Author's Note: this chapter might be a stretch for yall OG MHA fans cause of the way I portrayed it was kinda ....uhmm weird?? Idk...just try to enjoy it...
PS: where do I add my discord server's link??
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The medical wing of UA Academy buzzed with controlled chaos, its sterile halls filled with the quiet urgency of healing.
Recovery Girl moved between rooms like a guardian angel in a lab coat, her healing kisses working overtime to mend bodies that had been pushed beyond their limits during the attack at the National Quirk Research Institute.
But some wounds, she knew, couldn't be healed with a quirk.
---
Room 204 - Midoriya Izuku
"The damage to the radius and ulna in both arms is extensive," Recovery Girl explained, her voice gentle but clinical as she reviewed the X-rays clipped to a lightboard. "Multiple hairline fractures, severe muscle strain, and ligament damage from repeated Full Cowling usage."
Izuku stared at his arms, encased in plaster from wrist to shoulder, the white casts a stark reminder of his limitations.
Again.
The familiar weight of failure settled on his shoulders like a blanket.
"How long?" he asked quietly.
"Months. Even with my quirk accelerating the process, bones need time to rebuild properly. You've been here before, young Midoriya. You know the drill."
All Might shifted uncomfortably in the visitor's chair beside the bed, his skeletal form hunched with guilt.
The Number One Hero....former Number One Hero....looked like he'd aged a decade in the past few days.
"I should have been there," All Might murmured, his sunken eyes fixed on Izuku's casts. "If I'd been faster, if I'd realized the attack was happening sooner..."
"It's not your fault," Izuku said firmly, though his own voice cracked with emotion. "None of us expected The Collector to move so quickly. We thought we had more time."
Recovery Girl made a noncommittal sound as she checked Izuku's IV line. "What concerns me more than the physical damage is the psychological impact. You children went through something traumatic, and pretending otherwise won't help anyone heal."
Izuku's thoughts immediately turned to his classmates, scattered throughout the medical wing in various states of injury and recovery. But one face dominated his worries.
"How is Kazama-kun?...I heard about his condition..." he asked. "His quirk burnout... is he going to be okay?"
All Might and Recovery Girl exchanged a look that made Izuku's stomach clench.
"He's... struggling," Recovery Girl admitted. "Complete quirk burnout is rare, especially in someone so young. The psychological impact of suddenly losing an ability that's been part of your identity since childhood... it's not something we can heal with medical treatment."
"But his quirk will come back, right?" Izuku pressed, his green eyes wide with concern.
"We believe so. But when, and in what state... that remains to be seen."
All Might finally spoke, his voice heavy with responsibility. "Young Kazama sacrificed his quirk to protect his classmates. He coordinated multiple people simultaneously while under attack, pushed his Resonance far beyond safe limits to keep everyone fighting." He looked at his hands, skeletal fingers trembling slightly. "That kind of selflessness... it reminds me of someone else I know."
The comparison wasn't lost on Izuku.
He'd made the same choice countless times...to break his body to protect others, push his quirk beyond its limits because the alternative was watching people get hurt.
"I want to see him," Izuku said. "As soon as I'm cleared to leave this room, I want to talk to Kazama-kun."
"Soon," Recovery Girl promised. "But right now, he needs time to process what happened. They all do."
---
Room 206 - Ashido Mina
The chemical burns on Mina's hands and forearms were unlike anything Recovery Girl had seen in her decades of treating injured heroes.
Internal acid production pushed beyond safe limits had essentially caused her body to attack itself, the corrosive properties of her quirk eating through skin and muscle tissue from the inside out.
The damage was extensive, potentially even permanent.
"The scarring will likely be significant," the consulting physician explained to Mina's parents, who'd arrived that morning in a state of barely controlled panic. "We're doing everything we can to minimize the damage, but quirks that affect the user's own body... there are limits to what medical intervention can achieve."
Mina stared at her bandaged arms, trying to process the possibility that she might never look the same again.
That her quirk...the thing that made her special, that had earned her a place at UA...might have left her permanently disfigured.
But the physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional agony eating at her heart.
Ryuu was three rooms down the hall, and they wouldn't let her see him.
