The hospital room was too quiet. Arthur stared at the ceiling tiles, counting them for the third time, trying to focus on something other than the dull ache radiating from his ribs.
Three cracked ribs. Fractured radius. Multiple lacerations. Mild concussion. The doctors had been impressed by how quickly he was healing, attributing it to his quirk's passive enhancement. They weren't wrong, but they didn't understand the full picture. Royal Core was working overtime, accelerating his body's natural repair processes beyond what should be possible.
Still takes time though, Arthur thought, shifting slightly and immediately regretting it. Can't just will broken bones to mend instantly. Not yet.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he called, expecting a nurse or doctor.
Instead, Midoriya's head poked through, followed by Uraraka, Iida, and to Arthur's surprise, Todoroki.
"Hey," Midoriya said quietly. "We wanted to check on you. If that's okay?"
"Of course." Arthur gestured to the chairs. "I'm not going anywhere."
They filed in, each carrying the weight of what had happened. Uraraka had bandages on her arms. Iida's leg was wrapped. Even Todoroki, who'd seemed untouchable during the attack, had bruising along his jaw.
"The doctors said you'll be out tomorrow," Uraraka said, sitting carefully like she was afraid sudden movement might break something. "That's good, right?"
"Better than the alternative," Arthur replied. "How are the others?"
"Mostly fine," Iida reported, adjusting his glasses in that precise way he had. "Thirteen is in critical condition, but stable. Aizawa sensei has facial fractures and his arms are badly damaged. He'll recover, but it will take time."
Arthur felt something twist in his chest. Guilt, maybe. Aizawa had been protecting them, taking damage meant for students. That was supposed to be Arthur's role, the burden he'd carried in his previous life.
But I wasn't strong enough, he thought bitterly. Still not strong enough to protect everyone.
"You saved All Might," Midoriya said suddenly, his voice intense. "That throw, when Shigaraki was going for him. If you hadn't acted, if you'd been even a second slower..."
"All Might would have dodged," Arthur said.
"Maybe. But maybe not." Midoriya's hands clenched in his lap. "I froze. I saw Shigaraki moving, saw All Might locked in combat with the Nomu, and I froze. But you didn't."
"I've been in combat before," Arthur said, then caught himself. "Training combat, I mean. Sparring. You learn to read situations, react without thinking."
Todoroki's eyes narrowed slightly, that analytical gaze Arthur was becoming familiar with. "You fight like someone with real experience.
"I had an intense childhood," Arthur deflected, keeping his tone light.
"Clearly." Todoroki didn't push, but Arthur could see questions forming behind those eyes.
An uncomfortable silence settled. They were all processing what had happened, trying to fit the experience into their understanding of what being a hero meant.
"I've never been that scared," Uraraka admitted quietly. "When that mist villain surrounded us, when I saw all those people who wanted to kill us, I just, I couldn't think. My mind went blank."
"That's normal," Arthur said. "First combat usually does that."
"First combat," Iida repeated. "You say it like there will be more."
Arthur met his eyes. "There will be. The League of Villains will try again. They have resources, organization, ideology. This was just their opening move."
"How can you be so sure?" Midoriya asked.
"Because Shigaraki is obsessed. I saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. Killing All Might isn't just a goal for him, it's his entire purpose. People like that don't give up after one failure."
The weight of that statement settled over them. These were fifteen-year-olds, children who'd signed up to be heroes, to help people. Not to be hunted by terrorist organizations.
But that's what heroism is, Arthur thought. Standing between the innocent and those who would harm them, no matter the cost.
"The news is calling you a hero," Uraraka said, pulling out her phone. "Look."
She showed him the screen. News coverage of the USJ attack, shaky footage from someone's phone, probably a pro hero who'd responded. Arthur saw himself in the video, battered and bloody, manifesting energy blades while standing beside All Might.
The headline read: "U.A. First Year Fights Alongside Symbol of Peace."
"They're saying you and the others who engaged directly showed incredible bravery," Iida said. "Though there's also criticism about students being put in danger, questions about U.A.'s security."
Arthur scrolled through the coverage, seeing his face repeated across multiple news sites. Speculation about his quirk, his background, his relationship to All Might. Some praised his actions. Others called it reckless, said students should have evacuated as ordered.
Both were right, in their way.
"Fame is strange," Arthur said, handing the phone back. "Yesterday I was just another student. Today I'm a headline."
