The Aftermath
The world swam back into focus in disjointed fragments. First, the scent of antiseptic and clean linen. Then, the dull, throbbing ache that seemed to radiate from every muscle in his body. Finally, the steady, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.
Kenjiro Ito opened his eyes.
The ceiling above him was a familiar sterile white. U.A.'s infirmary. He'd been here before, after the entrance exam, after particularly grueling training sessions. But this time, the ache was deeper, more profound. It wasn't just physical exhaustion; it was a soul-deep weariness.
He tried to sit up, and a sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs made him gasp and fall back against the pillows.
"Ah, ah, ah. None of that, young man."
Recovery Girl bustled into his field of vision, her expression a mix of professional sternness and grandmotherly concern. She tapped his chest lightly with her cane. "You have three cracked ribs, severe muscle fatigue, and enough quirk strain to put most people in a coma for a week. You stay put."
"The others…?" Kenjiro's voice was a raspy whisper. "Aizawa-sensei…?"
"Everyone is fine, thanks in no small part to you and that show-off All Might," she said, her tone softening. "Aizawa took a nasty hit to the head and has a fractured arm, but he's as stubborn as they come. He'll be back to terrorizing you all in no time. The rest of your classmates are unharmed. A few scrapes and bruises, mostly from the initial panic."
A wave of relief so intense it made him dizzy washed over Kenjiro. He closed his eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath. They were okay. They were all okay.
"All Might… he…"
"Is currently being chewed out by Principal Nezu for using too much of his remaining time, no doubt," Recovery Girl said with a sigh. "But he's fine. Now, you need to rest. Your body has been through an ordeal."
She offered him a small gummy candy—a rare treat from her—and he took it, the sweet taste a stark contrast to the metallic fear that had been in his mouth moments before. Almost instantly, a powerful wave of drowsiness pulled him back under into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
When he woke again, the light in the room had changed, softening to the golden hue of late afternoon. He felt marginally better, the edges of the pain dulled by sleep and Recovery Girl's quirk.
He wasn't alone.
Sitting in a chair next to his bed, wrapped in bandages and wearing a truly impressive neck brace, was Aizawa. He was awake, his dark eyes fixed on Kenjiro, watching him silently.
"Sensei," Kenjiro croaked.
"Ito." Aizawa's voice was flat, as always, but there was a new weight to it. A seriousness that went beyond his usual tired demeanor.
They stayed like that for a long moment, teacher and student, the silence saying more than words could. The memory of the USJ hung between them—the fear, the chaos, the moment Aizawa had been certain he was about to die, and the blur that had saved him.
Finally, Aizawa spoke. "What you did was reckless, ill-advised, and against direct orders."
Kenjiro flinched, preparing for the lecture.
"It was also," Aizawa continued, his voice dropping slightly, "an impressive and reckless display of tactical heroics I have ever seen from a student."
Kenjiro's eyes widened. He stared at his teacher, unsure if the pain medication was making him hallucinate. Praise from Aizawa was rarer than a quiet day in Class 1-A.
"You assessed the threat, prioritized the safety of the group, created a viable exit strategy, and executed it under extreme duress," Aizawa stated, listing the points on the fingers of his good hand. "But then you also re-engaged a numerically superior enemy force. Kenjiro winced, "I--I" he was interrupted, as Aizawa continued on.
"Maybe not with the intention of winning a fight you couldn't win, but to gather intelligence, disrupt their operations, and buy time for reinforcements. You identified and neutralized the enemy command structure, effectively decapitating their operation. You didn't just fight. You thought."
He leaned forward slightly, wincing at the movement. "You saved my life in there. Don't expect me to thank you for it—it's a teacher's job to protect his students, not the other way around. But… acknowledge it, I will."
Kenjiro could only nod, his throat tight.
"The police have already debriefed us," Aizawa said, shifting topics with his typical abruptness. "The League of Villains. That's what they call themselves. Their leader, Shigaraki, and his warper, Kurogiri, are in custody. The 'Nomu' creature has been secured for study. Their goal was to kill All Might and send a message. They failed."