"His quirk is completely burned out," Recovery Girl had explained when Mina had tried to leave her bed for the fifth time. "He can't sense emotions, can't connect with anyone the way he's used to. He needs time."
Time.
Everyone kept saying he needed time.
But Mina knew Ryuu better than most.
She'd felt his emotions through their connection, experienced the depth of his fear and self-doubt.
She knew that being cut off from others, being unable to use the quirk that defined so much of his identity, would be slowly killing him inside.
"I need to see him," she whispered to her mother, tears streaming down her acid-pink cheeks. "He's probably blaming himself for what happened to all of us. He does that...he takes responsibility for everyone else's pain."
Her mother, a woman with similar features but normal skin tone, stroked Mina's hair gently. "The doctors say—"
"I don't care what the doctors say!" Mina's voice cracked with desperation. "He's my... he's important to me. More important than anyone understands. And right now he's alone in his head, probably convinced that everyone got hurt because he wasn't strong enough."
She tried to sit up, ignoring the searing pain in her arms. "I have to tell him it's not his fault. That we chose to fight. That we'd rather get hurt protecting each other than stay safe and watch someone else suffer."
The heart monitor beside her bed began beeping faster as her emotional state spiked. A nurse appeared in the doorway, concern creasing her features.
"Miss Ashido, you need to remain calm. Your body is still healing from—"
"My body doesn't matter!" Mina sobbed. "My arms don't matter! What matters is that Ryuu thinks he failed us, and nobody will let me tell him he's wrong!"
Her parents exchanged worried looks.
They'd never seen their daughter....their bright, optimistic, unstoppable daughter...break down like this.
"Who is this boy?" her father asked quietly.
Mina's tear-filled eyes met his. "He's the one who made me feel like I was worth more than just comic relief and energy. He's..." She struggled for words that could encompass the complexity of their relationship. "He's part of my heart, and right now he's hurting, and I can't reach him."
The room fell silent except for the steady beeping of medical equipment and Mina's quiet sobs.
"Let me try," she whispered. "Please. Just let me try to help him."
---
Room 208 - Yaoyorozu Momo
Momo looked like a ghost of herself, her typically lustrous black hair dull and lifeless against the hospital pillows.
Her body fat percentage had dropped to dangerously low levels during the battle, her Creation quirk consuming every available resource as she'd manufactured weapon after weapon, barrier after barrier, desperately trying to protect her classmates from The Collector's subordinates.
The IV drips attached to both arms were slowly replenishing the lipids and nutrients her body desperately needed, but the physical recovery was only part of the healing process.
True to form, Momo was coping with trauma the only way she knew how....through analysis and documentation.
Her laptop sat open on the adjustable bed table, a detailed report taking shape on the screen.
Every moment of the battle, every tactical decision, every perceived failure was being catalogued with scientific precision.
'14:32 - Initial breach detected at research institute's east wing. Response time to alarm: 12 seconds. Analysis: Too slow. Should have been prepared for coordinated attack.'
'14:34 - Kazama-kun began coordination network between myself and Ashido-san. Initial amplification factor approximately 2.1x normal output. Analysis: Amplification was effective but limited by Kazama-kun's inexperience with dual-target coordination.'
Each line was a self-indictment, a detailed catalogue of perceived inadequacies that would have been heartbreaking if anyone else had been reading it.
"Yaoyorozu-san?"
Momo looked up to find her parents in the doorway, her mother's elegant features creased with worry, her father's typically composed demeanor showing cracks of concern.
"Mother. Father." Momo minimized the document window, not wanting them to see the extent of her self-criticism. "I wasn't expecting you until this evening."
"As soon as we heard about the attack, we came immediately," her mother said, rushing to the bedside. "The news reports were so vague, but when we saw the footage of the research institute..."
Momo's father, a man accustomed to maintaining control in high-pressure situations, looked uncharacteristically shaken. "The doctors explained your condition. Extreme quirk exhaustion, severe malnutrition, potential long-term effects on your metabolism..."
"I'm recovering well," Momo said automatically, falling back on the composed mask she'd worn for most of her life. "My body is remarkably resilient, and with proper nutritional support, I should return to baseline within two weeks."
But her parents weren't fooled by the clinical language.
