(Denki POV)
Denki had been counting the days.
Not out of frustration.
Not out of impatience.
But out of sheer, undeniable relief.
Because weeks ago—weeks ago, he hadn't even been sure he'd make it this far.
And now?
Now, he was standing.
Walking.
Not perfectly.
Not without help.
Not without moments where his legs still shook more than he wanted them to.
But still—he was moving.
Jiro's grip on his arm was firm but careful, keeping him steady, keeping him balanced, making sure he wasn't going to do something stupid like push himself too far too fast.
Denki exhaled slowly, adjusting his weight, letting his body process every single step, feeling the way his muscles still protested despite the progress he'd made.
"This is wild," he murmured, his golden eyes flickering toward Jiro, his smirk small but undeniably his.
Jiro rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, well, you're still shaky as hell, so don't get cocky."
Denki chuckled, squeezing her arm once—just lightly, just enough to let himself acknowledge how much he still needed the support.
"Babe, I've already got one foot in hero territory again. This is basically legendary."
Jiro scoffed.
"Yeah? You gonna fight villains while leaning on me the whole time?"
Denki grinned—weak, tired, but brighter than it had been in weeks.
"If you're cool with it, I think we'd make a solid team."
Jiro sighed, shaking her head, but her expression was soft—relaxed—finally, finally looking at him like she wasn't waiting for something to go wrong.
"You're an idiot."
Denki laughed—fully, properly, like the world was finally starting to feel normal again.
And as Jiro helped him forward, step by step, letting the weight of recovery settle but not drown them, Denki knew—truly knew—that he had never been doing this alone.
Not for one second.
—-
Denki and Jiro were almost back to his hospital room.
Almost.
Step by step, slow but steady, Denki was making progress.
Jiro was right beside him, her grip firm but careful, making sure he didn't wobble too much, making sure he was actually pacing himself and not being an idiot about it.
Denki wasn't complaining.
Honestly?
He liked it.
Liked having her there.
Liked feeling the weight of her presence.
Liked knowing that even after weeks of recovery, after all the setbacks, after all the moments where he thought maybe he wouldn't be able to move like this again—she was still here.
But just as they reached the door—just as Denki was about to make some stupid joke about their epic journey down the hallway—he stopped.
Paused.
Stared.
Because there—right in front of his room, leaning against the wall, waiting—was Aizawa.
And that?
That wasn't something Denki had been expecting.
Jiro stiffened beside him just slightly, her fingers twitching against his arm like she already knew this moment was gonna be something.
Aizawa glanced up.
Watched them.
Watched Denki standing on his own—mostly—his posture stronger than it had been in weeks, his exhaustion present but no longer drowning him completely.
Then—
"You look better."
Denki blinked.
Took a second.
Then grinned.
"Yeah? Thought you'd be proud, teach."
Aizawa huffed, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable but undeniably present—solid—real.
And Denki—Denki realized this moment meant something.
Meant a lot.
Because Aizawa hadn't been waiting here just to check in.
Hadn't been standing there just because it was his duty as a teacher.
No—he was waiting for Denki.
Waiting to see him like this—to see him walking, moving, proving that he really, truly was gonna make it through this.
Denki swallowed.
His grin softened.
And then—
"Yeah."
His voice was quiet, but full of something deeper than before.
"I guess I do look better."
And Aizawa?
Aizawa didn't argue.
Didn't push back.
Just nodded once.
Because they both knew—they both understood—this was a victory.
And neither of them were taking it lightly.
Denki blinked, still processing the weight of this moment.
Aizawa had never been the kind of teacher to hover, never the type to offer warmth outright, never the one to show concern with obvious words or comforting reassurances.
And yet—here he was.
Standing in front of Denki's hospital room.
Waiting for him.
Watching him move for the first time without collapsing.
And Denki?
Denki felt that deeper than he expected.
Jiro shifted beside him, glancing between them, her fingers twitching like she was picking up on something too.
Because this moment—this shift between him and Aizawa—wasn't just about recovery anymore.
It was about trust.
About presence.
About the reality that Aizawa had been here this entire time—not just as his teacher, but as something more.
Denki swallowed carefully, adjusting his weight, feeling the lingering ache in his legs but refusing to break eye contact.
"You really waited here for me, huh?"
Aizawa huffed, shifting his stance slightly, but never looking away.
"You needed to walk again. Figured I should see it."
Denki exhaled slowly, his golden eyes flickering with something quiet but undeniably real.
"That's…" He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek, gripping Jiro's arm just slightly before letting go, standing a little straighter—still wobbly but still determined.
"That's really cool."
Aizawa didn't react dramatically.
Didn't smile.
Didn't say something emotional or obvious.
He just nodded once, a steady understanding passing between them—one Denki had never noticed before.
One that felt like something deeper than just student and teacher.
One that felt like family.
And Denki?
Denki wasn't letting that go.
Not now.
Not ever.
——
(Kirishima POV)
Kirishima's fists slammed into the punching bag, rhythm steady, breath controlled, focus sharp.
