good, honey,” Theron said gently, though her voice carried an edge of urgency. “Now 300.”

Denki bit back a cry as he focused harder. He’d never had to control his quirk like this before, forcing so much energy into a single, precise point. The stinging was becoming sharper now, almost unbearable, but he pushed through it.

He looked at his dad—still lying there, still lifeless. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he wanted to scream, to sob. Why wasn’t it working?

He turned toward Theron, his eyes pleading for answers.

Her expression softened for a moment, pained, but then she straightened and locked eyes with him. “Again,” she said, her voice steady, unwavering. “400 this time.”

Denki clenched his jaw and nodded, forcing the electricity out once more.

They worked their way up, 500, 600, 700—each jolt ripping through him as the stinging turned to burning.

At 800 volts, his dad’s body finally reacted.

Denki let out a broken sob of relief as his dad’s chest finally began to rise and fall, shallow but steady—just like it was supposed to.

“Good job, kid,” Theron said, her voice firm but kind. She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done your part. Now let us do ours.”

Kaminari Natsuko had met her husband at the ripe age of twenty-one.

It happened during a spontaneous trip to South Korea with her friends. Like something out of a cliché drama, they bumped into each other—literally—when Haneul Jin was rushing to catch a train for work. Natsuko spilled her drink all over him in the process and, feeling mortified, insisted on taking him out to dinner to make up for it. To her surprise, he actually said yes.

They exchanged numbers that evening, and the rest, as they say, was history.

Haneul Jin and Natsuko eloped when she was twenty-five. A year later, at twenty-six, they welcomed their first child, Denki. Two years after that, at twenty-eight, their family grew even larger with the arrival of the twins, Akio and Nari.

Natsuko couldn’t have been happier with her life.
So why—why—was she getting a call from Shinsei Medical Center, telling her that her husband had been caught in a villain attack?

Her husband, who had taken their children to see a movie. Her husband, who had told her he was taking them to the park right after.
Her husband—her Haneul Jin—the father of her children, had been seriously injured. Almost died.

All because there was a villain attack near where he and the kids had been.

Natsuko didn’t waste another second. She dropped everything and rushed to the medical center.

Dr. Amano had never seen anything like this before. By all intents and purposes, this man should be dead.

“And you’re saying this boy has an electric quirk?”

Yuto, the nurse, handed her the clipboard with the boy’s quirk information along with the family's details.

Kaminari Haneul Jin 

Quirk info:

Name: Electric Pull

• He absorbs electricity from pre-existing sources, like batteries, devices, or power lines. He can release the electricity in an electric blast or use it to supercharge his reflexes.

Drawback:

• He cannot generate electricity on his own. In areas without electrical sources, he’s powerless. Absorbing too much energy can cause blackouts, fry nearby electronics, or physically overwhelm him, leading to exhaustion or injury.

Kaminari Natsuko 

Quirk info:

Name: Luminaura

• She can absorb small amounts of ambient energy—like heat, motion, or static electricity—and transform it into light. She can control the intensity and form of the light, using it to illuminate, distract, or blind.

Drawback: 

• Absorbing energy can unintentionally drain heat from her body or surroundings, risking hypothermia in cold areas. Overuse can also cause fatigue or uncontrolled light bursts, which might harm themselves or others.

Kaminari Akio 

Quirk info:

Name: Core Inferno 

• The user can absorb heat energy from their surroundings (like sunlight, fire, or even body heat) and convert it into flames they can control and project fireballs, and cause small heatwaves.
• His grandfather (on his dad’s side) had a fire-related quirk

Drawback: 

• Absorbing or using too much heat too quickly causes his body to overheat especially since his body doesn't seem all that resistant to the heat. The lack of resistants leads to:

• • Heatstroke symptoms (dizziness, nausea, fainting).
  • Physical exhaustion if used for too long.
  • Weakness in cold environments, where there’s little heat to absorb.

Kaminari Nari 

Quirk info:

Name: Luminance

• She can pull light from pre-existing sources (unlike her brother she can’t pull the energy from her surroundings) like lamps, candles, or screens and reshape it into weapons, barriers, or glowing constructs. She can also adjust its brightness, making it blindingly bright or softly dim. 

Drawback: 

• Using her quirk strains her eyes, causing temporary blindness that lasts longer the more intensely she uses it. Additionally, overuse makes her body emit a faint glow, making it hard for her to hide.

Kaminari Denki

Quirk Info:

Name: Electrification

• His quirk allows him to store and discharge electricity from his surroundings or absorb it from objects containing electrical power. He can create a protective aura that shocks anyone who comes into contact with him. He can also increase the power output for more devastating effects and has developed several techniques.

Drawbacks: 

• While the quirk is effective at close range, it is impractical for long-range attacks. Additionally, if the user exceeds his wattage limit, he risks short-circuiting his brain, which could lead to severe consequences:
• Seizures
• Brain damage
• Lighting burns

“I think this boy's quirk has been mischaracterized,” Dr. Amano said, handing the clipboard back to Yuto, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“How so?” Yuto squinted at the quirk records, his brow furrowing as he scanned the details.

“The father should have sustained severe brain damage, no, he should be dead. The brick hit his brainstem and cerebellum—both critical areas. And yet, somehow, he’s still alive. Not just alive, but well enough to be in a coma instead of a vegetative state. Given the extent of the trauma, what are the chances of that happening naturally?”

Yuto paused, looking down at the medical records again. "So you're saying his survival isn't just a matter of luck? That this has something to do with the boy's quirk?"

Dr. Amano nodded slowly, her expression serious. “It’s possible. The father’s quirk allows him to absorb electricity from his surroundings, while the mother’s quirk lets her manipulate the small ambient energies she draws in. But the boy—his quirk... it’s something else. His ability to store and discharge electricity may not just be about creating electrical blasts or protecting himself. He might have an innate connection to the very electrons that power the atoms in his body, and through that, he could manipulate the electrical energy at a molecular level.”

Yuto blinked, struggling to keep up. “Wait, so you’re saying his quirk could let him… heal? On a cellular level?”

Dr. Amano’s gaze sharpened. “Yes. If Denki can direct the electrical energy to the right places in the body, he could potentially accelerate or even repair cellular processes. Electrical impulses are already a key part of how our bodies communicate—our neurons transmit electrical signals to control muscle movement, heartbeat, and even healing after an injury. If Denki can regulate the flow of electricity to those neurons, he could theoretically jumpstart the healing process, targeting damaged cells or tissues directly.”

Yuto’s eyes widened with realization. “So, this might be why his father is alive... the boy’s quirk could have triggered an electrical response that mitigated the damage to his brain after the trauma.”

“Exactly,” Dr. Amano replied. “By manipulating the electrical energy on a microscopic scale, Denki could have stabilized the father’s neural activity, possibly preventing the brain from shutting down entirely. It’s like using a defibrillator, but at a much more localized and controlled level. This could be why Haneul Jin is alive, though still in a coma—his cells were given just enough energy to stay functional.”

Silence fell upon them as the realization of what they had discovered dawned on them. Healing quirks were already rare, and those with the power to truly repair or regenerate were nearly unheard of. Dr. Amano’s own quirk, a time-based healing ability, was one of the most valuable in medical fields—accelerating the body’s natural healing process, but at a cost. It aged the healed area, weakening it if the quirk was used repeatedly. It was powerful but limited.

But Denki’s quirk was something else entirely. It wasn’t just healing—it was the manipulation of electrical energy at the most fundamental level. Cells, neurons, the very electrical impulses that governed the body’s function—it was as if he could rewrite the code of life itself, correcting cellular damage, preventing decay. The implications were enormous.

“It’s...” Yuto began, his voice shaking slightly. “It’s like cheating.”

Dr. Amano’s fingers tightened around the pager in her hand as she processed the thought. “Yes. It’s as though they’re playing god—manipulating neurons, controlling electrical flow in ways that biology never intended. No one has ever seen a quirk like this. And somehow, it’s gone completely unnoticed until now.”

“The possibilities are terrifying. If he fully understands his quirk… he could change everything. People’s lives could be saved, injuries reversed, diseases cured. But how do you even begin to understand something so complex, especially when it hasn’t been identified yet?”

Yuto shook his head, clearly awestruck. “How did he slip through the cracks? With a quirk like this, you’d think it would’ve been spotted by the system, maybe during his early development. But it’s like no one knew.”

“Because it’s not healing in the traditional sense,” Dr. Amano mused, eyes narrowing in thought. “His quirk doesn’t just accelerate healing—it manipulates the bioelectricity that exists in every cell, every nerve. He’s bypassing natural processes, tapping directly into the electrical nature of the body itself.”

Her voice softened as she continued, “No one would have recognized it for what it truly is—not as a healing quirk. It’s not visible like traditional healing abilities, and it isn’t flashy, no bursts of light or dramatic effects. It’s quiet... almost invisible. Which is why no one suspected its true power.”

“Could he...?” Yuto began hesitantly, his thoughts trailing off.

“If he can harness this power fully,” Dr. Amano said gravely, “he could heal more than just physical injuries. He could reverse cellular damage, regenerate tissues that are lost, and maybe even heal the brain. He could save lives that are considered lost causes.”

Yuto’s voice was low, filled with awe and fear. “And we didn’t even notice him. He could have saved so many.”

For a moment, the two stood in stunned silence, both realizing the monumental implications of what they’d uncovered. Denki’s quirk, a silent, unnoticed miracle that had saved his father—and could potentially save countless others. The thought was both extraordinary and terrifying. What would happen if someone else discovered the true potential of this power? Would it be used for good, or twisted for something darker?

“We have to make sure he’s protected,” Dr. Amano finally said, her voice firm. “He’s not just a boy with a quirk. He’s a key to something far bigger than any of us. We need to help him understand what he’s capable of—before someone else tries to use him for their own gain.”

Chapter Text

Denki didn’t know how long he and his siblings had been in the waiting room. Hell, he didn’t even remember how they got there. The last clear memory he had was the overwhelming relief of seeing his dad’s chest rise, of hearing the emergency responders say that he had done all he could and for him to leave the rest to them. After that, everything blurred together—flashing lights, rushed voices, and the chaos of it all.

He bit back a sigh, running his fingers gently through Nari’s hair. At some point, his siblings had fallen asleep, their tear-streaked faces pressed against him. They must have worn themselves out—crying, breaking apart under the weight of everything that had happened. Denki couldn’t blame them. He was barely holding it together himself.

The nurses had been kind, helping disinfect the scrapes and scratches they’d gotten during the chaos. One of them had even pressed a small packet of painkillers into his hand with a quiet reminder to take them. "For the burns," she had said. At first, Denki had wanted to tell her it wasn’t the kind of pain pills could fix, but the stinging in his hands had eventually convinced him otherwise.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the sharp, sterile scent of the hospital. It settled into his lungs, heavy and unwelcome. He tried to center himself, to focus on anything other than the fire running through his veins.

The burning sensation had started in his hands—right where he’d concentrated all his electricity—and now it seemed to ripple through his entire body. It wasn’t the good kind of buzz he sometimes felt when he used his quirk in quick bursts. This was... different. It was a relentless, searing heat, as if his blood itself was boiling.  

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make it stop. Couldn’t cool it. Couldn’t think past it. Every breath felt heavy, like he was swallowing sparks.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to shake the fire out of his veins, but all he could do was sit there. He had to be strong. For Akio. For Nari. For his dad.

Even as the fire raged inside him, Denki stayed quiet.

Natsuko’s lungs burned as she sprinted into the medical center, her chest heaving with every ragged breath. She barely registered the cold air-conditioned lobby or the faint murmur of voices around her. All she could think about was getting to her kids.

The woman at the reception desk immediately stood up, likely recognizing the frantic look on Natsuko’s face. “Kaminari-san?” the receptionist asked gently, already pulling up the information on her computer.

“Yes,” Natsuko gasped, clutching the edge of the counter to steady herself. “My children—where are they?”

The receptionist offered a small, pitying smile as she gestured toward the waiting area. “They’re just down the hall. Room 103. Take your time.”

Natsuko didn’t even respond, bolting toward the hallway as soon as the words left the woman’s lips. Her legs felt like they might give out, her chest tight and aching, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

When she reached the door, she froze for a moment, her hand hovering over the handle. She wasn’t ready for what she might see, but her children were inside, and they needed her.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

Denki felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness, the burning sensation in his body growing so intense that he thought he might pass out at any moment.

“Denki! Denki, can you hear me?”

That voice... it sounded familiar. Through the haze, he whimpered, “Mama?”

“Oh, my poor boy.” He felt his mother’s arms wrap tightly around him, pulling him into a protective embrace. She kissed his head gently, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’ve been so brave, so, so brave. You can rest now. Mommy will take care of everything.”

Denki let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer to her warmth as the world around him faded. He let unconsciousness take him, knowing he was safe in her arms.

Natsuko didn’t know how long she had been sitting in the waiting room, her hands trembling and her heart heavy as she silently prayed to every god she could think of. The sterile smell of the hospital was suffocating, and the low hum of distant voices did nothing to ease her nerves. All she could think about was Haneul Jin.

He had to survive. He had to. She couldn’t do this without him. The very thought of raising their children alone filled her with dread. He was her anchor, the one who always knew how to make things better when life felt overwhelming. Without him, she felt like she might fall apart.

Her gaze flicked to the clock on the wall.

8:37 PM.

The ticking of the second hand felt deafening, each click a cruel reminder of how long they had been waiting. She sighed, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her fear and exhaustion. Gently, she ran her fingers through Denki’s hair as he rested his head in her lap.

Her poor baby looked so worn out. He had been so strong for his siblings, for her, and yet she could see the toll the day had taken on him. His usually bright face was pale and tight with stress, and his hands twitched slightly, a sign of the lingering pain he was surely hiding.

She glanced over at Akio and Nari, curled up on the other side of the bench, clutching each other tightly even in their sleep. Tears welled up in her eyes. They had been through so much, and she had no idea how to make it better. For the first time in a long time, Natsuko felt utterly, completely lost.

Her lips quivered as she whispered softly, more to herself than anyone else, “Please… please don’t take him away from us.”

Dr. Amano walked into the waiting room where the Kaminari family was supposed to be. Her eyes immediately landed on a beautiful woman with golden hair and sad, doe-like blue eyes. She matched the picture from Kaminari Natsuko’s profile perfectly.  

As Dr. Amano stepped closer, she took in the sight of the woman surrounded by her children. Her gaze lingered, just for a moment, on the boy—Kaminari Denki, according to the file. The child who might one day revolutionize the medical field. The thought made her pause in awe, but she quickly shook it off, straightened her back, and approached the woman who seemed lost in thought.  

“Are you Kaminari-san’s family?” Dr. Amano asked, though she already knew the answer.  

The woman’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. She looked like she might have stood to bow, if not for the child resting his head on her lap.  

“Yes, I’m his wife, Kaminari Natsuko,” she said quickly, her voice polite but strained. “Uh, please—just call me Natsuko. It’ll avoid any confusion.” She tried to offer a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“Very well, Natsuko-san. I’m Dr. Amano, and I’m in charge of your husband’s recovery,” she said with a slight nod. “I’ll be completely transparent with you. Our medical team… we aren’t entirely sure how your husband survived.”

Natsuko stared at her in shock, her lips parting slightly as if searching for words. Dr. Amano cleared her throat and quickly added, “Let me rephrase. The fact that your husband is alive is nothing short of a miracle—a miracle we believe your eldest had a hand in performing.”

Natsuko frowned, her brows knitting together in confusion. “P-pardon?” she stammered, her voice unsteady.

“This might be a lot to take in,” Dr. Amano continued carefully, “but the hero on-site, Theron, reported that Kaminari-san’s heart had stopped beating for a short time. Denki-kun used his quirk to help jumpstart his heart.”

Natsuko’s eyes widened, her face paling as her hand flew to clutch the necklace around her neck. “His heart had stopped beating?”  

Dr. Amano nodded solemnly. “Yes. How much have you been informed about your husband’s injury?”  

Natsuko frowned deeply, shaking her head. “No one has told me anything,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration and fear.  

Dr. Amano took a deep breath and straightened her posture. “Then I’ll start from the beginning. According to Theron, your husband and your children had barely escaped the collapsing building. But before Theron could assess for injuries, a stray piece of debris struck the back of your husband’s head. More specifically, it hit his cerebellum and brainstem.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.  

“The injury,” she continued, her tone grim, “should have killed him.”

The poor woman looked like her world was crumbling around her, tears pooling in her wide, panicked eyes.

Dr. Amano softened her tone, trying to provide some sense of reassurance. “We believe the reason your husband survived was thanks to Denki-kun’s quirk.”

Natsuko blinked in confusion, her voice shaking as she stammered, “Denki’s quirk? But... how?”

Dr. Amano gave her a steady look. “Theron reported that when your husband’s heart stopped, Denki-kun acted instinctively. He used his quirk to send a controlled electrical charge into your husband’s chest. Essentially, your son managed to restart his heart.”

She paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. “The impact to the brainstem and cerebellum should have been fatal, but we believe that Denki’s quirk may have also disrupted the trauma in a way we don’t fully understand yet. His ability to generate and conduct electricity might have stabilized critical brain activity long enough to keep your husband alive until Theron and the emergency responders arrived.”

Natsuko’s face twisted with shock and disbelief as she looked down at Denki, who was resting quietly against her. “My little boy…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Dr. Amano nodded. “It’s extraordinary. He saved his father’s life, Natsuko-san.”

Chapter Text

The room was eerily quiet, save for the soft beeping of machines and the rhythmic hum of the ventilator. Natsuko sat beside her husband’s hospital bed, her fingers lightly brushing over his. His face, usually so warm and animated, was now pale and still. She tried to focus on the warmth of his hand, searching for any sign of life beyond the machines keeping him alive.

Behind her, the kids were fast asleep in the corner, curled up together on the couch, exhaustion finally overtaking them after the day’s chaos. She envied their ability to rest, to escape the suffocating reality that felt like it was crushing her from all sides. It wasn’t just the grief or the worry—it was the gnawing uncertainty. The not knowing if their lives would ever go back to normal. She hated how her mind spiraled, how her thoughts looped endlessly over everything that had gone wrong. She knew that probably made her a bad mother, but she was just so tired.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Dr. Amano entered quietly, her usual composed demeanor softening as she approached. Natsuko straightened, her fingers instinctively tightening around her husband’s hand.

“Natsuko-san,” Dr. Amano said softly, careful not to wake the children. “May I have a word with you?”

Natsuko hesitated but nodded, standing reluctantly. Her legs felt heavy, almost unwilling to carry her away from the bedside. She followed Dr. Amano a few steps away, glancing back to make sure the kids were still asleep. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Dr. Amano said, her tone gentle but serious. “I wanted to talk to you about Denki-kun.”

Natsuko’s heart skipped a beat. Her gaze flickered to her eldest son, his small body curled up protectively around his siblings on the couch, his face peaceful despite everything he had been through. “What about him?”

Dr. Amano took a deep breath, her expression almost… awed. “What your son did for your husband—jumpstarting his heart using his quirk—it’s nothing short of extraordinary. It saved his life, Natsuko-san. And I believe it’s only a fraction of what he’s capable of.”

Natsuko felt her stomach twist. “He’s just a child,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“I know,” Dr. Amano said quickly, her voice steady but kind. “But Denki’s quirk has incredible potential. With the right training and guidance, he could revolutionize modern medicine. Imagine the lives he could save—not just thousands, but billions. His ability could change the world as we know it, Natsuko-san.”

Natsuko’s chest tightened as she stared at Dr. Amano, unsure of how to process her words. She didn’t want to think about her son that way—like he was some tool, a key to solving humanity’s problems. He was her child, her sunshine. Her little boy.

“What exactly are you saying?” she asked cautiously.

Dr. Amano hesitated for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. “I’d like to mentor him. To teach him how to use his quirk safely and effectively. I wouldn’t push him into anything he doesn’t want, but I think he deserves to understand the full scope of what he can do.”

Natsuko glanced back at Denki, heart aching. He looked so small, so vulnerable, even as Dr. Amano spoke of him as if he were some kind of miracle.

“He’s been through so much already,” Natsuko said quietly. “He’s just a little boy—not even thirteen yet. I don’t know if he’s ready for something like this. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“I understand,” Dr. Amano said softly. “All I’m asking is that you consider it. When the time comes, the choice should be his. But I truly believe he has a gift—one that could help countless people. I don’t want to see that potential go to waste.”

Natsuko felt a lump rise in her throat. Her fingers brushed over the necklace at her collarbone, a small, familiar gesture that brought her little comfort. She let out a long, shaky breath.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But Denki will have the final say. It’s his life, and I won’t force him into anything.”

Dr. Amano offered her a small, understanding smile. “That’s all I could ask for. Thank you, Natsuko-san.”

Natsuko nodded faintly, her gaze drifting back to her husband and her children. Her family. The weight of Dr. Amano’s words lingered heavily in the air, settling over her like a storm cloud as she returned to her seat by her husband’s bedside.

The house felt empty—that was the only way Nari could describe it. The usual warmth, the laughter, the comforting sounds of family life—it was all gone, replaced by a hollow, suffocating silence. She was kind of glad they wouldn’t have to stay here for too long. They’d be heading back to the hospital hotel soon, where they could be closer to their dad until he was in a more stable condition.

Still, the thought of leaving again didn’t really make her feel better. She glanced around the living room, her eyes lingering on the spot where her dad usually sat. A lump formed in her throat as a sharp twig of guilt twisted in her chest.

This was all her fault.

If only she had listened to Akio and just gone straight home. No—if only she hadn’t begged her parents to let her see the new Solaris movie in the first place, none of this would have happened. Her dad wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. He would be here with them, smiling, teasing, alive.

Her chest tightened, her breaths coming out shaky. She squeezed her arms around herself, trying to keep it together. She didn’t want to cry again—not here, not now. But the guilt was unbearable.

If she’d just been a little less selfish, her dad would have never taken them to the park. They wouldn’t have been anywhere near the villain attack. None of this would have happened.

She knew it was all her fault. Her siblings knew it too, but none of them had said anything to their mother. Nari didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to fix it.

Her fingers gripped tightly to her dress—the dress her dad had bought her for her tenth birthday. The silence pressed down on her like a weight. She stared at the empty spot on the couch where her dad should’ve been, the heaviness of everything settling over her.

She wished she could take it all back. Every decision, every moment that had led to this. She would give anything to undo it, to see her dad walk through the front door, laughing and calling out, “I’m home!”

But that wasn’t going to happen. And now, all she could do was hope—and try not to break under the crushing weight of her guilt.

Her mom cleared her throat, drawing all their attention. “You guys go pack a bag with a week's worth of clothes.” Even though she tried to hide it, her eyes were still red from crying. “We’ll go to the noodle shop by the hospital to have dinner.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It wasn’t the bright, vibrant smile she’d had just this morning.

Nari felt sick. Her mom was trying so hard to hold them all together, and it was her fault . Her dad was in that hospital bed, their family was fractured, and it was all her fault .

She wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she stood there, frozen, as the guilt weighed her down like an anchor.

Dinner had been a quiet affair. They’d hauled themselves into Dad’s hospital room, the meal feeling more like a duty than a comfort. No one said much—it was like they were all holding their breath, afraid that words might make everything too real.

Before Denki knew it, the day had slipped away, and everyone was retiring for the night. He helped his mom tuck his siblings into bed. And just as he was about to turn in himself, she caught him by the arm and gently pulled him aside.

“Come sit with me for a moment, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice carrying that familiar warmth but with an edge of something else—something heavier.

Denki followed her into the small living room of their hotel suite, the dim lighting making the space feel both cozy and stifling. She sat down on the couch, nervously fiddling with the necklace she always wore. It was a habit Denki recognized, one that told him she was deep in thought, trying to find the right words.

“You’re a brave boy,” she said finally, her voice trembling just a little. “So, so brave.” She let go of her necklace and reached for his hand, her touch gentle but firm, like she was trying to anchor herself.

Denki frowned, unsure of where this was going. “Mom?”

She took a shaky breath, her thumb brushing over his knuckles, grounding herself in the small gesture. “What you did for your dad… it was incredible. You saved his life, Denki. And I don’t know if I’ve said it enough, but I am so, so proud of you.”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked down at their joined hands, the weight of her words sinking in. “I just… I couldn’t let him die, Mom. I didn’t even think—I just acted.”

“And that’s what makes you amazing,” she said softly, her voice breaking slightly as she tried to hold it together. She hesitated for a moment, her grip on his hand tightening like she was afraid he might slip away from her. “Dr. Amano talked to me today about your quirk. She said it’s been mischaracterized… that it’s far more powerful than we ever realized. She believes you have the ability to heal, Denki. And she wants to mentor you.”

Denki blinked in confusion. “Heal? Mentor? I—what?... I just give off electricity, Mom. How could I—”

She shook her head, her expression firm but thoughtful. “It’s not just electricity, Denki. What you did for your dad—it wasn’t just about jumpstarting his heart. You were able to heal the damaged cells in his body, especially in his brain. It was because of you that your dad’s condition wasn’t as severe as it could have been. It’s because of you that he’s still here.”

Denki’s eyes widened, his mind spinning. “But... I didn’t know I could do that. I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

“I know, sweetie,” she said softly, her voice full of concern. “I’m not saying you’re some kind of miracle, Denki. But what you did for your dad—what you’re capable of—it's not something anyone should take lightly. You have a power inside you, one that could help a lot of people. If you choose to take up Dr. Amano’s offer, we could figure out how best to control it.”

Denki’s gaze dropped to their joined hands, fingers trembling slightly. He wanted to help, but the idea of controlling something so powerful was terrifying. “But I’m not even thirteen. I didn’t even know a person could bleed so much until today…” His voice wavered as his fear crept in.

His mom’s heart seemed to ache at the rawness of his fear. She squeezed his hand, her voice steady and reassuring. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but Denki, you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together. And when you’re ready, you’ll have the choice to use it in a way that can make a difference. But you don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Denki nodded slowly, the weight of her words heavy on him. “I want to help people, Mom. I really do, I just- I just don’t know how.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers today,” she said gently. “You’re still learning, Denki. And I’ll be right here to help you, every step of the way. But you don’t need to rush into anything. When the time comes, the choice will be yours.”

Denki thought for a moment, then gave her a small nod. “I’ll think about it, Mom. I want to help people. I just… need some time to understand everything better.”

She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “That’s all I ask. Take your time. But I know, whatever you decide, you’ll be okay.”

Denki gave her a small, uncertain smile, feeling a little lighter but still burdened by the weight of the unknown ahead. "Thanks, Mom. I love you."

She smiled softly at him, her eyes shimmering with warmth despite the exhaustion on her face. “I love you too, honey,” she said, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Now, you should go get some rest.”

Denki nodded, the faintest of smiles lingering on his lips as he stood. “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she replied, watching him as he padded softly toward the room where his siblings were sleeping.

For a moment, Natsuko sat alone in the quiet of the living room, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. But as she glanced toward the door where her children slept and then out the window to look at the hospital, she allowed herself the smallest glimmer of hope. The lights of the hospital glowed softly against the night sky, and despite the uncertainty, she held onto one thought: they were still together, and for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

“The villain, dubbed ‘Corrosia’ for their powerful acid quirk, has finally been captured thanks to the efforts of Endeavor and the other heroes on-site.”

That was all the news could talk about—how amazing Endeavor was for taking down such a dangerous villain ‘single-handedly.’ Not a word about the destruction he’d caused. Not even the villain had caused as much damage as Endeavor. And not a single mention of the civilian casualties.

It was like everything had been swept under the rug. The world just kept spinning, like nothing was amiss. Like Akio’s life hadn’t been shattered because a so-called Hero didn’t understand something as basic as collateral damage—something even he, an 11-year-old , could grasp.

The clip of Tanaka-san’s storefront being destroyed had been everywhere, replayed on every channel. They slowed it down, analyzed the angle, and praised Endeavor’s “ precision ” in taking down Corrosia. But no one talked about how reckless it was for Endeavor to hit the building when civilians were still inside. No one mentioned the moment the building collapsed with people still trapped inside it. 

When someone did finally bring it up, they shifted the blame entirely onto the villain, claiming it was their fault for being too close to the building, as though that somehow made Endeavor’s actions justifiable.

The news anchors moved on quickly, laughing and chatting about Endeavor’s incredible strength, completely ignoring the trail of destruction he left behind. No one talked about the lives that were ruined.

No one talked about Tanaka-san.

Akio still couldn’t get the image out of his head. He remembered the sound first—the groaning of the building as it started to give way, then the crash as it came down. The screams had been deafening. Then came the silence.

He remembered the sight of Tanaka-san’s lifeless body being wheeled away, her husband’s wails cutting through the chaos like a blade. Akio had stood there, frozen, unable to look away. Tanaka-san had always been kind to him and his family. She would always slip him a free candy when they stopped by her shop. She had been alive and smiling that morning, and now she was gone.

And no one seemed to care.

Where was their justice? If heroes were supposed to stand for good and fairness, then why were they allowed to commit crimes like this? Because that’s what it was— illegal, careless destruction —and they walked away without facing any consequences.

No one blamed Endeavor for dragging out the fight, likely for publicity. He could have ended it sooner, but he didn’t. Instead, he let it stretch on, causing more destruction in the process. And now, people were dead, their lives reduced to statistics in the wake of a “ successful ” mission.

Akio clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. It wasn’t right. None of it was right. He couldn’t just sit and do nothing. Not when so many people were suffering. Not when his family was suffering.

He had to do something about it. Somehow, someway, he would make sure no one else had to go through this.

Chapter Text

Denki sat by his dad’s hospital bed. It was hard to believe that not even a day ago, his dad had still been up and moving, cracking jokes like nothing could ever knock him down. Now, the steady beep of the heart monitor filled the silence, a constant reminder of how quickly everything had changed.

Denki stared at his dad’s face, so still and pale, like he was a different person entirely. The weight of it all hit him again, sharp and heavy, and for a moment, he didn’t know if he could keep holding it together.

A soft, deliberate clearing of someone’s throat snapped him out of his thoughts. Denki blinked and quickly straightened up, turning to see who it was.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, lean woman with sleek black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail and a pair of sharp-looking glasses. Everything about her screamed "no-nonsense," from her crisp white coat to the calm, confident way she carried herself.

“Good morning. My name is Amano Rika, and I am the doctor in charge of your father’s recovery.” Her tone was curt but polite, her words precise and to the point. She finished her introduction and looked at him expectantly.

“Oh!” Denki shot up from his chair, bowing quickly. “Good morning, Dr. Amano. I’m Kaminari Denki, and my family and I are in your care.”

Denki stood up straight, the room falling into silence except for the occasional beeping of his dad’s heart monitor. Dr. Amano was watching him now, her eyes sharp and unreadable, like she was trying to figure something out.

Denki shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze, feeling like he was being studied under a microscope. After what felt like forever, she finally spoke.

“Has your mother talked to you about the mentorship program?”

Denki nodded quickly. “Yes, she has, but I still have a lot of questions.”

Dr. Amano gave a small hum of acknowledgment, tilting her head slightly. “I’d be happy to answer any questions you have to make sure there’s no confusion.”

Denki hesitated, glancing down at the cuffs of his sleeves. He’d spent hours the night before thinking about what he should ask, but now that he was here, his brain felt like it had turned to mush.

Dr. Amano seemed to notice his struggle to think of questions. “Let’s start with the basics,” she said smoothly. “I’ll explain my role here at the hospital and how it ties into your mentorship.”

Denki let out a quiet sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “That would be nice,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

“I am the head doctor of the Neurology and Research Labs,” Dr. Amano continued, her voice calm but firm. “I was assigned to your father because of the complexity of his condition.”

Denki nodded, trying to keep up, but his attention kept wavering. The steady beeping of the heart monitor in the background felt too loud, too mechanical, like it didn’t belong in the same room as his dad. It was a constant reminder of how quickly everything had turned upside down.

“Your father’s injuries are... severe,” Dr. Amano said, pausing as if carefully measuring each word. “It’s going to take time, and the road ahead won’t be easy. But I want you to know we’re doing everything we can.”

Denki swallowed, his throat tight as he forced himself to nod. “My mom said something about... my quirk being mischaracterized?” His voice came out quieter than he’d planned, and he fiddled with his sleeve again. “I thought all my quirk could do was store and discharge electricity.”

“It’s easy to see why it was characterized that way,” Dr. Amano replied. “But from what my team and I have seen, your quirk is much more than that.”

Denki frowned, still not following. Special? Him? He was just a kid who could barely control his quirk most of the time. “I don’t get it,” he muttered, shifting where he stood. “I’m not special. I can’t even control it properly.”

Dr. Amano studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp. Then she spoke again, her voice steady. “You’re right to be confused. It’s a lot to take in.”

She cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully. “It’s easy to understand why your quirk was thought to just be about storing and discharging electricity. But, Kaminari-kun, what you have is something much more complex.” She paused, watching him closely. “From what I’ve seen, your quirk doesn’t just generate electrical blasts or serve as a defense mechanism. It’s connected to something much deeper.”

Denki blinked, the confusion only deepening. “What do you mean, deeper?”

Dr. Amano took her time explaining. “Your quirk might not just be about controlling electricity in the usual way. It seems like you have an innate connection to the electrons that power the atoms in your body. This means, in theory, you could manipulate electrical energy at a molecular level.”

Denki’s eyes widened as his mind tried to catch up. “How is that even possible? I just—”

Dr. Amano raised a hand, stopping him. “I understand. But listen. The electrical impulses in our bodies are crucial for everything—muscle movement, heartbeat, even healing after an injury. If you can learn to direct your quirk with precision, you could regulate those electrical impulses.”

Denki’s mind raced, trying to follow her logic. “So… you really think I could heal people?” His voice cracked slightly, overwhelmed by the idea.

Dr. Amano’s gaze sharpened. “Exactly. If you can control the flow of electricity to the right places, you could potentially speed up healing, even repair damaged cells. Electrical energy already plays a huge role in how our bodies communicate—how our neurons send signals to control muscle movements or help the body recover. If you learn to tap into that, you could help damaged tissues or cells heal.”

Denki’s head was spinning. “Is that how my quirk saved my dad?” His voice faltered, unsure if he was hearing her right.

Dr. Amano gave him a small, solemn nod. “Yes. That’s a strong possibility. Your quirk might have triggered a response in your father’s brain after the trauma, helping to stabilize his neural activity. It could be why he’s still alive, even in a coma. By manipulating the electricity at a microscopic level, you might have prevented his brain from shutting down completely. It’s like using a defibrillator, but more controlled, more precise.”

Denki stood frozen, trying to process everything. “So... I’m not just some kid who can shock things. I could actually—”

“You could be much more,” Dr. Amano interrupted softly. “But it’s going to take time to learn to control it. Your ability is powerful, Denki, but also delicate. That’s why I’m offering you this opportunity. If you learn to control your quirk properly, you could do a lot of good for the world.”

They stood there in silence for a moment. Dr. Amano’s gaze didn’t waver as she studied him, but her voice softened when she spoke again. “I’ve been talking about what you can do, but I haven’t asked what you want to do. So, Kaminari-kun... what is it that you want to be?”

“I want to be a hero…” Denki’s voice sounded small, even to him.

“And by hero, I guess you mean a Limelight Hero?” Dr. Amano asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, trying to seem sure of himself.

“Kaminari-kun, you do know there are different types of heroes, right? And I don’t just mean Pro Heroes,” she said, her tone steady but with a slight edge—like she was testing him.

In theory, Denki understood that. He knew there were all kinds of heroes, but it felt like there was some disconnect. When he thought of a hero, he always thought of someone like All Might—big, flashy, larger than life. And, as rude as it seemed, he didn’t think of medics. But Theron... Theron had been a hero. A Pro Hero, at that.

If he really thought about it, she was pretty cool. Even when everything had been falling apart, she had kept her calm and helped save his dad. And if he was honest with himself, Dr. Amano was cool, too—in her own, elegant way. They were both medics. Both heroes, just in different ways.

“Is it possible for me to be a Medic Hero like Theron?” Denki asked, his voice quiet but hopeful.

Dr. Amano smiled at him, a small but genuine curve of her lips. “It is. If you're truly set on going the Pro Hero route, I’m willing to help you get there. I can even help you secure a scholarship to UA.”

Denki’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of going to UA. “Really?” The excitement crept into his voice before he could stop it. It was every kid's dream to get into UA. If he took the mentorship, he could practically guarantee a spot there. Kids who got scholarships to UA almost always made it in and became powerhouses.

“Healing-related quirks are few and far between, same with Medic Heroes,” Dr. Amano continued, her gaze softening but still focused. “They’re often highly sought after. If you commit to this, there’s a real chance you could stand out, Kaminari-kun. But it won’t be easy. The path to becoming a Medic Hero is different from other Pro Heroes. You’ll need to train not just your quirk, but your mind and your body to handle the demands of this role.”