"Momo," her mother said gently, using the soft tone reserved for private moments, "you don't have to pretend with us. What you children went through... what you survived... it's okay to not be okay."
For a moment, Momo's composure cracked.
The truth was that she felt like a failure in every way that mattered.
Despite all her training, all her preparation, all her analytical abilities, she hadn't been able to protect her classmates when it counted most.
Ryuu had pushed his quirk to the breaking point coordinating her and Mina, and for what? They'd still been overwhelmed. Still been defeated.
And now he was suffering from complete quirk burnout while she sat in a hospital bed writing reports like that would somehow fix everything.
"Kazama-kun sacrificed his quirk to amplify our abilities," she said quietly. "He maintained a coordination network between multiple people while under attack, pushed his Resonance beyond safe limits to give us an advantage. And we still failed to protect the civilians, still failed to prevent The Collector from escaping with valuable research data."
Her father frowned. "The news reports didn't mention any civilian casualties."
"Because Kazama-kun prevented them." Momo's voice was barely above a whisper. "His tactical coordination and amplification abilities kept us fighting effectively long enough for the pro heroes to arrive. He saved everyone by destroying his own quirk."
She looked at her laptop screen, at the document full of analysis and self-recrimination.
"I need to see him," she said suddenly. "I need to tell him that what he did mattered. That his sacrifice wasn't in vain."
Her parents exchanged a look.
"The doctors said he's not receiving visitors yet," her mother said carefully. "That he needs time to process what happened."
Momo's hands clenched into fists, IV lines tugging at the movement.
"He's alone in his head for the first time since childhood, probably convinced that everyone's injuries are his fault. Time isn't what he needs right now. Connection is what he needs. Understanding. Someone to remind him that heroes protect people, even when it costs them everything."
The heart monitor beside her bed began beeping faster as her emotional state elevated.
"I care about him," she admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "More than I probably should. More than is entirely logical. And right now he's hurting in ways that medical treatment can't fix, and I can't reach him."
Her parents had never seen their composed, daughter show such raw emotion about another person.
"Who is this boy to you?" her father asked quietly.
Momo considered the question, trying to find words for feelings that defied her usual systematic approach to understanding the world.
"He's someone who sees past the surface," she said finally. "Past the perfect grades and the endless capabilities. He sees the person underneath, the one who's afraid of not being good enough, of failing when it matters most. And he makes me feel like... like I'm enough, just as I am."
Author's Note: here's the stretchy pt...
She looked toward the door, as if she could see through the walls to where Ryuu was lying alone in his room.
"And right now, I need him to know that he's enough too."
---
Room 210 - Bakugo Katsuki
"Get the hell away from me with that!"
Bakugo's explosive voice echoed through the corridor as a nurse tried to approach his bed with a syringe full of pain medication.
"Sir, your ribs are badly bruised and you have a mild concussion. The medication will help with—"
"I said NO!" Small explosions popped from Bakugo's palms, singeing the hospital sheets. "I don't need drugs to deal with a few cracked ribs!"
Recovery Girl sighed as she entered the room, having dealt with difficult patients before but never quite to this extent.
"Bakugo-kun, if you keep refusing treatment, I'll have no choice but to restrain you for your own safety."
The threat only made Bakugo's glare more intense. "Try it, old woman. See what happens."
Despite his bravado, it was clear he was in significant pain.
His breathing was shallow to avoid aggravating his injured ribs, and he kept one hand pressed against his temple where a nasty bruise suggested his concussion was worse than he'd admitted.
"Where's Deku?" he demanded suddenly.
Recovery Girl blinked in surprise. In all her years treating Bakugo, he'd never once asked about another student's condition.
"Midoriya-kun is in room 204. Both arms are in casts, but he's stable."
"Take me to see him."
"Absolutely not. You have a concussion and—"
"I don't care!" Bakugo tried to sit up, wincing as the movement sent pain shooting through his ribs. "That nerd probably thinks this whole thing is his fault somehow. He always does that...blames himself when other people get hurt, like he's responsible for the whole damn world."
The observation was surprisingly perceptive, especially coming from someone who usually seemed focused solely on his own superiority.
Recovery Girl studied him carefully. "And why does that concern you?"