"Does it bother you?" Midoriya asked, and there was something in his tone, like he was asking for himself as much as for Arthur.
"No. Fame is just perception, people's opinions. What matters is whether I actually helped, whether my actions made a difference."
"They did," Todoroki said firmly. "Without your intervention, All Might might have been killed. That makes you a hero, regardless of what the news says."
Arthur considered that word. Hero. He'd been called many things in his previous life. King, Conqueror, Tyrant, Savior, Destroyer. But never hero. That word hadn't existed in the same way, hadn't carried the same weight.
"I'm not a hero yet," Arthur said. "I'm just a student who did what needed to be done."
"That's literally what heroes do," Uraraka pointed out.
"Maybe." Arthur shifted in the bed, ribs protesting. "But heroes are supposed to save everyone, aren't they? I couldn't save Aizawa sensei from injury. Couldn't stop Thirteen from being hurt. Couldn't even defeat the Nomu."
"No one expected you to," Midoriya said intensely. "That thing was made to fight All Might! You're fifteen! The fact that you survived contact with it at all is incredible!"
"Survival isn't the same as victory."
"Sometimes it is," Todoroki said quietly. "Sometimes staying alive long enough for help to arrive is the victory."
Arthur looked at him, saw something in his expression that suggested personal experience with that philosophy. Survival as victory. What kind of life taught someone that lesson?
The same kind that taught me, Arthur realized. He's carrying something. Pain, trauma, something that makes him understand combat in ways the others don't.
Before Arthur could respond, another knock interrupted them. This time it was Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, and Sero, all crowding into the doorway.
"Dude!" Kirishima's grin was wide despite the bandages on his arms. "You were so manly! That throw to save All Might? Epic!"
"We saw the footage!" Ashido bounced despite visible exhaustion. "You looked so cool! All serious and tactical and stuff!"
"Please don't encourage him," Kaminari groaned. "His ego's already massive."
"I don't have an ego," Arthur protested mildly.
"You manifested three energy blades simultaneously while half-dead," Sero pointed out. "That's peak ego behavior."
"That's just efficient resource management."
The room filled with their laughter, the relief of survival, the dark humor that came after combat, the way shared trauma bonded people together.
"How's Bakugo?" Arthur asked, noticing his absence.
The mood shifted slightly.
"Blaming himself," Kirishima said quietly. "He thinks he should have done more, been stronger. Been the one to save All Might instead of you."
Pride, Arthur understood immediately. He's measuring himself against everyone, finding himself wanting.
"He fought well," Arthur said. "His explosions created openings, disrupted enemy positioning. That's good combat support."
"Try telling him that," Kaminari muttered. "He's not exactly receptive to reassurance right now."
Arthur filed that away for later consideration. Bakugo's pride was both his strength and his weakness, same as any warrior he'd known. The boy would either learn to temper it or let it consume him.
"What about you, Midoriya?" Ashido asked. "You were about to punch that Nomu thing! With your super strength!"
Midoriya flushed. "I didn't actually do anything. Arthur's throw created the opening before I could commit."
"Lucky," Todoroki said. "If you'd hit the Nomu with full power, you'd have shattered every bone in your arm. Possibly killed yourself from the recoil."
"I know," Midoriya said quietly. "I know. But I couldn't just stand there while All Might fought alone."
"None of us could," Arthur agreed. "But there's a difference between supporting and suicide. We need to learn that line."
"Deep thoughts from the hospital bed," Kaminari said. "Someone write this down, Himura's getting philosophical."
"Pain makes you contemplative," Arthur replied dryly.
They stayed for another hour, talking about nothing important, avoiding the weight of what had happened. Eventually nurses chased them out, insisting Arthur needed rest.
Alone again, Arthur stared at the ceiling, but this time his mind wasn't counting tiles. It was processing the day, the battle, the revelation.
He'd fought in wars before. Led armies, commanded knights, stood at the front of every charge. But he'd never felt like he did today, fighting alongside All Might, supporting rather than commanding.
Is that what heroes do? he wondered. Support each other? Share the burden instead of carrying it alone?
In Camelot, he'd carried everything himself. Every decision, every consequence, every failure. It had crushed him, slowly, inevitably, until Camlann's fields ran red with the blood of his ideals.
But All Might didn't fight alone. He had heroes supporting him, students willing to risk everything to help, an entire society believing in his symbol.