Denki took a deep breath, his mind racing. The idea of becoming a hero like Theron—someone who could save lives, someone who made a difference without the flashy fights—felt real now, like it could actually happen. But it also meant he’d have to work harder than he ever had before. The weight of it all was both terrifying and exciting.

He glanced back at his dad, the steady beeping of the heart monitor still filling the room. Both Dr. Amano and his mom believed he’d saved his dad, and a part of him did, too. He could still remember the relief flooding through him when his father’s chest finally rose again after he had been lying motionless. That moment... it was something he would never forget.

Denki turned back to Dr. Amano, more determined than ever.

“I’ll do it.”

Those few words felt like they sealed his fate.

Dr. Amano smiled, giving him a small nod of approval. “Well then, welcome to the team, Kaminari-kun.”

Chapter Text

Denki shifted nervously in his seat in the waiting room of Shinsei Medical Center. It had been a month since he’d accepted Dr. Amano’s mentorship. Between his family settling back home and everything else that had happened, the mentorship had been put on hold.

But today was the day. Today, he would officially be recognized as Dr. Amano’s mentee.

Sayuri-san, the friendly receptionist, had told him Dr. Amano was busy but would be here any minute, so all Denki could do was wait.

The waiting room was quiet, the kind of sterile, calm quiet that always made Denki feel out of place. The walls were a soft, neutral beige, and the polished floor tiles reflected the overhead fluorescent lights with a dull, almost harsh gleam. A row of chairs lined one wall, their vinyl cushions worn and slightly cracked from years of use. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, a reminder that he was in a hospital, but there was also a hint of freshly brewed coffee from a nearby vending machine.

A few people sat scattered around the room, their faces tired and distant, each lost in their own thoughts. A digital clock on the far wall ticked away the seconds in an endless, impersonal rhythm. In the corner, a television mounted high up on the wall played a muted non-hero news segment, but the volume was so low Denki could barely make out the words.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the clock again. Any minute now, he reminded himself, but the minutes felt like they were dragging on forever.

“Kaminari Denki?”

Denki’s head shot up as a short male nurse with long white hair called out his name. Quickly, he got to his feet and walked over, trying to keep his nerves in check.

The nurse studied him for a moment, and Denki couldn’t miss the look in his eyes—curiosity mixed with just a hint of awe. It was the same kind of look Dr. Amano had given him when they first met, like Denki was something out of the ordinary, even though he didn’t feel like it at all.

“My name is Yuto Hashimoto, and I’m one of the head diagnosticians here at the hospital,” the nurse said, smiling warmly as he introduced himself.

Denki gave a quick bow, fumbling over his words. “My name is Kaminari Denki, and I’m, uh… Dr. Amano’s mentee.”

Yuto-san let out a good-natured laugh. “No need to be so nervous! I’m not going to bite,” he teased, his tone light and playful.

“You can probably guess that Dr. Amano asked me to show you around the hospital and explain the basic rules,” Yuto-san said, his smile still in place as he gestured for Denki to follow him.

Denki nodded quickly, falling into step beside him. “Yeah, that makes sense. Uh, I guess there’s a lot I need to learn.”

Yuto-san chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry, it’s not as overwhelming as it sounds. We’ll start with the basics—like where not to accidentally wander into and how not to annoy the nurses. Trust me, they’re the real bosses around here.”

The hospital was massive, with six full floors that seemed to stretch endlessly upward.

“This is the ground floor, also known as the first floor,” Yuto-san explained as they walked. “Here, we have the reception area, family waiting rooms, and a small café called ‘Hikari Coffee.’” He glanced at Denki with a knowing smile. “I’d recommend getting familiar with this floor because, aside from the ICU, the ER, and the research center, this is where you’re going to be spending most of your time.”

Yuto-san led Denki to the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. The moment the doors opened, Denki’s eyes widened. The second floor could only be described as hectic. People moved quickly in every direction, some in scrubs, others in civilian clothes, all with an air of urgency.

Yuto-san, however, seemed completely at ease as he navigated through the chaos. “This is the ER floor. Though it’s technically one big floor, it’s split into thirds. Two-thirds of it is dedicated to the emergency room and trauma center, while the remaining third is for the pediatrician center—basically where we put all the kids.”

Denki nodded, trying to absorb the chaos around him as they moved through the hallways.

Yuto-san led him to an older-looking man standing near a set of doors. The man looked intimidating, his arms covered in scars, his posture solid and unyielding. But Yuto-san didn’t seem fazed at all. With a warm smile, he called out to the man in a sing-songy voice.

“Dr. Taro! I have someone I’d like you to meet!”

The man turned toward them, his face softening when he saw it was Yuto-san calling him over. He grunted but didn’t seem too bothered.

“This is Dr. Amano’s brat, I take it?” he said, giving Denki a once-over.

Yuto-san nodded enthusiastically, unfazed by the gruff tone.

The man grunted again and gave a curt introduction. “The name’s Taro Shimizu. The head doctor of the emergency and trauma center.”

Denki, feeling a little out of his depth, quickly bowed. “My name is Kaminari Denki, and I’m Dr. Amano’s mentee.”

“Where’s Dr. Miho? I’m giving Kaminari-kun a tour and introducing him to all the department heads,” Yuto-san asked, looking around.

Dr. Taro hummed in acknowledgment, glancing toward the hallway. “She just got back from break. You’ll probably find her hovering around her department.” He rolled his eyes slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Yuto-san nodded, grinning. “Ah, got it. Thanks, Dr. Taro.” He beamed at the older man. “See you during break!”

Dr. Taro just gave a half-wave, clearly already back to whatever task he’d been working on.

Denki wasn’t the type to be nosy, despite what his friends might say, but he could definitely sense the tension between Dr. Taro and Yuto-san as they talked. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he kept quiet and followed Yuto-san to the pediatrician's center, keeping his attention focused on where they were going.

It didn’t take long for them to find Dr. Miho.

Dr. Miho was a petite woman with a soft pink complexion that made her look almost like a cuddly teddy bear. Her appearance was gentle and unassuming, and Denki couldn’t help but feel a little comforted by the warmth she seemed to radiate.

“Oh, Yuto-san?” Her voice was soft and polite, as if she were speaking to someone she’d known for years. She turned her attention to Yuto-san, then gave Denki a curious glance. “I’m guessing this is Dr. Amano’s new mentee?”

Denki quickly stepped forward to introduce himself. “Uh, yeah. My name’s Kaminari Denki.”

“I’m Miho Takeda, head of the pediatrician's center.” She paused after introducing herself, her gaze studying Denki with interest. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” she remarked, her brow furrowing. “Just how old are you?”

Denki glanced nervously at Yuto-san for reassurance, and he simply smiled and gave him a subtle nod. “I’m 12, but I turn 13 this month.”

“Oh dear, you poor thing,” Miho Takeda said with a sympathetic sigh. “If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask me. It’s absolutely insane that they’re putting so much pressure on you.” She gave him an assessing look, her expression softening further. “You look like you could easily blend in with the other kids in my ward.”

“While that is true, I assure you, Dr. Miho, that while he is young, he has the potential to do a lot of great things!” Yuto-san said brightly, his cheerful tone cutting through the moment like sunshine.

Dr. Miho’s face turned blank for a second before she offered them a strained smile. “I see,” she said lightly. “Well, I probably shouldn’t hold you two up.” She turned back to Denki and gave him a warmer smile this time. “It was nice meeting you, Kaminari-kun.”

They waved goodbye and headed for the elevator to move to the next floor.

“Why are we skipping the third floor?” Denki tilted his head, confusion clear on his face.

Yuto-san chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “That’s the neurology and research labs. It’s where we’ll be spending most of our time, so I’m saving the best for last.” He winked, and Denki let out a small giggle, his nerves easing a little.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the fourth floor. Yuto-san gestured around as they stepped off the elevator. “This is the general surgical ward and outpatient department. Pretty straightforward stuff, but there’s a lot going on here.”

Denki scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What exactly does outpatient mean?”

Yuto-san grinned, clearly happy to explain. “Good question! Outpatient basically means patients who come to the hospital for treatment or check-ups but don’t stay overnight. It’s stuff like follow-up appointments, minor procedures, or regular health checks. They’re in and out in the same day, so we call them ‘outpatients.’”

Denki nodded slowly, the gears in his head turning as he tried to process the explanation. “So, like... they’re not sick enough to need a hospital bed?”

“Exactly!” Yuto-san beamed, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re a quick learner, Kaminari-kun.”

Denki blushed at the compliment as Yuto-san continued leading him around the floor. “Now, unfortunately, the head surgeon, Dr. Mika Hoshizaki, is busy with surgery today, so you won’t get to meet her. But the head of the outpatient department should be around.”

He led Denki to the middle of the department, where a dark-skinned man with small, delicate angel wings on his back was deep in conversation with a nurse. Yuto-san quickly headed over, practically dragging Denki along.

“Dr. Masaki! Are you busy? I want you to meet someone,” Yuto-san called out excitedly.

The man looked up, his expression shifting from mildly startled to warmly curious. “Huh? Ah, Yuto-san. What’s going on?”

“This is my new kouhai!” Yuto-san declared, beaming like a proud older brother.

Denki quickly stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Nice to meet you! My name is Kaminari Denki.”

The man smiled, his presence calm and inviting. “Nice to meet you as well. I’m Dr. Masaki Hirose, head doctor of the outpatient center. Welcome aboard, Kaminari-kun.”

Denki blushed again as Dr. Masaki smiled at him. “So, Kaminari-kun, how are you finding your tour so far?”

“It’s really interesting,” Denki replied honestly. “I didn’t realize how big the hospital was.”

Dr. Masaki chuckled. “It can definitely feel like a maze at first. Don’t worry, though; you’ll get the hang of it soon enough. And if you ever get lost, just ask one of the nurses—they know this place better than anyone.”

“Thank you, Dr. Masaki,” Denki said with a small bow, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Of course. And good luck with your mentorship under Dr. Amano—she’s a tough one, but she’s the best there is,” Dr. Masaki added with a knowing smile.

Yuto-san clapped Denki on the back. “Alright, we’d better get moving. Still plenty of ground to cover!”

They said their goodbyes and made their way back to the elevator. Yuto-san pressed the button for the fifth floor.

“The next stop is the ICU—Intensive Care Unit,” Yuto-san explained as they ascended. “It’s where we take care of the most critical patients. It’s quieter there, but the stakes are high. You’ll get to meet Dr. Akiya Sato, the head of the ICU. He’s... unique.”

Denki tilted his head, intrigued. “Unique how?”

“You’ll see,” Yuto-san said cryptically, grinning as the elevator doors opened.

The atmosphere on the fifth floor was entirely different. The bustling energy of the lower floors was replaced by a calm, almost solemn quiet. The lights were dimmer, and the faint hum of medical equipment filled the air.

Yuto-san led Denki down the hallway, stopping in front of a tall man with striking blue skin and eyes that resembled black stars scattered across a night sky. His presence was both commanding and serene, a stark contrast to the hectic energy Denki had felt earlier.

“Dr. Sato!” Yuto-san called out, waving. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

The man turned, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Yuto-san,” he greeted with a slight nod, his deep voice resonating. His eyes shifted to Denki, studying him for a moment before speaking.

Yuto-san gestured toward the man. “Kaminari-kun, this is Dr. Akiya Sato, head of the ICU.”

Dr. Sato gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “I oversee the care of our most critical patients here in the ICU. My job is to ensure that they receive the best possible treatment and to support the team in making life-saving decisions. It’s a role that requires precision and calm under pressure.”

Denki quickly stepped forward, bowing respectfully. “My name is Kaminari Denki. I’m Dr. Amano’s new mentee. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Sato.”

Dr. Sato regarded him with a thoughtful expression before nodding. “Welcome, Kaminari-kun. I trust Dr. Amano has high expectations for you.”

Denki straightened, feeling both nervous and determined under the man’s intense gaze. “I’ll do my best to meet them.”

Dr. Sato’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Good. I look forward to seeing how you handle yourself. The ICU isn’t a place for hesitation, but it is a place for learning. Remember that.”

Yuto-san pressed the button for the sixth floor, grinning at Denki. “And now, we’re off to the fanciest part of the hospital—the VIP rooms and recovery suites. Patients who stay here are usually recovering from major procedures or need long-term care, and they’ve got the money to make it comfortable.”

Denki raised an eyebrow. “Comfortable how?”

“You’ll see,” Yuto-san replied with a wink as the elevator dinged.

When the doors slid open, Denki immediately noticed the difference. The floor was bright and airy, with polished floors and soft lighting. Potted plants lined the walls, and the faint scent of flowers lingered in the air. Large windows allowed natural light to pour in, and there were paintings on the walls that gave the space a calming, almost hotel-like atmosphere.

“Whoa,” Denki muttered. “This doesn’t even feel like a hospital.”

“Exactly the point,” Yuto-san said, gesturing for him to follow. “Patients here have private suites, complete with their own gardens. It’s designed to help them recover in peace.”

As they walked down the hallway, a man with striking blue hair approached them. He was wearing a nurse’s uniform and had a friendly smile that immediately put Denki at ease.

“Ren!” Yuto-san called out, waving. “Perfect timing. I was just about to introduce Kaminari-kun here to you.”

The man stopped in front of them, his smile widening. “Ah, so this is the famous new mentee of Dr. Amano, huh?” He gave a slight bow. “I’m Ren Takahashi, one of the lead nurses on this floor. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kaminari-kun.”

Denki bowed quickly. “Nice to meet you, Takahashi-san. My name is Kaminari Denki.”

Ren straightened, giving him an appraising look. “Well, you’ve got a lot of guts taking on a mentorship with Dr. Amano. She doesn’t take just anyone under her wing, you know.”

Denki blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll do my best to live up to her expectations.”

“I’m sure you will,” Ren said warmly. “If you ever need help—or if Dr. Amano’s intense teaching style gets to you—just let me know. I’m happy to lend an ear.”

“Thanks, Takahashi-san,” Denki said, smiling shyly.

“Alright, we’ve got one more introduction to make,” Yuto-san said, steering Denki down the hall.

They stopped near a set of double doors, where a tall, broad-shouldered man stood. He was in his 40s, with a stern expression and an intimidating presence. His short black hair was streaked with a bit of gray, and his sharp eyes seemed to take in every detail.

“Takeshi-san!” Yuto-san called, unfazed by the man’s imposing demeanor. “I’ve brought someone for you to meet.”

The man turned, his expression softening slightly as he noticed Yuto-san. “Yuto-san,” he greeted in a deep, gravelly voice. His gaze shifted to Denki, and he tilted his head. “And this is...?”

“This is Kaminari Denki, Dr. Amano’s new mentee,” Yuto-san said proudly. “Denki, meet Takeshi Ono, our head of security.”

Denki quickly bowed, trying not to let the man’s intimidating presence make him too nervous. “Nice to meet you, Ono-san. I’m Kaminari Denki.”

Takeshi studied him for a moment before giving a small nod. “You’re younger than I expected,” he said bluntly, his tone more observational than judgmental.

Denki straightened, trying to look confident. “Yes, sir. But I’m ready to work hard.”

Takeshi’s lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile. “Good. A hospital like this isn’t just about medicine—it’s about keeping everyone safe, patients and staff alike. If you ever see something suspicious or out of place, don’t hesitate to report it to me or my team.”

“Yes, sir,” Denki said firmly.

Yuto-san clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s the last stop on the tour! Now, Kaminari-kun, are you ready to head to the neurology floor and officially meet Dr. Amano again?”

Denki nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. “I’m ready.”

Yuto-san pressed the button for the third floor, grinning as the elevator doors closed. “And now, for the grand finale: the Neurology and Research Labs! This is where all the magic happens—and where Dr. Amano will likely put you to work the hardest.”

Denki chuckled nervously. “Great. Can’t wait.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal a sleek, modern floor with an entirely different atmosphere from the rest of the hospital. The walls were lined with glass panels, allowing a glimpse into various labs filled with cutting-edge equipment. Doctors and researchers moved quickly, some carrying stacks of papers, others working with machines Denki couldn’t even begin to understand.

“This floor is split into two main areas,” Yuto-san explained as they stepped out. “On one side, we’ve got the Neurology Department where we handle patient care and diagnostics related to the brain and nervous system. On the other side, we’ve got the research labs, where we push the boundaries of what’s possible.”

Denki stared wide-eyed at the activity around him. “It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie.”

Yuto-san chuckled. “Pretty much. Now, before we meet Dr. Amano, I want to introduce you to someone else. She’s one of the most brilliant minds in the field, so try not to get too intimidated.”

They turned a corner and entered a large lab filled with holographic displays, microscopes, and vials of strange glowing liquids. A tall woman with short silver hair stood at one of the workstations, her back to them as she examined a set of data on a large screen. She wore a crisp white lab coat, and her movements were precise, almost mechanical.

“Dr. Haruka!” Yuto-san called out, his voice cheerful.

The woman turned, revealing sharp amber eyes and a no-nonsense expression. She adjusted her glasses as she took in Yuto-san and Denki. “Yuto-san. What brings you here today?” Her voice was calm and measured, but there was an undertone of curiosity.

“I’m giving Kaminari-kun here a tour of the hospital,” Yuto-san said, gesturing to Denki. “He’s Dr. Amano’s new mentee, so I thought it’d be good for him to meet you.”

Dr. Haruka’s eyes shifted to Denki, and she studied him for a long moment. “Interesting,” she said finally. “I’m Dr. Haruka Nishikawa, head researcher of this hospital’s labs. I oversee all research projects and experimental treatments conducted here.”

Denki quickly bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you, Nishikawa-sensei. My name is Kaminari Denki.”

Dr. Haruka gave a small nod, her expression softening slightly. “So you’re the one Dr. Amano has chosen. She doesn’t take such decisions lightly. I hope you’re ready for the challenges ahead.”

“I’ll do my best,” Denki said earnestly.

“Good. If you ever find yourself with questions or a curiosity for the research side of things, feel free to ask. But don’t expect me to hold your hand,” she said, her tone as direct as ever.

Denki nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yuto-san clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s not keep Dr. Amano waiting. Kaminari-kun still has to make his big entrance.”

Dr. Haruka gave a faint smile. “Good luck, Kaminari-kun.”

Yuto-san led Denki further down the hall until they reached a set of double doors with “Neurology Wing” etched on a plaque beside them. He pushed them open, revealing a quieter, more clinical space with patient rooms and consultation offices.

“Here we are,” Yuto-san said, gesturing toward an office at the end of the hall. “Dr. Amano’s domain.”

Denki swallowed nervously as they approached the door. Yuto-san knocked twice, and a familiar voice called out, “Come in.”

They entered to find Dr. Amano Rika seated at her desk, reviewing a stack of patient files. She looked up, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto Denki. “You’re late,” she said curtly, though there was a faint hint of amusement in her tone.

“Sorry, Dr. Amano,” Yuto-san said with a grin. “I had to give him the full VIP tour.”

Dr. Amano stood, crossing her arms as she looked Denki over. “Kaminari-kun. Are you ready to get started?”

Denki straightened up, determined not to show how nervous he was. “Yes, Dr. Amano. I’m ready.”

Dr. Amano’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. “Good. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

“We’re going to run some tests,” Dr. Amano said, gesturing for Denki to take a seat in the examination chair. Her tone was brisk, but not unkind. “We’re trying to get a better grasp of how exactly your quirk works. How much electricity do you have in you right now?”

“About ten thousand,” Denki replied quickly, trying not to fidget as the nurses around him bustled about, setting up equipment.

“And do you feel any negative effects from having that stored in you?” Dr. Amano asked, her sharp gaze fixed on him.

Denki shook his head. “I just feel a bit energized whenever I have more than five thousand in me, but my threshold has been going up the more electricity I have stored in me.”

“Write that down,” Dr. Amano instructed one of the nurses, who immediately jotted down the information on a clipboard.

She turned back to Denki, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “Your quirk allows you to store electricity like a battery, but it seems your capacity is increasing over time. Do you know if this is natural growth or if there’s a specific factor causing it?”

Denki hesitated, considering. “I think it’s natural? But sometimes, when I push myself during training or emergencies, it feels like my body adapts faster.”

Dr. Amano nodded, making a note on her tablet. “Interesting. That suggests your quirk has an adaptive component. We’ll need to test how far we can push your limits safely.”

Denki blinked. “Safely?”

Dr. Amano smirked slightly. “Don’t worry, Kaminari-kun. I don’t intend to fry you. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

One of the nurses approached with a device resembling a small scanner. “We’re ready, Dr. Amano,” she said.

Dr. Amano gestured for Denki to hold out his hand. “This device will measure the precise voltage stored in your body and how it’s distributed. Hold still.”

Denki obeyed, watching as the scanner hummed softly, its screen lighting up with fluctuating numbers.

Dr. Amano glanced at the results, her expression unreadable. “Ten thousand, just as you said. But there’s something peculiar... your energy levels are remarkably stable. Most quirks that involve energy storage tend to show fluctuations or leaks. Yours doesn’t.”

“Is that... bad?” Denki asked nervously.

“Not at all,” Dr. Amano replied. “In fact, it’s extremely rare. It means your body is highly efficient at managing stored energy, which might explain why your capacity is increasing. This could open up possibilities for enhancing your quirk even further.”

Denki’s eyes widened. “Enhancing?”

Dr. Amano nodded. “If we can understand how your quirk functions on a deeper level, we might be able to develop ways for you to store even more energy or release it more precisely. But first, we need to test how your body reacts under different conditions. Are you ready for that?”

Denki hesitated, then nodded firmly. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good.” Dr. Amano’s smile returned, sharp and determined. “Let’s begin.”

Dr. Amano stepped back, and the nurses began adjusting the equipment around Denki. The air in the room seemed to hum with anticipation, and Denki couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. He had never gone through anything like this before, and the thought of pushing his limits was both exciting and terrifying.

“Okay, Kaminari-kun,” Dr. Amano said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I’m going to ask you to focus. I need you to concentrate on the energy you’re storing in your body. Try to gather it in one place. Just focus on the feeling of the electricity, like you’re about to release it.”

Denki nodded, clenching his fists as he closed his eyes. He could feel the familiar tingling sensation of the stored electricity inside him, like static buzzing beneath his skin. He focused, trying to push the energy into one concentrated spot.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Denki could hear his own breathing, slow and steady, as he continued to focus. He wasn’t sure what Dr. Amano was hoping for, but he could feel the electricity pooling in his fingertips, like a low, crackling hum.

“Good,” Dr. Amano’s voice cut through the silence. “Now, slowly start to release it. Just a little, no need to go all out.”

Denki’s breath quickened as he tried to release the energy slowly, focusing on controlling it. He felt the familiar surge of power move through his body, his hand beginning to spark with the excess energy. He kept his concentration tight, willing the electricity to stay contained, but it was harder than he expected.

The nurses watched closely, making sure everything was in place. Denki could hear one of them mutter something under their breath, but he couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t let the electricity spill out of control.

“Watch your threshold,” Dr. Amano said softly, her eyes scanning the readings on the monitor. “We don’t want to exceed it.”

Denki gritted his teeth, trying to push back the urge to unleash the energy all at once. The crackling at his fingertips intensified, but he managed to keep it contained. Sweat began to form on his forehead, and his muscles tensed as he fought to maintain control.

“Good,” Dr. Amano said after a tense moment. “That’s good, Kaminari-kun. You’re doing great.”

Denki finally let the electricity dissipate, feeling the tension in his body ease as the power faded. He opened his eyes, breathing heavily.

“That was... intense,” Denki muttered, still catching his breath.

Dr. Amano gave him a small, approving smile. “You did well. We’re getting closer to understanding the full extent of your abilities. You’re managing to control the energy far better than I expected.”

Denki wiped his brow, feeling a mix of relief and pride. “Thanks, Dr. Amano. I didn’t think I could hold it in for that long.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Kaminari-kun,” Dr. Amano replied. “You have potential. Now, we’ll continue with a few more tests, but I’m impressed with your progress.”

Denki nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment settle over him. The road ahead would be long, but with Dr. Amano’s guidance, he felt like he could handle whatever challenges came next.

As the nurses began preparing for the next round of tests, Denki couldn’t help but feel a little more confident about his quirk—and a lot more curious about what he’d be able to do with it in the future.

After a few rounds of testing, Denki felt drained. “How much electricity do you still have left?” Dr. Amano asked, her voice calm but expectant.

“About a thousand, I think?” Denki responded, his voice a little strained. “I usually have three thousand constantly stored in me, so it feels weird not having it all there anymore.”

Dr. Amano hummed thoughtfully, leading him to a lab table where a few mice were quietly sitting in small cages. “I want you to use your quirk to try and pinpoint where the electrical energy in their bodies is going,” she instructed, her tone sharp and focused.

Denki’s eyes widened as he glanced at the small lab table, where a few white mice were secured in small enclosures. Their beady eyes blinked up at him in curiosity.

“I’m not going to hurt them, right?” Denki asked, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. His quirk had always been a bit of a double-edged sword—powerful, but unpredictable. He wasn’t sure how it would affect these tiny creatures.

Dr. Amano, sensing his hesitation, reassured him with a calm smile. “No, you won’t. I just need you to observe how the electricity interacts with their bodies. You’ve demonstrated that you can control your energy, but now I need to see if you can locate where the energy flows.”

Denki nodded, still feeling a little unsure. He walked over to the table, his mind already focusing on the task at hand. His senses sharpened, and he could feel the residual electricity buzzing within him, though it was nowhere near as much as he was used to.

“Just try to relax and focus,” Dr. Amano instructed gently. “You’ve managed to pinpoint the energy in your own body. Now, see if you can sense it in the mice. We’re not asking you to discharge it, just to detect it.”

Denki took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The buzzing sensation inside him pulsed faintly, like an echo of what it had been when he was fully charged. He reached out with his mind, focusing on the subtle currents that might be flowing through the tiny animals.

At first, nothing happened. Then, just as he was about to pull back in frustration, he felt it—a faint hum, like a whisper of electricity, threading through the mice’s bodies. He focused harder, trying to hone in on where the energy was being directed.

The flow was subtle, moving through their muscles and limbs, but there was a slight shift in the way their nervous systems reacted. He could feel the electricity coursing through their tiny bodies, and the sensation was almost like tracing the path of a river through a narrow channel.

Denki slowly opened his eyes, glancing over at Dr. Amano. “I can... feel it,” he said, his voice a bit more awed than he’d intended. “It’s like a current running through them. It’s in their muscles, I think... maybe in their nervous system, too?”

Dr. Amano nodded, her eyes gleaming with approval. “Good. That’s a start. Now, let’s try something a bit more complex.”

Denki’s brow furrowed as she carefully lifted one of the mice out of its enclosure and placed it gently on the table. “We’re going to try to observe how the electricity behaves when the animal is under a bit of stress,” Dr. Amano explained. “I want you to see if you can sense any changes when its body reacts to external stimuli. Just a small shock will do.”

Denki’s gut churned. He didn’t like the idea of shocking the mouse, but he trusted Dr. Amano. “I’ll try.”

The nurse nearby adjusted some equipment, sending a very low-level electrical pulse into the mouse, just enough to make it flinch but not harm it.

Denki focused again, watching intently as the small creature’s body reacted. The electrical flow inside it shifted, speeding up for a brief moment, before settling again as the mouse calmed down. He could feel it, the electricity spiking in response to the shock, but then calming as the animal regained control.

“It’s like the current changes when they’re stressed,” Denki said softly, his eyes wide. “The flow’s faster... like a reaction to the shock.”

Dr. Amano observed the results carefully, making notes. “Exactly. That’s a good observation, Kaminari-kun. It’s important to understand how the electricity in a living body reacts to different stimuli, especially under stress.”

Denki nodded, though his thoughts were still spinning. “So, it’s like their body becomes a kind of conduit for the electricity?”

“Yes, in a way,” Dr. Amano explained. “What you’re sensing is similar to how your own body handles electricity—only in this case, it’s more of a natural reaction to external forces. We need to study how these reactions change over time and under different conditions, which is why you’re here. To understand the nuances of how your quirk functions in relation to the body.”

Denki’s mind buzzed with the new information. It was all a lot to take in, but he was starting to see the bigger picture. He wasn’t just here to understand his own quirk; he was learning how it interacted with living beings, how it could affect things in ways he hadn’t considered before.

“That makes sense,” Denki said, more to himself than anyone else. He looked down at the mouse, still quietly observing him. “It’s kind of like... finding the flow.”

Dr. Amano smiled. “Exactly. And understanding that flow will be key to controlling your power in the future.”

Denki’s thoughts were racing. There was so much more to his quirk than he’d ever imagined. And with Dr. Amano’s guidance, he was finally starting to understand how it all worked.

Denki’s voice was full of gratitude as he looked up at Dr. Amano. “Thank you so much for this opportunity!” His eyes shone with determination, despite the exhaustion still lingering in his muscles.

Chapter Text

School ended, and Summer break flew by in a blur. His thirteenth birthday came and went with little fanfare, overshadowed by his time at the hospital. Denki spent most of his days learning everything he could from Dr. Amano and the other doctors, who all had him playing catch-up.

Most of his hours were spent in the research lab, pouring over health science basics and medical terms. Denki wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry—he was basically taking supplementary classes instead of enjoying his break like a normal kid.

He sighed as he scribbled down the last answers on his actual summer homework. It had been sitting forgotten in the corner of his desk until now, and with school starting in less than a week, he’d barely made it in time.

Just thinking about going back to school made Denki want to bash his head against the desk. His mentorship had started in June, back when school was still in session, which meant he’d spent most of his weekends at the hospital. Then, as soon as summer break began, almost every other day was spent stuck there too.

And when he wasn’t in the hospital learning about things he barely understood, he was at home taking care of his siblings. His mom had to pick up a second job to keep up with the bills, leaving Denki to pick up the slack. It felt like his entire summer had disappeared before his eyes.

“Onii-chan?” Nari’s voice came through the door, softer than usual. “Are you busy?” There was a nervous edge to her words, something Denki immediately noticed. Since the accident, his little sister had changed. She used to be confident, always speaking her mind without hesitation, but now she seemed withdrawn—hesitant, like she was holding herself back.

Denki quickly answered, “Yeah, I’m free. You can come in.”

The door cracked open, and Nari slipped inside. She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, her eyes avoiding his. “Do you need anything?” he asked, with a raised brow.

“I was wondering if you could take me and Akio to the pool.”

Denki blinked. Nari hated the pool. Swimming wasn’t her thing like it was for Akio—she preferred running. “I thought you hated going to the pool?”

At the question, Nari flinched and avoided his gaze. Denki had a feeling he knew what was going on. “You want to spend time with Akio, don’t you?”

Nari hesitated before nodding slowly, her eyes still on the floor.

Denki hummed quietly. Ever since the accident, the relationship between Akio and Nari had been strained. He could see the tension between them, the way Akio held a quiet resentment that he couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard he pretended it didn’t bother him.

“Alright, you go get ready, and I’ll go tell Akio.”

Nari finally looked up at him, her face lighting up with a big smile. “Thank you, Onii-chan!”

Before Denki could say anything else, she threw her arms around him in a quick hug and then dashed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

Denki let out a tired sigh as he pushed himself up from his desk. Dragging his feet a little, he made his way to Akio’s room and knocked on the door.

“Akio, are you in there?”

“Give me a minute!” came the muffled reply.

Denki leaned against the wall, waiting patiently until the door finally creaked open. Akio peeked out at him, his hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. “Is it time for lunch yet?”

Denki raised an eyebrow, studying his younger brother as he stepped out and shut the door behind him. Something about Akio’s expression seemed more guarded than usual, but Denki decided to let it slide for now.

“Do you want to go to the pool today?” he asked casually.

Akio blinked at him, confused. Denki wasn’t exactly known for liking the pool—electricity and water weren’t exactly the best combo. Akio probably hadn’t been expecting the question.

“It’s pretty hot today,” Denki added, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “A pool trip sounds like a nice way to cool down.”

That seemed to do the trick because Akio’s eyes lit up. “Heck yeah! Let me go get ready!” he said, grinning before darting back into his room to grab his things.

Denki let out an amused huff, shaking his head as he turned to head back to his own room.

Nari fidgeted nervously with her hair as they made their way to the pool. It was only a five-minute walk from their house, so they arrived quickly. Akio wasted no time, rushing off to change into his swimsuit before diving straight into the water, leaving her and Denki alone.

Her older brother shook his head fondly at Akio’s antics, then headed off to find a spot to set down their things. He brightened as he spotted a group of friends and wandered over to talk to them.

Nari watched him from afar, quietly admiring him. It had always amazed her how easily Denki connected with others. He had a warmth about him—a natural friendliness that drew people in. Even though her quirk was light-based, she often thought Denki was the real light in their lives.

He carried them all, even as their world seemed to be falling apart. With their mom working constantly and barely at home, Denki shouldered everything—his mentorship at the hospital, taking care of her and Akio, and still somehow keeping a smile on his face. Nari couldn’t help but think about how different they were.

Unlike him, she always seemed to fade into the background.

“Nari, aren’t you getting in the pool?” Denki’s voice cut through her thoughts. He was smiling at her from where he stood with his friends.

She quickly straightened up, brushing off her doubts. “Yeah, I’m going to go change!” she called back before darting toward the locker rooms.

When she returned, now dressed in her swimsuit, she walked hesitantly to the pool’s edge.

She wasn’t like Akio, who swam effortlessly, a proud member of their school swim team. Swimming wasn’t her thing. Running? That was her world. She liked being grounded, her feet solidly on the earth. In water, she felt lost, adrift. The lack of direction unsettled her.

But seeing Akio in the pool, carefree and happy, she swallowed her fear. For today, it wasn’t about her—it was about them.

Denki turned his attention away from his siblings, finally just letting himself chat with his friends. It had been ages since he’d last had the chance to talk to other kids his age. Between the hospital, school, and taking care of Nari and Akio, his life felt like an endless cycle of responsibility.

His friends greeted him with easy smiles, and for a moment, he felt like a regular kid again. They joked around about the heat, teased each other about who could pull off the best dive, and shared updates on their summer breaks. One of them, Kaito, nudged him with a grin.

“Man, I haven’t seen you at the arcade in forever! You’ve been busy or what?”

Denki laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, something like that. I’ve had... a lot going on lately.”

Kaito gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. Another friend chimed in, steering the conversation toward lighter topics.

As Denki listened and laughed along, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. It was nice—normal, even—to be here, laughing and talking like nothing was wrong. But part of him couldn’t stop thinking about Nari and Akio. Was Nari okay? Did Akio notice how hard she was trying to repair their bond?

He shook the thoughts away and focused on the conversation, deciding to let himself enjoy this rare moment of peace. It wasn’t often he got to just... be a kid.

Denki didn’t even register what happened at first. One moment, he was sitting at the pool’s edge, lazily kicking his legs in the water while chatting with his friends. The next, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Akio and Nari—arguing.

Excusing himself quickly, he made his way over just in time to catch the last, gut-punching words.

“It’s all your fault Dad’s dead to begin with!”

“Don’t say that! Daddy isn’t dead!”

“He might as well be! If you hadn’t begged to go to the park that day, he’d be alive and happy! Mom wouldn’t have to work two jobs just to keep us afloat, and Denki wouldn’t be so stressed all the time!”

Denki froze. A part of him had seen this coming, had expected this fight to happen sooner or later—but expecting it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Akio’s whole face was red, the water around him hissing as it let off steam. Nari’s eyes glowed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Denki didn’t hesitate. Before either of them could take this any further, he swam between them, cutting the tension before it could snap.

“That’s enough.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Akio and Nari both flinched, their anger momentarily overshadowed by the sheer weight of Denki’s presence. Nari’s glowing eyes dimmed, her body trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself. Akio turned his face away, jaw clenched, steam still curling off the surface of the pool.

The silence stretched uncomfortably before Akio let out a bitter scoff and pulled himself out of the water. “Whatever.” He grabbed his towel and sandals and stomped off toward the changing rooms, leaving a damp trail behind him.

Nari sniffled, her lip wobbling as she looked at Denki, eyes silently begging for some kind of reassurance.

Denki exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Nari, go get changed. We’re going home.”

She hesitated but eventually nodded, wiping her eyes before trudging toward the locker rooms.

Denki stayed in the pool for a moment, dragging a hand down his face. The cool water lapped at his chest, but he didn’t feel any relief from it. He had known things were rough between them, but this?

This was worse than he thought.

His siblings were falling apart, and he had no idea how to put them back together.

"You good, dude?" Kaito asked, and Denki winced when he realized all his friends were looking at him with the same worried expression.