Bakugo was quiet for a long moment, his red eyes fixed on the ceiling as he wrestled with emotions he'd never been good at expressing.
"Because..." He struggled with the words. "Because he's an idiot, but he's 'my' idiot to beat. And if he starts wallowing in guilt and self-pity, he'll never get strong enough to be worth defeating."
It wasn't the most eloquent declaration of friendship, but for Bakugo, it was practically a love confession.
"Besides," he continued, his voice quieter now, "the amplifier kid... Resonance... he pushed his quirk past breaking to coordinate all of us. That takes guts. Real hero guts, not the flashy publicity crap."
Recovery Girl raised an eyebrow. "You respect Kazama-kun?"
"Respect?" Bakugo snorted, then winced as the movement aggravated his injuries. "I respect results. And the results are that we're all alive because he sacrificed his quirk to keep us fighting as a team instead of getting picked off individually."
He finally looked at Recovery Girl directly.
"So yeah, I want to see Deku. Make sure he's not spiraling into some self-blame bullshit. And I want to see the amplifier too, eventually. Tell him he did good, even if his quirk's fried right now."
The admission seemed to exhaust him. Bakugo slumped back against the pillows, his usual explosive energy dimmed by pain and unwilling vulnerability.
"But first," Recovery Girl said firmly, "you're going to let me treat your injuries properly. No arguments."
For once, Bakugo didn't fight her.
---
Room 212 - Uraraka, Asui, and Jirou
The three girls had been placed together in a larger room, their injuries minor enough that they didn't require intensive individual care but serious enough to warrant observation.
Ochaco sat cross-legged on her bed, her left shoulder in a sling from where she'd been slammed into a wall during the battle.
Tsuyu was lying flat to keep pressure off her bruised back, her large eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Jirou had her right leg elevated, an ice pack strapped to her knee where it had been twisted during the chaos.
They'd been talking in quiet voices for the past hour, processing what had happened, trying to make sense of The Collector's cryptic words about Ryuu's father.
"Commander Yamamoto," Ochaco repeated for the third time, as if saying it would somehow make it make sense. "Kazama-kun's father was some kind of military officer who researched quirks?"
"That's what it sounded like," Jirou said, adjusting her ice pack. "But Kazama-kun told us his dad just... left. Walked out on him and his mom when he was little."
Tsuyu made a thoughtful sound. "Maybe that's what he was told. But if his father was involved in government research about quirks like his, ribbit... maybe leaving wasn't his choice."
The implications were troubling.
If Ryuu's father had been forced to abandon his family to protect them, if he'd been researching Resonance and its potential applications, it would explain why The Collector was so interested in studying Ryuu under stress.
"He's probably putting it all together right now," Ochaco said quietly. "Realizing that his whole life story isn't what he thought it was. That's got to be almost as traumatic as losing his quirk."
"We need to see him," Jirou said firmly. "All this speculation isn't helping anyone. Kazama-kun needs to know he's not alone, that we don't blame him for what happened."
"They're not letting anyone visit him yet," Tsuyu pointed out. "Recovery Girl says he needs time to process the quirk burnout."
Jirou's expression hardened. "Time alone in his head is the last thing he needs right now. Trust me, I know what it's like to overthink everything until you convince yourself you're worthless."
She tried to stand up, forgetting about her injured knee until pain shot through the joint. "Damn it. If I could just walk over there..."
"We'll find a way," Ochaco said with quiet determination. "Maybe they won't let us visit officially, but hospitals have lots of corridors. And my quirk could make sneaking around a lot easier."
Tsuyu nodded slowly. "Ribbit. Sometimes the rules need to be bent when someone you care about is hurting."
The three girls looked at each other, a silent agreement passing between them.
They were going to see Ryuu, whether the medical staff approved or not.
Because sometimes friendship meant being willing to break a few rules to remind someone they weren't alone.
---
The medical wing of UA Academy continued its quiet work of healing, machines beeping, nurses making rounds, doctors consulting over charts.
But in every room, the same thought echoed...
Ryuu Kazama had sacrificed everything to protect them, and now he was alone with his trauma and his silence.
That wasn't acceptable.
Not to any of them.
---
Author's Note: this is a very Class 1-A thing to do right??
And where do I drop my discord link??.