Sorry for the late update. I was at a function, and I just got back, but here it is.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bus ride to the USJ was a bubble of controlled chaos. Excited chatter about rescue techniques and Thirteen's quirk filled the air. I sat with Nozomi, our silence a stark contrast. We weren't looking at the passing scenery. We were looking at our classmates.
We knew. We'd known since the announcement. The USJ was the perfect target: isolated, filled with future heroes, and a symbol of U.A.'s proactive training. And All Might, stretched thinner every day, was a predictable variable.
We'd said nothing. Telling Aizawa or Nezu would change the timeline in unknowable ways. It might cause a direct, overwhelming assault on the League's bar before Shigaraki was fully revealed, scattering them into the shadows to plot something worse. Sometimes, to cut out a cancer, you have to let it show itself. Even if it meant letting the knife come dangerously close to the heart.
Our goal was simple: control the variables. Protect the class. And deal with the Nomu.
"Hey, fox guys, you're awfully quiet!" Kirishima called from a few seats up. "You not excited?"
Nozomi offered a serene smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just contemplating the myriad ways a rescue operation can go catastrophically wrong. It's a fascinating intellectual exercise."
"Way to kill the mood," Kaminari groaned.
I just nodded, my gaze finding Midoriya. He was muttering to himself, running through contingency plans. Good. Keep thinking. That's your best weapon today.
The USJ dome took our breath away, even those of us expecting it. It was a monumental feat of engineering, a vast indoor landscape of simulated disaster zones. Aizawa, already in his hero gear, led us in, his posture tighter than usual. He felt it too—the weight of responsibility, the vulnerability of this place.
We were met by the pro-hero thirteen, who specialized in rescue training. She was in her space suit.
"Good morning, students. I am the rescue hero thirteen," She introduced herself. "For those of you who don't know me, my quirk is called blackhole, it lets me suck anything in and turn it to fine dust. While extremely powerful, it can also kill, and that is the basis of this class. We will learn how to use our powers to rescue instead of—"
Thirteen's briefing was cut short by the lights flickering. A low hum vibrated through the floor, wrong and electronic. In the central plaza far below, the air began to warp and distort, a purple-black vortex swirling into existence.
"Stay together and don't move!" Aizawa barked, his capture weapon floating around his shoulders. "Thirteen, protect the students!"
But it was too late. The vortex expanded, and they poured out. Dozens, then scores of villains, milling with arrogant slouch. And at their center, two figures. A lanky, blue-haired man scratching his neck nervously—Shigaraki Tomura. And next to him, hulking and silent, a thing of exposed brain and beaked muzzle, clad in a straightjacket. The Nomu. Its blank, dead eyes scanned the dome, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.
Shock Absorption. Super Regeneration. Enhanced Strength. Quirk: Null. Designed to kill All Might. E.V.E.'s file flashed in my mind.
"Where… is he…" Shigaraki's voice, distorted by the hand on his face, echoed through the dome. "The Symbol of Peace… I don't see him. We went through all this trouble… Is he not here?"
The class erupted in panic. Villains! A real attack!
Aizawa didn't hesitate. "Thirteen! Get them out! Now!" He vaulted over the railing, plummeting towards the central plaza alone, a black streak against the marble.
"EVERYONE TO THE ENTRANCE! STAY CLOSE TO THIRTEEN!" Iida shouted, his voice cracking with fear, but his body moving on instinct.
The warp villain, Kurogiri, appeared before the doors in a bloom of mist. "I cannot allow that. Greetings. We are the League of Villains. It appears the teacher has run ahead. A foolish, if brave, tactic. Now, let's see about scattering your children to be slaughtered."
As Thirteen prepared to use Black Hole, the mist swirled around them. It was chaos. In the confusion, Kurogiri's portals bloomed among us. I felt the sickening lurch of spatial dislocation.
"NOZOMI!" I shouted.
"ON IT!" Her voice was a razor in the panic.
We moved not as students, but as a single combat unit. As a portal opened under Asui and Mineta, a golden thread of Celestial Weave lashed out, wrapping around Tsuyu's waist and yanking her back to solid ground. Mineta shrieked as he fell through.
I blurred, appearing beside Momo as a villain materialized behind her, knife raised. My hand closed around his wrist. Crack. He screamed. A pulse of raw Soul-Flux sent him skidding across the floor, unconscious.
"Stay behind me," I ordered Momo, my voice leaving no room for argument. Her eyes were wide with terror, but her hands were already glowing, creating a compact shield.
