The first thing Denki felt upon waking was a dryness in his throat, as if he'd been breathing scorching air for days. A short breath sent a jolt of pain through his torso, like a lightning bolt, finally yanking him from sleep. His body reacted before his mind, his muscles twitching, his fingers clenching in the sheets, and fragments of their last fight flashed through his mind. He remembered Taiko's final blow all too clearly. The fist flying into his stomach, the crunch he felt more than heard, and the sensation as if his ribs hadn't simply broken but had turned into sharp shards, now crushing and cutting him from within with every movement.
Denki exhaled hoarsely, unable to hold back, because it no longer mattered. He rarely allowed himself to curse, but the pain was too honest to mince words. He remembered feeling almost euphoric at that moment, thinking he'd disarmed Taiko, depriving him of his staff, his main tool. And now it seemed ridiculous and stupid. The staff even seemed to be hindering him. What frightened him even more was something else. Where did such pure, quirk-free power come from? In Aizawa's test, Taiko had already demonstrated frightening physical performance, stronger than even Katsuki and Shoto, but back then, that had been attributed to training, to discipline.
And the very fact that Taiko was able to withstand 500,000 volts, with his gloves blocking roughly half the charge... that was frightening and... commanding respect.
Now, Denki understood that this was only the tip of the iceberg. He stubbornly tried to push himself up, but his body instantly responded with a new wave of pain, and he gave in, slumping on the bed with the feeling of a man who had just attempted a two-hundred-kilogram deadlift without warming up and was now paying for his overconfidence.
The infirmary door slid quietly open, and Kyoka Jiro peered in, looking around with the wariness that comes from people accustomed to the noise of training rather than the sterile silence. She was wearing a UA school uniform, Denki noted. So quite a bit of time had passed. Her gaze caught Denki almost immediately, and relief flashed for a split second before she noticed the second bed.
Izuku Midoriya lay there, tense, his teeth clenched, while the nurse, already at work, applied a healing kiss, another microdose to his body, activating her quirk. The greenish glow pulsed softly, but even that didn't hide the pain he was in. Kyouka paused between the beds, unsure who to approach first, and ended up next to Denki because he was looking straight at her with his usual crooked, slightly goofy smile, which now seemed rather forced. They'd been on the same team today during All Might's last lesson, and this shared experience, this shared enemy, this shared fatigue had unexpectedly brought them closer than any awkward conversation.
Denki found himself thinking of her as anything but a teammate, and it was both pleasant and irritating. His past attempts at flirting had almost always ended in failure, and he knew it, but now, lying with broken ribs, he suddenly thought that perhaps the shared enemy of Taiko and the entire ordeal had done more to bring them closer than all his clumsy advances combined.
The nurse, having finished with Izuku, turned to them and, as if reading their minds, dryly explained that treating all the injuries at once was dangerous. Her Quirk puts a strain on her body, so the recovery process has to be divided into intervals, otherwise the consequences could be worse than the injuries themselves. As she spoke, she mentioned without further ado that Denki had been diagnosed with eight broken ribs. It's common for heroes, she added almost matter-of-factly, but the fact that first-year students are already suffering such injuries speaks volumes, and hardly a good thing.
When the infirmary door opened again, the air in the room seemed to shift slightly. Taiko entered quietly, without pretense of confidence, his shoulders hunched, and his gaze immediately found Denki. He apologized, and the apology sounded sincere, without attempting to justify or soften the situation. He stood at a distance, maintaining a distance, as if understanding that his presence could be perceived in various ways. But behind this apology lay something else, and no one could suspect what it was. Taiko's real motives were different.
He tried to connect the dots, draw parallels, and understand what exactly had happened. He viewed Denki not simply as a defeated opponent, but as a source of answers that could confirm or refute his suspicions. Was it a random effect of the blow, or did Denki's quirk possess properties he himself was unaware of? Taiko didn't ask questions, understanding that every word carried weight here. Only silent, detached observation would help him understand what had happened to Denki. He couldn't expect him to activate his Quirk just yet, so Taiko hurried out of the infirmary, taking with him the oppressive atmosphere he'd brought with him.
For some reason, Taiko could sense the flow of Quirk energy within Denki much better. And this ignorance was incredibly annoying.
«Calm down, I need a little patience. Something's definitely wrong with his Quirk. Firstly, I need to figure out what's changed inside me.»
...
After finishing her classes, Kuinn barely lingered in the Management Department and headed straight to the Heroic Faculty buildings, planning to go home with Taiko. While the formal reasons were sufficient, the real ones were far simpler and more honest. She wanted it to be seen. She wanted the other girls, especially those who had already begun casting appraising glances at him, to understand one simple thing without further ado or drama. This guy was taken. And had been for a long time. The events in Class A1 spread throughout the academy faster than official announcements.
The Heroic Faculty had always been a visible presence, a benchmark for the other departments, a showcase for the future, showcasing not just the best, but the most promising. Yes, there were other classes, like A3 with its strong C-class, but it was A1 that was currently the center of attention. Rumor had it that All Might personally taught there, and that was enough to raise interest in the class to an almost painful level. Moreover, the son of the Top 2 Hero, Endeavor, was in the same class, and the academy never forgets such details and certainly doesn't hide them. This hero has the largest agency in Japan and many heroes strive to get into it for internship and service.