It had been weeks since the fight.
Weeks since everything had gone wrong.
Weeks since Denki had nearly lost himself completely.
And Kirishima—Kirishima was still processing it all.
He inhaled deep, rolling his shoulders, shifting his stance, preparing for another round of strikes—until his phone buzzed.
He paused.
Frowned just slightly before grabbing it from the nearby table, wiping sweat off his forehead before checking the screen.
Mina.
He blinked.
Then—before he could overthink it—he answered.
"Yo, Mina!"
Her voice was bright, casual, relaxed—which instantly meant she wasn't calling about something bad.
"Hey, Kiri! You busy right now?"
Kirishima glanced toward his punching bag—still swaying from the momentum of his last hit.
"Uh—kinda? Training."
Mina snorted, and instantly, the tension left Kirishima's shoulders.
"Of course you are. But, hey—you wanna come over?"
Kirishima blinked.
"To your place?"
"Uh, yeah?" Mina laughed, shifting the phone just slightly, like she was rolling her eyes even though he couldn't see it.
"I dunno, thought I'd bother you and steal your time for a few hours—unless you're planning to punch your bag until it dies."
Kirishima chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.
"I mean, it's been taking a beating, but yeah—might need a break."
Mina hummed in victory.
"Good! Then get over here. I need something chaotic to happen today."
Kirishima rolled his eyes, grabbing a towel and grinning into the receiver.
"I dunno how chaotic I can be today, but yeah—sounds cool."
"Perfect!" Mina cheered.
Kirishima could already hear the excitement in her voice, and for some reason—for some reason—it felt like this visit might be different than usual.
But he wasn't questioning it.
Wasn't hesitating.
Just going with it.
Because after everything—after weeks of recovery, weeks of waiting, weeks of making sure Denki was okay—he needed a moment to just be with a friend again.
And Mina?
Mina was always the right person for that.
————
Kirishima sat on the edge of Mina's bed, arms resting on his knees, his breathing finally even after the nonstop chaos of the past few weeks.
Mina was sprawled out beside him, phone in hand, absentmindedly scrolling while their conversation drifted between casual banter and deeper reflections.
It was nice.
Normal.
And after everything?
Kirishima needed that.
Then—his phone buzzed.
He glanced down, frowning slightly before grabbing it, eyes scanning the caller ID before sighing.
Mina perked up immediately, tilting her head toward him, curious.
"Everything good?"
Kirishima nodded, pressing the phone to his ear.
"Yeah, yeah—just a sec."
Mina watched as he took the call, listening to the familiar, quiet conversation between mother and son—until Kirishima's expression shifted slightly.
Not dramatically.
Not outwardly upset.
Just… resigned.
"Yeah, no worries, Mom," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I figured you'd be working late again."
Mina's eyes narrowed.
Kirishima exhaled slowly, nodding to whatever his mom was saying on the other end before offering a casual, steady reassurance.
"I'll be fine. I'm used to it."
Mina frowned.
He was used to it.
That wasn't a lie.
But that didn't mean she was just gonna let it slide.
Kirishima ended the call, shoving his phone into his pocket before turning back toward Mina like nothing had happened.
"Alright, where were we?"
Mina scoffed.
"Uh, back up—your mom's working late again?"
Kirishima shrugged.
"Yeah, no big deal. Happens all the time."
Mina raised an eyebrow, eyes flickering with something between concern and determination.
"So, what? You're just gonna go home and sit there alone?"
Kirishima waved off her worry, leaning back slightly.
"I mean, yeah? I'm used to it."
Mina clicked her tongue, sitting up fully, arms crossed.
"That's stupid."
Kirishima blinked.
"What?"
Mina pointed directly at him, eyes shining with absolute conviction.
"You're not going home tonight."
Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head.
"Mina, it's fine."
"Nope. You're staying. Sleepover time."
Kirishima hesitated—not because he didn't want to, but because he hadn't been expecting it.
But Mina?
Mina wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Kiri, c'mon," she huffed. "You've been through so much lately—Denki, the hospital, all of it. Just stay. No reason to be alone when you don't have to be."
Kirishima swallowed.
Her voice wasn't pushing too hard, but it wasn't backing down either.
And honestly?
She had a point.
He had spent weeks focusing on everyone else, making sure Denki was okay, making sure he was handling everything properly, making sure he wasn't ignoring the weight of the situation.
But maybe—just maybe—he needed this too.
Needed a moment to just be here.
To let himself breathe.
To not go home to an empty apartment tonight.
Kirishima sighed, rubbing his temple before offering a small, tired grin.
"Guess you're not letting this go, huh?"
Mina grinned wide.
"Absolutely not."
Kirishima snorted, shaking his head.
"Fine, fine—you win. Sleepover it is."
Mina cheered, throwing her arms in the air in victory.
And Kirishima?
Kirishima laughed—genuinely, fully, for the first time in weeks.
And somehow—somehow—that meant more than he expected.