"They're targeting to separate and overwhelm!" Nozomi's voice rang out, clear and commanding amidst the screams. She stood back-to-back with a flailing Kaminari, her golden ribbons a defensive storm, disarming villains and deflecting projectiles with impossible grace. "Form up! Bakugo, Kirishima, front line! Todoroki, control the space! Everyone else, support!"
For a miraculous second, the class listened. Bakugo, snarling with rage, blasted a cluster of villains off the stairs. Todoroki, his face a mask of cold fury, unleashed a glacier that sealed off an entire wing of advancing thugs, catching several in the ice. Kirishima hardened and charged, a red ram.
But it was a holding action. Below, in the plaza, Aizawa was a whirlwind of brutal efficiency, but he was one man against a small army. We saw him go down, his elbow shattered by a brute's quirk, only to rise again and take the brute down. He was buying time with his blood.
"He's going to die down there," I said, the words cold and factual.
"We need to clear a path to the entrance," Nozomi said, her eyes scanning. "Thirteen is down. Iida is gone—he must be going for help. We hold until reinforcements come."
'All Might isn't coming,' I said through our link. 'Not yet. He's timed out. We're on our own until he recharges.'
Her gaze met mine, and in that look, the plan was solidified. We couldn't just hold. We had to break their center.
"Momo," I said, turning to her. "We're going down. We need to draw the big one's attention. Get everyone who's left to the entrance, barricade it. Use your quirk. You're in charge."
"What? No, you can't—!"
"It's the only logical move," Nozomi cut in, her tone leaving no room for debate. "They want a spectacle? We'll give them one. Buy time for Iida and for Aizawa-sensei."
Momo looked from our determined faces to the carnage below, to our struggling classmates. Leadership settled on her shoulders, heavy but accepted. She gave a sharp, grim nod. "Don't die."
"Wasn't planning on it."
Nozomi and I didn't take the stairs. We stepped off the ledge and fell. Halfway down, silver and golden light erupted around us. We landed in the central plaza not with a crash, but with a deep thump that sent cracks radiating across the marble, the force knocking nearby villains off their feet.
The fighting around Aizawa stuttered to a halt. Eraserhead, panting and bleeding from a cut on his forehead, looked up from where he had a villain in a chokehold. His eyes widened behind his goggles. "Idiots…! Get back!"
Shigaraki stopped his nervous scratching. "Ooh? Two more little heroes? You have such interesting pieces. The fox quirk users? Are you here to die with your teacher?"
"We're here to recalibrate your expectations," I said, my voice echoing in the sudden quiet. Silver Soul-Flux ignited around my arms, forming the Fangs of the Soul, the claws shimmering with predatory hunger.
Nozomi simply raised a hand. Celestial Weave bloomed around her, not as defensive ribbons, but as a dozen serrated, golden lances hovering in the air. "You brought a pet," she said, her eyes locked on the Nomu. "Let's see if it's housebroken."
The Nomu's head swiveled towards us. It took a step forward, then another, moving with a speed that belied its bulk.
"Nomu," Shigaraki giggled. "Crush the noisy ones."
It shot forward, a blur of purple and black.
We shot forward to meet it.
The world narrowed to the next microsecond. I ducked under its first claw swipe, feeling the wind of it tear at my hair. My silver claws raked across its torso. The sound was like tearing wet leather, not flesh. Deep gashes opened, black blood welling, but they began to close before my eyes. Super Regeneration.
Nozomi's golden lances streaked in from the sides, aiming for joints—knees, shoulders, neck. The Nomu didn't dodge. It took them. The lances sank in, then stuck, their ends flaring with light. She wasn't just piercing; she was anchoring, trying to limit its movement.
It roared, a soundless vibration that hurt our teeth and ripped the lances out, the golden light shattering.
It was fast. Impossibly fast. A fist the size of my torso came at my head. I crossed my arms, layering Soul-Flux into a shield.
BOOM.
The impact was like being hit by a speeding train. My boots screeched across the marble as I was flung back, my arms screaming in protest. The Shock Absorption had negated most of the kinetic transfer, but the raw force was staggering.
Nozomi was a blur of light, dancing around its flank. "It absorbs impacts! Don't hit it, cut it! Or burn it!"
She unleashed Radiant Lance, a concentrated beam of solar heat. It seared across the Nomu's shoulder, cooking the flesh, the stench awful. The regeneration slowed, the flesh sizzling as it tried to knit.