Denki let out a tired sigh. "I honestly don’t even know anymore, man. I knew it was coming, but it still sucks."

Kaito hummed in thought, then stepped to the edge of the pool as Denki swam over. "You need a break," he said simply. "Come with us to the arcade on Sunday. Let’s end summer with a bang."

Denki hesitated, the weight of responsibility creeping in. He hadn’t done anything fun in ages—his entire summer had been swallowed up by working at the hospital, and taking care of his siblings. But then he remembered—his mom would be home on Sunday. For once, they wouldn’t be alone.

He bit his lip, then exhaled. "I... yeah. Yeah, let’s do it."

Kaito grinned. "That’s the spirit! I’ll text you the details."

Denki stepped into the arcade, immediately relaxing at the familiar sights and sounds. The flashing lights, the upbeat music, the distant sounds of game machines spitting out tickets—it was like stepping back in time. He couldn’t help but reminisce about last summer, when he and his friends had practically lived here, wasting entire afternoons on claw machines and racing games.

Before he could get too lost in his memories, a voice called out to him.

“Denki, you made it!”

He turned just in time to see Kaito jogging over, grinning ear to ear.

“Here,” Kaito said, handing him an arcade credit card. “There are five hundred tickets loaded on it. We’re competing with the other guys to see who can rack up the most points! Whichever team wins, the losers have to pool all their points together and buy the winners whatever they want. Fun, right?”

Denki blinked, processing the challenge. Then, despite himself, he smirked. “Oh, we're going to decimate them.”

Denki and Kaito made their way through the arcade, hopping from one game to the next. They played everything—from racing simulators to rhythm games to that one punching bag machine Kaito insisted would “test their strength” (Denki’s score was embarrassingly low compared to Kaito’s). By the time their arcade card finally ran out of points, they were both breathless with excitement, waiting for the others to return and see who had won.

It was close. Way too close.

Their team had won by just ten points.

"Up top, man!" Kaito grinned, raising his hand. Denki high-fived him, still buzzing from the competition.

Since they had agreed to split their winnings, Denki ended up with eight hundred and thirty-six points to spend. He scanned the prize wall, his eyes immediately locking onto something perfect—a Pikachu-themed Game Boy.

Seven hundred tickets.

Without hesitation, he exchanged his points for it, grinning as he held up his prize. With the last of his tickets, he stocked up on candy and, feeling generous, shared it with the rest of their friends.

By the end of the day, Denki felt like a normal kid again.

School was back in full swing, and Denki’s days had fallen into a relentless cycle—wake up early, help his siblings get ready for school, rush them to the bus, getting through his own classes, take them home, and then head straight to the hospital. Rinse and repeat.

Before summer break, he had only spent his weekends at the hospital, but during the break, everything had intensified. He had finally ‘graduated’ from just studying health science to actively shadowing Dr. Amano, who explained increasingly complex medical concepts to him.

When she was busy, he was sent to different departments to observe and learn how the hospital operated on a broader scale.

It was exhilarating—but also completely exhausting.

His weekends weren’t any easier. Every Saturday, he was taken to a research-based college, where he was tasked with using his Quirk to heal minor wounds on animals. At first, he was terrified that he might accidentally hurt them, but Yuto-san reassured him that there were experts ready to intervene if anything went wrong.

Thankfully, they soon discovered that the animals didn’t feel much pain during the healing process. They shifted uncomfortably but didn’t seem distressed. In fact, they appeared to gain a boost of energy afterward.

“That makes sense,” one of the researchers had noted. “You’re pouring electric energy into them—it works kind of like electrolytes, but without the risk of throwing off their internal balance.”

Denki had nodded, scribbling the explanation into his notes.

Another thing he had learned—though in hindsight, it should have been obvious—was that healing didn’t require large amounts of electricity. In fact, it took far less than he had originally expected. Before he was even allowed near the animals, he had to spend weeks learning how to release minuscule amounts of energy. It had been a painstaking process, but eventually, he had managed to control his output down to the tens of volts.

As his control improved, so did his capacity. Under careful supervision, he was trained to absorb larger amounts of electricity, increasing his threshold bit by bit. Now, he could comfortably store up to one hundred thousand volts.

“With the way things are going,” Dr. Haruka had commented, “you just might be able to store around two million volts by the time you get to U.A.”

That should have been exciting news. It was exciting news. But it was getting harder and harder to feel that excitement through the haze of exhaustion.

Balancing school, mentorship, and his responsibilities at home was wearing him thin. He didn’t get home until nine at night, and even then, he still had to cook dinner, help his siblings with their homework, and finish his own assignments. His mother was barely ever home anymore, working extra shifts to keep them afloat, leaving Denki to pick up the slack.

It was too much.

Everything came to a head in November when Denki passed out during lunch period.

He didn’t remember much of the day itself—just flashes, bits and pieces that didn’t quite fit together. He knew it had been thundering outside, which was already bad news for people with electric quirks. The air had been thick with static, and he could feel the electricity humming all around him, flowing through everything, making his whole body buzz uncomfortably.

It was hard to focus. Everything felt too loud in a way that had nothing to do with sound. The storm outside, the hum of power in the walls, the way his own nerves felt like they were running too hot—it was all too much.

He remembered sitting at his usual table, Kaito saying something to him, but the words didn’t quite reach his brain. Then, there was a sharp jolt—his body seizing up, the sense of the world tilting sideways, the floor rushing up to meet him.

Then nothing.

When he woke up, he was in the nurse’s office, head pounding, body sluggish. His entire body felt like lead, and for a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. But then the voices filtered in—his teacher, the school nurse, someone on the phone.

His mom was at work. Again.

The exhaustion that had been creeping up on him for months had finally won. He had been running on fumes for so long—juggling school, his mentorship, training his quirk, taking care of his siblings, handling the house, everything—that his body just gave out.

The nurse told him he needed to rest, that this wasn’t just a one-time thing. His teachers had apparently noticed how much he had been struggling too, and by the time his mom actually made it to the school, the decision had already been made.

Denki was switching to online school.

At first, he fought it—insisted that he could handle it, that he’d just been tired that day—but no one was buying it. Even Dr. Amano, who had been nothing but supportive, agreed that this was for the best.

So, just like that, everything changed. No more waking up early to catch the bus. No more sitting through long, exhausting school days only to rush to the hospital after. His classes moved online, giving him a more flexible schedule.

It should’ve felt like a relief.

But all Denki could think about was how isolated it made him feel.

Christmas was horrible.

The whole day had been eerily quiet, like even the house itself knew something was missing. Their mother was, once again, nowhere to be found. She had left early in the morning, leaving behind only a neatly folded stack of bills and a note telling them to go out to eat if they wanted. That was it. No presents, no decorations, no attempt at making the day feel even a little special.

It was their first Christmas without their dad, and she wasn’t even there to help soothe the ache of it.

Denki sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked over at his siblings. Nari was curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV without really watching, while Akio sat on the floor, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. The weight of the silence pressed down on all of them.

Denki exhaled sharply and clapped his hands together, forcing some energy into his voice. “Alright, we’re not just gonna sit here and mope. We’ve got a whole day ahead of us, and I say we make the most of it.”

Nari and Akio looked at him, both uncertain, but neither argued.

Denki grinned, determined. If their mom wasn’t going to be here to make things feel normal, then he’d just have to do it himself.

“I’ve been saving some money, so why don’t we go to the mall and shop around for a bit?”

Nari and Akio exchanged hesitant glances. Denki could see the doubt in their eyes—the lingering disappointment, the weight of a Christmas morning spent in silence. But after a moment, they both nodded.

Denki clapped his hands together, pushing past the heavy feeling in his chest. “Alright then, go put on your coats! We’re going shopping!”

Akio perked up first, already heading to grab his shoes. Nari followed more slowly, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t much, but Denki would take it. If their mom wasn’t going to make the day special, then he’d just have to do it himself.

Shopping had been a success! His siblings seemed lighter by the time they were done, their earlier gloom replaced with excitement as they showed off their little finds. Denki counted that as a win.

Once they got home, he made them all some hot cocoa—extra marshmallows, just the way they liked it. They spent the rest of the night bundled up on the couch, watching the cheesiest Christmas movies they could find.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Denki glanced down at his siblings, both of them curled up against him, fast asleep midway through their third movie. He let out a quiet sigh, careful not to wake them. This was their first Christmas without their dad. Their first Christmas without either parent.

Denki swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned his head back against the couch.

Next year will be different, he told himself. Next year, dad will be back.

With that thought, he closed his eyes and let the warmth of the room and the steady sound of his siblings’ breathing lull him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Denki was honestly just minding his own business. Ever since switching to online schooling, his schedule had completely changed. With more flexibility, he was able to spend even more time at the hospital, and his mentorship had officially turned into a paid internship.

It wasn’t a huge paycheck, but it was something. Instead of just five-hour shifts, he now worked nearly eight hours a day—clocking in at eight in the morning and staying until three in the afternoon. When he got home, he tackled his online classes. Thankfully, he had already completed all his extracurricular requirements, so he only had to focus on the main five: History, Science, Math, Reading, and English.

It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible either. His classes only took about three hours a day, which meant he was usually done by six in the evening. That left him with nearly five whole hours to himself. Plus, now that his internship was official, he actually got weekends off—no more dragging himself to the hospital on Saturdays and Sundays.

Now, back to Denki minding his own business.

He didn’t think of himself as a nosy person. Not really. He was just… curious. It was a natural trait! So when he heard weird noises coming from one of the storage closets, he obviously had to check it out. For security reasons, of course.

And that’s how Denki Kaminari—medically inclined, academically responsible, model intern—ended up almost walking in on two nurses getting it on in a freaking hospital storage closet.

Denki felt horrified. What they were doing broke so many OSHA regulations it wasn’t even funny. And forget just hospital policy—this was a complete violation of their oaths as medical professionals.

His stomach twisted when he took in his surroundings. Of all the places, they had chosen this closet—the one filled with freshly decontaminated medical equipment. Sterilized tools that would be used on actual patients.

Denki clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to suppress the wave of nausea creeping up his throat. This wasn’t just gross—it was dangerous.

He needed to tell someone.

These people were selfish—so wrapped up in their own recklessness that they were compromising the safety of countless patients. And not only that, they were on active duty. If a patient needed help—if someone got hurt, or God forbid died while these two were busy breaking every health code in existence—the hospital would get sued into the ground.

Denki had moved fast. He’d found Dr. Amano, given her the rundown in record time, and watched as she stormed down the hall like a wrathful goddess descending upon her unfortunate targets.

To say she was furious would be an understatement.

She ripped the supply closet door open, and before the two nurses could even process what was happening, she dragged them out by the collars of their scrubs.

“Do you think this is some kind of medical drama?” she snapped, her voice like a whip crack in the sterile hallway. “What you did wasn’t just foolish—it was borderline illegal. I should have you both fired on the spot.”

The two nurses froze like deer in headlights. The male nurse opened his mouth, probably to stammer out some excuse, but Dr. Amano’s glare cut him off before he could get a single word out.

“What if a patient had died while you two were gallivanting in a closet filled with highly important medical equipment? Do you even realize the gravity of your situation?”

The female nurse swallowed hard, her face pale. “We—we didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” Dr. Amano’s voice rose, the sharp edge of her anger slicing through every syllable. “You didn’t mean to abandon your stations during rush hour? You didn’t mean to leave sterile supplies contaminated because you couldn’t keep your personal lives out of this hospital?” She took a step forward, her white coat billowing slightly. “Can you not hear yourselves?”

The male nurse was staring at his shoes now, while the female nurse looked like she was about to cry.

Dr. Amano let out a slow breath through her nose, then jabbed a finger toward the closet. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to scrub down every surface in there and resterilize every single piece of equipment. Twice. And you’re both on probation—effective immediately. One more slip-up, and you’re gone.”

The male nurse finally managed to croak out, “Yes, Dr. Amano. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” she said, voice flat with finality. “Now get back to work. And I don’t want to hear so much as a whisper about this ever again. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Dr. Amano,” they both mumbled, scurrying away like chastised schoolchildren.

Denki, who had been watching the whole thing silently beside her, slowly let out the breath he’d been holding.

Dr. Amano sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before muttering, “You’d think they’d teach them not to make such idiotic mistakes in medical school.”

Denki, still trying to process what he just witnessed, blinked. “...Should I start keeping a spray bottle in my locker? Y’know. In case this happens again.”

Dr. Amano gave him a long, long look before sighing again. “You might be onto something, Kaminari-kun.”

Denki had racked up a solid stack of certifications. Basic First Aid, CPR and AED, Stop the Bleed, and even Wilderness First Aid. At this rate, he was probably more qualified than half the people who panicked during emergencies.

“You can never be too careful,” Dr. Miho said as she adjusted the training dummy in front of him. “Now, pay attention. Infant and Child CPR is a little different, and I will make you redo it if you get sloppy.”

Denki nodded, focusing. He had a feeling she would make him redo it—probably twice—but honestly, he didn’t mind. The more he knew, the better.

Denki took a deep breath, trying to push down his nerves. This is fine. You’ve studied, you’ve trained, you’re ready. Still, the thought of working on a real patient made his hands tremble just a little.

Yuto-san must have noticed because he gently patted Denki’s shoulder. Instantly, a wave of calm washed over him, like a warm blanket settling over his nerves.

“Don’t be so high-strung, Kaminari-kun,” Yuto-san said with an easy smile.

Denki sighed in relief. If he were being honest, he really liked Yuto-san’s quirk. The ability to help people relax with just a touch? That was practically a superpower in a high-stress environment like a hospital. The only downside was that it couldn’t be used too often on the same person—apparently, it was way too easy to get addicted to the feeling.

“I promise, it’s just an outpatient with some minor bruises and cuts,” Yuto-san continued cheerfully as he withdrew his hand.

Denki silently mourned the loss of contact before quickly falling into step beside him.

Yuto-san knocked lightly before pushing open the door. “Good afternoon,” he greeted with a warm smile. “My name is Yuto Hashimoto, and I’ll be your nurse today. This is Kaminari Denki, one of our interns. Would you be comfortable with him assisting in your treatment?”

The boy sitting on the hospital bed looked about Denki’s age, maybe a little older. He had messy purple hair, tired-looking violet eyes, and the kind of eyebags that screamed chronic sleep deprivation. He blinked at them before shrugging. “Uh, sure,” he rasped.

Yuto-san nodded approvingly and gestured for Denki to step forward. “Alright, Kaminari-kun, take the lead.”

Denki took a steadying breath before offering the patient a reassuring smile. “Hello, my name’s Kaminari Denki, and I’ll be helping out with your care today. Can you tell me your name and date of birth?”

The boy scratched the back of his head. “Shinso Hitoshi. July 1st, ####.”

Denki glanced at the chart to confirm. “Perfect. Now, can you tell me the date and where we are?”

Shinso’s brow furrowed slightly, but he answered without hesitation. “March 21st, and we’re in a hospital.”

Denki nodded. So far, so good. “And do you know why you’re here today?”

Shinso exhaled through his nose, expression unreadable. “To get some cuts cleaned and wrapped.”

Denki didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered to the side, like he was debating saying more. Instead of pushing, Denki simply moved on. “That’s right. Can you tell me how you got these injuries?”

Shinso hesitated before finally muttering, “Some guys didn’t like me very much.”

Denki’s grip tightened slightly on the chart. He wasn’t in a position to pry, but the bitter edge in Shinso’s voice made something in his chest ache. Still, that was something for the doctors—or possibly a social worker—to handle. Right now, his job was to focus on treatment.

“Alright,” Denki said gently, setting down the clipboard. “I’m gonna start by disinfecting the cuts. It might sting a little, okay?”

Shinso gave a lazy thumbs-up. “Go for it.”

Denki worked quickly but carefully, wiping down each wound with antiseptic. Shinso barely flinched, though he did let out a quiet hiss.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he muttered.

Denki smirked. “Thanks, I try.”

Once everything was cleaned, Denki grabbed the bandages and started wrapping the cuts with steady hands. When he was satisfied with his work, he stepped back. “All done. How’s that feel?”

Shinso flexed his fingers, testing the bandages before nodding. “Not bad.”

Yuto-san beamed. “Great job, Kaminari-kun.” He turned to Shinso. “If you notice any swelling, irritation, or worsening pain, make sure to come back, alright?”

Shinso nodded. “Got it.”

Denki felt a small surge of pride as he gathered the supplies. His first real patient, and he hadn’t messed up. Maybe—just maybe—he was actually getting the hang of this.

Shinso had become a regular at the hospital, which was both good and bad. On one hand, Denki liked seeing him—it was refreshing to talk to someone his age. His friends were still around, of course, but their schedules didn’t always line up. While they were stuck in school, he was working at the hospital, meaning they only really got to hang out on weekends.

On the other hand, being a frequent patient was a red flag. A big one.

Denki frowned as he carefully dabbed disinfectant onto yet another cut on Shinso’s arm. This one was worse than usual. Deeper. He exhaled sharply. “You’re gonna need stitches.”

Shinso hummed like it was just another Tuesday.

“The cut’s too deep for me to just wrap it up like usual,” Denki continued, already cleaning up his workstation. “I’ll go grab one of the nurses.”

He turned to leave, but Shinso’s voice stopped him. “You’re not going to do it yourself?”

Denki glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. There was something that almost sounded like disappointment in Shinso’s tone.

Denki chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t do it unsupervised.”

Shinso sighed dramatically. “Lame.”

Denki smirked. “Sorry to disappoint, dude, but I like my job. And I don’t think Dr. Amano would be too happy if I went rogue and started stitching people up on my own.”

Shinso snorted. “Yeah, I’d pay to see her reaction to that.”

Denki laughed as he headed toward the door. “Hold that thought—I’ll be right back with someone who is allowed to stab you with a needle.”

Denki grabbed a nurse and they were able to quickly get Shinso stitched up.

Denki glanced down at his notes, flipping through pages filled with observations, treatment steps, and the occasional doodle when things got slow. He had spent the past month shadowing Dr. Masaki in the outpatient department, and if there was one thing he had learned, it was that people came in for the strangest reasons.

There was the guy who had somehow managed to superglue his fingers together and to his phone. Another patient came in convinced they had a deadly illness—turns out they just ate too much spicy ramen. And then there was the lady who demanded an X-ray because she ‘felt like’ her bones were shifting inside her.

But no matter how many bizarre cases he saw, Denki’s thoughts kept circling back to Shinso.

He was sure now—Shinso was being bullied, if not worse.

Denki had taken his concerns to Dr. Miho. If anyone could pick out an abused child from a sea of patients, it was her. She agreed to shadow him during one of Shinso’s check-ups, playing it off as a routine evaluation when Shinso asked why she was there.

Shinso had believed it—at least, he didn’t question it too much—but Denki noticed how his walls went up the moment she entered the room. He became more closed off, only speaking when spoken to, his usual dry humor completely absent.

Afterward, Dr. Miho didn’t even hesitate. “There are too many red flags. Something’s going on, either at home or at school.”

Denki clenched his jaw. He had suspected it, but hearing it confirmed made it all feel heavier.

Now the real question was—what could they do about it?

Denki sat stiffly, gripping his chopsticks as Dr. Masaki’s words settled over him like a heavy blanket.

"You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

He knew that. He knew he was getting too attached—too quickly, too recklessly. If he kept this up, they’d probably reassign Shinso to someone else, and the thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Dr. Masaki’s wings fluttered slightly as he continued, his expression unreadable. “Sending in a wellness check is the most logical step. Given how often Shinso comes in, it wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

Denki bit his lip. “But… what if it makes things worse? What if—what if Shinso finds out it was because of me, and—and—”

A warm hand landed on his shoulder.

Denki exhaled, his entire body relaxing almost instantly. The tension melted out of his muscles, the buzzing anxiety in his chest fading to something softer, something manageable.

Yuto-san withdrew his hand just as quickly, his expression gentle but firm. “You’re overthinking it, Kaminari-kun.”

Denki nodded, still feeling a little floaty from the lingering effects of Yuto-san’s quirk. But Dr. Masaki’s next words brought him crashing back down.

“You have to learn where to draw the line between your personal feelings and what’s best for the patient,” he said curtly. “We’re here to help people, but we can’t let emotions override logic. It’s a tightrope you have to learn to walk.”

Denki flinched but said nothing, staring down at his lunch. He felt stupid, like some naïve kid playing doctor.

Yuto-san’s voice was softer when he spoke. “It’s alright, Kaminari-kun. We’re all human, and it would be a problem if we couldn’t empathize with our patients. But we also have to be careful.”

Dr. Masaki nodded. “We look at the facts. We take the patient’s feelings and wants into consideration. But at the end of the day, our job is to do what’s best for them, even if it’s hard.”

Denki swallowed hard and nodded. He wasn’t sure he was ready to walk that tightrope, but if he wanted to stay in this field—if he wanted to help—he had to try.

Because at the end of the day, it wasn’t about what he wanted—it was about what was best for Shinso.

Even if that meant betraying him. He could live with the guilt as long as Shinso was able to get the help he needed.

It was going to take a while before the wellness check happened—bureaucracy was slow, and the legal process was a mess. To keep himself from dwelling on it, Denki threw himself into his studies. He was working toward his healer’s license, which was long overdue. He’d started with a training license when he first entered the mentorship program, but that had been a year ago. Now that he was officially assisting with patients, he needed the full certification to legally use his quirk for medical purposes.

But then, a wrench got thrown into his plans.

“You haven’t updated my quirk classification papers?” Denki asked, blinking in confusion.

Dr. Amano simply nodded.

“Why, though?”

“We were waiting for you to have better control over your quirk before we did it.” Her answer was smooth, even rehearsed, but something about it felt off.

Denki frowned. “You’re not telling me something.” He narrowed his eyes, watching her closely.

Dr. Amano exhaled slowly, rubbing her forehead. “…You’re right. We haven’t told you everything.”

Denki tilted his head. “Then what is it?”

She hesitated. Then, finally, she met his gaze and said, “The Hero Commission.”

His stomach twisted.

“The Hero Commission?” he echoed, not understanding why that was a problem. “I don’t get it. Wouldn’t working with them be a good thing? They have resources, connections—”

“You don’t work with the Commission, Denki.” Dr. Amano’s voice was firm, her expression unreadable. “You belong to them.”

A cold chill ran down his spine.

“They’ll come to you with an offer that sounds perfect,” she continued. “The chance to change the world. Funding. Research. Recognition.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “But once you’re in, you don’t get to say no. You don’t get to leave. They will own you.”

Denki swallowed hard. “…That’s illegal. Right?”

Dr. Amano let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You think that matters?”

His throat tightened. The Commission was supposed to handle regulations, paperwork, logistics—it was background noise. Sure, they were powerful, but not like this. Not…this.

Dr. Amano stepped forward, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Denki, you have something valuable—something they cannot ignore.” Her grip tightened slightly, grounding him. “And that means they will come for you.”

She looked him directly in the eyes, her voice quiet but unwavering.

“When they do, you say no. And then you call me.”

Denki nodded slowly, his heart pounding.

He had spent so much time focused on mastering his quirk, proving himself, becoming someone who could save lives.

But now…

Now he had to make sure no one took his life away from him first.

But Denki’s resolve didn’t waver. He clenched his fists and looked Dr. Amano in the eye.

“I want my license, Dr. Amano. More than anything.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “You guys keep saying my quirk is special—that it could revolutionize the medical field. But how is that ever going to happen if I can’t even legally heal a patient?”

He knew he was pushing it, but he had to. If he couldn’t even use his quirk to heal a simple cut, how was he ever supposed to heal his father?

Dr. Amano was silent for a moment, watching him carefully. Then, to his surprise, she let out a low chuckle.

Denki blinked. “Uh…?”

He had expected an immediate rejection, had prepared to argue his case, to plead if he had to. But instead, she just… sighed, a strange sort of fondness in her expression.

“I guess it’s time for you to leave the nest, huh,” she murmured, shaking her head.

Denki wasn’t sure what to say to that, but before he could try, she gave him a small smile.

“Alright, Kaminari-kun. I’ll get your quirk certification changed and help you get your proper healer’s license.”

For a moment, Denki just stared at her, almost not believing what he’d heard. Then, finally, the weight of her words settled in, and he grinned.

This was it. The next step.

He was going to do this.

Denki gaped up at the towering U.A. building, his heart pounding in his chest. He was here. In front of his dream school.

"Are you coming, boy, or are you just going to keep gaping out the car window?"

Dr. Amano’s dry voice snapped him out of his trance. He quickly scrambled out of the car, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed to catch up. She, of course, was already striding ahead, effortlessly scanning her visitor’s ID at the gate.

It was midday on a Tuesday, which meant students were scattered around the campus, eating lunch and chatting. As they walked through the courtyard, a few students turned to glance at them, curiosity flickering across their faces.

Denki felt their gazes lingering for a moment, but just as quickly, they lost interest and returned to their conversations.

Well. That was a little anticlimactic.

Still, his stomach churned with excitement. He was actually here.

Dr. Amano knocked briskly on the door.

"Come in!"

Denki followed her inside, only to be greeted by the sight of… a rat? A bear? A— something perched atop a chair.

"Dr. Amano! You're just on time," the small chimera-like creature said cheerfully.

Right. Principal Nezu. Denki had heard plenty about him, but seeing him in person was… an experience.

On one of the couches sat an older woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform. Denki’s eyes lingered on her, suspicion creeping in.

Was that—?

It had to be.

Recovery Girl. The legend herself.

“Please, take a seat,” Nezu gestured, and Denki quickly slid into the seat beside Dr. Amano, resisting the urge to fidget.

He was pretty sure Recovery Girl was watching him. Or maybe he was imagining it. Either way, he had a feeling today was going to be very interesting.

Dr. Amano accepted the cup of tea with a nod before setting it aside. “Let’s cut to the chase,” she said smoothly. “This is my apprentice, Kaminari Denki. He has a healing quirk that was misclassified.”

She reached into her bag, pulling out a folder and handing it over to Nezu. “Here are his quirk documents.”

Nezu skimmed through the documents before glancing up at them, his expression unreadable. “It says here that your quirk allows you to store electricity and discharge it, covering your body in it, as well as projecting it over a distance. Is that correct?”

Denki nodded.

Dr. Amano stepped in smoothly. “Recently, we’ve discovered that Kaminari-kun’s quirk also enables him to manipulate and regenerate cellular nerves by converting absorbed electrical energy into a form he can use to heal.”

There it was—that familiar look. Both Nezu and Recovery Girl studied him with the same mixture of intrigue and disbelief that everyone had when they first heard the full extent of his ability. Denki shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny.

“Fascinating,” Nezu murmured, setting the file down. “Have you tested the full extent of this ability yet?”

“We’ve had him healing injured animals under strict supervision,” Dr. Amano replied. “The animals show no signs of pain, just brief moments of discomfort, but the wounds heal fully with barely any scarring.”

“No human testing yet?” Recovery Girl asked, her voice calm but probing.

Denki shook his head, “I’ve been interning under Dr. Amano, learning proper medical procedures. I only started helping with patients earlier this year, focusing on minor ailments. I’ve completed all the necessary certifications for basic health care, and I’m ready to take the next step—getting my healer license so I can legally use my quirk to heal people.”

Nezu nodded thoughtfully, his sharp eyes studying Denki. “That’s understandable,” he said. “But I must ask, what is your motive for bringing him here?”

Denki shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of the question. The room seemed to grow heavier with the tension, and for a moment, he struggled to find his words.

Dr. Amano didn’t hesitate. “I brought him here because I don’t want the Hero Commission getting their hands on him,” she said, her voice unwavering. “There’s only so much I can do on my own. But if he had UA’s backing, it would be much harder for the Hero Commission to interfere.”

Denki exhaled in relief as Dr. Amano took control of the situation. Even though he had hoped to come here, the reality of what it meant still felt overwhelming. The last thing he wanted was to be at the mercy of the Commission.

Nezu’s expression grew pensive as Dr. Amano’s words settled into the room. He crossed his arms and studied Denki carefully, his tone measured. “The Hero Commission is not a force to be underestimated, especially when it comes to quirks as rare and powerful as yours,” he said slowly. “Your potential is undeniable. If they were to learn about your abilities, you’d be at risk. However, the protection of UA might be exactly what you need.”

Denki felt the weight of the situation settle in, a strange blend of relief and anxiety flooding him. UA was everything he’d dreamed of, but the path ahead seemed fraught with complications. He opened his mouth to respond, but Dr. Amano spoke before he could.

“You see, Kaminari-kun, we’ve been facing some legal challenges with allowing you to treat patients at the hospital without full certification,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “We can’t legally let you use your quirk on patients without the proper qualifications. There are concerns about potential lawsuits if something goes wrong.”

Recovery Girl, who had been silent up until now, studied Denki for a moment. Her thoughtful gaze softened as she finally spoke. “You could enroll at UA,” she suggested. “We have a Healer Hero program, though it's rarely used because healing quirks are so uncommon. This could bypass the restrictions Dr. Amano is worried about. You’d gain hands-on experience in a more structured environment, and you’d learn how to use your quirk responsibly while also ensuring the safety of both you and your patients.”

Denki blinked, unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him. “Wait, really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Really,” Recovery Girl confirmed with a kind smile. “I’d be happy to take you under my wing. You’d assist with healing, and under my guidance, you’d gain the experience you need, all while being supervised at every step. No more worrying about legal complications.”

Denki felt his heart race, the weight of the opportunity slowly sinking in. Not only would he be able to continue learning, but this would also give him the hands-on experience he desperately needed without the legal hurdles holding him back. His throat tightened as he tried to process everything.

Nezu nodded, sensing Denki’s growing excitement. “This plan would allow you to attend UA a full year earlier than originally expected,” he added. “You’d be in a four-year program, with the ultimate goal of graduating as a fully certified Hero Medic. We’ll provide you with the medical knowledge, experience, and the backing of UA to ensure you’re fully prepared for your future.”

Denki could barely contain his excitement now. This was everything he had ever wanted—not just to be a hero, but to use his ability to help people in a way that could truly change the medical field. The thought of what the Hero Commission could do still loomed over him, but with UA behind him, he felt like he finally had a fighting chance.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Denki stammered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and awe. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted. I just don’t know how I could ever repay all of you for this.”

Dr. Amano gave him an encouraging smile. “You can repay us by doing your best, Kaminari-kun. By giving it your all. We believe in you—you’ve earned this.”

Recovery Girl leaned back in her chair, folding her hands across her lap. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll make sure you’re fully prepared for whatever comes next. Now, let’s make this official, shall we?”

Denki’s nervous grin matched the excitement bubbling inside him. “Yeah… let’s do it.”

Chapter Text

Akio knew, at least in theory, that what he was planning to do was a crime. He understood the risks, but that didn’t stop him from digging into every resource he could find on vigilantes. The deeper he went, the more certain he became—this was something he wanted to do. He’d learned the hard way that heroes couldn’t always be trusted.

Akio wasn’t naive, though. He was top of his class for a reason, and he understood he couldn’t just jump into vigilantism without expecting to get himself killed. He needed to prepare. Thankfully, his school, being the high-end institution funded by the Hero Commission, provided resources to help students develop their quirks and build their physical skills. The school constantly pushed the idea that quirks weren’t everything—you couldn’t rely on them alone without proper training.

So, Akio decided to join the self-defense/martial arts program his school offered.

Getting into the program was surprisingly easy. All he had to do was pass a psych evaluation (the school even covered the cost), maintain decent grades (which was no problem for the top student in his class), and have no more than one strike on his record. Akio wasn’t the type to pick fights or cause trouble, so his spotless record worked in his favor. Before long, he was approved and ready to start.

It took Akio a year and six months to feel fully confident in his martial arts skills. Tonight, he was finally going to put them to the test.

With the little allowance he had, he had carefully gathered everything he needed. Now, it was time.

Before leaving, he did a quick check on his siblings, making sure they were both sound asleep. Satisfied, he took a steady breath, steeling himself. Then, with practiced ease, he slipped out through his window and into the night.

The city at night was different—quieter in some places, louder in others. The neon glow of streetlights cast flickering shadows against cracked pavement, and the distant hum of traffic filled the air. Akio moved through the back alleys, keeping to the darkness, his heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Tonight, he was going to make a difference.

He adjusted the mask over his face, a simple cloth piece that covered the lower half, and tightened his gloves. His fingers twitched with anticipation. This was it. No more waiting. No more training in secret. It was time to put his quirk to real use.

The first sign of trouble came from a side street—a sharp yelp, followed by a muffled curse. Akio slowed his steps, pressing himself against the cold brick of a building as he peeked around the corner.

A group of three men had surrounded someone—a young woman, probably in her twenties. She was clutching her purse, her back against the wall, eyes darting between them.

Akio exhaled slowly, steadying himself. Alright. First fight.

He stepped into the light, his voice carrying just enough edge to cut through the tense air. “Hey. Back off.”

The three men turned, and for a moment, there was silence before one of them—a burly guy with a nasty-looking scar down his jaw—laughed. “You lost, kid?”

Akio didn’t answer. Instead, he clenched his fists, pulling in the warmth from the nearby street lamp, from the heat still trapped in the pavement from the day’s sun. He felt it rush into his core, spreading through his veins like wildfire.

Then, with a sharp exhale, he ignited.

Flames curled around his arms, bright and flickering, casting an eerie glow against the walls. The men stiffened, their cocky grins fading into something more wary.

“Oh, shit—his quirk is fire related,” one of them muttered, taking a step back.

Akio smirked behind his mask. “Yeah. And you’ve got three seconds to walk away before I start using it.”

Scar Jaw wasn’t having it. “Tch—get him!”

The first guy lunged, a metal pipe in hand. Akio ducked low, feeling the rush of air as it swung over his head. In a swift motion, he twisted, heat surging through his arm as he sent a controlled burst of flame toward the attacker’s feet. The man yelped, jumping back as the fire licked at his shoes.

The second thug tried to come from the side, but Akio was faster. He pivoted, raising his hand, and flames exploded outward in a blinding arc. It didn’t touch them—he wasn’t reckless enough to burn someone outright—but it was enough to force them back, shielding their faces from the sudden burst of heat.

The last guy, Scar Jaw, pulled a knife, his stance shifting. He was smarter than the others, waiting for an opening.

Akio didn’t give him one.

He surged forward, his foot slamming into the thug’s stomach before he could react. The man staggered, and Akio grabbed his wrist, heat radiating from his palm just enough to make him drop the knife with a pained hiss.

Scar Jaw cursed, stumbling back. “Fucking hell—”

Akio took a step forward, flames swirling higher around his fists. “Try anything else, and next time? I won’t hold back.”

The three hesitated—then, wisely, ran.

Akio stood there for a moment, flames still crackling softly around his hands, his breath heavy. Then he turned to the woman. “You okay?”

She stared at him, eyes wide with shock and something like awe. “Y-Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” Akio took a step back, the fire on his arms flickering out as he exhaled, releasing the absorbed heat. “Go home safe.”

And before she could ask anything else, he disappeared back into the alley, heart still racing.

His first night as a vigilante. His first real fight.

And damn, it felt good.

The night air was thick with tension as Akio slumped against the cold wall of the alley. The adrenaline had long since worn off, leaving behind only the gnawing throb of pain where the knife had sliced through his side. His breath came in ragged gasps, and every small movement sent a fresh wave of agony through his body. He had never imagined that a fight could turn so quickly, that something as simple as a stab wound could make him feel so helpless.

He pushed himself up, staggering on unsteady legs. His vision blurred as his blood dripped onto the pavement, and every step felt like it was dragging him further into darkness. He needed to get back home. He needed to make it back to his room, where he could tend to the wound, but it felt like miles away, even though he knew it was only a few blocks.

You can’t keep doing this, the voice in his head whispered, sharp and cruel. You’re not cut out for this. You’re just a kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He clenched his teeth, ignoring the voice as best he could. He wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to let some cut—some stupid, painful, bleeding cut—be what stopped him.

Still, he couldn’t stop the pitiful whimper that escaped his throat when the pain flared up again, shooting through his ribs like a fire. The thought of Denki’s first aid kit—the one he’d used a dozen times to patch up him and Nari—was a fleeting, impossible dream right now. The bathroom was too far. It would take too long to get there.

He could already feel the warmth leaving him, his energy sapped by the wound and the blood he was losing. His hand pressed shakily to his side, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough.

Akio’s mind flashed to the people he’d saved, to their gratitude, to the little moments where they’d thanked him, even if it had been something as small as a smile or a word of encouragement. He wanted to keep doing that. He wanted to keep saving them. But right now, it felt so stupid.

How could someone so fragile—someone who couldn’t even handle a simple stab wound—ever hope to make a difference? How could he save anyone if something so small could take him out of commission?