"But they got in," Kenjiro said quietly. "They knew the schedule. They knew where to hit us."
Aizawa's expression darkened. "Yes. Which means we have a security leak, or they have an intelligence-gathering quirk we don't know about. Nezu is… investigating." The way he said it implied the investigation would be thorough and likely terrifying for whoever was responsible. "This changes things, Ito. For all of us. For you."
Before Kenjiro could ask what he meant, the infirmary door slid open.
The entire class of 1-A stood there, crammed into the doorway. Uraraka, Iida, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Bakugo—all of them. They looked hesitant, unsure if they were allowed in.
Recovery Girl huffed. "Five minutes. And if you excite my patient, I'll toss you all out myself."
They filed in, the room suddenly feeling very small. There was an awkward silence, broken by Kirishima.
"Dude," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "That was the manliest thing I've ever seen."
The dam broke. They all started talking at once.
"You were so fast!"
"You saved us!"
"Iida told us how you sent him for help!"
"The way you just… vanished and then reappeared with us outside!"
"Ribbit. Thank you, Ito-chan."
Kenjiro was overwhelmed. He saw the genuine gratitude and awe in their eyes. Even Bakugo stood at the back, arms crossed, but he wasn't scowling. He was just… watching, a calculating look in his red eyes.
Uraraka stepped forward, her eyes shining with tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "You… you carried me. You got me out."
Iida chopped his hand through the air with robotic precision, but his voice was softer than usual. "Your quick thinking and decisive action were exemplary, Ito-kun! You truly embodied the spirit of a hero!"
Yaoyorozu nodded. "We owe you our safety."
The praise was suffocating. He hadn't done it for praise. He'd done it because it was the only thing he *could* do. He looked away, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment. "I… I just did what anyone would have done."
After the five minutes were up and Recovery Girl shooed them all out, promising Kenjiro could rejoin them tomorrow, the room was quiet again. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically drained.
But as he drifted back to sleep, the words of his classmates and his teacher echoed in his mind. He hadn't felt like a hero in there. He'd felt scared and out of his depth, running on instinct and desperation.
But they saw him as one.
The weight of that was terrifying. And, he realized, it was also a little bit exhilarating.
***
The next day, Kenjiro was discharged with strict orders to take it easy. His ribs were taped, and a deep ache lingered in his muscles, but he could move.
Walking into Class 1-A felt different. A hush fell over the room as he entered. All eyes were on him. It wasn't the same curious staring from his first day. This was… respect.
"Ito-kun!" Iida boomed, standing stiffly by his desk. "Welcome back! We are pleased to see you recovered!"
A chorus of greetings followed. Even Bakugo gave a curt "Tch" and a nod, which was practically a warm embrace from him.
Aizawa was at the podium, looking even more mummified than usual but standing on his own two feet. He fixed the class with a glare. "Settle down. The USJ incident is over. Lessons learned will be applied. But today, we move forward. We have a festival to prepare for."
The U.A. Sports Festival. In the chaos, Kenjiro had almost forgotten about it. The greatest stage for aspiring heroes in the country.
Aizawa's eyes scanned the room, lingering for a fraction of a second on Kenjiro. "The world saw what happened at the USJ. They saw that villains are bold enough to attack a hero school. But they also saw that U.A. stands strong. The Sports Festival is our answer. It's a statement to the world that we are not afraid. That we are training the next generation of heroes, and they are stronger than any threat."
He looked directly at Kenjiro now. "Some of you have already been thrust into the spotlight. That changes the game. Every pro hero agency in the country will be watching. Every villain will be watching. What you do at the Festival will define the targets on your backs and the opportunities at your feet. The world now knows your name, Ito. What are you going to do about it?"
The class was silent, the weight of his words settling on them all. The USJ had been a trial by fire. The Sports Festival would be a declaration.
Kenjiro met his teacher's gaze. The fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach. But beneath it, something else was burning. A spark, fanned by the words of his friends and the challenge in Aizawa's eyes.
It was time to show them what he could really do.