I saw an opening. As it turned to backhand Nozomi, I channeled everything into my legs.
Primal Oblivion: Ragnarök Drive.
The world turned silver. I wasn't running; I was teleporting through sheer force. I appeared above it, my claws aimed not for its body, but for the base of its exposed brain stem—the control nexus.
My claws struck. And… sunk in only an inch before meeting resistance like neutron star matter. The Shock Absorption activated, nullifying the piercing force. The Nomu's hand, faster than thought, clamped around my torso.
Agony. My ribs creaked. I heard Aizawa shout something.
"HIRO!" Nozomi's scream was pure fury.
Divine Ascension: Amaterasu Bloom.
She didn't hold back. The entire plaza was bathed in blinding, divine gold. A colossal, nine-tailed fox of pure energy manifested behind her and struck, not with physical force, but with concussive waves of pressurized light and soul-crushing heat. The marble beneath the Nomu vaporized in a ten-foot crater.
It roared, dropping me to clutch at its head, its regeneration working overtime to combat the cellular annihilation of her attack.
I hit the ground, rolled, and came up gasping. My ribs were bruised, maybe cracked. Across the crater, Nozomi was panting, the golden light around her flickering. That attack had cost her.
The Nomu stood in the smoldering crater. Its skin was charred, muscles exposed and weeping, one eye melted shut. It was regenerating, but slower now. Much slower. We'd hurt it. We'd degraded its systems.
But it wasn't down.
Shigaraki was clapping slowly. "Amazing! Truly! You damaged the Nomu! But it was built to fight All Might. You're just… warm-up."
The Nomu's good eye fixed on us. It charged again, a limping, furious meteor.
We met it. There was no more strategy, just a brutal, grinding exchange. We were faster, more precise. But it was a tank. We'd slash, it would heal. It would swing, we'd dodge or absorb a glancing blow that still rattled our bones. We were chipping away at a mountain with needles.
I felt my energy reserves, deep as they were, dipping dangerously. Nozomi's golden aura was dimming. We were buying time, but the cost was everything.
I saw a massive villain about to bring a cement fist down on a prone, exhausted Aizawa. With a snarl, I disengaged from the Nomu, blurring to intercept. I took the blow on a reinforced shoulder, driving the villain into the ground.
The distraction cost me. Nomu's backhand caught me across the side.
Everything went white. I felt something break. I tumbled like a rag doll, coming to a stop against a shattered fountain base. My vision swam. I couldn't get my legs under me.
"Hiro!" Nozomi's cry was ragged. She launched herself at the Nomu in a berserk frenzy of golden light, forcing it back, buying me seconds.
Through blurred vision, I saw Shigaraki walking towards me, his hand outstretched. "Such a useful quirk. So many pieces. I think I'll take it apart to see how it works."
I tried to summon my claws. Only a weak flicker answered.
Then, a sound. A distant boom that shook the very dome.
"HAVE NO FEAR…"
The voice was a thunderclap of pure, undiluted hope.
"…FOR I AM HERE!"
The massive entrance doors, sealed tight, exploded inward. Sunlight streamed into the chaotic gloom. And standing in the breach, silhouette etched in light, steam rising from his form, was All Might. His smile was gone, replaced by the grim, focused expression of the Symbol of Peace entering a warzone.
His eyes took in the scene in a nanosecond: the scattered students, the fallen Thirteen, Aizawa bleeding on the ground, the horde of villains, the smoldering crater, the brutalized Nomu, and Nozomi standing defiantly before it, with me, broken, yards from Shigaraki's reach.
Shigaraki froze, his hand inches from my face. "Finally…"
All Might moved. He was a yellow and blue streak, so fast he seemed to teleport. He didn't go for Shigaraki first. He went for the biggest threat.
"TEXAS… SMASH!"
The air cannon he created wasn't aimed at the Nomu. It was aimed at the space between the Nomu and Nozomi, and between Shigaraki and me. The concussive blast of wind was like a physical wall. It hurled Shigaraki back, skidding across the plaza. It slammed into the Nomu, staggering it. And it gently, but firmly, pushed Nozomi out of the direct line of fire and towards me.
In the heartbeat of chaos that followed, All Might landed between us and the League, his back to us. He didn't look at our broken forms. But his voice, low and meant only for our ears, rumbled.
"Thank you. You held the line. Now… rest."
The Nomu, recognizing its destined opponent, charged with a guttural roar.
All Might met it with a straight right punch.