His eyes blurred again, and everything was spinning as he sunk to his knees, his body too weak to hold itself up anymore. He breathed in shallowly, trying to calm the rising panic, but it only made the pain worse. He had to stop thinking like this.

Get up.

He forced himself to stand again, though his legs felt like jelly beneath him. He stumbled, his breath coming in strangled gasps, but somehow, he found the strength to keep moving.

“Just… just get home,” he muttered under his breath, like the words themselves would summon the strength he needed. “Just get home…”

But it was harder than he ever thought it would be.

Akio’s world was a blur as he staggered through the door. He almost collapsed right there in the hallway, but something inside him pushed him forward, forcing his legs to carry him up the stairs. His vision swam, and the blood seeping through his clothes made him feel colder by the second. He was almost there, almost safe.

He stumbled into the living room, barely catching himself on the doorframe. The sound of rustling from the kitchen froze him in place.

“Nari…” His voice cracked.

She appeared from the corner, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of him. Her face paled, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the blood staining his shirt.

“Akio?” Her voice was shaky, almost a whisper, as she rushed to his side. “What happened to you?”

He could feel his knees giving out as his vision faded further. He tried to catch himself, but Nari’s hands were there, steadying him before he could hit the floor.

“I—” Akio gasped, fighting to stay conscious. He felt dizzy, the world spinning around him. “I—I’m fine. Just need to patch up, okay?” He tried to stand tall, but his body betrayed him.

Nari was quick, her hands firm as she guided him to the couch. “Don’t lie to me, Akio. What happened?” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that Akio didn’t miss.

“I…” He hesitated, taking in a shallow breath to steady himself. He had to tell her, didn’t he? She was going to find out anyway.

He looked at her, the guilt and fear weighing down his chest. “Nari, I—”

She cut him off, her hands trembling as she pressed a clean cloth to his side, trying to stop the bleeding. “You need to tell me what happened. This is serious.”

Akio closed his eyes, the weight of the situation sinking in. He could feel her hands trying to stop the blood, but it wasn’t enough. He could already tell it was going to take more than a little cloth to fix this. He swallowed hard, feeling the pain twist in his gut.

“I’m… I’m a vigilante.”

Her hands froze. She blinked in shock, and for a long moment, the room was silent except for the sound of Akio’s labored breathing. He could feel the sting of her gaze on him, and he refused to look up, focusing on the bloodstain spreading across his shirt.

“A vigilante?” she repeated, voice thick with disbelief. “Akio, you—you… you’ve been out there, fighting people? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he muttered, wincing as she gently cleaned the wound. “I know it’s dangerous, but… I just wanted to help. I wanted to make a difference.”

Nari bit her lip, clearly torn between frustration and concern. She let out a sharp breath, pushing her feelings aside as she carefully worked to clean and wrap his wound.

“You’re insane, you know that?” she hissed, tying the bandage tightly. “But that’s not the part that scares me the most, Akio. What scares me is that you didn’t tell me. You didn't tell anyone. You didn’t even ask for help.”

Akio’s chest tightened. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, not knowing how to explain the weight of what he had done, the choices he had made. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. He had just acted on the desire to protect people, to do something important.

“I didn’t want Denki to find out,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter than before. “He… he’d stop me. He’d try to talk me out of it, or worse, he’d try to protect me. I don’t want him to get caught up in this.”

Nari’s expression softened slightly, but there was still a hint of anger behind her gaze. “And you think that keeping it from him is the right choice? What happens when it gets worse, Akio? What happens if you’re hurt again, and I’m not there to patch you up?”

Akio flinched, guilt washing over him like a tide. He knew she was right. He couldn’t keep doing this alone. He couldn’t keep lying to the people who cared about him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling the tears he had been holding back threatening to break free. “I just—please, Nari, promise me you won’t tell Denki. Not yet. I… I can’t have him stop me. I need to do this. I need to be this.”

She didn’t answer right away, her fingers pausing in the bandaging. Akio dared to look up at her.

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. But I swear, if you ever put yourself in danger like this again and don’t tell me, I will tell him. Understood?”

Akio nodded, relief and guilt battling inside of him. “Understood.”

Nari finished patching him up, her movements precise despite the tension in her face. When she was done, she stepped back, her eyes hardening.

“Get some rest,” she said firmly. “And Akio? You might be a vigilante, but you’re still my brother. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” He met her gaze, his heart heavy but grateful.

With that, Nari left him to rest, and Akio leaned back on the couch, exhaustion pulling him under. But even as he drifted off, his mind buzzed with the decisions he had made—and the ones he would have to make in the future.

Chapter Text

The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the soft scratch of pencil against paper.

Denki let out a slow breath, setting his pencil down as his gaze drifted to his father’s still form. Almost one year and a half. One year and a half since the accident. One year and a half since his family had been whole.

He glanced down at his notebook, his thoughts tangled in exhaustion. He couldn't even remember the last time he had a real conversation with his mom—hell, the last time he had even seen her. Before everything, she used to be involved, always knowing what was going on in his and his siblings’ lives. But now? He doubted she even knew if they still went to school.

After he had passed out last year, she had signed partial guardianship of him and his siblings over to Dr. Amano. She hadn’t even discussed it with them. Just… handed them off. Like she had already decided she wasn’t capable of being their mom anymore.

Denki clenched his jaw, pushing the thought away before it could settle too deep. It didn’t matter. Thinking about it wouldn’t change anything.

His eyes flickered back to his dad. Motionless. Silent. The same as always.

Denki squeezed his eyes shut, trying to imagine a different world—one where his dad was still here, where everything hadn't fallen apart. But it was useless. Wishing wouldn’t change a damn thing.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to sit up straighter. No use dwelling on the past. He had one goal, and that was to move forward. If not for himself, then for his dad.

Because no matter how long it took, no matter how impossible it seemed—

Denki was going to heal him. If it was the last thing he did.

Denki knew it was bound to happen. He had told himself a thousand times that this was inevitable. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

Today was the first time someone died on his watch.

He had done everything he could—pushed himself to his limit, poured every ounce of energy he had into trying to keep them alive. But it hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t mattered. They were gone.

He knew, realistically, that he couldn’t save everyone. He had accepted that a long time ago. But knowing and feeling were two different things, and right now, the weight of failure sat heavy in his chest.

Dr. Amano had sent him home, told him to rest, to take a break. But the thought of going back to an empty house made his stomach turn. He knew no one would be there—his siblings were still at school, his mother buried in work as always. That house used to be filled with warmth, with memories that felt like they belonged to another lifetime. Now, it was just walls and silence.

Instead, he found himself at the park near his house, sitting on a bench and watching the world move on without him. Families laughed, kids ran across the playground, parents chatted as if nothing in the world was wrong.

It was crazy to him—how easy it was for someone to die.

One second, they were there. The next, they weren’t.

It made him wonder. How much time do people waste thinking they’ll always have more? How many moments slipped by unnoticed, how many words went unsaid, how many people walked away without realizing it was the last time?

He had spent so much time in the hospital, hearing about deaths being surrounded by the dying and the dead, that he had almost grown numb to it, but today shattered that illusion.

Because it wasn’t just about saving lives—it was about making the time people had matter. About finding something worth holding onto, about living rather than just existing.

But how was he supposed to do that when all he could think about was the life he didn’t save?

Denki didn’t even notice when time slipped by and the sky turned gray. He only realized it had started raining when the cold drops soaked through his clothes, sticking his hair to his forehead.

He knew he should probably take shelter—find someplace dry, warm—but he just… didn’t have the energy. It felt easier to sit there and let the rain wash over him, drowning out everything else.

He was getting lost in his thoughts again, spiraling deeper into the weight of everything, when suddenly, the rain stopped.

Not entirely—the sound of it still filled the air, and he could see the drops hitting the pavement—but it wasn’t hitting him anymore.

Denki blinked, snapping out of his daze just enough to register the presence of someone standing beside him, holding an umbrella over his head.

He turned his head slightly and sighed. “You do know you’re not supposed to stay close to someone with an electric quirk when it’s raining, right?”

Shinso shrugged, gaze fixed on the park in front of them. “I’ll take my chances.”

Denki huffed a weak laugh, shaking his head before resting his chin on his knees. The silence stretched between them—not uncomfortable, but heavy in a way neither of them tried to break.

And for the first time today, Denki didn’t feel completely alone.

Eventually, Denki sighed and pushed himself up from the bench. He wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting there in silence, but the rain wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

“C’mon,” he muttered, shaking some of the water from his sleeves. “Let’s get out of this before you actually get fried.”

Shinso raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, following Denki as they made their way down the street. They ducked into a small, warm café, the bell above the door jingling softly as they entered.

The sudden shift from the cold rain to the cozy warmth of the shop sent a shiver through Denki’s body, and he realized just how soaked he was. He ruffled his hair, sending water droplets flying, and Shinso snorted, stepping slightly out of range.

They ordered something warm to drink and a snack, sliding into a booth near the window. Denki cupped his hands around his mug, letting the heat seep into his fingers, grounding him.

For a while, neither of them spoke, the only sounds coming from the quiet hum of the café and the rain tapping against the window.

And somehow, that was okay.

"I haven’t seen you in the hospital for the last couple of weeks."

Shinso raised a brow. "You like seeing me in the hospital?"

Denki sputtered. "Yes—wait, no! I mean—"

Shinso let out a low chuckle, clearly amused. "Relax, I'm just messing with you."

Denki huffed, grabbing his mug and taking a sip of his hot cocoa—only to pause. What the hell did they put in this? He took another, longer sip, practically melting into the booth as the warmth seeped through him.

Shinso smirked over the rim of his cup, watching as Denki all but melted into his seat. “Good?”

Denki let out a blissful sigh. “I don’t know what they put in this, but I think I just transcended.” He took another long sip, eyes fluttering shut. “Like, if I died right now, I’d be okay with it.”

Shinso rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the amused huff that left him. “Dramatic much?”

Denki cracked one eye open and pointed at him. “You don’t get it. This is liquid happiness.”

Shinso raised a brow and took a slow sip of his own drink. “Huh. Tastes normal to me.”

Denki gasped like Shinso had personally insulted his ancestors. “You are soulless.”

Shinso smirked again, leaning back in his seat. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just easily impressed.”

Denki opened his mouth to argue—then hesitated. “…Okay, fair.” He took another sip and let out a content sigh. “Still, I needed this.”

Shinso tilted his head slightly. “Rough day?”

Denki’s grip on his cup tightened for a second before he exhaled. “Yeah. You could say that.” His voice was quieter now, less playful. He stared down at his cocoa, watching as the steam curled into the air. “Lost someone today.”

Shinso’s smirk faded. He didn’t say anything right away, just let the words settle. Then, after a moment, he asked, “That why you were sitting in the rain like some tragic movie protagonist?”

Denki snorted despite himself. “Maybe.” He swirled his drink around. “It’s just… It’s crazy, y’know? How easy it is. One second someone’s here, the next…” He trailed off, his fingers tightening around his cup.

Shinso was quiet for a moment before he murmured, “Yeah. It is.”

Denki looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was understanding there, something unspoken but solid, like a quiet acknowledgment of things neither of them wanted to say out loud.

Eventually, he broke eye contact and cleared his throat. “Anyway, enough of that. How’ve you been?”

Shinso leaned back slightly, a more relaxed expression settling on his face. “Better, actually.”

Denki nodded toward him. “Yeah, I can see that. You’re, like… intact for once.” He gave Shinso a once-over, noting the distinct lack of bandages or bruises.

Shinso snorted. “That’s the goal, believe it or not.”

Denki grinned. “Damn, and here I was thinking you just enjoyed getting patched up by me.”

Shinso rolled his eyes but smirked anyway. “Oh yeah, that’s exactly it. Nothing like getting nagged by you while I’m bleeding out.”

Denki gasped in mock offense. “I do not nag!”

Shinso gave him a flat look.

“…Okay, maybe a little,” Denki admitted with a sheepish smile. “But can you blame me? You show up half-dead, and I’m supposed to just not say anything?”

Shinso hummed, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I dunno. I think you just like having an excuse to poke at me.”

Denki pointed at him. “I do not—” He stopped, reconsidered, then sighed. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Shinso huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless.”

Denki smirked. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Shinso didn’t respond right away, just glanced out the window as the rain continued to fall. Then, after a beat, he said, “Yeah. I am.”

Denki blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his voice. He opened his mouth, but—for once—no words came out.

The moment lingered between them, warm despite the chill outside.

Denki was about to say something until the news broadcast caught his attention.

"A new vigilante was spotted in the ————— District last night," the anchor announced, and Denki's brows furrowed as he turned to face the TV. That was his district they were talking about.

"People have taken to calling him 'Guide Light' due to his fire-based quirk. Witnesses report seeing him intervene in multiple incidents, using his flames to ward off criminals and protect civilians."

Denki's grip on his cup tightened. A fire-based quirk? In his district? He leaned forward slightly, watching as grainy footage played on the screen. It showed a figure cloaked in darkness, embers flickering around him as he stood over a group of defeated thugs. The flames danced along his arms, illuminating the streets like a beacon.

Denki exhaled sharply, his mind already working through the possibilities. Who the hell is this guy?

Shinso let out a low whistle. “That’s a cool shot.”

Denki hummed in response, still watching the screen.

“Is that your district?”

Denki blinked, startled by the question. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, it is.”

His frown deepened as he looked down at his drink.

Vigilantes were bad news. No matter how well-intentioned they were, they always seemed to bring more trouble than they solved. You’d think that having one around would scare off villains, but in reality? It was the opposite. Vigilantes were like beacons for territory disputes. Their presence stirred up the underworld, and crime rates always spiked around them.

Denki knew that firsthand.

When Denki was younger, his neighborhood was one of the safest around—no gang fights, no villain attacks, just quiet streets and a place where kids could play outside without worry. Then a vigilante showed up.

At first, it seemed like a good thing. They were saving people, stopping petty crimes, acting like some kind of underground hero. But they didn’t know the area they were operating in. They didn’t realize that the neighborhood was already claimed territory. The mafia ran things from the shadows, keeping villains out and the peace intact—for a price, sure, but it worked.

Then one night, the vigilante stepped into the wrong fight. They thought they were stopping an attack, a civilian caught in the middle of a villain’s rampage. What they didn’t know was that it wasn’t an attack at all—it was a sparring match between some underlings. Just business as usual.

And the civilian?

She was the mafia boss’s daughter.

The vigilante escalated the situation. Before anyone realized what was happening, things spiraled out of control. And the girl—she didn’t make it.

After that, everything fell apart.

Denki exhaled sharply, pushing the memory aside. His fingers curled around his cup, grip tightening. Whoever this Guide Light was, they were walking straight into the same mistake. And if they weren’t careful, people were going to get hurt.

His gaze flicked back to the TV, where grainy security footage showed the vigilante in action. They moved fast, flames sparking against the dark as they took down a group of thugs trying to rob a convenience store. The news anchor called them a hero. The cashier they had saved called them a hero.

Denki clenched his jaw.

That was the problem. People thought vigilantes were heroes. They saw them as just like the pros, but pros had training. Pros had resources. Pros had backup. Vigilantes had none of that.

They just had a death wish.

“Yo, you good?”

Denki startled slightly at Shinso’s voice, pulled from his thoughts. He looked over to see him watching with a raised brow.

Denki forced a breath, leaning back. “Yeah. Just… don’t like vigilantes.”

Shinso hummed, stirring his drink. “Not a fan of the whole ‘justice from the shadows’ thing?”

Denki scoffed. “Not a fan of how they think they can do whatever they want and not deal with the consequences.” He gestured at the screen. “They act like they’re helping, but half the time, they just make things worse.”

Shinso tilted his head. “Think this one’s gonna make things worse?”

Denki didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the screen, watching the masked figure disappear into the night.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “I do.”

Denki sighed, rubbing his temples as he stared at his schedule for what felt like the hundredth time.

It was January, and he’d officially started attending UA. The way his schooling was structured was… weird. Since he had joined halfway through the school year, he had to take supplementary classes over the summer to catch up. Or something along those lines. Which basically meant more schooling. Yay.

Being a healer was so much work. He already knew that, but still. It was tedious.

To make things even better (note the sarcasm), he was still working at the hospital. His schedule had been adjusted again to accommodate school, but it was still brutal. Mornings were spent getting his siblings ready and sending them off, then he took the bus to UA, where he was stuck from 8 AM to 3 PM. After that, he headed straight to the hospital for his shift from 3:30 to 6:30. He still had weekends off, his only true saving grace.

Besides that, the only real upside to everything else? He had officially graduated from junior high and was now classified as a high schooler.

The downside? He was now classified as a high schooler.

Instead of three years at UA like a normal student, he was looking at four. Since he was technically a year ahead of his graduating class, he had to finish his third year while they were in their second year. Then, instead of taking a gap year in his fourth year at UA, he was jumping straight into college courses.

The only silver lining was that, with all the experience he was racking up, he only needed four years of college to be fully classified as a doctor. By twenty-two, he’d officially have his medical license.

Maybe not the youngest doctor in history—the recorded youngest was seventeen—but he’d definitely be the youngest in Japan.

That was pretty cool.

…Not cool enough to make him excited about the ridiculous workload ahead of him, but still. Cool.

Denki could literally feel himself buzzing with excitement—both figuratively and, well, literally.

Today was the day. The first time he was actually going to heal someone with his quirk. No more just assisting or running diagnostics—actual healing.

His fingers sparked faintly as he practically bounced on his heels, trying (and failing) to contain his energy. He’d been training for this, preparing for this, and now it was finally happening.

This was his moment.

"Alright, Kaminari-kun," Recovery Girl said, her voice steady and reassuring. "Just like you've practiced with animals—focus only on the damaged areas. Start with the immediate injuries, then move on to the less serious ones."

Denki nodded, swallowing the nervous energy bubbling in his chest. Their patient today was a second-year student, Mirio Togata, who had volunteered without hesitation.

The guy had just come from training, his uniform a little scuffed, a few cuts and bruises scattered across his arms. Nothing major—but enough for Denki to practice on.

He took a deep breath.

Mirio-senpai grinned from the exam table, looking way too relaxed for someone about to be zapped with experimental healing. “Don’t stress, Kaminari-kun! Worst case scenario, I get a cool static shock out of it.”

Denki huffed out a laugh. “Not helping.”

Recovery Girl chuckled. “Just focus. Like we practiced.”

Denki exhaled and carefully placed his hands over one of the larger bruises on Mirio-senpai’s arm. He could feel it—the subtle, thrumming energy beneath his palms. His quirk wanted to spread, to radiate outward like it always did. But that wasn’t the goal here. He needed control.

He narrowed his eyes, directing the energy with careful precision, guiding it into just the damaged tissue. Mend, don’t react.

A soft, golden glow flickered under his fingertips. Warm. Steady.

Then, as he pulled his hands back, he saw it—the bruise had already lightened, the angry purple fading into something barely noticeable.

Denki blinked. "Holy crap, it worked."

Mirio-senpai examined his arm, then let out an impressed whistle. “Hey, nice! You’re a natural, Kaminari!”

Denki grinned, electricity buzzing under his skin from pure excitement. “Oh my god. I did it!”

Recovery Girl nodded approvingly. “A good start. Now, keep going.”

Denki took another breath, steadying himself. If he could do this—if he could really make this work—then maybe, just maybe, he really could heal his dad.

After a few minutes of focused healing, Denki pulled his hands away, feeling a slight numbness at his fingertips. Aside from that, he felt fine. “How are you feeling, Mirio-senpai? Any pain?” Denki asked. He had worked on animals before, and they tended to shift around when they were uncomfortable, but this was his first time healing a human, so he wasn't sure what to expect.

Mirio-senpai stretched his arm, a bright grin on his face. “I feel great! It was kinda buzzy while you were healing me—like when you're in one of those massage chairs at the mall. And now I feel super energized!”

Recovery Girl hummed thoughtfully as she jotted down Mirio's feedback. She glanced up at Denki. “Kaminari-kun, how much electricity are you using?”

Denki frowned slightly. “Around 10-15, so nothing extreme.”

She nodded approvingly before turning back to Mirio. “And you said you feel more energized?”

Mirio-senpai nodded. “Yep! It's like the opposite of your quirk.”

Recovery Girl tapped her pen against the clipboard. “Interesting. My quirk accelerates cell regeneration using the patient's own stamina, which often leaves them drained. But your healing seems to repair damage and leave the patient feeling more energized.”

Denki blinked, processing this. “Wait, so does that mean I’m actually giving them energy?”

“Possibly,” she mused. “But the effects don’t seem overwhelming. Mirio-kun, would you say you feel overly wired, or just... refreshed?”

Mirio-senpai grinned and stretched again. “Nah, just refreshed! Like I had a good nap or drank a sports drink. If this is how it always works, Kaminari-kun, you're gonna be really popular with the students here.”

Denki chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind that. But if my quirk is giving energy, I guess I need to be careful not to overdo it, huh?”

Recovery Girl nodded. “Exactly. We’ll need to monitor how much energy you expend during healing. Overuse could be dangerous, and there’s likely a limit to how much you can transfer before experiencing backlash.”

Denki frowned slightly, flexing his fingers. The numbness was still there, but he didn’t feel exhausted. Of course, this had only been minor injuries. What if he had to heal something more serious? He shook off the thought. “I'll be careful,” he promised.

Recovery Girl smiled, her tone warm and approving. “Good. You've done well today, Kaminari-kun. We'll continue testing in controlled conditions, but for now, you've earned a break.”

Denki beamed, a swell of pride in his chest. He had actually healed someone.

And this was just the start.

Mirio-senpai hadn’t been lying about Denki becoming popular. Recovery Girl had him heal every patient who came in with minor injuries, and there were a lot of them. By the end of the week, Denki was feeling completely drained, his hands buzzing with a sharp, stinging sensation that reached all the way up to his elbows.

He had, of course, informed Recovery Girl about the discomfort. After some testing and a lot of careful consideration, they had concluded that the pain was a result of him constantly channeling concentrated electricity into his hands for extended periods. The strain was building up, and the prolonged use was taking its toll on his body.

It wasn't something that had happened before with his quirk, since he was mostly used to brief bursts of energy rather than sustained use. But now, he could feel every pulse of his electricity as it went through him, lingering longer than usual.

Recovery Girl had been understanding but firm. “You're pushing your limits, Kaminari-kun. You need to pace yourself more. If you’re going to keep healing, we’ll need to monitor how much you use, and make sure you get adequate rest in between.”

Denki had nodded, though his frustration was palpable. He wanted to help, but the price of doing so was becoming harder to ignore.

Denki had eventually talked to Dr. Haruka about the issue. He had been hoping for some kind of solution, something to ease the strain on his body while he was healing others.

Dr. Haruka had listened intently, then nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s similar to how you store electricity,” she suggested. “It took a lot of training for you to be able to expand the amount of electricity you could store inside of you. When we first started training, you were only able to hold a few thousand volts. Now, you can store and release close to two million without a second thought. Maybe it’s the same concept here.”

Denki frowned, thinking it over.

“You’re saying I need to train my body to release more electricity in a more controlled way?” he asked.

“Exactly,” Dr. Haruka confirmed. “We never really trained you to release a large amount of electricity in such a concentrated form. When you’re healing, it’s like you’re pushing out that energy in a steady flow rather than the usual bursts. It’s a different kind of usage for your quirk, and your body isn’t quite accustomed to it yet. If you want to keep using it, you'll need to adapt.”

Denki let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the challenge ahead. “So, more training?” he asked, though it wasn’t exactly a question.

“More training,” Dr. Haruka said with a small, encouraging smile. “But you’ve got the foundation, Kaminari-kun. You’ve come a long way already. Just take it one step at a time, and your body will adjust. It might take a while, but you’ll get there.”

Denki nodded, a mixture of exhaustion and determination creeping into his thoughts. If anyone could train his body to handle this, it was him. He was used to pushing himself to his limits. But for now, he'd have to find a balance between helping others and not burning himself out.

Denki didn’t really have an excuse to refuse, so he found himself getting dragged along by Mirio-senpai to the cafeteria.

“You need a break,” Mirio had said with a big grin. “You can’t be locked up in the nurse’s office all day!”

Denki figured he had a point. He’d been running on fumes all week, bouncing between different classes and the nurse’s office. He didn’t even have an official homeroom to sit in. Technically, he was supposed to be shadowing Class 1-A, but that wasn’t exactly possible—mainly because Class 1-A didn’t exist.

Aizawa-sensei had expelled all of his students on the first day.

So, instead of being part of a class, Denki just kind of floated around wherever Recovery Girl sent him for the day. It was weird, but he didn’t really mind. Nezu had already told him that next year, he’d officially be placed in Class 1-A while also joining Class 2-B for advanced courses.

Why couldn't he just be placed in Class 1-B now? No clue.

But whatever. That was a problem for future Denki.

For now, he was being forcefully socialized by Mirio-senpai, which, honestly, wasn’t the worst thing in the world. At least he’d get to eat lunch with people instead of inhaling snacks between patients.

Mirio-senpai clapped Denki on the back as he sat down. "Alright! This is my friend Nejire-chan—" he gestured to the blue-haired girl, who beamed at Denki, "—and Tamaki, my best bud!"

Denki barely had time to offer a small wave before the black-haired boy—Tamaki—immediately hunched his shoulders, looking like he wanted to disappear into thin air.

Denki blinked. Ah, he was one of those types.

He decided not to push it, instead turning to Nejire-senpai, who was practically buzzing with energy.

"So, you're the new healer guy Mirio's been hyping up!" she said excitedly. "What’s your Quirk? How does it work? How long have you been healing? Do you get tired super fast? Can you overcharge people? Do you—"

Mirio laughed, cutting her off. "Nejire-chan, let him eat first!"

Denki laughed good naturedly, picking up his chopsticks. Yeah. He was gonna like these guys.

The gym was packed, filled with the hum of conversation as parents, teachers, and students gathered to celebrate the graduating class. Natsuko sat near the front, her hands folded in her lap, scanning the rows of students. Akio and Nari were easy to spot—Akio standing tall with a grin that reminded her of Denki’s, and Nari, more reserved but still smiling.

She had taken the day off for this. No way was she missing such an important milestone.

Denki sat beside her, shifting slightly in his seat. He wasn’t in his usual UA uniform today—since he had gotten time off, he was dressed casually, though he still looked exhausted from his usual packed schedule.

"Excited?" she asked, glancing at him.

Denki huffed a small chuckle. "Yeah. Can’t believe they’re already heading into their last year of junior high. Feels like just yesterday they were running around in diapers."

Natsuko hummed in agreement as the principal stepped onto the stage, calling the crowd’s attention. The ceremony was starting.

“Before we announce the graduating class, we have a special segment,” the principal announced. “Several of our students were assigned to write about their personal heroes, and today, we have a few who will be sharing their speeches.”

A handful of students went up first, each speech heartfelt and emotional. Some spoke about their parents, others about teachers or doctors who had changed their lives. The audience listened intently, clapping after each one.

“And now,” the principal continued, “give a warm welcome to one of our school’s top students, Kaminari Akio, who will be giving a speech about his personal hero.”

Natsuko’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected Akio to be one of the students called up. Excitement bubbled in her chest—what had her youngest son written?

The crowd erupted into applause as Akio made his way to the stage. He adjusted the microphone, offering a nervous smile before clearing his throat.

“Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Kaminari Akio, and my personal hero is my older brother, Kaminari Denki.”

Silence fell over the gym.

Beside her, Natsuko heard Denki inhale sharply. He probably hadn’t expected to be chosen. She didn’t blame him—most students had written about parents, teachers, or professionals. No one had mentioned a sibling yet.

Akio continued, his voice growing steadier. “When the principal told us we had to write about our personal hero, I didn’t even have to think about it. I knew immediately who I wanted to talk about. My hero isn’t some famous person or someone from the history books. My hero is my big brother, Denki.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“A little over a year ago, something happened that turned our world upside down. My dad was caught in the middle of a villain attack, and for a moment, it felt like we were going to lose him. But Denki… Denki didn’t freeze like the rest of us did. He kept his head, called for help, and even helped jump-start Dad’s heart, keeping him alive until they could get him to the hospital. I honestly don’t know how he did it, but Dad’s still alive because of him.”

Akio paused, his voice wavering slightly as he took a deep breath.

Natsuko felt her own breath catch.

“Things haven’t been easy since then. Dad’s in a coma, and my mom… she’s working all the time to cover the hospital bills. I know she’s trying, but she’s barely home, which means Denki had to step up in ways most people wouldn’t expect. He’s become more than just my big brother. He’s the one taking care of me and my little sister.”

A pang of guilt struck Natsuko’s chest.

Akio continued, his voice raw with emotion. “And I’m not just talking about cooking, cleaning, or making sure we do our homework—though he does all of that too. He’s the one who makes sure we still laugh, even when everything feels heavy. He’s the one telling us that things will get better, even when I can tell he’s exhausted. He’s the one who makes it to our school events, just to support us. And somehow, through all that, he’s still working towards becoming a doctor. He stays up late every night studying because he says he wants to help people like Dad. Maybe even find a way to wake him up someday.”

The gym was silent. Natsuko could hear soft sniffles from the audience. A few parents wiped their eyes.

Akio straightened, his voice firm as he addressed the crowd. “To me, being a hero isn’t about being perfect or having all the answers. It’s about doing everything you can for the people you care about. It’s about staying strong, even when life feels impossible. And that’s exactly who Denki is.

“So, no, my hero isn’t someone famous. He’s not on TV or in a comic book. But he’s my brother, and I’m so proud of him. He’s proof that even when things are tough, love and determination are enough to keep you going.

“Thank you, Denki, for everything. You’ll always be my hero.”

Applause erupted, loud and overwhelming.

Denki let out a sob beside her, covering his face with his hands. But Natsuko—she just felt numb.

Jealous.

She was jealous of her son.

The son she had forced to grow up too quickly. The son who was raising his siblings in her absence. The son who had carried more weight than any child his age should ever have to.

And yet, despite all of it, Akio’s words had made one thing heartbreakingly clear.

Denki didn’t resent it.

He just loved them.

Chapter Text

Denki fiddled with the ribbon on the present he had wrapped by hand. It was a little crooked, but he had put a lot of effort into it, and he really hoped Shinso would like it.

He still couldn’t believe it when just a day ago—on his birthday—Shinso had actually gotten him a gift. Realistically, Denki knew they were friends, but it hadn’t really hit him just how close they had become until Shinso not only showed up for his surprise birthday party but also brought him a present.

And not just any present.

It was a bullet journal—one of those really nice ones, with a planner and everything. Shinso had even customized it, filling the pages with cute little doodles and sweet words of encouragement. It had been so thoughtful that Denki had almost cried.

So, of course, he wanted to do something just as thoughtful in return.

This March marked exactly one year since they officially became friends, and Denki wanted to celebrate that. The gift was a mix of a birthday present and a one-year friend anniversary gift—because friendship milestones mattered. A lot of people didn’t think they were as important as relationship milestones, but Denki completely disagreed.

In his friend group, they had a tradition: for every year they had been friends, they gave each other a gift. And now, Denki wanted to pass that tradition on to Shinso too.

So even though the gift would be a month late it still meant something.

Denki let out a nervous sigh and knocked on the door.

He had never met Shinso’s foster parents before. He knew they were nice—Shinso seemed fond of them—but that didn’t stop the nerves from creeping in. He wasn’t even sure why he was so anxious or who he was more nervous for—himself or Shinso.

After all, he knew the full scope of what Shinso had been through.

The neglect. The abuse. The bullying that followed.

Denki only learned the details after admitting that he was the one who had pushed for Shinso’s parents to get a surprise ‘wellness check.’ The guilt had been eating him alive, and he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. He had expected Shinso to be mad—or at least something—but all he got was a sigh, a quiet “Yeah, I had a hunch.”

And then, “You’d be a shit doctor if you didn’t speak up about suspected abuse.”

That had been it.

So, yeah, Denki knew Shinso was in a better place now. But still, as he stood on the doorstep, waiting for the door to open, he couldn’t shake the nerves.

He really, really hoped he made a good first impression.

The door swung open, and standing there—in all his loud, untamed, sunglasses-wearing glory—was Present Mic.

Denki blinked. “Uh. Sorry, Present Mic, I think I have the wrong apartment—”

His brain was already planning an escape route because, God, running into your teacher outside of school was like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. Unnatural. Cursed, even.

But Present Mic just laughed. “Nah, nah, little listener, you’re here for Hitoshi’s birthday, right?”

Denki squinted. How did he know that?

“…Yeah?”

Present Mic grinned, shaking his head fondly. “Well, makes sense. So you're the blonde friend he keeps talking about.”

Denki frowned his brow curiously, “He talks about me?” Denki asked before he quickly shook his head, “Why do you know that?”

“He’s my foster son.” Present Mic said casually.

Denki’s brain completely short-circuited.

He just. Stared.

“Huh?”

Present Mic—Shinso’s dad?!—chuckled. “C’mon in, no need to stand there looking like you forgot your own name.”

Denki stepped inside on autopilot, his brain playing the Windows error sound on repeat.

“Sho’s in the kitchen, but make yourself at home,” Present Mic continued, shutting the door behind them. “Oh, and since I’m off duty, just call me Yamada, yeah?”

Denki’s soul left his body. “But… you’re Present Mic.”

He snorted. “Only at school, little dude.”

Denki wasn’t sure what was more overwhelming—the fact that Shinso’s foster dad was Present Mic… or the fact that Present Mic just called him “dude.”

…Okay. Yeah. He was starting to really understand why Shinso never brought this up.

“You can make yourself comfortable on the couch while I go grab Hitoshi,” Present Mic—er, Yamada-san—said before disappearing down the hall.

Denki sat down awkwardly, gripping the gift in his lap like a lifeline. From the kitchen, he could hear the faint clatter of dishes—probably the ‘Sho’ person Yamada-san had mentioned earlier. Maybe another foster sibling? A spouse? A roommate?

He fidgeted. The longer he sat in the quiet living room, the more anxious he felt. This was so weird.

Then, footsteps.

Denki looked up—and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Because standing there, looking just as tired as he always did, was Aizawa Shouta.

Denki’s entire soul left his body again.

“Wha—what are you doing here!?” he blurted.

Aizawa gave him a dry look. “I live here.”

Denki’s brain took a second to reboot. “…You live here?”

Aizawa just stared at him.

Denki squinted. “Wait—so like, you and Yamada-san are roommates or…?”

Aizawa blinked at him. Slowly. Like he was waiting for Denki’s two brain cells to catch up.

Denki’s breath caught. He suddenly remembered the way Yamada-san had said, “He’s my foster son.”

Oh. Oh.

Denki pointed wildly toward the hallway where Yamada-san had disappeared, then at Aizawa, then back again.

“Wait. Wait.”

Aizawa just raised an eyebrow.

Denki stared at him in abject horror. “You’re also Shinso’s dad!?”

“Yes.”

“But—but Yamada-san said he’s Shinso’s dad—”

“Yes.”

Denki’s eye twitched. “But that—so that means—”

Aizawa sighed. “I see the neurons connecting.”

Denki clutched his forehead like he was experiencing a divine revelation. “You two are MARRIED!?”

Aizawa just gave him a look that said, Wow. You’re really just figuring that out now?

Denki let out an unhinged laugh. “Shinso’s got both of you as parents!?”

“Unfortunately for him, yes.”

Denki fell back against the couch, gripping his chest like he’d just witnessed a miracle. “This is the craziest plot twist of my LIFE.”

Aizawa sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re as bad as Yamada.”

Denki took that as a huge compliment.

Eventually, Yamada came back out with Shinso in tow, the purple-haired boy holding a very pudgy ragdoll cat in his arms. The cat blinked lazily at Denki, completely unbothered by the chaos he had just endured.

Denki, however, was still recovering. “Shinso,” he wheezed, “your dads—”

Shinso immediately groaned. “Oh my god, they told you.”

“They didn’t tell me! They just existed in the same space and my brain exploded!” Denki gestured wildly at Aizawa and Yamada, who both looked far too amused. “Why didn’t you say anything!?”

Shinso shrugged, scratching behind his cat’s ear. “It’s not that important.”

“Not that—not that important!?” Denki sputtered. “My entire worldview just collapsed!”

Shinso rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll survive.” He shifted the cat in his arms, then tilted his head toward the door. “C’mon, we should head out. We’ve got a reservation.”

Denki paused. “Reservation?”

Yamada beamed. “We’re taking Toshi out for his birthday dinner, and you’re coming too, little listener!”

Denki’s brain once again lagged. “Wait. So I’m… eating dinner. With my two teachers. And my friend. For his birthday. At a restaurant?”

Aizawa sighed. “Yes, Kaminari. That’s usually how birthday dinners work.”

