Kuro wasn't fully recovered, but he was already being asked to give his statement.
The other three children had finished theirs. He was the last one.
In truth, it was mostly a formality. With All Might involved, the incident had already been classified as resolved.
Kuro didn't mind. The children hadn't seen his quirk clearly. All they remembered was pain… and then suddenly, none at all. Their retellings were messy, filled with exaggeration. One of them even claimed he had fought the long-tongue villain himself.
No one believed that story.
Apparently, his parents had dealt with it.
Kuro found that part oddly satisfying.
At least those kids learned something.
He shifted slightly on the bed, the familiar sensation of phantom needles still pricking his skin. The doctor had checked him multiple times and declared—loudly—that if there were still needles inside him, he'd personally remove his own head as proof.
Kuro wasn't sure how to feel about a doctor who said things like that.
"We're very sorry for what happened," the police officer said, adjusting his cap and notebook. "And thank you for your cooperation."
"It's fine."
The officer hesitated, then asked carefully, "You're from the Kurose family… correct? The Hero lineage?"
Kuro didn't wear his mask in the hospital.
"Yes. I am."
"Sorry," the officer said quickly. "We didn't mean to bring up anything painful. It's just—when we heard the victim's name…"
Kuro waved it off.
"It's fine."
The officer nodded and shifted the topic.
"About the long-tongue villain… please stay cautious."
Kuro's attention sharpened immediately.
"That guy… hasn't been caught?"
The officer sighed.
"He severed his own tongue and escaped. Based on what we recovered, the tongue was over two hundred meters long, hollow inside. That's how he used it to transport those needles."
Kuro frowned.
So that's how it worked.
"We're analyzing everything we can—saliva, structure, anything related to his quirk."
The hospital had reported Kuro's lingering sensation of needles, even though none remained in his body. It couldn't be explained medically, so they suspected it might be a side effect of the villain's quirk.
But there was no data.
No survivors before Kuro.
No precedent.
"Do you think he's dead?" Kuro asked.
The officer pulled out a few photos from the scene.
"Unlikely. Based on the terrain and the signs we found, he probably survived."
Kuro studied the images in silence.
"So… I'm dealing with a villain who might come back for me?"
The officer hesitated.
"…There's a possibility."
"And I don't even know when?"
"…Yes."
Kuro leaned back slightly.
That sounded about right.
The officer reached into his pocket and handed him a small pin.
It was shaped like a smiling cartoon face, poorly printed and a little cheap-looking.
"This is an emergency alert device," the officer explained. "Press the switch on the back if you're in danger. It will notify the nearest police station and Heroes, and send us your location immediately."
Kuro turned it over in his hand.
Not exactly impressive in appearance.
"Everyone gets one of these?"
"No. Only you."
The officer continued,
"You were the most severely injured. Based on the villain's history, you're the most likely target if he returns. The other children have offensive quirks. Yours… doesn't offer much self-defense."
He paused.
"And you're from the Kurose family."
Kuro let out a quiet breath.
"That's the real reason, isn't it?"
He hadn't felt like part of that family for a long time.
People didn't respect or admire him for it.
They pitied him.
Or avoided him.
"Your uncle, Kurose Daichi, once worked closely with our department," the officer said. "We haven't forgotten that."
Kuro nodded slowly.
He barely remembered his uncle.
But the respect was still there.
"Thank you," he said. "I'll keep it with me."
The officer gave a few final reminders and left.
Back at Nekohoshi Orphanage, another guest had arrived.
Fujita Emi prepared tea and snacks, carrying them to the room.
An elderly woman in a white coat accepted the tray, a syringe tucked neatly into her hair like an accessory. She smiled kindly.
"Thank you. You seem lively today."
"And you look well too," Emi replied with a grin before stepping out.
The door closed behind her.
Inside, Granny Neko sat quietly.
"The spot you arranged before… we won't need it," she said after a moment. "I'm scared now."
The woman across from her—known as the Healing Girl—tilted her head slightly.
"Because of what happened?"
Granny Neko's hands trembled faintly.
"When they brought him into surgery… I thought of someone else. For a moment, it felt like I was watching the past repeat itself."
Her voice wavered.
"I thought I could handle it. But I can't accept losing him."
The Healing Girl placed a cup of tea in front of her.
"The world isn't as safe as it used to be," she said gently. "At the very least, he'll be safer at U.A. He doesn't need to join the Hero course. Even General Studies would be fine. We just want him to grow up safely, right?"
Granny Neko didn't respond immediately.
She stared into her cup.
The Healing Girl continued,
"I'll reserve a spot for him. I'm not saying he has to become a Hero. But he needs to recover his quirk. And he's fifteen now. We can't protect him forever."
Silence filled the room.
"Let him come to me," she added. "At U.A., I can at least make sure he learns proper medical support skills."
Granny Neko finally spoke.
"…Let me think about it."
She sat there, unmoving.
One question lingered in her mind.
Was U.A. truly safe?