BOOOOOOOOM!
The shockwave shattered every remaining window in the dome. The force of the collision was apocalyptic, a ring of dust and debris exploding outward. But All Might didn't budge. The Nomu's fist was stopped dead in his palm.
The Symbol of Peace looked at the creature, at its regenerating wounds, the charred flesh we had inflicted. A flicker of something—understanding?—passed over his face. He saw our work. The damaged regeneration. The weakened structure.
"A foul creation," All Might growled, his power surging. "But you are NOT the villain who gets to kill these children today!"
What followed was not a fight. It was a demolition. All Might, empowered by righteous fury and a target already pre-weakened, unleashed a relentless barrage. Detroit Smash. New Hampshire Smash. Missouri Smash. Every blow landed with the force of a tactical warhead. The Nomu's Shock Absorption was overwhelmed, its regeneration unable to keep pace with the systematic devastation.
We had cracked the foundation. All Might brought down the wrecking ball.
With one final, earth-shattering UNITED STATES OF SMASH, he drove the Nomu through the dome's ceiling and into the sky, a final, definitive exclamation point.
The remaining villains, seeing their ultimate weapon literally thrown away, broke and ran, scattering through Kurogiri's warps.
Silence descended, broken only by the groan of strained metal and the drip of water.
All Might, steam now pouring from his body in great gusts, turned. His form seemed to shrink slightly, the muscle mass deflating. He was at his limit.
His eyes found us. Nozomi had crawled to my side, her golden light gone, leaning heavily against the fountain. I could barely keep my head up.
We were a mess. Covered in dust, blood, and bruises. But as All Might's weary, grateful gaze met ours, both Nozomi and I managed it.
Twin, bloody, utterly exhausted smirks touched our lips.
We'd done it. We'd held. We'd weakened the monster. The class was alive. Aizawa was alive. The Symbol of Peace stood victorious.
The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was All Might's own smile returning, small and real, as the pros finally swarmed in through the broken door, and his massive form gently, carefully, knelt to ensure we weren't about to be crushed by falling debris.
Then, nothing.
Consciousness returned not with a jolt, but as a slow, pain-riddled tide. The first sensation was the sterile, antiseptic smell of a medicine. The second was a deep, bone-deep ache that seemed to radiate from every cell. The third was warmth—a gentle, familiar pressure on each of my hands.
I pried my eyes open. The light was soft, filtered through blinds. I was in a private room, the kind reserved for high-profile hero casualties. Tubes and wires snaked from my arms, connected to beeping monitors.
And there, on either side of the bed, each holding one of my hands in a death-grip of concern, were Akihime and Nozomi.
Nozomi was in the next bed over, propped up on pillows, looking pale but awake. Her five tails were limp on the sheets, bandages wrapped around her torso. Her eyes met mine, and a flicker of relief passed between us.
But it was Mom who captured my full attention. Akihime looked like she had aged a decade in a day. Her usually immaculate hair was disheveled, her eyes red-raw and puffy from crying. But in those eyes, there was no accusation, no anger—just a tsunami of relief and a terrifying, ferocious love.
"Hiro," she breathed, her voice hoarse. Her hands trembled around mine. "Oh, my baby boy."
"Mom…" My own voice was a dry rasp.
A choked sob escaped her, and she buried her face against my hand for a moment, shoulders shaking. When she looked up, tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she was smiling—a wobbly, heart-breakingly proud smile. "My brave, stupid, wonderful babies. I saw the news. I saw… I saw you fighting that thing." A fresh wave of tears. "You could have died. You should have run."
"Couldn't," Nozomi said softly from her bed, her voice also weak. "They were our kids, too, in that moment."
Akihime let out a half-laugh, half-sob, reaching over to squeeze Nozomi's hand as well. "I know. I know that. I am so… so angry at you. And so incredibly, unbearably proud. Don't you ever scare me like that again." She said it like a command, but it sounded like a prayer.
The door opened softly, and a skeletal man in an oversized suit slipped in, holding a massive fruit basket that looked comical in his thin arms. It was only when he smiled—that wide, familiar, sun-like grin—that I recognized him.
"Young Kirigayas," All Might said, his voice quiet but warm. "And Ms. Kirigaya. May I?"
Akihime, recognizing the Symbol of Peace in his true form, quickly composed herself, wiping her tears and nodding. "Of course."
He set the basket down and pulled up a chair between our beds. The heroics were gone from his posture; he looked weary, diminished, and utterly sincere.