Denki took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, cool. This is fine. Totally normal.”

Shinso, completely ignoring Denki’s crisis, turned toward the hallway. “Let me put Meatball down and grab my jacket.”

Denki blinked. “Meatball?”

The cat blinked back at him.

Shinso smirked. “Yeah, why?”

Denki put his head in his hands. “I don’t even know anymore, man.”

Yamada laughed, clapping Denki on the back. “Let’s go, little listener! Or we’ll miss our reservation!”

And just like that, they were heading out, Denki still reeling, but at least now there was food involved.

The restaurant had a cozy yet modern feel, with sleek wooden tables, warm ambient lighting, and a playful theme that matched its mischievous menu. The walls were lined with framed ‘reviews’ that were clearly jokes—things like “I ordered the 'Oops, All Garlic' and now my entire family has disowned me” and “The 'What Have I Done?' burger made me see God”. A soft hum of chatter filled the space, and the faint scent of sizzling food made Denki’s stomach growl.

Denki squinted down at the menu again, as if staring at it harder would somehow make the words rearrange themselves into something comprehensible.

“Wait, what do you mean a joke?” he asked, glancing back at Shinso.

Shinso smirked. “It’s one of those gimmick restaurants. They give you a fake menu with completely made-up names for the dishes. You’re supposed to scan the code to see the real menu.”

Denki’s pout deepened. “That’s so extra. What if I just pointed at something random and told the waiter to bring me that?”

Aizawa, who had been scrolling through the actual menu on his phone, snorted. “Then you’d probably end up ordering something called ‘Regret on a Plate.’”

Denki made a face. “...What is that?”

“Spicy curry,” Yamada supplied cheerfully.

Denki narrowed his eyes. “How spicy?”

“Very.”

Denki shuddered and immediately scanned the QR code. Shinso just laughed again, thoroughly enjoying his suffering.

“Man, who even comes up with this stuff?” Denki muttered, waiting for the real menu to load. “Like, what kind of restaurant wants its customers to be confused?”

Yamada grinned. “The fun kind!”

Denki shot him a look. “Only you would think menu deception is fun.”

The page finally loaded, revealing a properly translated menu, and Denki let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. I’m not about to accidentally order ‘Regret on a Plate’ or whatever.”

Shinso smirked. “Aw, come on. You sure you don’t want to test your spice tolerance? Maybe prove your manly strength?”

Denki gave him an unimpressed look. “Shinso. I literally cried eating mildly spicy ramen last week.”

Aizawa hummed, setting his phone down. “Then I’d suggest avoiding the ‘Flames of Despair.’”

Denki immediately scrolled past it. “Noted.”

Yamada chuckled. “Alright, everyone figured out what they want?”

Denki nodded, finally relaxing. Despite the weird start, the restaurant actually seemed pretty cool. And besides—he was here to celebrate Shinso, and that was what really mattered.

The food had come, and to Denki’s surprise, it was really good. Like, worth-the-confusing-menu good. His burger was perfectly juicy, the fries were crispy, and whatever sauce they used? Absolutely god-tier. He could totally see why Shinso and his dads would come here often.

“This is so unfair,” Denki muttered between bites. “A restaurant that trolls its customers shouldn’t be allowed to have food this good.”

Shinso smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “Makes it worth the suffering, huh?”

Denki huffed but didn’t argue. “I guess.”

Yamada chuckled, clearly enjoying the whole experience. “Food’s always better when there’s a little adventure involved!”

Aizawa, already halfway through his meal, shot him a look. “You just like watching people struggle.”

Yamada grinned. “And?”

Denki shook his head fondly, finally accepting that this place—and the weird little family in front of him—was just full of surprises.

Denki nervously handed Shinso his birthday gift, his fingers practically twitching with anxiety. “It’s a two-in-one gift since, uh, I didn’t get you anything for our one-year friendship anniversary,” he said quickly, hoping it didn’t sound too awkward.

Shinso blinked, raising an eyebrow as he took the gift. “Do people even celebrate that?” he asked, clearly a bit confused as he started unwrapping it.

Denki huffed, crossing his arms. “Well, they should! Friendship anniversaries are just as important as any other anniversary!” He looked away, pretending to be serious, but couldn’t stop his grin from slipping out.

Shinso shook his head fondly, a smirk tugging at his lips as he continued to unwrap the gift. Denki fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt, eyes flickering to Shinso as the silence stretched on.

When Shinso finally revealed the contents, he let out a soft gasp. “A Polaroid camera?” he murmured, clearly surprised.

Denki’s cheeks flushed with nerves, and he started rambling before he could stop himself. “I, uh, remembered you saying how much you like taking pictures of the sky during different times of the day, so I thought, well, why not get you a camera? Obviously, I couldn’t afford the really fancy ones, you know, the expensive ones, so I thought a Polaroid would work. It’s something, right?” He winced at how much he’d just blurted out.

Shinso turned the camera over in his hands, his expression softening as he ran his fingers over it. His eyes—normally so tired—were wide in surprise, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Denki’s heart pounded in his chest, his nerves buzzing as he waited for a reaction.

Finally, Shinso chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re such a dork,” he muttered, but there was no malice in it, only warmth.

Denki pouted, his face scrunching up in mock offense. “Hey, I put thought into this!”

“I know,” Shinso said, flipping open the camera’s compartment to inspect it. “That’s what makes it cool.”

Denki perked up at the words. “So you like it?”

Shinso rolled his eyes, but the faintest smile was tugging at his lips. “Obviously,” he said, reaching into the box to grab the pack of film Denki had included. “Guess I can start my collection now.”

Denki grinned, the anxiety from earlier fading into excitement. “Oh! We should totally take a picture right now. First official photo with the new camera!”

Shinso snorted, glancing at him with amusement. “What, so you want me to waste film on your face?”

Denki gasped dramatically. “Waste? I am a delight to capture on film, thank you very much.”

At that moment, Yamada leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Oh, you guys should definitely take one together! It’d be so cute!”

Shinso groaned. “Dad, stop.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What, you don’t want photographic evidence of your friendship anniversary?”

Denki burst out laughing, unable to hold it in, while Shinso sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. But when Shinso glanced down at the camera again, his grip on it loosened, just a little.

“…Fine,” he muttered, shooting Denki a reluctant glance. “One picture.”

Denki cheered, already scooting closer to him. “This is going to be the best first photo ever!”

Shinso handed the camera over to Yamada, who grinned and immediately began adjusting it. “Alright, say cheese, you two!” Yamada said, clearly having way too much fun with this.

Denki leaned in closer to Shinso, making sure to flash a wide, sunny smile. He couldn’t help but feel giddy, even if Shinso’s grumbling and eye-rolls were half the fun.

Shinso, on the other hand, tried to resist smiling but couldn’t help the small, genuine tug at his lips as he leaned in slightly, just enough to make the picture work.

“Alright, here we go!” Yamada called out, his finger pressing the shutter. There was a soft whir as the Polaroid shot the photo, the image starting to develop slowly.

Denki bounced on his heels, watching the picture come to life. “Best. First. Photo. Ever.” he repeated, his grin still wide.

Shinso just shook his head, though the smile on his face had a warmth to it that Denki couldn’t ignore. “You're ridiculous.”

But even as he said it, there was something in his eyes that made Denki feel like the whole world had shifted just a little bit—like this was a moment they’d both remember for a long time.

Denki winced as he flexed his arms, the familiar tingling sensation of overuse radiating through his muscles. The intensity of UA's training had ramped up significantly, and while he loved pushing his limits, it was starting to take its toll on him.

He had been sent to train alongside the Class 1-B students, mostly because their injuries were more frequent due to the sheer ferocity of the exercises. It was a good opportunity for him to build up his ability to heal more significant wounds. And he had been making progress—slowly but surely.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could heal minor fractures now, something that had seemed impossible when he first started. But the larger injuries still gave him trouble, especially when he was exhausted or distracted. He had yet to master healing severe sprains or broken bones without it draining too much of his energy.

His quirk was powerful, sure, but it was still something he was learning to control. The pressure to heal faster, do more, was always there, especially when it came to Class 1-B. They trained hard, often pushing their bodies to the limit, and when they got hurt, they counted on him to help.

Denki blew out a breath, shaking off the discomfort. He had made it this far, and he wasn’t going to let a little fatigue stop him. There was still more to learn, and more people to help. He just needed to stay focused.

Denki wiped the sweat off his forehead as he sat on the edge of the lab bench, breathing heavily. He was back under the watchful eyes of Dr. Amano and Dr. Haruka, and the pressure was on. After everything that happened at camp, he had been thrown into an intense training regimen. The focus now wasn’t just on storing and releasing electricity—it was about managing a constant, concentrated flow of it in his hands.

It was a lot harder than he had initially anticipated. The concentration needed to keep a steady stream of electricity flowing through his hands without it leaking out or causing him burnout felt like a whole new level of control he had never needed before. Before, when he used his quirk, it was all about bursts—quick charges and releases—but now he had to maintain a constant stream of energy, something that felt unnatural to him.

And the math—his brain was struggling to keep up. He had to constantly calculate how much electricity he had in his body at any given moment, all while maintaining that energy flow to his hands. It was like juggling multiple tasks at once. How much could he safely pull out without draining himself too quickly? How much could he send to his hands without leaving himself vulnerable to an energy crash?

“Focus, Kaminari-kun,” Dr. Haruka’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. “You’re letting your concentration slip again. You need to maintain it, or you’ll lose control.”

Denki nodded, grinding his teeth together as he turned his attention back to his hands. The electricity felt like it was slipping through his fingers as if his own body couldn’t quite keep up with the constant draw. The strain on his arms was starting to build up, but he knew he couldn’t stop now. Not with so much at stake.

“Remember,” Dr. Amano added, her calm voice a stark contrast to Denki’s tense energy, “you’re learning how to control the flow, not just the quantity. Precision is key. You need to know exactly how much to pull and when.”

Denki nodded again, biting back a groan. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep going at this pace, but the thought of failing wasn’t an option. His body may be struggling to keep up, but his mind refused to give in. He took a deep breath, focusing on the electric pulse in his hands, adjusting it—just slightly. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

He could feel it, that small step forward.

Chapter Text

Denki sighed and set his phone down, hoping Shinso had taken the hint. He genuinely believed Shinso could pass the entrance exam on his own, even without any extra nudging, but still, he couldn’t help but worry.

He let out another sigh and reassured himself that what he did should be fine because Shinso could have found out about the hero points on his own. It wasn't like he had given away top-secret intel—anyone who actually read the little pamphlet handed out before the practical exam would’ve noticed the mention of two different types of points. It was right there in the fine print.

With that thought in mind, Denki stretched his arms over his head and stood up from his chair.

“I’m gonna grab something from the vending machine,” he called out. “Want anything, Chiyo-sensei?”

Recovery Girl—well, Chiyo, since she insisted he call her that—glanced up from her work.

“Hmm… just get me a coffee,” she replied.

Denki nodded and headed for the door. The practical exam was starting in ten minutes, and he’d been helping prep the infirmary since morning. Lunch wouldn’t be served for another hour and forty-five minutes, so a quick snack run seemed like the best option.

Denki hadn’t expected to run into anyone on his way to the vending machine, much less stumble upon a girl being harassed by some short guy with—were those grape-shaped balls on his hair?

His frown deepened as he approached the two. The girl looked clearly uncomfortable, her body tense as the purple-haired boy hovered too close.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Denki asked, voice firm.

Both of them turned to look at him. The girl’s eyes lit up with relief, and without hesitation, she moved to stand beside him—no, slightly behind him, as if she was looking for some kind of shield.

Denki’s stomach twisted.

He turned his head slightly to glance at her. There was a silent plea in her eyes.

Denki squared his shoulders, steeling his nerves before facing the other boy again. “I’ll repeat myself—what’s going on here?”

The purple-haired boy scoffed, crossing his arms. “I was just talking to her.”

The girl let out a sharp snort. “Talking? Talking?! You were trying to peek up my skirt!”

Denki’s glare sharpened as the boy floundered for an excuse.

“Y-yeah, well—maybe she shouldn’t wear such a short skirt!”

Both Denki and the girl stared at him like he had just announced the sky was green.

There were so many things wrong with that sentence.

First off, her skirt was well past knee-length, and she was wearing tights. And second—

“Even if she was wearing a short skirt,” Denki snapped, “what gave you the right to peek? Actually, you know what? I don’t care about your excuses. What’s your name and ID number?”

The boy scoffed again. “Or what? You can’t do anything.”

Denki’s eye twitched. Oh, he was about to ruin this kid.

Denki pulled out his UA-issued phone and quickly scanned the boy’s face. The screen blinked to life, displaying the information loud and clear:

Minoru Mineta. ID Number: 100816.

“Is this information correct?” Denki asked, after reading out the information, his voice calm but firm.

Minoru went pale. “Y-you work here!?”

The girl beside Denki looked equally surprised.

Ignoring their reactions, Denki tapped the Call Security button. Less than a minute later, Vlad King arrived, his imposing presence filling the hallway.

“Kaminari-kun, what’s wrong?” Vlad asked, scanning the scene.

Denki pointed directly at Minoru. “I caught him harassing this girl.”

Vlad’s expression darkened as he turned to Minoru. “Is this true, young man?” His voice was tight with barely restrained anger.

“N-no! They're lying!” Minoru blurted out, his voice high-pitched with panic.

“Lying?! He literally saw you do it!” the girl snapped, crossing her arms.

Vlad glanced at her, then back at Denki. “We’ll find out soon enough. Kaminari-kun, can you pull up the security footage on your phone?”

Minoru visibly blanched at the mention of security footage. His breathing turned shallow as Denki navigated through the app and handed Vlad his phone.

There it was, clear as day—Minoru’s actions caught on multiple angles, his behavior undeniable.

Minoru immediately switched tactics, his voice turning desperate. “P-please, sir! This was my first time doing this! I swear, it’ll never happen again!”

Vlad’s grip on the phone tightened. “That’s not what your records say.” His tone was laced with disgust. “Four previous offenses of sexual harassment. The fact that you even managed to walk through UA’s doors and thought you could get away with this again—was bold.”

Minoru stammered, struggling to find a defense, but Vlad didn’t give him the chance. With a disgusted huff, he returned Denki’s phone and grabbed Minoru by the collar, effortlessly lifting him off the ground.

“Make sure you two write a report about this,” Vlad said to Denki and the girl. “I’ll take the trash out.”

Minoru kicked and screamed as he was dragged away. “Wait—! No—! Please! It was a mistake—!”

Denki let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

The girl sighed in relief, running a hand through her hair. “Thank you. Seriously. You don’t know how much that meant to me.”

Now that he had a time to get a proper look at her, Denki took in her tall frame, orange hair, and sharp green eyes. She straightened up and gave a small, grateful smile.

“If you hadn’t come, I was afraid I was gonna have to knock him out with my quirk.” She clenched a fist for emphasis.

Denki chuckled. “Would’ve been well-deserved. Name’s Kaminari Denki.”

She bowed slightly. “Kendo Itsuka. Thanks again, Kaminari-san.”

“Ah, no need for all that,” Denki said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just did what anyone should do in that situation.”

“Still,” Kendo said, straightening up, “it’s the thought that counts.”

Before Denki could reply, the speakers crackled to life.

“The practical exam is about to begin. Please make your way to your designated gate.”

Kendo flinched. “I’d love to keep talking, but I really gotta go!”

“Don’t sweat it! Good luck on your exam!” Denki called after her as she took off running.

He watched her disappear into the crowd before suddenly realizing—

He only had five minutes to grab snacks and get back to Chiyo!

Panic set in, and he bolted for the vending machine.

Denki hadn’t been able to watch the entrance exam, much to his disappointment. The infirmary had been way too busy, with students constantly coming in and out, keeping him on his feet the entire time. He’d spent most—if not all—of his day healing people.

Of course, he was happy to help. But man, he’d really been looking forward to seeing what this year’s potential students were made of. His only saving grace was that he’d at least gotten to watch the recommendation exam—and that had been a riot.

He was just glad no one had gotten seriously hurt.

Humming absentmindedly, Denki focused on disinfecting a cut on a kid’s arm. Apparently, he’d gotten scraped up while trying to take down one of the robots. And while Denki’s quirk could heal wounds fast, it had its limits. One of the biggest issues? If a wound wasn’t cleaned properly before he healed it, the patient could end up with an infection. His quirk worked kind of like sanitizer, wiping out most of the bad bacteria, but there were always stubborn ones that could resist and clung to the patient. So, Denki couldn’t afford to take shortcuts—he had to make sure the wound was thoroughly cleaned before sealing it up.

Once he had properly disinfected the cut, Denki finally activated his quirk. Within moments, the skin stitched itself back together, good as new.

“There! All set.” He let go of the kid’s arm with a small smile.

The boy—black-haired, with tape dispensers on his elbows—stretched out his arm, turning it over to inspect the now-healed cut. His eyes widened.

“That’s so sick, man! It’s like it was never even there!”

And that was how Denki spent most of his afternoon—healing cut after cut, bruise after bruise, even the occasional sprain—until he was wheeled into the infirmary.

Denki had to force himself not to physically recoil at the sight. The boy on the stretcher had completely shattered the bones in one of his arms and both of his legs. His limbs were twisted at angles that no human body should ever be able to manage—his left leg bent backward at the knee, one of his arms flopped limply to the side, looking more like a rope than a limb. There was already deep bruising forming under his skin, the kind that told Denki something had snapped where it shouldn’t have.

His stomach churned. He hadn't even known bones could bend like that.

Chiyo, ever the professional, was already moving, helping the boy onto a bed with practiced efficiency. Meanwhile, a brown-haired girl rushed in after him, her eyes wide with panic.

“He’ll be fine, right? Right?!” she asked, her voice shrill with worry.

Denki quickly stepped forward, snapping into action. He pulled the curtain around the bed, giving Chiyo the space to work, then gently guided the girl a few steps away to help calm her down.

“Hey, hey, deep breaths, okay?” he said, keeping his voice steady. “We’ve got him. Recovery Girl's the best—he’s in good hands.”

The girl clutched her arms, looking like she was two seconds away from full-blown hyperventilation.

Denki softened his tone. “Can you tell me what happened? The more we know, the better we can help him.”

Denki listened intently as the girl—Ochako—explained what had happened. Apparently, the boy had used his Quirk to save her and take down the massive zero-point robot in one go.

Denki would have been impressed—because that was seriously badass—if it weren’t for the sheer amount of damage the guy had done to himself in the process. His arm and legs were wrecked.

Once he was done gathering information, Denki shifted his attention back to Ochako. “What about you? Are you okay?”

She hesitated for a second before admitting, “I think I sprained my ankle, but besides that, I’m fine.”

Denki nodded, and led her to a bed to check. “Alright, let’s take a look.”

Denki had insisted on being with Shinso when he opened his letter, practically dragging him to a quiet spot the moment the results were released. Shinso had been on edge the entire day, and Denki had done everything in his power to break the tension—bad jokes, random trivia, even offering to “psychically predict” his results (which had just been Denki pointing at the envelope and dramatically declaring, ‘You totally passed.’)

Now, as Shinso held the letter in his hands, fingers twitching slightly, Denki bounced on his heels beside him. “Well? Open it already!”

Shinso shot him a look but tore into the envelope anyway, unfolding the paper inside. As his eyes scanned the words, his breath caught.

Denki leaned in, trying to read over his shoulder. “Shinso?”

Shinso swallowed. Then, finally, he let out a slow exhale. “…I got in.”

Denki didn’t even wait for further confirmation—he let out a triumphant yell and tackled Shinso into a hug. “I knew it! I told you you’d get in!”

Shinso staggered back slightly, caught off guard, but he couldn’t fight the small, relieved smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get a big head about it.”

Denki pulled back just enough to beam at him. “Too late.”

Nari had to fight the urge to roll her eyes as she stared at the latest gift their mother had sent her. It was nothing new—just another attempt to buy their love.

For whatever reason, their mother had suddenly remembered she had children and had been trying to make up for lost time. Nari had no idea what triggered this sudden burst of guilt or effort, but she was already exhausted from the constant smothering.

Akio didn’t even try to hide his disapproval. He had been very vocal—very—about how their mother couldn’t just vanish from their lives for nearly two years and then waltz back in, pretending like nothing had happened.

Denki, as always, played neutral ground. He never outright refused the gifts, just smiled and nodded, always polite. But Nari had noticed something—she had never once seen him unwrap a single one.

They had all been hurt by her actions. But it was the moment she gave up guardianship—that was what really broke them.

Nari tried to sympathize, she really did. She could understand that their mother was mourning their father, even though he was still alive. But so were they. And unlike her, they didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. They had to pick up the pieces and keep moving.

She was supposed to guide them through their grief, through the crushing weight of depression. But she didn’t.

Denki did.

Like the guiding light he had always been, he lit the way for them, giving them the strength to put themselves back together.

They still loved their mother, but love only stretched so far. There was only so much they could forgive.

On the slightly brighter side, at least her relationship with Akio had improved. Ever since he’d started his whole vigilante thing, she’d been helping him from the shadows—covering for him, cleaning up any messes he left behind.

And slowly but surely, their relationship had been recovering.

There was still that invisible wall between them, an unspoken barrier neither of them had the courage to break.

Neither of them could bring themselves to talk about him. About their father.

Nari knew Akio didn’t truly blame her for what happened—not anymore, at least. But he had never apologized for the things he said to her that day at the pool.

It had hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

For a long time, those words had clung to her, whispering doubts into the cracks of her mind. It took her years to finally accept that what happened wasn’t her fault—realistically, it never had been. But knowing that and feeling it were two different things.

Things weren’t perfect—not yet, maybe not ever—but they were trying. And that had to count for something.

Nari could only hope that, from here on out, things would keep moving forward.

Chapter Text

“You’re taking us to school?” Denki asked, confused. It was the first day of school for all of them, and he had fully intended on taking the train with his siblings.

So he was surprised when their mom offered to drive.

“Don’t you have work?” Akio snarked, and Denki bit back a tired sigh.

“We wouldn’t want to impose on you,” Nari added, offering their mom an anxious smile. Their mom tried to hide the way she winced at Nari’s words, but they all noticed.

“You’re not imposing,” she said quickly. “It’s you two’s last year of secondary school, and your first day of high school—how could I miss that?”

Denki had to fight the urge to point out the holes in her logic: how she missed his last day of secondary school, and technically, this was his second year of high school. She’d already missed his first day.

“Right… we should get going then. I have to get to school early to help Chiyo-sensei prep the infirmary,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” their mom asked, and all three of them blinked at her, thrown off.

“It’s fine, our schools provide breakfast,” Nari replied gently, trying to smooth things over.

“Oh,” she mumbled, clearly flustered—and that’s when Denki realized she must’ve actually made breakfast for them.

“I wouldn’t mind eating something,” Denki said with a polite smile.

Their mom perked up instantly and darted back into the kitchen. “Don’t worry! You guys can eat it in the car!” she called out.

Akio groaned quietly. Nari pinched his arm, earning a yelp and a dirty look.

Denki sighed. This was going to be a long morning.

The car ride was pretty awkward at first, the silence stretching between them like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

But Denki, ever the peacekeeper, broke the tension with a cheerful, “So! You guys excited for your first day?”

It was clearly meant more for his siblings, but it gave their mom an opening—and she took it like a lifeline.

“Oh! Right—right, I was going to ask! What classes are you taking this year? Do you already know your teachers? Are you nervous? Excited?”

It was rapid-fire, a little desperate, like she was trying to cram three years’ worth of missed check-ins into a ten-minute drive.

Denki watched through the rearview mirror as Nari gave polite, clipped answers and Akio stared out the window, earbuds firmly in place.

Still, she kept going.

And Denki let her.

He figured if she was trying—really trying—then the least he could do was throw her a bone. Even if it felt a little forced.

They eventually made it to the twins’ school.

“Before you go, I have to tell you something,” their mom said suddenly.

Denki sat up straighter. In the backseat, both his siblings tensed.

She took in a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize to you guys,” she said shakily. The car fell into a heavy silence.

“I haven’t been a good mother to any of you,” she continued. “But everything’s just been so hard since your dad’s accident. And I know that’s no excuse—you lost him too.”

Her voice had been the only sound in the car. When she stopped, the silence was deafening.

Akio broke it.

“Are you serious?”

His voice was sharp, angry, and it startled her.

“Three years. It took you three years to remember you have children!” he shouted. “You can take that apology and shove it down your throat.”

“Akio!” Denki snapped, but Akio didn’t back down.

“No! She doesn’t just get to walk back in and act like nothing happened! You passed out from stress, Denki. And instead of showing up like a normal mom, she gave someone else guardianship—without even telling us!”

Their mom flinched like she’d been slapped. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, even though the car was parked.

“I know I messed up,” she said quietly. “I know I wasn’t there. I didn’t know how to be. I was falling apart and I—I thought giving guardianship to someone more stable was the best thing I could do. I thought I was doing what was right for you.”

“Without even asking us?” Nari cut in, her tone sharp but quieter than Akio’s. “You didn’t even try to explain. You didn’t write. You didn’t call. You just… left.”

“I never stopped thinking about you—”

“You sure acted like it,” Akio snapped. “We had to take care of each other. Denki nearly worked himself to death. Nari never slept. And I—” He cut himself off. Looked away. Jaw clenched.

Denki didn’t know what to say. His hands were tight in his lap, his chest aching from the weight of it all. He hated seeing his mom cry—but he also remembered. Remembered waiting. Hoping. Constantly watching the door.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right now,” she whispered. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. And I’m trying now.”

Silence. Heavy and buzzing and full of things no one could say.

The bell rang in the distance. First warning.

Nari opened her door first. “We’re going to be late.”

Akio followed, slamming the door harder than he needed to.

Denki hesitated. Then turned to look at her.

“Trying now is a start,” he said softly. “But it’s going to take more than words.”

He gave her a tired, strained smile.

She didn’t reply, but he noticed—her hands never unclenched from the wheel. Not even once, all the way to his school.

Denki hummed absentmindedly as he entered the building through the teacher’s entrance, too mentally drained to deal with any students just yet.

He headed straight for the infirmary, greeted Chiyo, and got to work helping her prep for the incoming wave of students. When the first bell rang, she sent him off with a cheerful “Good luck on your second first day of high school.”

Nezu had given Denki a heads-up that Aizawa liked to kick off the year with a quirk assessment. ‘To weed out the incompetent ones,’ apparently. Aizawa’s words, not his. Denki quickly changed into his gym uniform and made his way to the field where he knew the assessment would be held.

Sure enough, when he got there, Aizawa had already launched into his whole ‘the world’s unfair’ speech and was about to begin testing. He paused, however, when he noticed Denki approaching.

“Sorry I’m late,” Denki said with a quick bow. “I was helping Chiyo-sensei set up the infirmary.”

Then he turned to face the group of students. A few faces jumped out at him—ones he recognized. One was the kid who’d managed to break his arm and both legs. Another was the girl—Ochako, he thought—who he’d comforted while she cried. And of course, there was Shinso.

“Right. Students, this is Kaminari Denki,” Aizawa began, dry as ever. “He’s technically part of your class.”

“You’re the guy who patched up my arm!” one student—Denki vaguely remembered him, his shoulders shot tape or something—exclaimed.

Denki laughed good-naturedly. “Yeah, that was me.”

Aizawa cleared his throat, dragging the attention back to himself. “Kaminari-kun is a medic-in-training. He’ll be joining you during hero training classes, and maybe a few others. Don’t count on it, though—he’s technically a second-year.”

The class stared at Denki with a mix of curiosity and awe. That was, until a blonde kid with spiky hair shouted, “Who cares about some extra?! Let’s start the damn test already!”

Aizawa let out a long-suffering sigh that said he was already regretting his life choices.

Denki had a feeling this year’s batch of first-years was going to be a handful.

Denki had spent most of the quirk assessment observing the students, carefully watching how they used their quirks. He glanced down at his work phone, where he’d been jotting notes and sending them off to Aizawa in real time. Aizawa occasionally scrolled through them, humming in agreement at a few of his observations.

But there was one student that was bothering Denki.

Midoriya Izuku.

The same boy who’d managed to break one of his arms and both of his legs during the entrance exam. His quirk was vaguely listed as ‘enhancement,’ but the file didn’t go into specifics—and so far, the boy hadn’t used it at all.

Denki had watched the footage from the exam. Whatever the boy’s quirk was, it was powerful. Destructive, definitely. But powerful nonetheless.

It was too powerful for someone who seemed to have no control over it.

If Denki had to guess, Midoriya’s quirk damaged his body every time he used it—and he had no real grasp on how to manage it. That alone raised concerns. But what bothered Denki more was the boy’s behavior.

Aizawa seemed to have mentally filed him away as another egotistical brat who blew up the entrance exam for attention. But Denki had seen something else.

He’d spent enough time with Dr. Miho in the pediatric wing to recognize the signs. The way Midoriya flinched when someone spoke too loudly. The way he seemed constantly on edge, like he was waiting for something to go wrong. The way he didn’t quite seem to know how to accept kindness.

He acted like the abused kids Denki had treated before.

And Denki didn’t like that one bit.

“Aizawa-sensei,” Denki said as the students were finishing up their grip strength tests.

Aizawa hummed in acknowledgment without looking up.

“That Midoriya kid—doesn’t something seem… off to you?” Denki asked, hoping Aizawa had picked up on the same things he had.

Aizawa frowned. “Off how?”

Denki frowned in return. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it out. Aizawa was the teacher here—a Pro-Hero, no less. If anyone should’ve noticed a struggling student, it should’ve been him. But then again, Denki reminded himself, Aizawa hadn’t exactly accepted them as his students yet.

Denki let out a slow sigh. “Aizawa-sensei… the kid is showing textbook signs of abuse.”

Aizawa’s frown deepened. “Are you sure? He’s probably just being obnoxious—thinking he’s better than everyone.”

Denki’s tone sharpened. “You’re making a dangerous assumption. This could be a student living in a hostile environment. It’s your job—as a teacher, and as a hero—to help him.”

Aizawa flinched at the words, guilt flickering across his expression.

Denki didn’t back down. “What if this is another Shinso situation?”

That landed. Aizawa’s shoulders slumped slightly, his face unreadable—but Denki could see the shift in his eyes.

“…Fine,” Aizawa muttered. “Send me the notes you’ve got on him. I’ll look into it.”

Denki brightened immediately, giving him a sunny smile. “I knew you’d come around, Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa sighed, long and tired, but there was a trace of fondness behind it. “Damn brat.”

Midoriya had broken a finger just to prove a point to Aizawa.

Denki’s eye twitched. He strode over to Midoriya, grabbed his hand gently and began to heal him.

“That was extremely reckless,” Denki scolded as he started healing the boy’s finger. Midoriya looked down, clearly disheartened, and Denki sighed, softening his tone. “I get it—you wanted to prove a point. But there are safer ways to do that.”

The fractures sealed with a faint glow of light. “There. Good as new.” Denki offered him a reassuring smile.

Midoriya stared at his hand in awe, then looked up at him with literal stars in his eyes.

“That’s so cool! How does your quirk work? Are there any drawbacks? Are you—”

Denki laughed as the questions poured out. Midoriya reminded him so much of Nejire it was almost uncanny. He answered the questions easily, not fazed in the slightest when Midoriya pulled a notebook and pen out of nowhere.

“Damn it, Deku! Quit yapping the extra’s ear off so we can finish this stupid test!” barked the spiky-haired blonde—Bakugou, if Denki remembered the reports correctly.

Midoriya flinched hard. Too hard.

Denki’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“S-sorry, Kacchan!” Midoriya stammered, then turned back to Denki and bowed quickly. “Sorry for wasting your time!”

“No sweat, man. You remind me of a friend of mine,” Denki said easily, offering him a warm smile. “She can ask a million questions a minute, so I’m used to it.”

Midoriya visibly relaxed and returned to the group.

The rest of the test went by in a blur.

Then—

“Kaminari-kun, why don’t you give the ball toss a shot?” Aizawa asked, that smug, teeth-baring grin on full display.

Denki’s eye twitched again. Payback. This was definitely payback for his comment earlier.

“Of course, Aizawa-sensei,” Denki replied through gritted teeth. Behind him, Shinso snickered.

Denki rolled the ball in his palm. He was a lot better now at channeling his electricity precisely. With a deep breath, he focused roughly a thousand volts into the ball and launched it.

“Two thousand meters. Not bad, Kaminari-kun,” Aizawa said coolly.

Denki rolled his eyes.

Midoriya had gotten last place. No surprise, really—but the boy looked absolutely devastated. He probably thought Aizawa was going to expel him. And under normal circumstances, Aizawa would have. But Denki had already knocked some sense into the man, and honestly, Midoriya’s potential was way too obvious to ignore. Denki didn’t doubt for a second that Aizawa would let him stay.

Lo and behold, Aizawa didn’t expel him.

The students collectively exhaled in relief. One of them—Yaoyorozu, Denki reminded himself—stepped forward and confidently declared it had all been an obvious psychological ruse.

Denki laughed and shook his head. The students turned to him, confused.

“Nah, man. He would’ve totally expelled you if he didn’t think you had potential,” Denki said, still grinning. “Just ask any upperclassmen. There’s a reason there’s no Class 2-A.”

They all stared at him, horrified.

All in all, their first hero class had been… eventful.

Denki was still mulling over the day when he caught sight of All Might watching the class from the sidelines. Then without a word, he turned and followed after Aizawa.

That was weird.

“So, how are you enjoying your first day as a hero student so far?” Denki asked Shinso, practically buzzing with excitement.

“It’s… not what I expected, honestly,” Shinso said, a thoughtful look on his face.

Denki nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird, right?” he said with a grin, leading Shinso toward the cafeteria. “You have to try the jello fudge. It’s amazing, trust me.”

Shinso just nodded and followed along.

After they got their lunches, Denki scanned the crowded cafeteria, trying to figure out where to sit. Usually, he ate lunch in the infirmary or with Mirio and the others during C lunch. This was new territory.

“Over here!” someone called.

Denki turned to see the tape-shoulder kid—Sero, he reminded himself—waving them over. He was sitting with a pink girl, Mina, and a redhead, Kirishima, all of whom seemed pretty friendly.

Denki glanced at Shinso. The other boy was already watching him and gave a little shrug that clearly said, Why not?

Denki beamed and led them to the table.

“It’s so nice to officially meet you, man!” Sero said, smiling wide.

“Nice to meet you too!” Denki replied, easily matching his energy.

Everyone went around introducing themselves. Then Mina leaned forward, eyes bright. “What’s your quirk? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all,” Denki said, shaking his head. “It’s Electrification.”

“Wait—you’re healing people with electricity?” Kirishima asked, clearly impressed.

Denki nodded. “Yup.”

“That’s so manly, man!”

Denki laughed—Kirishima’s enthusiasm was downright contagious.

“What’s yours?” Mina asked, turning to Shinso. He tensed beside Denki, but Denki gave his shoulder a small squeeze. Shinso relaxed a bit.

“It’s, uh… mind control,” he said, voice quieter.

“Oh!” Mina said, eyes lighting up. “You’d be really good in a hostage situation then!”

“That’s so manly!” Kirishima chimed in.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Sero added, “but yeah, that’d be super useful.”

Shinso looked a little stunned by the unexpected praise.

Denki grinned and bumped his shoulder lightly. “Told you it’s a super cool quirk,” he said—half playful, half sincere.

Shinso gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Chapter Text

Denki hummed to himself as he scribbled the last answer onto his worksheet.

“I’m ordering food—what do you guys want?” Akio called out.

It was Monday afternoon, and they'd decided to spend the rest of their day visiting their father at the hospital. He was still unconscious, but not as pale and lifeless as he'd been when first admitted. His body was thinner, weaker, but Dr. Amano said his brain scans looked promising. She was surprisingly optimistic, she had told them it was only a matter of time before he started responding to stimuli again. That was enough hope for them to want to stick around, just in case today was the day something changed.

“I want to eat soba,” Nari said without looking up, calmly knitting a wool sweater from her seat on the couch.

“American cheeseburger, please,” Denki requested, sighing as he finally flipped his notebook shut. His homework was finally completed.

“Mkay, be right back.” Akio left the room to go place their order.

On the TV, the news anchor was mid-report: “The vigilante Guiding Light was once again spotted in -------- District. This time, he helped stop a massive gang fight. Truly, what a hero.”

Denki rolled his eyes.

Guiding Light had been getting more and more attention lately, especially around their area, and it was making Denki uneasy. The more fame that vigilante gathered, the more villains seemed to creep into their neighborhood, like rats filling the silence after a thunderclap.

“He’s really cool,” Nari said, eyes fixed on the screen and a soft smile on her face. She’d paused her knitting to watch the footage.

Denki couldn’t help himself—he snorted.