Compared to this, the other houses seemed far less prestigious. Management, support, general education—they all existed as if on a different level of hierarchy. Figuratively speaking, the hero house was like a celestial body, to which the others could only look up. And yet, Kuinn understood perfectly well that real power rarely rests on fists and quirks. The Management house had long since dubbed this year the most promising precisely because of Class A1.
Everyone had eyes and ears, and everyone saw one simple pattern. While heroes train their quirks and bodies, Management trains their money, connections, and information. And this, as experience shows, outlasts any glory. That day, the mention of Class A1 was heard in the hallways more often than the names of the professors. It was almost obsessive. It was no wonder that influential families and their daughters had begun eyeing future heroes now, even before they graduated. This irritated Kuinn, but even more so, it frightened her.
She didn't want to lose Taiko. Not because of status, not because of prospects, not because of potential wealth or a famous name. He was the only person truly dear to her, and that was enough. If it had been a matter of ambition or material gain, she would have given up everything for him without hesitation, even though she knew full well that Taiko would not have approved. They didn't limit each other, didn't demand reports, didn't monitor each other's every move. Each was free to study, go out, and do what they saw fit. And that's precisely why their affection was genuine, without contracts or conditions. So strong that the thought of spending even a day apart seemed wrong, almost impossible.
Kuinn's white hair flashed through the hallways as she quickened her pace, catching herself thinking something she didn't like. If she saw Taiko with another girl, something inside her would break completely. The thought of someone else taking her place evoked not jealousy, but a cold, uncontrollable rage. So intense that her imagination conjured up things best left uncontemplated. It frightened her, but it didn't stop her. The awareness of her own capacity for extreme actions only spurred her on, as if the distance to Taiko could hold her back from herself.
And yet, Kuinn wasn't stupid or impulsive. She already had ideas for how to increase their small family's wealth, and there were plenty of options. All she needed was time, preparation, and determination. In her management classes, she had already demonstrated a fierce determination and stubbornness that her professors noted with cautious interest. This had the potential to blossom into true entrepreneurship, the kind that doesn't appear on magazine covers but that drives those who do. And if Taiko's future required strength beyond the battlefield, Kuinn was ready to provide it where heroes usually look.
Her beautiful black eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation at the challenge of her abilities at the upcoming annual Sports Festival, which promises to bring enormous profits to everyone in the management classes, as the winners in betting are those who possess information. And that's not even taking into account the income from trade...There's plenty of room to roam.
...
As Taiko left the locker room, he was barely recovering from his thoughts and the situation when something pleasant pressed against his back, almost knocking him to the floor. He recognized those sweet, gentle hands among thousands.
—I, I...heard someone was in the infirmary again...— the girl clung closer, holding back tears. He turned Kuinn around and hugged her tenderly.
—As you can see, I'm fine, my little girl-sunshine. I wanted to come see you too. Are your classes over yet?
—Uh-huh.— After making sure they'd been noticed, the girl took Taiko's arm and led him out of the academy. Slowly and clearly, she said to the others.
—Well, let's go home then. If you want, you can tell me what interesting things happened in your classes.
There really were no secrets between them, and that made conversations both easier and harder. Kuinn knew about All For One, knew the approximate nature of its power, and understood that this name wasn't just a piece of history, but a living shadow that still haunted Taiko. She also knew about that night in Jaku, when one man destroyed their little house, leaving behind not only rubble but also things that could not be repaired with time or repair.
—The whole academy is buzzing about your A1 today,— she said when they went outside.—It's like the other courses don't even exist.
—I'm not surprised,— Taiko shrugged. — For them, we're either idols or investments.
—Management sees it that way,— Kuinn answered honestly.— Heroes are assets. Reputation, connections, influence. The money comes later.
He chuckled, but not with malice, more with weary irony.
— I had no idea what kind of behind-the-scenes games those scoundrels in your department are playing.
—I suspected,— she retorted calmly. —I just hoped it wasn't that vile.
Taiko chuckled softly and squeezed her hand tighter.
—The main thing is that you're not playing against me.
—I'm playing only for you, for us,— Kuinn replied without pathos, as if stating a fact.
At the academy gates, Taiko felt a strange, malevolent gaze upon him. Schoolchildren and heroes didn't have that kind of aura. It was something malevolent, and it was examining them. Taiko reflexively began to walk a step ahead of Kuinn, so that he could shield her with his body in case of an attack.
—Let's call a taxi today, otherwise we'll have to wait so long for those trains,— Taiko assumed a thoughtful expression, not showing any tension. The best option was to leave now, before someone or something decided to attack. He tried to follow this unsettling feeling, and his gaze fell on a dark alley 30 meters away on the opposite street. A silhouette, saturated with malice, stood there. Kuinn, too, thanks to her enhanced blood, was able to sense something, but lacking the experience of clashes in battles to the death, she couldn't pinpoint what she was feeling. It could be called combat intuition, perhaps.
After a few seconds, they moved away and realized the angry attention had passed them by. It seemed someone was focused specifically on the academy, not on them, which was slightly reassuring. Taiko had been afraid that the AFO had found them, and his paranoia had awakened, but everything turned out alright.
Arriving home, they both relaxed, as if they'd returned behind the walls of a fortress, while the world outside was hostile and angry. Taiko hugged her again.
—I love you so much,— he reminded himself once again that he wouldn't let her go again. He felt sorry for how rarely he told her that. Life is too fleeting and fragile, like sand slipping through your fingers.
—I love you madly, too. I really don't know what happened at the gate, but something very scary.