"Before you ask anything, this is my true form, and yes, it is me, All Might," He spoke up before any of us asked. "Just don't tell anyone."
"Recovery Girl says you will make a full recovery," he began after we nodded. "Severe quirk exhaustion, multiple fractures, contusions, but nothing permanent. You are both remarkably resilient."
He leaned forward, his blue eyes serious. "But that is not why I am here. I am here to thank you. From the bottom of my heart." His voice grew thick with emotion. "What you did… it was not just brave. It was tactically brilliant. You held the line against an overwhelming force. You protected your teacher and your classmates. And you…" He looked back and forth between us, awe in his gaze. "You weakened the Nomu. You understood its properties and attacked them logically. The damage you inflicted… it gave me the opening I needed to end the fight quickly, without…" He paused, his hand unconsciously drifting to his side, where his old injury lay. "Without catastrophic cost."
He bowed his head slightly. "You saved lives today. Perhaps even mine. U.A., and the world, owes you a debt."
The room was silent. Akihime was crying again, silently, her hand over her mouth.
"We were just doing the logical thing," I muttered, feeling strangely exposed by his gratitude.
"There was nothing 'just' about it," All Might said, his smile returning, softer now. "It was the act of true heroes. Rest now. The hard part is over."
He left as quietly as he came, leaving the weight of his words hanging in the room.
The hard part, it turned out, wasn't over. The next day brought a different kind of invasion.
A hesitant knock announced Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, and Momo, all bearing get-well gifts and nervous energy. They filed in, their eyes wide at our bandaged state.
"We… we brought you some juice," Uraraka said, placing a carton on the side table with immense care, as if it were explosives.
"And notes from everyone in class!" Iida announced, chopping the air with a bandaged arm of his own. He presented a large, colorful card covered in signatures and scrawled messages. 'Get well soon, you crazy strong fox-people!' – Kaminari. 'That was so manly!' – Kirishima, underlined three times.
Momo simply walked over and, after a moment's hesitation, gently hugged Nozomi, then me, careful of our injuries. "Don't do that again," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You had us all terrified."
It was Midoriya who hung back until the others had spoken. When he finally approached, there was a new set to his shoulders. His arms were bandaged too, but from shallow cuts and burns, not shattered bones. There was a fire in his green eyes, a quiet, steely determination that hadn't been there before.
"Kirigaya. Nozomi," he said, bowing deeply. "Thank you. For what you did for everyone. And… and for before." He straightened up, meeting my gaze. "While you were fighting in the plaza… I was able to help. In the flood zone. I used… I used a focused 5% Delaware Smash to create a whirlpool and divert the water to help Asui and Mineta. I… I didn't break anything."
The pride in his voice was quiet but monumental. He had used his power. He had saved people. And he was whole.
Nozomi gave him a tired but genuine smile. "See? Told you it was an engineering problem. You're reinforcing the frame."
He nodded vigorously, a notebook already half-out of his pocket. "The way you fought the Nomu… the targeted strikes, the combination of piercing and concussive heat to bypass its absorption… I have so many notes! It was incredible!"
The visit was a whirlwind of more classmates. Kirishima and Kaminari came, full of loud, relieved energy. Todoroki came, silent and imposing, leaving a simple, expensive box of herbal tea. Tsuyu came, her blunt concern oddly comforting. Even Mineta shuffled in, uncharacteristically quiet and respectful.
The only absence was a loud, explosive one. Bakugo did not come.
As the last of our visitors left, the room settling back into quiet, Akihime let out a long, shaky breath. "They adore you," she said, her voice full of wonder. "Your classmates. They look at you not with fear, but with… with trust."
Nozomi looked out the window, where the sun was setting. "We fought for them. It changes the equation."
I lay back, the aches a little less sharp, the weight of the future a little less daunting. We had stepped into the story, and the story had reshaped itself around us. We weren't just powerful anomalies anymore. We were Hiro and Nozomi of Class 1-A. We had a mother who loved us, a teacher who respected us, a Symbol of Peace who owed us, and a class that relied on us.
And as I closed my eyes, the memory of that final, bloody smirk I shared with my sister surfaced. We had faced the Unforeseen. And we had not been found wanting.
The real work was just beginning.
The hospital, quiet after the parade of heroes and classmates, felt like a physical thing. The beeps of the monitors became a slow, steady rhythm. The late afternoon sun painted warm stripes across the sterile floor.