Nari blinked at him. “You don’t like him?”

“Not really,” Denki said with a shrug. “Vigilantes are bad news.”

Nari looked a little pained at that but didn't say anything so the room went quiet after that.

A little while after Akio came back with the food, the siblings enjoyed a quiet, pleasant afternoon together. They spent it talking, studying, and occasionally watching the slow, steady rise and fall of their father’s chest. It was almost seven when they decided it was time to pack up and head home.

They gathered their bags and stood in front of their dad’s hospital bed.

It had been three years.

Three years since the accident that shattered their lives. Three years since their father had fallen into a coma. Since he’d lost the use of his legs.

In those years, they’d changed. Grown.

Denki especially.

He’d thrown himself into healing studies, determined to become a Medic Hero—someone who could use his quirk not just to fight, but to restore. Maybe, just maybe, to fix what had been broken.

But sometimes… sometimes that same hope carried a heavy shadow.

Would their father even recognize them when he woke up?

Would he still love them?

The doubt crept in more easily than Denki liked to admit—especially after their mother had all but disappeared from their lives after the accident. She hadn’t been able to bear the weight of it all. What if their father couldn’t either?

Would he blame them for what happened? For the years he lost? For the legs he could no longer use?

Would he forgive them?

Denki swallowed and shook his head. No. Their father loved them. Denki had to believe that. He had to keep learning, keep growing, keep improving—because someday, if the stars aligned, he would figure out how to heal his father’s spine. He’d make sure their dad could stand again, not just in spirit, but on his own two feet.

“We’ll see you next week, Dad,” Akio said quietly.

They all lingered. Waiting. Watching. Hoping for something—anything—to break the silence.

And just when they were about to turn away, when the hope started to feel foolish—

Their father’s finger twitched.

Hitoshi had noticed how happy Kaminari had been when he picked up the call.

He’d been curious—of course he had—but something in his gut told him it probably wasn’t his place to ask.

So he just laid there, phone beside his ear, listening to Kaminari bumble through the details of his day and his plans for the week. He wasn’t sure when it had become a habit, but at some point, it had turned into a nightly routine. Listening to Kaminari’s voice before bed helped him fall asleep more easily.

Not that he’d ever admit that. But he was pretty sure the blonde already knew.

“Ah, I’m going to be All Might’s teacher assistant for tomorrow’s hero class,” Kaminari said offhandedly.

Any trace of sleep vanished from Hitoshi’s brain.

“So it’s true that All Might is teaching at our school?” he asked, curious.

“Mhm. Since he doesn’t have any teaching experience and I’ve helped supervise a bunch of the hero classes, I’ll be his assistant tomorrow,” Kaminari explained.

“Huh. I guess I never realized you’re technically a student teacher.” Hitoshi said it aloud, almost to himself.

“Eh, I don’t think too much about it,” Kaminari replied breezily, already changing the topic to some weird video he’d seen earlier.

Hitoshi let his eyes fall shut, Kaminari’s voice lulling him closer to sleep.

And just as he was drifting, somewhere between consciousness and dreams, Kaminari’s voice dropped to a soft whisper.

“Goodnight, Hitoshi.”

Then the call ended.

Hitoshi’s eyes blinked open slowly. His cheeks were warm.

Did Kaminari say that every time he thought Hitoshi was asleep?

The use of his first name—it shouldn’t have affected him this much. They were close, after all. Kaminari was his best friend. It made sense to use first names.

So why did it make him feel dizzy?

He buried his face in his pillow and groaned.

Whatever. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

Right now, he needed to fall asleep before his mind realized he was still awake—and his insomnia decided to make a night of it.

Denki’s hero costume was really practical, and honestly? He really liked it.

He’d gotten it last year, and all the doctors, nurses and interns in the Neurology Wing had pitched in to design it. They'd called it a gift for all his hard work, but it meant way more than that to him. He hadn’t cried when they gave it to him—but only because he’d locked himself in the break room and did it there instead.

It was mostly navy, kind of like a sleeker version of medical scrubs, only made from high-grade material that could take a hit and not fall apart. They'd even added these soft yellow circuit designs along the arms and legs that lit up when he used his quirk—definitely a cool touch. It helped make it feel like him and not just something out of a hospital catalog.

His gloves were custom, fitted with conductive pads at the fingertips so he could direct his electricity exactly where he needed it—either to heal, defibrillate, or occasionally zap a stubborn student. His boots had insane grip because he’d definitely learned his lesson about wet pavement the hard way.

Attached to his belt was a compact med-kit, stocked with everything from bandages and healing gel to emergency stimulants and mini heat and cooling patches. And on his back he had a small backpack that carried a fold-out pack that had a few diagnostic tools, extra supplies, and a basic first aid kit.

On one of his shoulders had a little medic patch on it, official and clean. The other? Some intern had stitched on a dumb smiley face with tiny lightning bolts for eyes. It was so stupid but Denki loved it a lot. It really brought the whole costume together, so he never took it off.

It was flexible, breathable, and let him move around without feeling like he was stuffed into a box. Honestly, it kind of felt like a hug—something that said, we see you, we trust you, and we’ve got your back.

He didn’t say that part out loud, though. It sounded kind of cheesy. But still… it was sweet.

Everyone else was also in their costumes, and some of them—to put it frankly—looked, uh, interesting. If Denki wasn’t already used to seeing first-year hero students in their horrible beginner costumes, he might’ve grimaced at the pajamas Midoriya was trying to pass off as a hero outfit.

He zoned out while All Might explained how the exercise for the day would work. Denki already knew the whole deal anyway—he’d helped plan it. He blinked back to reality when Shinso poked him in the arm.

“You okay? You were zoning out,” Shinso asked, voice low and quiet.

Denki smiled and nodded. “I’m fine, just got a little distracted.”

Since this technically counted as one of Denki’s classes, he was required to participate in the hero exercises. Today, he’d been teamed up with Jiro—the girl with the ear jacks quirk—and Shinso got paired with Yaoyorozu.

“Ohhh, you got lucky,” Denki said, wiggling his brows.

Shinso raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Yaoyorozu-san was a recommendation student,” Denki replied, and watched the realization hit.

“Lucky me then,” Shinso smirked, clearly too pleased with himself.

Denki stared at him for a beat, then pinched his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You were being annoying, dude.”

Denki rolled his eyes fondly.

“God forbid a man be happy,” Shinso grumbled as he rubbed the spot Denki had pinched him.

Denki knew a bad idea when he saw one. And Midoriya facing off against Bakugo? They had bad idea written all over them.

There was clearly tension between the two—unresolved, heavy—and now All Might had given them an opportunity to act on it under the excuse of ‘training.’

Normally Denki believed in letting people work things out in a healthy manner, but All Might didn’t seem to understand that.

He didn't get that teenagers could be unpredictable, emotional, and dangerous when pushed too far.

Denki bit his lip and tried not to imagine the worst.

But he could already see Bakugo stomping down the hallway, clearly not interested in strategizing with his teammate. He looked like he was hunting Midoriya, exercise be damned.

Denki sighed. This wasn’t going to end well. He could just feel it.

The longer the fight went on, the more obvious it became—Bakugo wasn’t holding back. He wasn’t thinking about the space they were in or the limits of the exercise. He had an explosion quirk, and they were fighting inside a building. It wasn’t safe.

“All Might,” Denki said quietly, eyes fixed on the screen. Bakugo pointed one of his gauntlets straight at Midoriya. “You need to call the fight off.”

Instead All Might shouted into the mic, “Young Bakugo, don’t do it!”

But it was too late.

Bakugo pulled the pin. The explosion tore through the hallway. A few students flinched, someone behind Denki asked if this was still allowed—if this was okay.

Denki watched as All Might tried to talk Bakugo down. But it wasn’t working. Bakugo didn’t care about the exercise. He was already too far gone. He wanted to win, to fight, and if people got hurt along the way, that didn’t seem to matter.

The other gauntlet lit up red. Full charge. Ready to fire.

“All Might, call off the fight,” Denki said again, more firmly this time.

But All Might didn’t stop it. He just warned Bakugo that continuing would cost him the match.

Denki’s hands were clenched into fists. That was the wrong thing to say. Bakugo would see it as a challenge, not a warning. He was far beyond reasoning.

This exercise was about pride. But All Might didn’t get it. He wasn’t seeing what was really going on.

Denki’s breathing picked up. The voices around him started to fade out, replaced by the distant sound of a building groaning, the crash of rubble. He felt like he was back in that collapsing store again, with walls caving in and no way out.

Shinso reached out to him, concerned, but Denki pulled back.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low and strained. “I’m at my limit. I might shock you.”

He didn’t look away from the screen.

Midoriya and Bakugo were charging.

“All Might. End the fight,” Denki said one last time.

All Might tried.

“Both of you—stop!”

But it was too late again.

Midoriya shot upward, blasting through the ceiling and windows, but it left him wide open. Bakugo didn’t hesitate—he aimed and fired.

Ochako managed to pull off the plan she and Midoriya had made, securing the win.

All Might yelled into the mic, “Hero team wins!”

But Denki didn’t care about the victory. Not when all he could see was the damaged building, the smoke, Midoriya barely standing with one arm broken and the other charred from the blast.

He couldn’t let this continue.

He reached over and took the mic from All Might’s hand.

“All students in the building, please exit if you can,” Denki said, voice calm but distant. “The building is unstable. Support will be sent to assist you.”

He didn’t care to wait for All Might’s permission.

Midoriya had been wheeled into the infirmary, and the rest of the students were safely evacuated with nothing more than minor bruises and a few cuts.

Denki needed something to focus on, something repetitive to ground himself, so he helped disinfect wounds and heal the injured students while All Might moved on with the class, asking them to decide who the MVP of the match had been.

After Yaoyorozu finished explaining her reasoning why Iida was the MVP of the exercise, Denki finally reached his limit.

“Why didn’t you stop the fight earlier?”

His voice was calm. Measured. He didn’t have to raise it—the weight behind the question was enough to silence the room. All eyes turned to him, but Denki’s eyes never left All Might.

“The point of the exercise was to imitate a real battle, sure. But there were rules. Safety procedures. Limitations clearly laid out beforehand. Bakugo broke those the moment he used his gauntlet the first time.”

Bakugo flinched beside him, but Denki didn’t stop.

“What if that building had collapsed, All Might? Were you ready to tell the parents of those students that their child had been crushed under debris? During their first hero class of the school year?”

Denki’s eyes glowed with a low, electric yellow hue.

“Were you ready to tell them your negligence got their child killed?”

The room was silent. The only sound was the faint crackle of static in the air, thick with tension.

“A-ah, young Kaminari—” All Might stammered, “I just wanted to see the students go Plus Ultra!” he said, forcing a boisterous laugh.

“Plus Ultra?” Denki repeated, incredulous. “Plus Ultra doesn’t mean letting an unprepared student get beaten within an inch of their life!”

“Young Kaminari, you must understand that—” All Might started, trying to justify himself.

“Don’t undermine me!” Denki snapped. “Frankly, I have more teaching experience than you. I was assigned here to supervise you—to keep your class from turning into a disaster. If you were anyone else, you would’ve been fired on the spot!”

Denki panted, fists clenched at his sides as electricity buzzed hot and angry beneath his skin. It felt like fire in his veins, sparking and clawing for an outlet.

“Ugh!” he growled, frustrated, the sharp sound echoing in the stunned silence of the room. “Whatever. Start the next match—I’m taking a breather.”

He didn’t wait for All Might to respond. Didn’t want to hear another excuse.

Denki turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, the static still crackling faintly in his wake.

Hitoshi had always known Kaminari was powerful—but knowing something and seeing it were two completely different things.

Electric quirks were no joke. Elemental quirks in general were dangerous, but electricity? Electricity was destruction incarnate. It didn’t just hurt—it burned, short-circuited, ignited. If it got hot enough, it could rival fire. Outrank it, even for the mere fact that it could start fires by itself.

But none of that theoretical knowledge had prepared him for this.

Kaminari, standing in front of the number one hero in Japan, tearing into him without hesitation. Electricity sparking at his fingertips. Eyes glowing that sharp, furious yellow. A storm in human form, righteous and unrelenting.

He looked like a god. Not in some metaphorical, flowery way—he genuinely looked like he could strike down anyone in the room with a single thought.

And the terrifying part?

He probably could.

Hitoshi didn’t think Kaminari realized how powerful he looked in that moment. How far he’d come. How terrifyingly impressive he was.

Kaminari. The name was way too on the nose if you asked Hitoshi.

Chapter Text

Kaminari Denki was intimidating.

That was the thought running through Momo’s head as he literally stormed out of the room.

She didn’t even think he realized how powerful he’d looked in that moment.

Momo had a lot of respect for him. He was her age, and yet he was already far more accomplished than she was. From what she’d heard, he was technically a second-year student, and at the same time, also a well-respected member of the school’s faculty. He worked with U.A.—the leading hero school in the world—and he was doing it at her age.

It was hard not to admire him.

Especially after watching him tear into All Might like that. She hadn’t expected it—hadn’t even known it was something she needed to hear until it happened. Watching Bakugo and Midoriya’s match had left her unsettled. She hadn’t said anything at the time. Everyone else had just seemed to move on, pumped up for their own matches like nothing had happened.

So, to have someone finally say what she had been thinking... to hear Kaminari call All Might out for how far he had let the exercise go... it was relieving.

Still though. The boy was terrifying.

And now she had to go up against him.

“Okay, how do we do this?” Shinso asked beside her, arms loosely crossed.

“Well,” Momo began, pushing down the nerves bubbling in her chest, “my quirk allows me to create any non-living object or material from my exposed skin by transforming the molecular structure of my fat cells. But I need to understand how the object is made—its components, structure, everything.”

Shinso nodded, taking that in. Then he hesitated.

“Is that why your outfit is so… uh, revealing?”

Momo flushed instantly, the heat rushing to her cheeks. She looked away. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she said quietly, voice tinged with embarrassment.

She hated her costume. It covered almost nothing. Her only comfort had been that no one had said anything aloud. But she’d seen the glances. She wasn’t stupid.

“I mean—if you like it, then, y’know, great!” Shinso said quickly, clearly trying to recover. “I just… wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it.”

Momo sighed. “It was what the support department told me would work best,” she muttered, suddenly feeling far too exposed, arms instinctively crossing over her torso.

Shinso frowned. “You know… if you send them a sample of your skin cells, they can actually design a material that your quirk can pass through. Like, a better suit. One that doesn’t need to be so—uh, open.”

Momo blinked at him.

“…You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I mean, that’s what they did with Kaminari’s costume, right? And he basically zaps lightning through it.”

Momo stood there, stunned.

Then, flatly, “I’m filing a complaint.”

Shinso awkwardly laughed, “Yeah that’s probably for the best.”

“If we bolt the door, he’ll just zap through it,” Shinso pointed out.

“Drats, you're right.” Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay… change of plan. You know Kaminari-kun best. What would he do in this situation?”

Shinso tapped his chin, thoughtful. “He’ll try to cause as little structural damage as possible—he's basically hardwired not to destroy stuff unless he has to. Plus, his partner is Jiro-san. She’ll probably use her earphone jacks to scout us out through sound or vibration.”

“So… stealth is off the table,” Momo muttered.

“Yeah, but…” Shinso’s eyes lit up a bit. “That also means we can use their caution against them.”

Momo glanced at him, intrigued. “Go on.”

He leaned in slightly. “Okay. We rig the area with decoys. You create hollow objects—like mannequins or armor shells—that look like us, just enough to trigger suspicion. Then we wire the floor near the entrance with anything metallic or conductive—pipes, wires, foil, anything. Doesn’t have to be dangerous, just messy.”

“You want him to hesitate using his quirk,” Momo realized. “Because he won’t know what’s real and what’s a trap.”

“Exactly. And if Jiro-san tries to scout ahead, we can mask our presence by playing noise over the comms system—white noise, music, whatever. You can make a speaker, right?”

“Of course,” Momo nodded, already mentally listing what she’d need. “And we can set this up on another floor, then hide somewhere then sneak up on them to tag them out.”

Shinso smirked faintly. “Exactly, while they waste time trying to pinpoint us without wrecking the place, I can wait near one of the entry points. One command from me, and it’s lights out for Team Kaminari.”

Momo raised a brow. “You’re kind of scary when you get like this.”

“I try,” Shinso said with a shrug.

The plan hadn’t gone as smoothly as they’d hoped. They hadn’t accounted for how observant Kaminari was.

“Almost got me there!” Kaminari called out, skidding back just out of reach of the baton that had narrowly missed his side. A playful grin tugged at his lips, but his eyes were focused, calculating. Momo could tell he wasn’t taking this lightly.

She didn’t respond, tightening her grip on the bo staff she had just formed. Her body moved with practiced precision—every strike measured, every step deliberate. She jabbed forward, forcing Kaminari to twist to the side, and followed it up with a sweeping kick.

He jumped back, barely avoiding it.

Momo clicked her tongue. He’s fast.

“You’re good,” he said, shaking out his arm as if she’d already landed a hit. “Better form than me, honestly.”

“Then stop dodging,” she said coolly, lunging again. The staff cracked against the floor where Kaminari had been a moment before.

Kaminari laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

Momo narrowed her eyes. Kaminari was fighting defensively, like he didn’t want to engage unless he had to. But there was no fear behind his movements—just calculation. He was waiting. Watching. Burning time while something else played out.

“Where’s your teammate?” Kaminari asked mid-dodge, tone casual.

“Somewhere,” she answered vaguely, parrying his attempt to feint her with a misdirected arm movement. He was trying to provoke her—distract her long enough to slip through. But she had no intention of letting that happen.

They’d made a last-minute call when their traps failed to slow Kaminari and Jiro down. The two had worked through the building like a well-oiled machine—Kaminari using minimal electricity, and Jiro picking up vibrations through the floor and walls to avoid their setups.

So now, Momo was the bait.

She swung again, forcing Kaminari to roll low beneath her staff. The hum of static clung to the air, but he didn’t unleash it.

He wouldn’t, she realized. Not unless she forced him.

That’s why she was here. To keep him focused on her.

Back with the bomb, Shinso was lying in wait. They’d rerouted the wiring to emit ambient noise through the intercom system—white noise and garbled chatter to throw off Jiro’s sound detection. And now he was going to use his voice modulator to mimic Kaminari's voice. All they needed was for Jiro to step too close, to answer what she thought was her teammate’s call.

But it all hinged on Momo holding Kaminari's attention.

“Persistent, huh?” Kaminari said, winded now but still keeping pace.

“I’ve been told I’m quite stubborn,” she replied, pivoting low and aiming a jab toward his shoulder.

It grazed him this time, and she caught the flicker of voltage crackle along his skin. He didn’t retaliate with a shock. Still holding back.

“Kind of wish we weren’t on opposite teams,” he admitted with a grin. “You’d make a great partner.”

“You’re stalling,” Momo said flatly.

He blinked, taken off guard—not by the accusation, but by the fact she called it.

Momo planted her staff between them, standing tall. “So am I.”

And before Kaminari could reply, the intercom sparked—once, twice—then boomed with a sharp noise.

That was the cue.

Kaminari flinched at the sudden feedback, and Momo seized the opportunity, swinging hard and knocking him off his feet.

Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him hit the ground.

“Ow!” he yelped, rolling instinctively just as she came down with another strike. The staff dented the floor instead.

Before she could adjust, Kaminari reached into one of the pockets of his costume and pulled out what looked like a toy gun. He pointed it at her.

Momo went for another hit, but the device glowed bright yellow and discharged a concentrated blast of electricity.

It was too late.

Her staff was made of metal—a perfect conductor. The current surged through it, jolting her hands with a sharp, burning shock.

She yelped, instinctively letting go of the weapon.

Kaminari didn’t waste the moment. He lunged forward, pulling out his elimination tape and slapping it onto her shoulder with a triumphant, “Yes!”

“Fuck,” Momo sighed, collapsing back against the floor and placing the back of her hand on top of her head. A second later, All Might’s voice echoed over the loudspeaker, announcing her elimination.

Kaminari stood up, casting a brief shadow over her. For a moment, she braced herself for a smug comment.

Instead, he held out a hand.

She blinked, surprised. After a short pause, she accepted it. He pulled her to her feet and gave her hand a firm shake.

“Your form was amazing! Seriously!” he beamed. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a game to win!”

And just like that, he was gone—off with that blindingly sunny smile.

Momo couldn’t even be mad.

The fight had been exhilarating.

Truly though, what a terrifying guy.

Kyoka didn’t know how to feel about Kaminari.

She respected him—hell, most of the class did—but until recently, she’d only ever thought of him as the healer type. Calm, collected, kind. A little dorky sometimes. But still, in her mind he had been just a healer.

But that impression shattered the moment he tore into All Might.

It wasn’t just that he called out the Number One Hero—it was how calm and direct he was, how he stood his ground without flinching while the rest of the class watched in stunned silence. It took serious guts to go head-to-head with the Symbol of Peace and win the argument.

Kaminari barely raised his voice. He hadn’t needed to. And when the air in the room had started crackling with energy, eyes glowing like thunderclouds ready to break—yeah, Kyoka realized then, he wasn’t just a healer. He was terrifyingly powerful.

And now she had to fight with him.

When he showed up at their rendezvous point for the next match, she found herself holding her breath, worried he might still be fuming from what happened earlier. After all, he’d stormed out of the room with electricity snapping across his shoulders like live wires, practically radiating tension.

But he didn’t say anything about it.

Just offered a quick “Hey,” with a faint smile and that same sunny tone he always seemed to use, like nothing had happened.

Still, Kyoka kept stealing glances at him, after they shared a quick introduction, her mind looping the moment he’d turned the full weight of his fury on All Might.

Kaminari Denki wasn’t just powerful.

He was dangerous.

But she was really glad he was on her team.

“So, what’s the plan?” Kaminari asked.

Kyoka blinked in surprise. She’d half-expected him to take over the moment he showed up, the same way he had during the confrontation with All Might. But here he was, waiting for her lead.

“I—” She shook her head and straightened up, refocusing. “My quirk allows me to convert the sound from my heartbeat into vibrations through the jacks on my earlobes. I can use them to listen for movement through walls or the floor.”

Kaminari nodded thoughtfully as she explained. “So you can track where they are in the building. That’ll help a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds easy enough,” he said, then added, “Still, we should be careful. Yaoyorozu-san’s a recommended student—we can’t afford to underestimate her.”

Kyoka gave a short nod at the reminder.

“What about Shinso-kun?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Kaminari gave a mischievous grin. “Shinso’s quirk lets him take control of someone if they respond to him. It works best when he catches people off guard.”

Kyoka involuntarily shivered. That was… freaky. Effective, sure, but freaky.

She paused for a second, listening to the casual way Kaminari talked about Shinso, like they’d known each other for years. No honorifics, easy smile.

“Are you and Shinso-kun close by chance?”

A soft, fond smile crossed Kaminari’s face. “He’s my best friend.”

Ah. That explained it. She had noticed the two of them sitting together at lunch yesterday, laughing about something like they were in their own little world.

Kaminari shoved Kyoka out of the way just in time to keep her from getting hit by Yaoyorozu’s staff.

“Go ahead! I can handle her!” he shouted, ducking another swing.

Kyoka nodded and sprinted off. She didn’t need to win the fight—just find the bomb and touch it. That alone would secure a win for the hero team.

She slammed one of her jacks into the nearest wall, focusing hard. It took a few tense seconds, but then—there. A faint footstep, a shift of movement. She picked up on Shinso’s heartbeat on the fourth floor.

She sighed in relief, then bolted for the stairs.

By the time she reached the fourth floor, she was already on high alert—and for good reason.

The hallway ahead was littered with thin, nearly invisible tripwires.

She froze.

She had nearly triggered one. Her boot hovered just above a wire. She stepped back carefully, eyes scanning ahead.

There were too many to count, and she wasn’t about to find out what they were rigged to do.

Kyoka crouched low, eyes scanning the thin, nearly invisible tripwires that stretched across the hallway like spiderwebs.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself, before she plugged one of her jacks into the floor again, letting the vibrations speak to her. Every line, every tensioned thread hummed faintly beneath her feet. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave her a rough idea of where they were.

Carefully, she began weaving her way through the maze.

Step. Breathe. Listen.

About halfway through, she noticed one of the wires had no hum to it. It was loose, almost like the decoy ones she’d encountered before.

She had mistakenly thought it was a decoy.

So without much hesitation, she stepped on it.

The hallway exploded with sound.

Her ears rang, and she stumbled back, disoriented. The intercom blared an alert tone, echoing through the corridor in high-pitched pulses. It took her a second to realize—this was intentional. A trap.

“Shit,” she hissed, covering one ear as the feedback echoed inside her skull.

But she pressed on.

Wincing, she marched forward, navigating the rest of the hallway more carefully this time, until she reached the door where the vibrations confirmed it.

Shinso was inside.

She opened it slowly.

He was there—leaning against the wall like he’d been expecting her for hours, the bomb secure behind him.

“Well, well,” he said lazily, “figured you’d show up eventually.”

She didn’t answer. She remembered what Kaminari told her—Shinso’s quirk activates if you respond to him. Element of surprise. Voice control.

He took a step forward, cocking his head. “You trip on the wires didn’t you? Were you just feeling dramatic or was it an accident?”

Kyoka narrowed her eyes but still didn’t respond.

He sighed. “Still not talking, huh? That’s smart. Annoying, but smart.”

Then he reached for the mask hanging off his neck.

Kyoka moved. Her jacks crackled with sonic force as she rushed him, hoping to hit him hard enough to buy herself a chance at the bomb.

But Shinso was fast. Too fast.

He ducked to the side, clicked something on his mask.

“Jiro-san, what are you doing?” Kaminari’s voice rang out perfectly from the device.

It was instinct.

“Sorry, wha—?”

Her legs stopped moving.

Her arms froze in mid-motion.

Mind control.

She cursed herself silently as Shinso walked up, almost looking apologetic, and tapped her shoulder with the elimination tape.

All Might’s voice echoed over the intercom:

“Jiro Kyoka has been eliminated!”

Shinso caught her as she stumbled from the release of control.

“You were really close,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed.

She gave him a look. “So was that your plan from the start?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “Nah. The noise trap was. The voice thing? Just a lucky guess.”

And then there were two.

Hitoshi sighed as he waited for Kaminari to make it to his floor. Honestly? He didn’t have much of a plan. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could take Kaminari on alone in a one-on-one.

Kaminari was more experienced, plain and simple. He’d been doing hero training for a whole extra year, and it showed. He had the confidence, the control, and the instincts of someone who had been through it before.

Hitoshi sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. He flinched at the sound of the door creaking open.

There he was.

Kaminari stepped through, a yellow surgical mask pulled snug over his face.

Hitoshi frowned. “Didn’t know you were sick.”

He knew it wouldn’t work, but he had to try. A shot in the dark—if Kaminari said anything, he’d be under Hitoshi’s control.

Kaminari just happily shook his head, eyes squinting in amusement. No response. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a damn toy gun.

Except it wasn’t a toy. Hitoshi knew better.

The gun glowed with a warm yellow light—crackling, humming—and then snap, a bolt of electricity shot out.

Hitoshi dove behind a pillar.

Okay. Defense it is.

“Come on, Kami,” Hitoshi called, peeking around the edge of the pillar just enough to meet his gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna give me the silent treatment. What, too good to trash talk me now?”

Kaminari tilted his head, amused.

But still didn’t say a word.

Smart bastard.

Hitoshi cursed under his breath. Long shot, sure, but he’d hoped Kaminari would slip. Just a grunt. A mutter. Something to trigger the trap.

But Kaminari knew him. He knew how his quirk worked.

The gun hummed again, louder this time. Kaminari took another step forward, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world.

Another bolt sizzled through the air—Hitoshi barely rolled away in time. He felt the heat graze his side.

“Damn it,” he hissed, ducking behind a box.

Cover was running out.

Worse, Kaminari wasn’t rushing. He was waiting. Letting the pressure build. Letting him sweat. Probably hoping he’d crack and do something reckless.

“Alright, alright,” Hitoshi called again, trying to keep his voice even. “Pulling out all the fancy gear now, huh? What happened to just punching things like the good old days?”

Still nothing.

The toy gun clicked as it powered up again—soft yellow light pulsing steady and mean.

One or two more dodges. That was all he had left.

“Come on, Kami,” Hitoshi said, popping his head around the corner just slightly. “What? Can’t even trash talk your best friend in a dumb training match?”

No response.

Just Kaminari raising the gun again.

But this time—Hitoshi didn’t duck.

He stood. Slowly. Hands lifted, just enough to look like he might surrender.

And he stared Kaminari down.

“…You won’t shoot me,” he said. Quiet. Calm. Steady.

And Kaminari—hesitated.

Only for a second.

But it was enough.

Because now he knew Denki too.

“You won’t shoot me,” Hitoshi said again, voice quieter now, almost gentle. “Not if there’s a chance you’ll miscalculate how much electricity the gun needs and it hurts me.”

Kaminari didn’t answer, but his fingers twitched slightly on the trigger. The hum of the gun faltered—just for a second.

And that second was enough.

Hitoshi darted forward.

No cover. No tricks. Just a straight, stupid gamble.

Kaminari reacted fast—he always did—but desperation made Hitoshi faster. He slammed into Kaminari shoulder-first, knocking the gun off aim. A burst of electricity shot past his head and shattered a fluorescent light behind them, sending sparks raining down.

Kaminari had already reached for his elimination tape as they hit the ground.

They landed hard—Kaminari on his back with a grunt, Hitoshi scrambling to grab the tape.

They wrestled like kids, both clawing for the same roll.

“Would you just let go?” Hitoshi grunted, yanking the tape toward him.

Kaminari growled and pulled it back. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

And that’s when Hitoshi grinned.

Gotcha.

His eyes lit up, glowing faintly purple.

“Drop the tape,” he said, calm and clear.

Kaminari blinked—and froze.

The tape slipped from his fingers.

Hitoshi snatched it and slapped a strip onto Kaminari’s arm just as his quirk faded.

A pause.

A breathless beat.

Then All Might’s voice boomed through the intercom:

“Kaminari Denki has been eliminated! The villain team wins!”

Hitoshi flopped back against the floor, chest heaving. “Holy shit,” he breathed, staring up at the ceiling like it owed him a medal.

Kaminari blinked, he was sitting on top of Hitoshi’s lap. “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing the spot where the tape had landed. “Rude.”

Hitoshi snorted. “You hesitated.”

“I didn’t think you’d tackle me.”

“I’m unpredictable like that.”

Kaminari rolled his eyes, pulled down his mask, and smiled. “You suck.”

“Yeah, but I won.”

Kaminari shot him a mock glare, then sighed and flopped onto the floor beside him.

“Next time, I’m bringing earplugs.”

Hitoshi grinned and turned his head toward him. “Next time, I’m bringing a net.”

Chapter Text

“All right, class, who was the MVP of this match?” All Might asked, his booming voice cutting through the after-match chatter.

Tenya raised his hand almost immediately. He had watched the fight closely, analyzing every move with a critical eye. It had been both inspiring and frustrating—Kaminari’s experience was obvious, but so was the imbalance it created.

All Might pointed to him. “Yes, young Iida?”

“The MVP of the match is Yaoyorozu-san,” Tenya said with confidence.

Yaoyorozu blinked, surprised. Her eyes flicked to Kaminari, who just smiled warmly at her and nodded in agreement.

“Oh?” All Might raised a brow. “And can you explain to the class why that is, young Iida?”

Tenya straightened, arms tight at his sides. His view of All Might had admittedly shifted a bit after watching Kaminari confront him earlier that day—there were some cracks in the image now—but he still respected the man. He was the Number One Hero, after all.

“Yaoyorozu-san demonstrated quick thinking, adaptability, and strong combat form. She engaged Kaminari-san directly and managed to hold her ground despite his greater experience. She also helped lay the groundwork for her team’s strategy, choosing to act as a decoy so Shinso-kun could ambush Jiro-san. This demonstrated both leadership and teamwork. While she was ultimately defeated, she performed the most efficiently under pressure.”

Yaoyorozu looked flustered by the praise, but she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment.

“But,” Tenya continued, “if I were to rank the students based on overall performance, the order would be different. Kaminari-kun would take the top spot in terms of raw experience. He was clearly the most familiar with these types of exercises. However, he loses points for allowing his emotions to interfere with his performance. He hesitated against Shinso-kun, and that cost his team the match.”

Kaminari scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, Aizawa-sensei’s definitely gonna give me hell for that.”

Tenya twitched at the language, but continued.

“Second would be Yaoyorozu-san, for the reasons I mentioned earlier. Third, Shinso-kun—his ambush was effective, and he's clearly skilled with his hand-to-hand combat. Still, he relied on a gamble. If Kaminari-kun hadn’t hesitated at the last moment, he would have lost.”

Shinso nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.”

“Last would be Jiro-san,” Tenya said carefully, glancing toward her. “Not due to lack of effort—she clearly gave it her all—but because she’s currently at a disadvantage in combat training. Compared to the others, she lacks foundational fighting skills.”

Jiro didn’t look too bothered, but she did cross her arms with a quiet huff. “Guess I know what I’m working on.”

“Overall,” Tenya concluded, “everyone showed improvement and effort. But Yaoyorozu-san demonstrated the most complete set of skills under pressure, and that’s why I chose her.”

All Might clapped once, loud and cheerful. “A thorough analysis, Iida-kun! Well done!”

Class was finally over.

Denki waved goodbye to his classmates and made his way toward the infirmary to check on Midoriya.

He could admit—at least to himself—that he might’ve gotten a little too emotional when facing All Might earlier. He could've handled that better. But still, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t get under his skin. What the man had done had been reckless, and Denki fully intended to include that in his report to Nezu.

His call out hadn't been just professional, it was personal.

Seeing Midoriya in that crumbling building had dragged up a memory he hadn’t been prepared for—the day his dad had nearly died. The fear. The panic. The helplessness.

He hadn’t wanted a repeat of that. Not with Midoriya. Not with anyone, ever again.

But still, it wasn’t all about him. Objectively, that fight never should’ve gone on as long as it had. It should’ve been stopped long before it got that far.

Denki sighed and stretched his arms overhead, trying to let the tension roll off his shoulders as he walked. No use getting himself worked up all over again.

As he made his way to the infirmary, he tapped through the training footage on his work phone, catching up on the matches he’d missed while cooling down outside. Most were what he expected—but Todoroki’s match gave him pause.

The boy’s quirk was Half-Hot, Half-Cold.

So why had he only used the cold side?

Denki squinted at the footage, noting how the ice bloomed across the battlefield, how Todoroki’s costume seemed designed only to support that half of his ability. That wasn’t just a strategy—it looked habitual. Like Todoroki had trained himself to avoid using the fire half of his quirk altogether.

Which… wasn't great.

Relying on only one side of a dual-natured quirk could cause serious internal imbalance. Especially with temperature-based quirks. Overusing his ice without counterbalancing it with heat could lead to a drop in core body temperature—hypothermia, sluggish reflexes, slowed cognitive function. And if Todoroki pushed it too far without realizing, he could collapse mid-fight.

That wasn’t a risk they could afford.

By the time he reached the infirmary, Denki had finished watching the video and had already jotted a few notes in Todoroki’s file. He paused just outside the door, gave it a quick skim, then sent the updated report off to Aizawa.

It wasn’t his job to dig into personal stuff—but it was his job to make sure his classmates didn’t end up in the hospital over things that could’ve been prevented.

And if Todoroki wasn’t using his fire, then someone needed to ask why.

“I know you passed your powers on to this boy, but you can’t spoil him.”

Denki froze, halfway into the infirmary. That was Chiyo’s voice. But the words made his brain skid to a halt.

Passed your powers on to this boy?

What?

He blinked and stepped further in, curiosity overriding his better judgment.

There, standing—barely—was a man who looked like a stiff breeze could knock him flat. He was wearing a very oversized version of the All Might costume from earlier that day. It looked like it was swallowing him whole. His arms were thin, his face sunken, and—

Denki stared.

That was not All Might. No way. That was... a scarecrow in cosplay. Right?

“I’m trying not to play favorites,” the man said, “but I wanted to consider his feelings. He needed to see what he was capable of... winning the exercise.”

Then the man turned toward Chiyo and added, in a scolding whisper, “Also, could you please not talk about One For All when anyone could be listening?”

Chiyo rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Mr. Natural Born Hero. Mr. Symbol of Peace.”

Denki’s thoughts came to a screeching, catastrophic halt.

One For All?

Passed down?

He was All Might!?

His mouth moved before he could stop it. “Oh god, I need to lie down,” he whimpered.

Both adults turned toward him at once, expressions whiplashing from casual to horrified.