The symbol, Arthur thought. That's what Shigaraki wants to destroy. Not just All Might the person, but what he represents. Hope. Order. The idea that one person can make a difference.
Arthur had been a symbol once. But his symbol had been about absolute authority, about one person standing above all others.
All Might's symbol was different. It was about inspiration, about making others believe they could be heroes too.
Which is stronger? Arthur wondered. Authority or inspiration?
His eyelids grew heavy, but before sleep claimed him, one final thought came up.
I need to be stronger. Not just physically, but mentally. Need to understand what it means to be a hero in this world, not just a warrior from the last one.
Because war is coming. I can't fight like a king. I need to fight like a hero.
Whatever that meant.
The next morning, Arthur was discharged with strict orders to take it easy for the next few days. His ribs were still healing, his arm in a brace.
His mother picked him up, and the look on her face when she saw him made Arthur's chest tighten.
"Hi Mom," he said quietly.
She didn't say anything, just pulled him into a careful hug, mindful of his injuries.
"I'm okay," Arthur murmured. "I'm alive."
"I know," her voice was thick with emotion. "I saw the news. Saw you fighting alongside All Might. And I was so proud and so terrified I thought I'd lose my mind."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for being brave." She pulled back, looking at him with eyes that saw too much. "But don't ever think you're invincible either. You're still my son, still fifteen years old. Promise me you'll remember that."
Arthur thought about Camlann, about dying alone, "I promise," he said, and meant it.
The drive home was quiet. Arthur watched the city pass by, seeing it differently now. Every person on the street, every building, every small moment of normalcy existed because heroes stood between them and chaos.
That's worth protecting, he realized. Not just the people, but the peace itself. The ability to live without fear.
When they got home, his father was waiting, and the man's expression was carefully neutral in that way that meant he was feeling everything at once.
"Heard you had an eventful field trip," his father said.
"You could say that."
"The news is calling you a hero."
"The news calls a lot of people heroes."
His father studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You did good, Arthur. Scared us half to death, but you did good."
That evening, Arthur sat in his room, working through kata despite his injuries, letting Royal Core flow through him. The energy responded smoothly, more refined than before, like the combat had forced it to adapt, to grow.
Progress, he noted.
His phone buzzed. A message in the class group chat.
Yaoyorozu: "Classes suspended for two days while school reviews security. Everyone stay safe."
Ashido: "movie marathon at my place tomorrow! who's in?"
Kaminari: "only if we watch something NOT about heroes. need a break from reality."
Kirishima: "plus one. let's just be normal teenagers for a day."
Arthur smiled slightly, typing his response.
Himura: "Count me in. Could use the distraction."
Normal teenagers. The concept felt foreign, but maybe that's what he needed. A reminder that he wasn't just a reincarnated king or a future hero. He was also fifteen, allowed to be young, allowed to not carry everything alone.
His phone buzzed again, private message this time. Todoroki.
Todoroki: "You said first combat usually freezes people. How many times have you been in combat?"
Arthur stared at the message, choosing his words carefully.
Himura: "Enough to know fear is normal. Enough to know survival is victory. Why?"
Todoroki: "Because you don't fight like a student. You fight like someone who's been to war."
Himura: "Maybe I have, in my own way. We've all got history, Todoroki. Some of it just runs deeper than others."
Todoroki: "Yeah. Some of us have history we'd rather forget."
Himura: "But we don't get to forget. We just get to decide if it defines us or teaches us."
Todoroki: "Heavy thoughts for a hospital discharge day."
Himura: "Pain makes me philosophical. Kaminari said so."
Todoroki: "Get some rest, Himura. We'll need our strength for whatever comes next."
Arthur set his phone down, looking at his hands. They were young hands, still growing, but they remembered sword hilts, remembered Excalibur's weight, remembered signing documents that sent thousands to die.
This life will be different, he promised himself. This time, I won't carry everything alone. This time, I'll learn what the Symbol of Peace already knows.
That strength isn't measured by how much you can carry yourself, but by how many people you inspire to help carry it with you.
Outside his window, the sun set over Musutafu, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson.
Tomorrow, he'd be a normal teenager for a day. Watch movies with classmates, laugh at stupid jokes, pretend the weight of heroism didn't exist.
But the day after, training would resume. Growth would continue. War would creep closer.
And Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, would be ready.
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