Akihime had finally been persuaded by a nurse to go home, shower, and change, with the promise that we'd be asleep. We weren't.
Nozomi was idly flexing the fingers of her uninjured hand, a tiny, controlled spark of golden Soul-Flux dancing between her fingertips like a captive firefly. "The neural pathways feel… gritty. Like a motor running without oil."
"Mine too," I admitted, staring at the ceiling. My body felt hollowed out, a vessel that had been filled to bursting with lightning and was now just cracked ceramic. "E.V.E.'s initial estimates were off. The Nomu's Shock Absorption had a feedback frequency. It didn't just negate force; it resonated back, caused internal micro-tears."
"Noted for next time," she said, the spark fizzling out as she let her hand drop. "Create a dampening harmonic in our Soul-Flux before impact."
A comfortable silence fell. There was no need for the mental link. Our exhaustion spoke the same language.
"Bakugo didn't come," she stated after a while.
"No."
"He fought hard. In the conflagration zone. Took down a lot of villains."
"I know. I saw the security feed E.V.E. pulled."
"He's… recalibrating," she mused, a trace of her old, analytical amusement returning. "You don't get saved by 'extras' and then watch those 'extras' stand toe-to-toe with the monster built to kill All Might without your worldview getting a few cracks."
"Maybe," I said. Or maybe he just hated us more for showing him up. Either way, it was his problem.
The door creaked open again, much softer this time. We both tensed, expecting another nurse.
It was Momo. She'd changed out of her casual clothes and was back in a simple, elegant dress, her hair down. She looked like she hadn't slept either, but she carried two paper bags that smelled utterly divine.
"I bribed the night nurse," she whispered conspiratorially, a small, tired smile on her face. "Granny Harumi heard what happened. She sent these. Said, 'Those kittens need proper food to heal, not hospital slop.'"
She opened the bags. Inside were two still-warm containers of her famous honey-glazed cake, two thermoses of rich, savory broth, and sandwiches packed with high-quality meat and vegetables.
The simple, greasy, real smell cut through the sterile air and made my stomach growl painfully. Nozomi actually sat up straighter, her tails giving a feeble, interested twitch.
"You're an angel, Yaoyorozu," Nozomi declared, already reaching for a sandwich.
Momo set up a little makeshift table between our beds, laying out the feast. For a few minutes, there was no sound but the quiet clink of utensils and contented chewing. It was the best food I'd ever tasted.
"How's everyone else?" I asked between bites of cake that melted on my tongue.
"Shaken. Proud. Aizawa-sensei and Thirteen will be here for a while, but they'll recover," Momo reported, sipping from her own thermos of tea she'd brought. "The school is implementing insane new security measures. There's talk of a dorm system."
A dorm system. Living at U.A. The thought was strangely… appealing. Less commuting. More time in the labs. Constant access to the gyms.
"Midoriya hasn't stopped smiling," Momo added, her own smile softening. "He's helping Recovery Girl organize everyone's follow-up appointments. He feels… useful. In a way that doesn't destroy him."
"Good," Nozomi and I said in unison, then glanced at each other.
Momo's smile widened. "You two… You changed the equation today. For all of us."
We finished the food in peaceful silence. As Momo gathered the trash, she paused at the door. "Get some rest, you two."
She left, the room sinking back into its quiet rhythm.
"The sports festival is next," I spoke after a short moment of silence.
"The sports festival," Nozomi murmured, lying back down. "A nationwide spectacle. Every hero agency, every villain, watching."
"A perfect stage," I finished, the old, familiar thrill of a challenge stirring in my hollow chest. It was a different kind of challenge than the USJ. This one was about presentation. About control. About sending a very specific message.
Nozomi turned her head on the pillow to look at me. In the dimming light, her golden eyes gleamed. "We'll have to give them a show they'll never forget."
I met her gaze, and for the first time since waking up in this sterile room, I felt a real smile tug at my lips. Not a smirk of triumph or a grimace of pain, but a smile of simple, anticipatory pleasure.
"Yeah," I said, watching the last of the sunset fade from the walls. "We will."
Outside, the city lights of Musutafu began to twinkle on, one by one. Inside the quiet hospital room, two broken but unbroken souls rested, their bodies healing, their minds already racing ahead to the next fight, the next puzzle, the next step on the path they had chosen.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How was that? It took a lot of time and energy to write the fight scenes. I had to take continuous breaks for my fingers as they kept hurting like hell. Leave a review to help me write my book better, and don't forget to drop the power stones.
Peace out.