“Young Kaminari-kun!” the man—All Might, somehow, impossibly—gasped. “How much of that did you hear?!”

Denki just stared at him, eyes wide, and whispered in disbelief, “Most of it?”

Ten minutes later, Denki was sitting stiffly on one of the infirmary beds, hands in his lap, head spinning with more information than he knew what to do with.

Apparently All Might’s quirk wasn’t originally his.

Apparently it was something called One For All.

Apparently it was a quirk that could be passed down like a family heirloom.

Apparently he was now in the middle of some ancient chosen-one nonsense.

Oh—and also, some terrifying villain had attacked All Might years ago and left him with a massive injury, one that meant he could only use his power for shorter and shorter amounts of time.

Denki looked up at All Might—well, the skeleton wearing All Might’s clothes—and tried not to pass out.

“And you passed this down to Midoriya-kun?!” he whisper-yelled, his voice strained with shock.

“Yes,” All Might said, hands clasped solemnly in front of him. “Young Midoriya is the ninth user of One For All.”

Denki just blinked at him.

Then he turned to Chiyo, who looked like she was trying not to laugh at Denki's misery.

“Do you have anything stronger than tea? Like... tranquilizers?”

She just laughed at him.

Traitor.

“Whoa there, buddy! Take it easy,” Kaminari said as Izuku tried to sit up from the bed.

“Here, let me just—” The bed started to rise automatically beneath him. “There.” Kaminari smiled.

“How ya feeling?” he asked.

Izuku blinked down at his hands, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and piece together what little he could remember. Kaminari, to his credit, didn’t interrupt—he just scribbled notes down on the chart resting on a clipboard.

“W-what happened?” Izuku stuttered, and Kaminari frowned slightly.

“Well, your fight with Bakugo-kun got... out of hand. You passed out afterward.”

Izuku’s brow furrowed in confusion—just for a second—before everything came rushing back. The fight. The building. Kacchan’s expression.

His eyes widened. “Did we win!?”

Kaminari sighed, long and exasperated. “Your arm is broken and you’ve got light first-degree burns, but that’s what you’re worried about?”

Izuku laughed sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“God, all you hero course students are the same,” Kaminari muttered under his breath.

He looked back at his chart. “Yes, the hero team won. Congratulations. But Iida got named MVP of the match.”

“MVP?” Izuku echoed, confused.

“Yes. MVP,” Kaminari said, a little pointedly. “Because it takes more than just throwing punches to win a fight, Midoriya-kun.”

“Right... sorry.”

“Don’t be. If anyone’s at fault for what happened, it’s All Might.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “N-no! It was my fault for letting Kacchan go too far!”

Kaminari gave him a confused look. “Why would it be your fault that Bakugo-kun blew up the building? He’s his own person. His behavior shouldn’t reflect on you.”

Izuku stared at him.

He didn’t know what to say. For as long as he could remember, whenever Kacchan acted up or got in trouble, he was the one blamed. He must’ve provoked him. He must’ve said the wrong thing. He must’ve just been too much.

This was the first time someone had ever told him it wasn’t his fault.

“Anyway,” Kaminari said, snapping Izuku gently from his thoughts, “how’s your arm feeling?”

“Uh… it doesn’t hurt too much,” Izuku said tentatively.

“From a scale of one to ten?”

“A six, maybe?”

Kaminari hummed and jotted it down. “Alright. Recovery Girl already used her quirk on you, so you’re probably still exhausted. I’m going to use my quirk to speed up the healing a bit.”

Izuku blinked. “Your quirk?”

“Yeah, it might make you feel energized afterward, but trust me, you’ll crash hard once you get home,” Kaminari explained, standing up from his chair and stepping closer. “Do I have your permission to use it? It’ll only feel like a little buzzing.”

Izuku had so many questions. What did that mean? How exactly did his quirk work for healing? But now wasn’t the time.

“Yes! You have my permission!” he said enthusiastically.

“Great.” Kaminari gently placed his hand over Izuku’s broken arm.

Izuku tensed, expecting some kind of jolt—but instead, a warm, pleasant buzz rolled through his muscles. A soothing kind of current. Less than a minute later, the pain had dulled to a whisper. He could move his fingers without flinching.

“Whoa!!” Izuku exclaimed, flexing his fingers experimentally. “That felt amazing! It was like—like a TENS unit! Or a low-frequency nerve stimulator! But gentler!”

Kaminari blinked. “A what now?”

“You know, electrotherapy?” Izuku leaned in, eyes gleaming, completely forgetting he’d been bedridden five minutes ago. “Did your electricity stimulate the nerves or was it more muscular? What frequency are you using? Is it DC or AC current? Are you modulating it consciously or is it an instinctive output?”

Kaminari stared. Processing. “…Okay. Uh. I understood like five words of that.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” Izuku waved his hands, only wincing a little when he accidentally jostled his arm. “It’s just—your quirk! I didn’t realize it had healing applications! Is it through electrical stimulation of cell repair? Like promoting ATP production or fibroblast migration? Do you adjust the amplitude based on the injury or use a set output?”

“…ATP sounds like a tech company,” Kaminari muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I don’t know the science-y terms. I just know how it feels. It’s not the same kind of healing Recovery Girl does. My mentor says I manipulate the electrons in the atoms and speed up the healing process.”

Izuku’s eyes widened in awe. “You’re manipulating the electric atoms!! That's so cool! So it’s more like you’re helping the body do what it’s already doing—just faster!”

“Sure. That. Yeah,” Kaminari said with a crooked grin. “My mentor’s the one who taught me how to focus my quirk like this. She said if I didn’t want to fry my patients, I better learn some finesse.”

Izuku lit up again. “So you can scale your voltage?”

“Yep. Not as easily in a fight, but here? I can be super precise. Like… phone charger levels of voltage. Except you’re the phone.”

Izuku gasped. “You’re like a human fast charger!”

Kaminari snorted. “Dude, you’re gonna make me put that on a business card.”

“Wait—how did your mentor teach you to do that? Was it through biofeedback training? Resistance testing? Can you sense bioelectric signals, or is it all output?”

Kaminari stared again.

“…You know, I could go ask her if she kept any of those lesson plans.”

“Yes please!!” Izuku beamed.

Kaminari chuckled and handed him a juice box from the bedside tray. “Here. Drink this. Recovery Girl says sugar helps with the crash.”

Izuku accepted it gratefully. “Kaminari-kun, thank you. Really.”

Kaminari waved him off. “Don’t mention it. Just… maybe don’t explode any buildings next time?”

Izuku laughed nervously. “I’ll try.”

It was just another day at work for Kento. He mindlessly sifted through the flood of new quirk data, eyes glazed, fingers tapping automatically—until a ping broke the monotony.

Yuu-sama: I was looking over some of the older files and found out that one of the elemental quirks got updated.

Yuu-sama: Check it out.

Curious, Kento clicked the link. A photo popped up: a thirteen-year-old boy with spiky blonde hair, a distinct black lightning bolt running through it, and electric yellow eyes.

Kento skimmed the file. Standard stuff. Nothing unusual for an elemental quirk.

Kento: There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the boy’s file.

Yuu-sama: Sorry, that was his original file. He came in recently for a retake and to update his quirk information.

Yuu-sama: Here’s the updated file.

Kento opened it.

Same kid. Older now—fifteen, according to the updated data. The photo showed subtle changes: more height, sharper features, a cooler confidence in his eyes. Still didn’t seem like anything special… until Kento got to the revised quirk description.

Quirk: Electrification The user can manipulate the flow of electrons within and around atomic structures, generating electrical currents that can be directed externally or internally. In addition to offensive applications, this ability allows for controlled bioelectric stimulation, enabling limited healing capabilities. The user can accelerate cellular regeneration, stimulate nerve function, and in rare cases, influence neural pathways. Quirk has been observed facilitating the reactivation of dormant brain activity, including jump-starting disrupted synaptic transmission in the brain stem region. All medical use requires extreme precision, as improper voltage or current direction could result in tissue damage or neurological complications.

Kento’s eyes froze on the words: “jump-starting disrupted synaptic transmission in the brain stem region.”

He stared at the screen.

A mixture of awe and horror twisted in his gut.

This wasn’t just an upgrade.

This was walking the razor’s edge between miracle and catastrophe.

Kento: Holy hell, this kid’s quirk is insane!!

Yuu-sama: I’m planning to bring this to a higher-up. I want you to be the one to recruit the kid.

Kento: I’d be honored!

Yuu-sama: If you succeed, I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you. You can count on getting that promotion.

Kento: I won’t let you down!

Gosh, Kento just loved working at the Hero Commission.

Chapter Text

Natsuko sat beside her husband’s bedside, feeling like such a failure.

She had failed her children. She had failed them badly.

When things had gotten hard—when they had needed her the most—she hadn’t stood her ground. She’d fled. She fled and left them to figure it out on their own.

She reached out and squeezed Haneul Jin’s hand.

If their roles had been reversed, he would’ve known what to do. He would’ve handled it all infinitely better than she had.

There was a knock at the door, and Dr. Amano stepped into the room. 

As always, she looked perfectly put-together, like she hadn’t aged a day, not a single hair out of place.

“It’s been a while,” Amano said, approaching the bed.

“It has, hasn’t it?” Natsuko answered, offering a tired smile.

“How are the kids doing?” Amano asked, like she hadn’t been the one helping raise them while Natsuko was off running away from everything.

“They’re fine,” Natsuko said softly. “They were so happy when you confirmed that Haneul Jin is bound to wake up any day now.”

Dr. Amano gave a small nod. Calm. Controlled. Ever the professional.

“They’ve grown a lot,” Amano said after a pause.

“Yes,” Natsuko replied, her throat tightening. “And they did it without me.”

Amano didn’t deny it. How could she?

“I don’t know what to do,” Natsuko admitted. Her voice cracked, and she could feel tears building behind her eyes.

She’d had three years to do something—anything—to help her kids through the wreckage of their lives. And she hadn’t. She’d run. She’d left.

And now it felt too late to rebuild what had already crumbled.

“There’s no manual for how to fix something like this,” Amano said gently. “No guidebook on how to win back trust. But…”

She looked down at Haneul Jin, then back at Natsuko.

“…what I can tell you is that you have to try. No matter how long it takes. Those kids still need their mother.”

“The vigilante Guiding Light helps bust a massive human trafficking ring in ----------- District,” the newscaster rattled off cheerily.

“Once again saving the people of --------------, truly what would we do without him?”

Natsuko frowned. Vigilantes were never good news, no matter how many glowing headlines they got. The press could sing all they wanted—it didn’t change what they were: unstable, unsanctioned, and dangerous.

She sighed and shook her head. 

Today was her day off, and she’d spent it preparing a proper family lunch for the kids. Their first week of school was finally over, and she wanted to mark it right. Celebrate something. Feel like a normal family again.

A knock at the door broke her from her thoughts.

She frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone. No deliveries, no appointments. The kids wouldn’t be home for at least another thirty minutes.

Still drying her hands with a dish towel, she set her teacup down and turned the stove to low.

She opened the door slowly.

A man stood on the other side. A stranger.

Well-dressed. Clean-shaven. Polite smile.

Too polite.

“Good afternoon, Kaminari-san,” he greeted smoothly, like they were old friends. “Sorry for the unexpected visit. My name’s Kento Tadashi. I’m with the Hero Commission.”

Her stomach dropped like a stone.

“The Hero Commission?” she echoed, keeping her tone even. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” he said, flashing what was clearly meant to be a reassuring smile. “We just want to talk about your son.”

Her hand tightened on the doorknob.

“What about my son?”

Kento tilted his head, still smiling. “We’ve recently updated our records. And it seems your eldest son’s quirk… is far more impressive than originally reported.”

Natsuko didn’t like the way he said that.

And she really didn’t like the way he was still smiling.

She had known this day would come. Dr. Amano had warned her the moment she agreed to take Denki under her wing.

“The Hero Commission isn't to be trusted,” she’d said, voice low but firm. “No matter what lavish offer they give you, the moment they come knocking at your door asking about your son's quirk—you call me. Those people are not your friends. They will wring your son dry and leave him to rot the moment they decide he’s no longer useful.”

Natsuko had taken those words to heart. And now, standing in the entryway of her home with a Commission agent smiling pleasantly at her, she shoved every ounce of unease deep down and plastered a calm, practiced smile on her face.

“I'm sorry, but my son is still at school and won't be home for a while,” she said politely.

“Ah, no worries. I can wait,” the Kento replied. His smile was warm. Unassuming.

She hated it.

Still, it would be rude not to let him in. And more importantly, it might be dangerous to turn him away.

With hesitation wrapped in courtesy, she opened the door wider and gestured toward the couch. He walked in like he owned the place.

“What a lovely home you have, Kaminari-san,” Kento said, settling comfortably into her living room.

“Why thank you. Would you like anything to drink?” she asked, voice even.

“Just some water, please.”

Natsuko nodded once, turning on her heel and walking calmly into the kitchen. The moment the door shut behind her, she pulled out her phone with shaking fingers and hit speed dial.

The moment Dr. Amano answered, Natsuko didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“They're here,” she said.

That was all it took.

“Understood. We planned for this the moment Denki’s quirk file was updated. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Amano replied without missing a beat. Her voice was firm, measured. “Keep him talking. Try to figure out what exactly they want from you.”

The line went dead.

Natsuko lowered the phone with a steady breath, her nerves coiling tighter beneath her skin. She squared her shoulders. She had a mission now. Something to focus on. That always helped.

With a warm, practiced smile, she picked up the tray—two glasses of water, a plate of senbei crackers she had on hand for guests—and walked back into the living room.

She placed the tray down carefully, letting the glass clink softly against the plate as if everything were perfectly ordinary.

“Ah, thank you.” Kento gave her a polite nod and picked up the water. He took a small sip, then set the glass down again, his expression warm and practiced.

“The Hero Commission has taken great interest in your son,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “His file is… impressive. Remarkable, even. A quirk like that—paired with his medical focus, no less—it’s not an exaggeration to say he could change the landscape of support heroism altogether.”

Natsuko smiled politely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s always been very driven,” she said, voice soft with practiced pride. “Ever since he was little, he’s had this strong desire to help others. He gets that from his father.”

“Of course, of course,” Kento said, nodding quickly. “But even with passion, talent like his is rare. Truly gifted children like Kaminari-kun don’t come along often. The Commission would be thrilled to support him—resources, specialized mentorships, national visibility. You’d be amazed at the doors we can open.”

“Oh my,” Natsuko chuckled lightly, feigning surprise. “That all sounds so generous. Denki would be so flattered to hear such praise. He’s always been a bit modest about his achievements, you know?”

Kento leaned forward just slightly. “It’s precisely that humility that makes him Commission material. The kind of hero we could really elevate. With the right guidance, Kaminari-kun could become… well, more than just a healer. He could be a symbol.”

Natsuko tilted her head and offered a curious smile, her tone still light, but her eyes just a little sharper now. “A symbol, you say? And what would he be a symbol for, exactly?”

Kento smiled, but there was a flicker of something behind it—interest, calculation maybe.

“For hope,” he said smoothly. “For progress. The next generation needs heroes who represent something greater than strength. Healing, compassion, resilience… That’s what people want now. Your son has the potential to be that. The Commission would simply ensure he has the platform—and protection—to become everything he’s meant to be.”

Natsuko kept her smile intact, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Protection? That’s an interesting choice of word.”

Kento chuckled, waving a hand. “Ah, don’t misunderstand. Nothing ominous, of course. But with a quirk as rare as his, well… certain eyes are bound to notice. The Commission can ensure that he’s safe. That his work is respected. That he’s not… taken advantage of.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “It’s a dangerous world for children with rare gifts.”

“Yes.” Kento leaned back, watching her closely now. “Which is why we’re hoping to start a conversation—not just with Kaminari-kun, but with you. Parents are an important part of the support system. And we’d like your cooperation in helping him transition into a… more national stage. Preferably sooner rather than later.”

Natsuko laughed softly, shaking her head in that polite, motherly way that left little room for argument. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m just his mother. He’s the one who makes his own choices now.”

Kento’s smile never wavered, but it flattened ever so slightly. “Of course. But you do still have influence, Kaminari-san. And I believe a nudge from someone he trusts could go a long way.”

Natsuko blinked sweetly. “And what exactly are you hoping to nudge him toward, Kento-san?”

He didn’t flinch. “A formal interview with the Commission. Nothing binding, of course. We’d just like to talk. Gauge his interests. Introduce him to what we offer.”

A timer went off in the kitchen—Natsuko had set it to give her an excuse to stand up when Amano was expected to arrive.

“Oh, pardon me, that’s the rice cooker,” she said with a small bow of her head. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course,” Kento said smoothly.

As she walked toward the kitchen, she got a message from Amano, “I’m here.”

With that there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” Natsuko quickly walked out of the kitchen and opened the door.

“Amano!” Natsuko exclaimed, her voice lined with a fake surprise. “I thought you were coming later to join us for dinner.” She said with a smile.

“Ah, apologies Natsuko, I had wanted to help you prepare for dinner.” Amano said back.

“Such a dear friend,” Natsuko said warmly, stepping aside to let Amano in. “Please come in, I was just speaking with a guest from the Hero Commission. This is Kento-san.”

Amano gave a polite bow of her head, her expression gracious but cool. “A pleasure.”

Kento stood up, offering his hand, “Likewise. And you are?”

“Dr. Amano Rika,” she said simply, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “I’m Denki’s primary neurologist and caretaker at Shinsei Medical. I’ve known the Kaminari family for years.”

“Ah,” Kento said, a touch of caution slipping into his tone. “A doctor. You must know Kaminari-kun’s condition and quirk better than anyone, then.”

“I do,” Amano replied, her eyes sharp behind her smile. “Which is why I was surprised the Commission would approach the family without consulting his medical team first.”

Natsuko smiled politely, taking her seat again beside the tray. “I was just telling Kento-san how Denki makes his own decisions now. He’s very independent.”

“Of course,” Amano added, taking a seat across from him. “But it’s good we’re having this conversation now, before things get… complicated.”

Kento raised a brow. “I assure you, Doctor, the Commission’s interest is purely professional. We admire Kaminari-kun’s talent, and we believe his abilities could be nurtured further with the right support. We would never make things ‘complicated.’”

Amano folded her hands. “Support from the Hero Commission often comes with fine print, Kento-san. Denki’s abilities aren’t just unique—they’re volatile. They require delicate management, restraint. The kind of thing most agencies aren’t equipped to handle, even with the best intentions.”

Kento’s pleasant mask didn’t crack, but his gaze cooled. “I understand. Still, it would be a shame to let a talent like that be buried under caution.”

Natsuko’s smile returned, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Better to bury it than to watch it get carved out of him.”

Kento chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “I see the both of you are quite protective.”

“Of course we are,” Amano replied. “That’s why we’re not afraid to say no.”

There was a long pause as Kento looked between them.

Then, lightly, he said, “Well. This has been… enlightening.”

“You’re welcome to take the rest of the snacks for the road,” Natsuko offered sweetly.

“I think I’ll do just that.” Kento stood, brushing off invisible dust from his coat. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch.”

“Of course,” Natsuko said, walking him to the door.

As soon as it closed behind him, she locked it.

Amano exhaled through her nose, eyes still on the door. “That won’t be the last time.”

“I know,” Natsuko said softly. “But next time, we’ll be ready.”

Chapter Text

“The Hero Commission was here?” Denki repeated, frowning. The words felt heavy in his mouth. He knew they'd show up eventually—it was inevitable, really—but that didn’t make it any less surreal.

A chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively rubbed his arms. He was so glad he hadn’t been around when they were here.

“You need to be careful from now on, Denki,” Dr. Amano said gently, but there was a sharpness to her tone, like a warning hidden beneath concern. “Me and your mother were able to put them off for now, but we don’t know how long that’ll last. Who knows when they’ll come back.”

Denki swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll be careful,” he promised quietly.

Denki found his mother sitting in his room, holding a picture frame. He didn’t need to look to know which one it was.

It was the family photo they’d taken on the twins’ tenth birthday. The last one before everything changed. Before the accident. Before their father had fallen into a coma.

His mother looked tired—shoulders heavy in that quiet, familiar way that only came after pretending to be strong for too long. Still, there was a soft smile on her face, wistful as she stared down at the frame.

Denki sat beside her on the bed, saying nothing.

“It’s been so long since I last looked at this,” she murmured, not lifting her eyes.

“It’s the last picture we have of him,” Denki said quietly.

Silence settled between them, comfortable in its sadness, until Denki finally spoke again.

“Dr. Amano told me what happened.”

Natsuko met his gaze then. In her eyes was that same tight look he knew too well—worry, frustration, and something dangerously close to fear.

“They were asking questions,” she said, voice quiet. “About your quirk. About your medical records. Your training history. They had wanted me to convince you to join them.”

Denki curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Do they really think I’m a threat?”

“They don’t know what to think,” she replied, her tone low and bitter. “And that’s what makes you dangerous—to them. You’re not part of their system. You’re powerful. And you’re not theirs. That makes them nervous.”

A long silence passed between them.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

“I’m always scared,” Natsuko answered without hesitation. “But not of you. Never of you.”

That hit harder than he expected. Denki dropped his gaze.

“You’ve done everything right,” she continued. “You heal people. You keep your head down. You go above and beyond. But if they decide they want to own you, Denki…” She let out a harsh breath. “I won’t let them. I won’t let them.”

He looked up at her, eyes wide.

“I wasn’t there when you needed me the most,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

She opened her arms, and Denki leaned into the embrace. For a moment, he felt like he was twelve again.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

“We always do.” She squeezed his hand. Then, more quietly, she added, “But Denki… be careful. You’re stepping into the light now. And the brighter you shine, the more they’ll want to steal it.”

When Denki got to school that morning, the front entrance was swarmed with reporters. Cameras flashing, microphones out, questions being screamed more than asked at students. He doubted that any of them even cared about the students' answers.

He sighed, long and tired. Yeah, he wasn’t dealing with that today.

Without a second thought, he turned on his heel and headed toward the staff entrance.

Let someone else deal with that circus.

“Bakugo-kun, you're talented, so don’t sulk like a child over your loss,” Aizawa scolded.

Katsuki frowned, irritated but unwilling to argue. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered.

Aizawa didn’t bother responding. He just moved on. “And Midoriya-kun—”

Katsuki could practically hear the damn nerd flinch behind him.

“I see the only way you managed to win that match was by messing your arm again.” Aizawa’s voice was flat, unimpressed. “Work harder, and don't give me the excuse that you don't have any control of your quirk, that line's already getting old.”

There was a tired sigh before he added, “You can't keep breaking your body while training here. But, your quirk will be really useful if you can get a handle on it.”

Katsuki clenched his jaw, rage bubbling under the surface. That damn nerd. Showing up to U.A. with some flashy new quirk, acting like he was something special. Katsuki hated it. Hated how Deku looked at him. Like he felt sorry for him. Like he was better.

But now wasn’t the time to explode. So he swallowed it down—for now.

Aizawa continued, turning his gaze toward the rest of the class. “That said, U.A. owes every one of you an apology.”

Katsuki blinked. That—what?

He wasn’t the only one caught off guard. A few of the extras around him exchanged confused glances.

“The exercise should have ended long before it got that far,” Aizawa said, voice clipped with frustration. “All Might is new to teaching, and we assumed he was ready to lead a class on his own. That’s why we assigned Kaminari-kun to supervise. Unfortunately... that wasn’t enough.”

His frown deepened, dark circles more prominent under his tired eyes. “So on behalf of U.A., we’re offering you all a formal apology.”

The extras around him buzzed with conversation until Aizawa grew tired of the noise and called the class back to attention.

“Let’s get down to business. Our first task will decide your future,” Aizawa said seriously, and Katsuki straightened up, anticipation buzzing in his chest.

“You need to pick a class representative.”

The way he said it—flat, deadpan—was almost insulting, but everyone immediately relaxed for a beat.

Then chaos erupted.

Nearly the entire class broke into shouting, everyone insisting that they should be the one picked.

Katsuki grinned. This was perfect. Being class president would prove he was on top, that he was better than all these damn extras.

He ignored the quiet voice in the back of his head whispering that maybe—just maybe—there were students more suited to lead than him.

Students like Todoroki, with that freakishly powerful dual quirk. Or Yaoyorozu, who literally came from money and could build whatever she needed with her quirk. Or Iida, with his legacy family name. All of which had gotten in via recommendation.

Katsuki shoved the thought down and locked it away. It didn’t matter. He’d beat all of them. It was only a matter of time. He threw his hand up and shouted over the rest, “Tch—obviously, it should be me!”

Aizawa, clearly over it already, had them vote by secret ballot.

Kaminari won.

With four votes.

And the bastard wasn’t even officially in the class.

Katsuki stared at the results, jaw tight. He’d gotten a single vote. His own.

He wanted to be angry, to yell or curse or blow something up—but he couldn’t. Not really. Because it made sense.

Kaminari was more experienced. He’d already proven himself, not just in combat, but when he stood up to All Might without hesitation. Everyone had seen that. It wasn’t just power—it was presence.

Katsuki ground his teeth.

And just to make things worse, Deku—that damn nerd—got vice president. With three votes.

The sting wasn’t even sharp anymore. It was dull and aching.

Insult to injury.

Aizawa frowned looking at the results on the board. “As flattered as Kaminari-kun may be about getting these votes, it’s not possible for him to be class representative.”

Katsuki blinked in confusion.

What?

“Kaminari-kun is far too busy helping around the school and keeping up with his own personal studies to have time to run around playing representative,” Aizawa continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Katsuki scowled.

“So,” Aizawa said, wiping Kaminari's name and votes off the board, looking profoundly done with the whole thing, “Midoriya-kun is class president. Yaoyorozu-san is vice president.”

What.

Just one word, echoing like a scream in Katsuki’s brain.

What the hell do you mean DEKU is the class president?!

“I finally get to introduce you to my third-year friends!” Denki said, practically bouncing as he dragged Shinso with him toward the cafeteria.

During the first week, the school kept the first-years separated from the upperclassmen—something about not overwhelming them too quickly. But today was the first day they were all allowed to sit together.

Shinso just chuckled at Denki’s enthusiasm. “You’re really this excited about it?”

“Of course! I want all my friends to be your friends too,” Denki beamed, looking back at him with that same bright, unshakable grin.

Shinso’s steps slowed for half a second. His face went a little pink before he smiled softly, almost to himself. “Never change, Denki.”

Denki blinked. His eyes widened. That—was that the first time Shinso had called him by his first name?

A beat of stunned silence. Then—

A giddy, flustered smile spread across his face. He knew it was a bit silly to get giddy about his best friend calling him by his name, but he couldn't help himself.

“You neither, Hitoshi!” Denki beamed, his voice catching just a little on the name. It felt warm in his mouth—like a secret he’d been waiting to say out loud.

Hitoshi's ears went a bit red, but he didn’t look away. If anything, he smiled wider.

Denki grinned, nearly bouncing on his heels. This was going to be a good lunch.

Hitoshi watched as Denki laughed and chatted animatedly with his third-year friends. They were nice—if not a little overwhelming—but he’d found he got along well enough with Tamaki. Quiet types tended to stick together.

Denki.

Just the thought of his name sent a rush through Hitoshi’s chest. They’d been friends for almost three years now, and somewhere along the way, Denki had become one of the most important people in his life.

So yeah, he was relieved Denki hadn’t been weird about him slipping up and using his first name. If anything, Denki had lit up, all wide eyes and bright smiles, and immediately called him Hitoshi right back.

He’d even introduced him earlier as his best friend.

And okay, maybe that was a little silly to get stuck on, but Hitoshi couldn’t help it. Denki had a lot of friends. He was loud and bright and good with people. He could’ve picked anyone.

But he picked him.

And damn if that didn’t make Hitoshi feel just a little proud.

“Mirio is our class representative,” Tamaki had said. Hitoshi wasn’t exactly sure how they’d gotten on the subject, but it reminded him of something.

“Crap—I forgot to tell you,” Hitoshi said suddenly, turning to Denki.

Denki blinked at him, confused. “Forgot to tell me what?”

“You actually got voted class rep. Aizawa-sensei said you wouldn’t have enough time for it, though, so they gave it to Midoriya-san instead,” Hitoshi explained.

Denki’s eyes went wide. “Oh geez,” he said—then broke into a laugh. “Aw, that’s sweet.”

Mirio beamed and held up a hand. “You would’ve been an amazing class rep, Kaminari!” he said cheerfully, giving Denki a firm high-five.

Nejire immediately latched onto Denki’s side, grinning as she pinched his cheek. “Ahh! I can totally see it—Mini President Denki~!”

Tamaki just gave a quiet nod of agreement, sipping his drink like a proud cousin.

It honestly felt like watching a bunch of older siblings doting on the youngest kid. Hitoshi couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing.

The sweet moment was interrupted by a loud, blaring ring.

Hitoshi blinked, confused, but Denki and the others were already moving, packing up their things in a rush.

“What’s going on?” Hitoshi had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise.

“That’s the warning bell,” Denki said quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and helping Hitoshi grab his things. “From the sound of it, it’s a level three alert. Someone breached the school’s security.”

“We have to go—like, now,” Nejire said, all the playfulness gone from her voice.

Mirio took the lead, expertly cutting a path through the growing crowd. Denki didn’t let go of Hitoshi’s hand as they followed, gripping it tightly to make sure they wouldn’t get separated.

It was hard to maneuver through the packed hallway, students pressing in on all sides. Hitoshi felt Denki tighten his grip on his hand, not letting him get pulled away in the chaos.

Then, out of nowhere, Iida came flying across the hall—literally—landing hard against the wall just above the exit.

“Listen up! Everything is okay!” Iida shouted, his voice cutting clean through the noise. The crowd stilled instantly, attention locked on him.

“It’s just the media outside,” he continued. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about!”

“We’re U.A. students—we need to stay calm and prove we’re the best of the best!”

Hitoshi felt Denki slowly relax beside him, his fingers loosening but not letting go. The tension in the hall began to ease.

“Look, the police are here!” someone shouted from farther down, relief flooding their voice.

Hitoshi squeezed Denki’s hand in quiet reassurance. The crowd was still buzzing, but for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.

Denki turned to look at him, eyes searching his face. Then he gave a small, grateful smile, and squeezed his hand back—firm, steady.

They didn’t need to say anything. The relief was evident on both their faces.

The first thing Denki noticed when he got to the bus zone was that a lot of the girls’ costumes had changed. They were more covered up now—practical. Comfortable.

The biggest change was probably Yaoyorozu. Her costume, which used to leave little to the imagination, now had a design that actually looked like it was made for someone planning to fight crime.

Iida, who’d been promoted class president, blew his whistle to gather everyone and explained how they'd be sorted onto the bus.

It took a bit—mainly because the layout wasn’t what Iida expected—but eventually everyone found their spots, and the bus rumbled to life.

Denki hadn’t managed to sit next to Hitoshi, which was mildly tragic in his opinion, but he was more than happy to chat with whoever was around.

“If we’re pointing out the obvious, then there’s something I want to say,” Tsuyu—who had insisted everyone call her that—turned in her seat to look at Midoriya. “About you, actually.”

“What is it, Asui?” Midoriya asked, his voice already a little nervous.

“I told you to call me Tsuyu.”

“R-Right!” He stammered.

“That power of yours… isn’t it a lot like All Might’s?” she asked casually.

Midoriya flinched.

Denki had to bite back a laugh. She was right on the nose.

Ah, he really needed to tell Midoriya at some point that All Might had already spilled the beans about the whole One For All situation. But now didn’t seem like the time.

Midoriya, of course, denied it.

Kirishima jumped in, pointing out that All Might didn’t hurt himself when he used his quirk.

Midoriya looked… vaguely like he wanted to fall through the floor.

The conversation veered naturally after that, with more students chiming in. Light teasing started bouncing back and forth as they talked about their quirks, quirks they’d seen, who had cool costumes, and who was definitely still working out the kinks.

“I must say though,” Yaoyorozu piped up at one point, turning to look at Denki, “Kaminari-san, just how did you discover your quirk could be used for healing? From my understanding, electricity isn’t exactly a practical healing quirk.”

“Oh yeah!” Midoriya leaned forward, excitement bubbling in his voice. “I always wondered that as well!”

A few other students turned toward him, curious now.

Denki scratched his cheek, laughing a little nervously. “Well, uh… it’s not exactly a happy story. But I found out after jump-starting my dad’s heart.”

The silence was immediate. Like the whole bus exhaled and then forgot how to breathe again.

Yaoyorozu’s face paled. “I—I didn’t mean to pry, I was just curious—”

Denki gave her a small, lopsided smile and waved it off. “It’s okay, really. I don’t mind talking about it. That moment helped me figure out what I could do, what I wanted to do. It’s… kind of how I got here.”

That seemed to settle something. No one pushed further, but the mood shifted—more respectful. The earlier teasing softened into thoughtful silence.

From behind him, Mina leaned over and poked his shoulder. “Okay, but, like… that’s kind of badass, not gonna lie.”

Denki chuckled. “Thanks? I think?”

“You jump-started a heart,” Kirishima added, visibly impressed. “That’s metal as hell.”

“Kind of traumatizing,” Denki said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but yeah, metal.”

Tsuyu blinked at him. “That must’ve been scary.”

Denki nodded. “Yeah. It was. But if I hadn’t done it… he would’ve died. So, scary or not, I’m glad I figured it out when I did.”

No one really knew how to follow that, so the bus slipped into a quiet lull—soft conversations, lowered voices. The vibe was different now. Not heavier, but closer.

Like something had clicked into place between them all.

Denki stared out the window with a soft sigh.

The ride was quiet now. Not somber.

Just…thoughtful.

As soon as they stepped off the bus, Hitoshi was immediately at his side.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, just for Denki to hear.

Denki blinked, surprised for a second, then smiled, touched by the concern. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m fine. I knew it’d come up eventually.”

Hitoshi studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small nod.

They made their way into the USJ building, where Thirteen was already waiting with a cheerful wave and a warm welcome. She stood near the center of the dome-like facility, flanked by Aizawa, and launched into a speech that was clearly rehearsed—but not any less heartfelt because of it.

Her voice echoed gently across the space, even as her tone stayed kind. “Quirks are amazing,” she said, “but they are also dangerous. If used improperly, they can do more harm than good. Heroes have to understand the responsibility that comes with power.”

Denki found himself nodding, almost without thinking. He knew what she meant. Better than most.

His quirk wasn't just flashy in the traditional sense, but it was volatile. Unstable, even. The smallest miscalculation—the tiniest delay—could mean burning someone’s nerves, overloading their body, stopping a heart. The potential for harm was always there, just beneath the surface of his fingertips.

He had so much potential for destruction, and yet he had chosen to be careful. To measure everything, even in the heat of battle. Even when people expected him to let loose and go wild.

He wasn’t just throwing out lightning bolts—he was holding people’s lives in his hands.

So yeah. He understood what Thirteen was saying.

All too well.

Before the teachers could give them the go-ahead to begin, the lights in the USJ started flickering.

Then a portal tore open in the middle of the plaza.

Gasps echoed around the class. Even Aizawa looked genuinely startled.

Denki instinctively moved to the front, arm stretched out in front of the others. “Stay behind me,” he said sharply.

“Stay together and don’t move!” Aizawa barked, snapping to action. He turned to Thirteen and Denki in quick succession. “Thirteen, protect the students. Kaminari-kun—be ready. In case anyone gets hurt.”

Denki nodded, his jaw tightening. “Understood.”

“What is that thing?!” Kirishima asked, voice shaky, as figures began stepping through the swirling black mass.

“Wait—has the training started already?” he added, trying to make sense of the chaos. “I thought we were supposed to be rescuing people—”

“Stay back!” Aizawa and Denki shouted in unison, cutting him off.

The students flinched.

“This isn’t training,” Aizawa said grimly. “Those are real villains.”

Denki watched the color drain from several faces. The air shifted; this wasn’t an exercise anymore. This was a battlefield.

And he hadn’t been on one since the day his father almost died.

Denki’s chest rose with a shaky breath. His heart pounded loud in his ears, but his hands didn’t tremble. Not this time.

Please… let me be strong enough.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, crackles of yellow beginning to gather in the air around him.

No one’s dying today.

Not on his watch.

Chapter Text

Denki cursed as the villain’s quirk teleported him away from the rest of his classmates. He hit the ground hard, already reaching for his comm—but nothing. No signal. His own quirk couldn’t connect outside. Which meant someone had a quirk canceling his.

He scanned his surroundings: rocky, uneven terrain, jagged cliffs. A mountain of some sort. He felt relief when he noticed Yaoyorozu and Jiro were nearby.

The relief was short-lived when he noticed a villain creeping up behind them.

Without thinking, Denki fired a burst of electricity. Just enough to jolt muscles into spasms, painful, but not permanent.

The villains screamed and crumpled.

Silence.

Then chaos.

One lunged at him with a steel staff. Denki ducked the swing and sent a current racing through the weapon. The villain yelped, letting go. Denki dropped him with another quick stun, then darted to Yaoyorozu and Jiro’s side, sliding into a defensive stance between them.

“Any plans?” he asked, breathless.

“Can’t you just shock 'em all and be done with it?” Jiro grunted, smashing a charging villain with the staff Yaoyorozu had made.

“I can’t release that much electricity without frying both of you,” Denki snapped, kicking an attacker off-balance.

“What if I made something to protect us?” Yaoyorozu asked, ducking a flying projectile.

“Sure. How long do you need?”

“A minute!”

Denki nodded and fired at a group attempting to flank them. He already knew what she had in mind.

While Jiro and Denki held the line, Yaoyorozu worked fast, crafting a thick insulation blanket.

The moment she threw it over herself and Jiro, Denki turned fully to the fray.

His eyes sparked with intensity, narrowing under the weight of the moment. Electricity danced along his arms, crackling between his fingers. The hum of power built steadily, low and rhythmic, like thunder winding up in the belly of a storm.

The villains hesitated.

They’d felt his stings already, disruptive, but survivable. Now, they saw his face.

This wasn’t some random student.

This was Kaminari Denki, the eye of the bloody storm, and he was done holding back.

“You messed with the wrong medic,” he growled, electricity arcing violently across his body. “Let me show you what field triage looks like when I don’t have to worry about casualties.”

Then he let go.

A blinding wave of electricity exploded from him in all directions. Lightning erupted across the mountain, raw, white-hot arcs cracking through air, rock, steel. Metal weapons lit up like lightning rods. Body armor turned into conduits. The very air sizzled, saturated with power.

The villains screamed, some collapsing instantly as volts overwhelmed their nervous systems. The air itself felt charged, crackling, a palpable force pressing against stone and skin alike.

One villain tried to run, yet they were too slow. The current found him and sent him tumbling, twitching violently before going limp.

A second villain raised his hands, a barrier-type quirk sparking to life, but the electricity found a weak point and blasted through, short-circuiting the barrier and knocking the villain backwards with a heavy thud.

When the surge ended, Denki stood in the center of the devastation, chest heaving, hair standing on end, eyes glazed but locked on target. A final spark snapped off his fingertips.

Then stillness.

The battlefield was littered with unconscious bodies, scorched rocks, and the faint smell of ozone. Yaoyorozu peeked from beneath the blanket, wide-eyed. “Clear,” she whispered.

Jiro emerged behind her, brushing sweat from her face. “Holy crap, Kaminari-san. Just how much were you holding back?”

Denki gave a weak grin. “Had to y’know... not zap you guys.”

Yaoyorozu rushed to steady him as he swayed. “That was incredible. I could feel it through the blanket.”

He let out a laugh, shaky. “Haha, sorry about that.”

Jiro stepped beside them, surveying the wreckage. “Are you okay? That looked like it wiped you out.”

Denki blinked, eyes unfocused. “Yeah, just gimme a sec, I'm a bit disoriented.”

When the dizzying spell finally ran its course, Denki led them out of the mountain zone.

They moved quickly toward the center, but froze when a high-pitched, inhuman screech split the air. It echoed like metal tearing itself apart. The group exchanged looks, confusion laced with a raw, crawling fear.

Denki clenched his jaw. He was the highest-ranking authority here. He couldn’t afford to fall apart, if he panicked, everyone else would too.

“It’ll be fine,” he said firmly. “We just need to find the others and help them fight off the villains.”

The girls nodded, their expressions hardening with resolve, and followed him without hesitation.

They regrouped with a handful of other students who’d escaped their zones mostly intact, then continued toward the center.

What they found there made Denki's ears ring.

A creature—a thing, because calling it human would’ve been a lie—crouched over Aizawa. Its massive hand clutched one of Aizawa’s arms like a doll’s limb, twisting it in angles it was never meant to bend. Blood pooled beneath them, spreading wider every time the monster slammed Aizawa’s head into the concrete with a sickening crack.

Denki’s stomach lurched.

He’d seen blood before. Seen injuries, heard screams, witnessed gore. But it always hit differently when it was someone you knew bleeding out in front of you. Someone who wasn’t supposed to fall like this.

His eyes darted to the side, landing on Hitoshi, who was looking on in horror.

Seeing him there made it worse. Denki was barely holding it together. He couldn’t imagine how Hitoshi felt, watching his dad get brutalized like that.

Another screech tore through the air, and it snapped Denki out of his daze.

“What are we supposed to do?” Yaoyorozu asked, voice tight, eyes wide.

Denki looked around.

All of them were staring at him now. Jiro, Yaoyorozu, and the other students, all waiting. Expecting something, anything.

He was their superior. The one with the most field experience. The one who’d led them this far.

But all Denki wanted to do was curl up and cry.

The main villain’s voice cut through the air—loud, theatrical, smug.

“Ugh, this is boring. All Might’s not even here. What’s the point?” he groaned, scratching his neck irritatedly. “We should just leave.”

Around him, the students visibly eased. Shoulders dropped, tension leaked out of the air like a deflating balloon.

But Denki didn’t buy it, not for a second.

Retreating made no sense. They had the upper hand. That thing crouched over Aizawa could probably tear through half of them without even trying.

And the lead villain, his quirk had to be some kind of disintegration. That much was obvious from the mangled mess of Aizawa’s arm and the eerie stone hands sprouting from his own body.

“But before we go,” the villain added, tone syrupy with mockery, “I want to make it hurt.”

His gaze slid toward Hitoshi.

And then he started walking—slow, deliberate steps—and reached out to grab Hitoshi’s face.

That was the moment something in Denki snapped.

There was a fine line between healing and harm. A razor-thin distinction. That was something Dr. Amano had drilled into him, over and over again.

The body doesn’t care about your intent. Too much voltage is still too much.

Before he could second-guess it, Denki raised his hand, fingers curling into a gun shape.

He fired.

A massive surge of electricity ripped through his body—clean, fast, lethal—shot straight toward the villain.

And the second it left him, a part of Denki wished he could regret it.

But he didn’t.

And that left a hollow ache in his chest.

Because what he’d just unleashed could’ve easily killed three, maybe four fully grown adults.

But the villain was still standing.

Not because of luck.

But because Aizawa—bleeding, broken, half-conscious—had erased the villain’s quirk.

And with it, erased Denki’s as well.

The lightning vanished midair, flickering out in a blink. Gone. No impact. No burn. No salvation.

Denki froze, heart pounding against his ribs, skin still warm with the charge.

He looked at Aizawa—barely breathing, barely there—still fighting.

Still protecting them.

Denki’s hand was trembling.

He didn’t know if it was from the discharge or the fact that if Aizawa hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve taken someone else's life without hesitation.

No one seemed to realize what Denki had almost done.

But that didn’t ease the strain knotting in his chest.

He took a shaky breath and shoved it all down. He could unpack the guilt later—right now, people were still in danger.

The monster slammed Aizawa’s head back into the concrete again, and somewhere off to the side, Midoriya landed a blow on the main villain. Or at least it looked like a hit, until the smoke cleared, and the monster was standing there instead.

In the villain’s place.

While everyone around him was distracted, staring at the impossible switch. Denki didn’t waste the moment. He bolted, feet slamming the ground as he sprinted toward Aizawa’s body.

The villain’s voice rang out again—mocking, lazy—but Denki wasn’t listening. His focus was a razor’s edge.

Then a thunderous boom cracked across the battlefield.

All Might stepped through.

And in an instant, the tide shifted.

Hope surged, and the villains flinched.

Using the chaos, Denki darted past the disoriented enemy lines and dropped to Aizawa’s side.

“You're going to be okay,” he whispered, voice shaking. He had to move him, now. They’d be trapped in the crossfire if he didn’t.

“Y-you shouldn’t be here,” Aizawa managed through gritted teeth, blood coating his mouth.

But Denki wasn’t hearing it.

He bit his lip, scanning the area, desperate for a plan—before All Might blurred into view beside them.

Without warning, he scooped both Denki and Aizawa into his arms.

“I’m sorry, you two,” he said, his voice low, heavy. “I should’ve been here.”

Then he was gone again—teleporting, or moving so fast it barely mattered—reappearing to grab Hitoshi, Tsuyu, and Midoriya.

The next thing Denki knew, they were safe, outside the battlefield, distant from the wreckage.

All Might set them down and stood tall.

“Everyone evacuate,” he commanded. “Head toward the exit and help carry Aizawa. He doesn’t have much time.”

Denki nodded and turned to Hitoshi, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket.

Hitoshi didn’t need words.

He understood instantly and stepped in, looping Aizawa’s other arm over his shoulder.

Together, the two of them began hauling their teacher toward safety.

Midoriya had run off to help All Might, leaving Denki and the other students alone to carry Aizawa.

The others hesitated, frozen by fear or shock, but Denki didn’t have patience for it.

“Focus!” he snapped. “If we keep stalling, Aizawa-sensie is going to die. Is that what you want?”

Harsh—maybe—but there wasn’t time to be gentle. Not now.

Up on the platform above, a few students were calling out to them. Denki waved them over.

“Help us carry him!” he shouted.

With their assistance, they finally got Aizawa to safety. The second they were clear of the immediate danger, Denki was already forming a mental checklist—triage, stabilization, disinfect, stop the bleeding.

One thing at a time. Fast, clean, efficient.

Aizawa was losing blood too quickly. He was clearly concussed—his eye movements were slow, unfocused—and his breathing was getting shallower by the second.

Denki dropped to his knees and tore open his med bag. Supplies scattered. He snatched up gauze and antiseptic and went straight for the worst of the bleeding.

“Help me straighten Aizawa’s arm!” Denki barked at Hitoshi without looking.

No response.

He finally glanced up—Hitoshi was shaking, frozen, his eyes wide and glassy.

He’s in shock.

Denki’s pulse was rising, but he forced it down. He couldn’t afford to freeze too.

“Tsuyu-san!” he called, sharply.

She flinched, pulled from staring at the battlefield down below.

“I need your help—now! Get his arm straight so I can stop the bleeding!”

She nodded quickly and moved in beside him without hesitation.

Denki didn’t wait. He applied pressure, voice dropping to a focused mutter as he worked.

Disinfect. Compress. Stabilize.

Don't think, just move.

There'd be time to fall apart later.

But not now.

He didn’t look up.

Not at the thunderclaps of quirk detonations echoing from below.

Not at the distant flashes of power lighting up the skyline like a storm had touched down.

He didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care.

His world had shrunk to blood—warm, sticky, dark—soaking into his and Aizawa’s uniforms. To the shallow rise and fall of Aizawa’s chest. That was it. That was all that mattered.

He’d disinfected what he could. Then he made Tsuyu let go—gently, but firmly—so he could work without interruption.

He cut away Aizawa’s shirt, exposing bruised and battered skin, and placed his hands on his chest.

Denki took a deep breath.

Focus.

Healing with electricity wasn’t about power. It was about control, precision, and balance.

Too much voltage, and the body spasmed.

Too little, and the cells didn’t respond at all.

His current sparked faintly, barely visible. A quiet pulse of warmth, steady and deliberate, coaxing damaged nerves and torn muscle fibers back into alignment. His quirk didn’t regenerate tissue, not directly, it accelerated what the body could already do. Pushed it into overdrive. Dulled the pain, minimized the bleeding, and stabilized the body.

The flow of blood slowed.

The skin around Aizawa’s crushed arm twitched—flickering, fluttering—then slowly began to knit. Not perfectly. Not completely. But enough.

Enough to stop it from getting worse.

And right now, that was enough.

Denki’s hands trembled—not from fear, but from effort. From concentration.

Every second required adjustment.

Every cell reacted just a little differently.

He could feel Aizawa’s heartbeat fluttering like a broken record, and tried to sync his own to it. To let the rhythm guide the current.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath.

His quirk buzzed softly between them. Like static before a storm.

Behind him, the shouting, the explosions, the crunch of collapsing concrete continued.

But Denki didn’t flinch. He couldn’t.

He kept his eyes locked on Aizawa’s face—pale, bloodied, bruised—but alive.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured, teeth clenched as he adjusted the voltage again, coaxing the swelling around vital organs to ease. “You’re not dying. Not on my watch.”

His power flared again, softer this time. A whisper. A reassurance.

He didn’t even notice the tears until one slid down his cheek and dropped onto the back of his hand, where it sizzled faintly against the current.

He blinked it away and didn’t stop.

His arms were starting to sting. His head rang like a struck bell.

He ignored all of it.

He didn’t stop until Aizawa’s breathing evened out.

When it did, he took a minute—just a minute—to fight back the sob clawing its way up his throat.

His hand was still covered in blood. His own fingers were trembling. His head felt like it was floating somewhere above his body, the edges of his vision flickering faintly.

Then Mina’s voice, soft and timid:

“Could you… please heal Thirteen?”

He swallowed hard and nodded. His neck felt stiff. Everything felt heavy.

But he pushed himself to his feet—unsteady, shaking—and forced his body to move.

One foot in front of the other.

He crossed the distance to where Thirteen lay crumpled, their suit torn and stained with ash and blood.

Denki didn’t speak.

Didn’t hesitate.

He knelt beside them, wiped his hand across his pants, and began the process all over again.

At some point, the fighting had stopped.

But Denki barely noticed.

He was too numb to register the silence, too far gone to feel the shift in energy around him. His body moved on instinct, his mind submerged somewhere underwater.

He’d stabilized Thirteen—enough to keep her injuries from turning critical—and now he was tending to the students. Cuts. Fractures. Burns. His hands moved with mechanical precision, electricity sparking softly from his fingertips, coaxing tissue and muscle back together in delicate waves.

Someone spoke to him.

He didn’t catch what they said.

His ears were ringing again.

Everything felt… slippery. Disconnected. Like he was watching himself from the wrong end of a telescope.

The world tilted slightly to the left. Or maybe he did.

He blinked—slow. Too slow.

His hands hovered over someone’s leg, a jagged gash, still bleeding.

But he couldn’t remember whose leg it was. Couldn’t remember if he’d already healed it. Couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do next.

His fingers twitched, electricity skipping across his knuckles without direction.

And then everything got quiet.

Not around him.

Inside.

The noise in his head—the urgency, the panic, the focus—it all dulled to static.

His breath hitched.

He blinked again, confused by how long it took for his vision to return.

His lips moved, but no sound came out.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to say.

A hand touched his shoulder.

He didn’t react.

The world kept moving, but Denki didn’t.

He was there—but not.

His gaze drifted past the students, past the wreckage, past the blood. Like he was seeing through it. Or maybe not seeing it at all.

His hands were still outstretched, still glowing faintly.

Still trying to heal.

Even as his mind slipped further from the present.

Even as his body began to sway.

Someone said his name.

He heard it, kind of. The voice was muffled, distant. Like it was coming from underwater, or down a hallway lined with fog.

“Denki?”

His eyes wouldn’t focus, couldn’t fix on anything.

His fingers sparked—faint, flickering—over skin he couldn’t feel anymore. His arms ached, and his head buzzed with white noise.

And then everything tilted.

His body gave out.

The light from his quirk fizzled out. His hands dropped to his sides, limp and useless.

He collapsed forward, catching briefly on someone’s arm before slipping off it, like a marionette with its strings cut.

Gasps rang out around him.

But he didn’t hear them.

Didn’t feel the hands reaching for him. The panic.

The shouting.

He was already gone.

Not dead.

Just—

Out.

His body finally doing what his mind hadn’t been allowed to.

Shutting down.

Chapter Text

Denki blinked awake to the faint, steady beep of a heart monitor.

That sound told him everything he needed to know.

He was in the hospital.

He groaned, dragging a hand weakly across his face. His head felt stuffed with cotton, every nerve raw and stinging. The aftershocks of everything he’d done—every spark, every stitch of healing—lingered heavy in his body.

His arms buzzed all the way up into his chest, a constant hum that left him restless and sore.

He squinted at the monitor beside him, vision swimming. His EKG spiked too high, too fast, readings that weren’t where they should’ve been.

The sharp whish of curtains being pulled back made him flinch.

Dr. Amano stepped in, crisp and composed as always, her expression cutting through the haze clouding his thoughts.

Her expression softened the moment she saw him awake. “You gave us quite a scare,” she said gently.

Denki sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. The overhead lights burned, stabbing straight into his skull as a nauseating headache crept up.

A soft whine escaped him before he could stop it.

He didn’t open his eyes again until the worst of the pain dulled to a throb. When he blinked back into reality, everything still felt fuzzy, but he forced himself to do a mental rundown.

The symptoms were familiar. Too familiar.

The nausea, the headache, the confusion, the bone-deep fatigue, all his thoughts scattering like loose wires.

He frowned. He hadn’t had a seizure since he was twelve, back before Dr. Amano and the others had taught him how to handle his quirk without frying his own brain.

“Are all your seizures like this?” Dr. Amano asked, her voice careful, measured.

“N-no,” Denki slurred, tongue heavy, “they were usually more… mind-numbing.” He exhaled slowly, dragging himself upright despite the protest in his limbs. “This… feels different.”

Dr. Amano didn’t answer right away. She was studying him—eyes sharp, calculating—like she was dissecting every tremor in his voice, every sluggish blink, every delay in his responses.

But when she finally spoke, her tone was softer. “Focal impaired awareness seizure, then. I’d hoped we’d moved past those.”

Denki grimaced. “So did I.” His voice was hoarse, frayed.

She pulled a small penlight from her pocket. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, though his pupils resisted the light, sluggish to contract. She hummed thoughtfully, jotting something down on a clipboard she’d set at the foot of the bed.

“You were out of it for several minutes,” she said. “Your awareness was gone, but your body didn’t stop moving. That’s what frightened everyone most. You kept trying to use your quirk even while your mind wasn’t fully present.”

Denki let out a shaky laugh that died almost instantly. “Figures. My quirk doesn’t know when to quit, even when I do.”

“That isn’t funny, Denki.” Her voice cut sharper, though her expression didn’t harden. “The kind of strain you put yourself under—healing that many injuries in rapid succession—it pushed your neural pathways past safe thresholds. Your body warned you, and you ignored it.”

He looked away, lips pressed tight.

Her gaze softened again. “But… you saved lives. I won’t deny that. Without you, Aizawa, and Thirteen, would be in critical condition or worse. I need you to understand, though, what you did came at a cost.”

Denki swallowed, throat dry. “…and if I do it again?”

Her silence was heavy, weighted. Then she sighed. “Then you risk turning a seizure into permanent damage. Your brain isn’t invincible, no matter how much electricity you pour through it.”

Denki slumped back against the pillows, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah… figured.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on your quirk, Denki,” Dr. Amano said firmly. “That’s why we’ve spent so much time drilling the basics into you. I know you’ve gotten used to leaning on your quirk for everything, but in emergency situations you have to prioritize your energy. You never know what else may go wrong.”

She leaned in slightly, her tone deliberate. “Focus on the major wounds. Stabilize. Stop the bleeds. Leave the minor injuries for the emergency team.”

Denki frowned, the words sinking in like stones.

Her voice softened, but the edge of authority remained. “And your number one priority should always be yourself.”

He blinked at her.

“That’s not optional, Denki. It’s the first rule every healthcare professional learns, before you reach for a patient, you make sure you’re safe. Because if you collapse, then you’ve only created another casualty. And someone else has to stop everything to save you.”

Denki looked down at his hands, the faint tremor still running through them. It stung because he knew she was right.

What Denki had done was reckless.

Running straight into a field of villains without a plan, without even checking if there was a way back out, it was beyond foolish. His body had just reacted, instincts pulling him forward before his mind had caught up.

And the worst part? He hadn’t thought past reaching Aizawa.

What then? He couldn’t have healed him there, not in the middle of a battlefield swarming with enemies. He couldn’t have carried him out either—Aizawa’s weight, his injuries, Denki’s own limits—it wouldn’t have worked.

No, he hadn’t saved Aizawa. Not really. He’d gambled recklessly with his own life, and luck—or maybe fate—had decided not to collect.

Because if All Might hadn’t shown up when he did…

Denki swallowed hard, stomach twisting.

He could’ve died.

Just like that.

All it would’ve taken was one villain noticing, one stray attack, one second too long kneeling beside his teacher’s broken body.

And everything could have blown up in his face.

“I’m sorry,” Denki whispered, tears welling up despite the lump in his throat. He could feel himself starting to spiral, his thoughts circling faster and sharper until they cut.

The whole situation was just so fucked up.

Now that he’d finally stopped moving, finally stopped healing, it hit him—this had been his first real battlefield experience. And it should have never happened. With a class full of first years. Kids. The worst thing that should’ve come out of training was someone misusing their quirk, not facing down hardened criminals who didn’t think twice about killing.

His chest tightened, breaths coming shallow, ragged. The images wouldn’t leave him: Aizawa bleeding, Hitoshi’s face, his own hands covered with blood, sparking over wounds he wasn’t sure he could fix.

Dr. Amano’s voice cut through, calm but firm, a tether against the panic. “It’s not your fault,” she said, and her tone was so certain it almost hurt. “You shouldn’t have been forced into such an overwhelming position this young. You weren’t ready—no one is ever truly ready—and that’s no fault of yours.”

Before he could argue, before the guilt could claw another foothold, she pulled him into her embrace.

And for the first time since it all began, Denki let himself collapse into someone else’s steadiness.

She doesn’t know, a cruel voice inside his head taunted.

She doesn’t know you almost took a life—a life you swore you’d protect.

Denki’s chest clenched, his throat burning. A sob bubbled up before he could swallow it back.

“I–I…” His voice cracked, broken, useless.

Tell her.

Tell her how you almost became a murderer.

The thought slammed into him with the weight of truth, cutting through the haze. His hands trembled in her embrace, sparks threatening to twitch awake across his fingertips.

He squeezed his eyes shut, breath shuddering, words lodged like glass in his throat.

If he said it out loud, if he admitted it—would it make it real?

Would it make him irredeemable?

He had to say it. Had to drag the words out, or else he’d drown in his own guilt.

“I wanted to kill someone,” Denki choked out between sobs. The admission scorched his throat, the shame burning hotter than any voltage he’d ever released.

Dr. Amano stilled, arms tightening around him, but she didn’t speak—didn’t stop him.

“It–it was the villain that attacked Aizawa,” Denki continued, his voice splintering. “I was just so mad, and I wasn’t thinking. I just—” His breath hitched, trembling hands curling against her sleeve. “I wanted to end him.”

The words tasted bitter, heavy, poisonous. And now that they were out, he couldn’t take them back.

Denki heard Dr. Amano take in a shaky breath, but her arms didn’t loosen. She held him steady, grounding him through the tremors in his chest.

“It’s not uncommon for you to feel that way,” she said carefully, her voice even but softer than usual. Then she eased him back just enough to meet his gaze.

Her hazel eyes peered down at him through her glasses, sharp yet full of something gentler, something he didn’t deserve.

“There have been times,” she admitted, “when I’ve had to heal people who’ve done truly heinous things. And yes—sometimes I felt angry. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have to. But Denki…” She pressed a hand lightly against his shoulder, firm enough to keep him anchored. “You must never let that bias lead you to harm a patient. That line, once crossed, is not one you can return from.”

Her words cut, but they steadied too, like disinfectant on an open wound.

“But the villain wasn’t a patient,” Denki argued weakly, voice fraying around the edges.

“They weren’t,” Dr. Amano agreed without hesitation. That stopped him cold. His eyes flicked up at her, confused, searching for the contradiction.

She noticed. And she sighed—deep and weary—the kind of sound that made her look older than she was.

“Denki, I need you to forget the titles for a moment,” she said, steady but low. “Hero. Student. All of it. On that field, you are a combat medic.”

The words settled like lead in his stomach.

“That means you’re expected to fight. To harm people who threaten your patients.” Her tone sharpened, but not unkindly, more like a scalpel than a blade. “And yes… that also means there will come a time when you may have to take a life in order to protect one.”

Denki felt himself freeze, every muscle tight. His throat worked, but nothing came out.

“What I was trying to express earlier,” she continued, softer now, “is that you must separate your bias from your duty. Don’t let anger drive your hand. Don’t let hate decide who deserves care. You have to be able to separate combat medic from medic. And if you can’t—” she pressed her palm lightly against his chest, grounding him, “—you won’t survive out there.”

Hitoshi could feel bile rising in his throat.

The day was supposed to be exciting. Finally, they were going to learn how to use their quirks in a controlled environment. Just training. Just learning. Nothing dangerous. Nothing life-threatening.

At least, that’s how it was supposed to go.

But life had other plans. And no one ever prepares you for when shit really hits the fan.

Hitoshi sure as hell hadn’t been ready to watch his father’s face get smashed into the concrete over and over. He hadn’t been ready to hear the sickening crack of bone, to see the blood pooling beneath him.

And he hadn’t been ready to almost lose his own life, caught like prey in the middle of some villain’s twisted monologue.

What burned worst, though, wasn’t the monster or the villains.

It was the moment Denki had looked at him—needed him.

“Help me move Aizawa’s arm,” Denki had said, sharp, urgent. A command, not a request.

And Hitoshi had frozen.

His body wouldn’t move, his hands wouldn’t work, his voice wouldn’t come. The world had narrowed to the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and the sight of his father’s blood soaking through the ground.

He’d been useless.

Denki had seen it too—that flicker of compromise, of weakness—and turned to Tsuyu instead. And she hadn’t hesitated. She had done what Hitoshi couldn’t.

The memory lodged in Hitoshi’s chest like glass. He could still feel it cutting every time he breathed.

He was supposed to be stronger than this. He’d trained, he’d prepared, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t freeze when it mattered. But when the moment came, when his father’s life hung in the balance—he’d choked.

And the helplessness of it, the weight of that failure, was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever claw his way out of.

He just stood there.

Stood and watched as Denki healed his father, while draining himself further and further, refusing to stop, refusing to even breathe. Denki kept helping, kept healing, because that’s what he was.

A hero.

An actual hero. Not like Hitoshi, who felt like a child playing dress-up beside him.

And somewhere along the way, watching Denki like that—unyielding, relentless, sparking through his own exhaustion—Hitoshi forgot Denki was human too.

Until the truth slammed back into him.

He saw it in Denki’s eyes. The glossed-over haze, unfocused and distant, as if his mind was slipping somewhere unreachable.

It was almost haunting, watching him keep going like that—healing, healing, healing—while barely responding to anyone’s questions or comments. His body moved like a machine, hands sparking softly, but Hitoshi wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore.

“Denki?” Hitoshi called out, his own voice breaking, desperate to drag the boy back into reality.

Yaoyorozu noticed too. Her brow furrowed, her steps quick as she moved closer, her own voice sharper as she called Denki’s name.

But still, no response.

Only that same glassy-eyed expression as he reached for the last student, his quirk flickering faintly in his hands.

“Denki!” Hitoshi tried again, louder this time, heart pounding.

And then Denki’s body swayed.

Hitoshi froze, too slow, his stomach dropping in horror, until Yaoyorozu lunged forward and caught him before he collapsed to the floor.

Yaoyorozu kept Denki upright, steadying his body until the medical responders finally rushed in. The second they arrived, Hitoshi bolted toward one of them.

“Please over here! He’s not responding right!” His voice cracked, sharper than he meant, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the medic’s sleeve and pulled them toward Denki. “He needs help now.”

After that, everything blurred together. Sirens. Stretchers. The smell of antiseptic and blood.

By the time Hitoshi really surfaced again, he was sitting in the hospital, Yamada at his side. His dad had one hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding as they spoke with the doctors.

“How’s Aizawa?” His dad asked, his usual cheer subdued, voice low with worry.

The doctor flipped through a clipboard before answering. “Stable. Thanks to the initial field treatment, the worst injuries were kept from escalating. At this point, what remains is a sprained arm and a minor concussion. He’ll need rest, but his prognosis is good.”

Hitoshi swallowed, relief sharp in his chest. “So… he’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” the doctor confirmed, glancing between the two of them. “He’ll recover.”

His dad let out a shaky breath and squeezed Hitoshi’s shoulder, his eyes softening. “You hear that, kid? He’s alright.”

Hitoshi nodded, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease completely. Because even if his father was safe, his mind still lingered on Denki.

It wasn’t until later in the afternoon that Hitoshi finally got the clearance to see Denki. The doctor who stopped him in the hall wasn’t just any doctor—he recognized her immediately. Amano. Denki’s mentor. He remembered seeing her often during those long months he’d spent at the hospital.

“You’re Shinso, right?” Amano asked, adjusting her glasses as she looked him over.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening a little.

She gave a small nod. “Denki’s stable now. The worst has passed. He’s exhausted, but he’s been asking after people, especially Aizawa. You can go see him, if you’d like. Just… keep it calm, alright?”

Hitoshi hesitated. “He’s really okay?”

“As okay as anyone can be after what he did,” Amano replied softly. “He pushed himself too far, but that’s Denki. Stubborn to the bone. What he needs now is rest. And a friend who can remind him he’s not carrying everything alone.”

Something in her tone stuck with Hitoshi. He swallowed and nodded. “I’ll go.”

He hadn’t wanted to show up empty-handed, so before heading up he ducked into the cafeteria. His fingers hovered over choices he barely registered, but in the end he picked what he remembered Denki always going for back when Hitoshi was practically living at the hospital: an American cheeseburger.

Clutching the warm paper bag a little too tightly, Hitoshi took a shaky breath and pushed into Denki’s room.

The curtain was pulled back, light spilling in. Denki sat propped against the bed, eyes unfocused, drifting somewhere far away inside himself.

Hitoshi lingered in the doorway for a beat, then held up the paper bag like a peace offering.

“I come bearing gifts,” he said, voice dry. “Though, full disclosure, it’s just a cheeseburger. Don’t expect me to pull a gourmet meal out of here.”

That finally pulled Denki’s gaze from the window. His eyes blinked into focus, and for a second, the dazed fog lifted.

“A cheeseburger?” Denki rasped, his voice scratchy but threaded with something lighter. “You seriously remembered that?”

Hitoshi shrugged, setting the bag on the tray table. “Hard to forget when you used to inhale these like it was a sport. Figured it was safer than trying to guess if you’ve suddenly developed a taste for hospital Jell-O.”

Denki let out a weak laugh, half relief, half disbelief. His shoulders eased, just a fraction. “Man, you have no idea how good it is just to see you. I thought you’d…” He trailed off, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, well,” Hitoshi muttered, sinking into the chair by the bed. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t fry yourself into a coma again. Might as well be me.”

Denki smiled faintly, but this time it reached his eyes.

Denki took the cheeseburger gratefully, unwrapping it with shaky fingers before digging in. They talked while he ate, nothing important, nothing heavy. Just dumb, random things. The weather. A bad commercial Hitoshi had seen. Which hero had the ugliest costume.

It was easier that way, letting their voices fill the silence instead of their thoughts.

By the time Denki crumpled the empty wrapper, though, they’d both run out of distractions. The elephant in the room loomed too big to ignore.

“Denki, I—”

“Hitoshi, it’s—”

They both stopped, blinking at each other, before a laugh slipped out. Then another. Until they were both chuckling, the last of the tension finally shaking loose.

“God, that was traumatizing,” Hitoshi said, half-joking, half still reeling.

Denki snorted. “Tell me about it. What a bunch of second-rate losers.” He huffed, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Yeah,” Hitoshi muttered, smirking faintly. “Second-rate losers who almost killed us.”

“Keyword almost,” Denki shot back, grin crooked.

And for the first time since that nightmare of a day, the weight on both their chests didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

The laughter faded, leaving something quieter in its place. Hitoshi leaned back in the chair, eyes on the floor, fingers twisting in his lap.

“…I froze,” he admitted suddenly. His voice was low, rough. “When you needed me. When you told me to help with my dad’s arm—I just stood there. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. I’m so sorry, Denki.”

Denki blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the weight behind his words. Then he shook his head, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

“Hitoshi it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” Hitoshi’s jaw tightened. “I should’ve—”

“No,” Denki cut him off gently but firmly. “Listen. It’s normal to freeze up when you see someone you love hurt that badly. Trust me, I get it. When my dad had his accident…” His voice faltered, eyes going distant for a moment before he steadied. “…I froze for a bit too. Just stood there, useless, while everything fell apart around me. It took me a long time to stop hating myself for it.”

Hitoshi’s gaze flicked to him, startled.

Denki shrugged, leaning back into his pillows. “So yeah. You froze. That doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human.”

The words sank in slowly, loosening something in Hitoshi’s chest he hadn’t realized he was holding so tight. He let out a breath, shoulders sagging. “…Thanks, man.”

Denki grinned faintly. “What are friends for?”

Akio’s nerves prickled as if his whole body had been set to overheat. Their mother walked briskly ahead, navigating the hospital corridors with the practiced ease of someone who had done this too many times before.

Hospitals.

He hated them.

Every antiseptic hallway, every sharp smell of disinfectant, every faint beep of machines was a reminder of what he’d already lost, and what he could still lose.

And now, the hospital had claimed his brother too.

Denki had practically belonged here these last few years thanks to his internship, but that was different. He was always the healer, never the patient. Seeing him lying on the other side of it—hurt, vulnerable—twisted Akio’s stomach into knots.

He clenched his teeth, bitterness coiling tight. He’d known something was wrong. The streets he usually patrolled had been too quiet, too empty, like the city itself was holding its breath. He’d felt it, suspected it. And for once, he hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t left a note for enforcement. Hadn’t followed his instincts.

Now Denki was paying for his silence.

He glanced at his sister walking beside him. Nari didn’t look any better, her hair was glowing faintly brighter than usual, strands sparking gold at the edges. She wasn’t holding it together nearly as well as she wanted their mother to believe.

The suddenness of it all—being yanked out of school, rushed across town, told that Denki had been caught in a villain attack—it was too much. Akio could see it all over her, even if she wasn’t saying a word.

And all he could think was: This is on me.

The door to Denki’s room slid open with a soft hiss. Akio stepped through first, Nari trailing half a step behind. Their mother followed, but she lingered in the doorway, watching her children instead of leading them in.

Denki was propped up against the hospital bed, an IV snaking into his arm. He looked pale—too pale—but awake. Beside him sat a purple-haired kid about his age, a crumpled cheeseburger wrapper between them on the table.

Akio froze. This wasn’t what he’d pictured. He’d braced himself for machines, for silence, for Denki’s fragile breathing. What he hadn’t braced for was this. A stranger. Some student sitting there like he belonged, like this room wasn’t supposed to be theirs alone.

Denki caught the hesitation instantly. “Oh—hey, guys, this is Shinso. He’s a friend.”

The boy stood, posture stiff but polite. “Good afternoon. I’m Shinso Hitoshi. I’m one of Denki’s friends.”

Akio frowned, the name tugging at something half-remembered.

Nari beat him to it. “Oh—you’re the boy Denki’s always talking about!”

Recognition clicked for Akio then. Right. Denki had always been social, always surrounded by friends, until the hospital work swallowed his time. Those friendships faded, one by one, leaving Nari worrying that he was becoming isolated.

But then Denki had started mentioning someone. A patient, around his age. Nothing confidential, just bits and pieces, small stories, things they’d talked about.

Akio remembered the way Denki’s mood shifted after that. The way his voice carried a little more light when he said Shinso’s name.

Their mother’s smile was warm, grounding. “Well, it’s finally nice to meet you in person, Shinso-kun.”

Shinso nodded awkwardly at their mother, then sank back into his chair. Akio still wasn’t sure how he felt about him, but the thought faded the moment his eyes returned to Denki.

He looked fragile in a way Akio hated—skin pale, lips chapped, a faint tremor still running through his hands where they rested on the blanket. But his eyes were open, alert, and that was more than Akio had let himself hope for on the walk here.

“Denki,” Nari breathed, her voice wobbling. She hurried to his side and pressed herself against the bed rail, careful not to jostle him. Her hair glowed faintly brighter, betraying the tears she was trying to hold back. “You scared us so bad.”

Denki gave a small, sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

Akio stepped closer, jaw tight. “Don’t just say sorry.” He crossed his arms, staring down at his brother. “Do you even realize how close—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. His throat was too tight for the words.

Their mother laid a hand on his shoulder, steady but firm. “He’s here, Akio. That’s what matters right now.”

Denki’s eyes softened at that, but he didn’t push back. He just looked at Akio and Nari, letting the weight of their presence settle over him.

For the first time since the news broke, Akio felt some of the tension in his chest ease. Denki was alive. Hurt, yes, but alive. And no matter how calm Denki tried to look, Akio silently promised himself: if anyone tried to put his brother in danger like this again, they’d have to go through him first.