The physical therapy room was too bright, all white walls and mirrored surfaces that reflected Ryuu's tired face back at him from multiple angles.
He looked like hell...dark circles under his eyes, skin still pale from a week in the hospital, movements stiff and uncertain as the physical therapist guided him through basic stretches.
"Good," the therapist said, a middle-aged woman with a Flexibility quirk that made her joints bend in ways that seemed physically impossible. "Your range of motion is excellent. No lasting damage from the restraints."
Ryuu nodded. His body was healing fine.
A week.
It's been seven days since the attack at the Research Institute.
Seven days of waking up and reaching for Resonance only to find emptiness.
Seven days of being unable to sense the emotions swirling around him, isolated in his own head in a way he'd never experienced before.
It was terrifying.
"Let's try some light resistance work," the therapist continued, oblivious to Ryuu's internal crisis. "Nothing too strenuous...it's Recovery Girl's orders."
Recovery Girl.
Who visited him every morning like clockwork, checking his vitals, studying him with her sharp eyes.
She never said it outright, but Ryuu could tell she was worried.
Quirk burnout lasting this long, wasn't normal.
'What if it doesn't come back?' The thought circled his brain constantly, a vulture waiting for him to collapse. What if I'm just... normal now?
He went through the motions of the therapy session on autopilot, his mind elsewhere.
When it finally ended, he made his way back to his hospital room slowly, nodding at nurses who gave him encouraging smiles he couldn't quite return.
The hallway outside his room held a familiar figure.
"Ochaco?"
Uraraka Ochaco looked up from where she'd been sitting on a bench, her round face brightening when she saw him.
She stood quickly, nearly dropping the container she'd been holding.
"Ryuu! I hope it's okay that I'm here. Recovery Girl said you'd be done with therapy around now, and I thought..." She thrust the container toward him. "I made mochi. Well, my mom made mochi and I helped, but she said to tell you it's good for recovery and building strength an—" She cut herself off, taking a breath. "Sorry. I'm rambling."
Despite everything, Ryuu felt a small smile tug at his lips. "It's fine. Thank you." He took the container, noting the slight tremor in Ochaco's hands before she pulled them back. "Do you want to come in? Or are you supposed to be resting too?"
"It's only minor injuries," she said, but followed him into the room anyway. "They're keeping me for observation, but mostly I'm fine. Unlike..." She gestured vaguely at him.
"Yeah." Ryuu settled onto his bed, opening the container. The mochi was perfectly formed, dusted with potato starch, looking almost too pretty to eat. "Unlike me."
Ochaco took the chair beside his bed...the same chair Mina had been sleeping in for the past week, though she was currently at her own therapy session.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"I was really scared," Ochaco admitted in a low voice. "When that other villain showed up during the attack…"
Ryuu's hand clenched around a piece of mochi.
"I'm okay now," he said, though it felt like a lie.
"Are you?" Ochaco's brown eyes met his, surprisingly direct. "Because you look like you haven't slept. And Mina told me your quirk still isn't back."
"Mina talks too much," Ryuu muttered, but there was no heat in it.
"She's worried. We all are." Ochaco leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I know we're not super close yet, but...you...you look out for people."
"That's just what my quirk does—"
"No," Ochaco interrupted firmly. "That's what 'you' do. The quirk is just how. There's a difference."
Ryuu simply stared at her.
He took a bite of mochi, buying time to compose himself. It was perfectly chewy, slightly sweet, exactly what comfort food should be.
"...."
"My family runs a construction business," Ochaco mentioned, changing the subject to something a bit more upbeat. "We're not rich or anything...actually, we struggle a lot financially. That's why I want to be a hero. To make money to help them."
"That's not a bad reason," Ryuu said.
"Some people think it is. That wanting money makes you shallow, or that heroes should only care about saving people." She shrugged. "But I figure saving people and getting paid for it accomplishes both goals, right?"
"Right." Ryuu was starting to chill out; the chat was flowing better now. "Your parents must be proud. That you got into UA."
"They are. They threw me a party when I got my acceptance letter." Her smile was warm, genuine. "My dad cried. It was embarrassing and wonderful at the same time."
They talked for another hour...about families, about the construction business, about Ochaco's love of mochi and her mother's recipe that had been passed down three generations.
The light conversation that demanded nothing from Ryuu except presence, no heavy emotional processing or trauma discussions.
It was exactly what he needed.
When she finally stood to leave, Ochaco paused at the door. "Ryuu? Your quirk will come back. I'm sure of it. You're too stubborn to let it stay gone after all."
He managed a real smile at that. "Thanks, Ochaco."
"Anytime. And I mean that...if you want to talk, or just sit quietly, I'm here."
After she left, Ryuu finished the mochi slowly, savoring each bite.
The hollow feeling in his chest remained, but it felt slightly less consuming.
---
The next day brought a different visitor.
Ryuu was attempting to read a textbook Momo had brought him...maintaining his studies even in the hospital, because of course Momo would think of tha—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
There was a knock at his door.
"Come in," he called, expecting a nurse.
Instead, Asui Tsuyu entered, carrying a small stack of books and wearing her typical calm expression.
She was still in a hospital gown herself, bandages visible on one arm, but seems she could still move around.
"Ryuu," she greeted, plopping down in the guest chair without wasting any time. "Ribbit. I got these for you.
She set the books on his bedside table.
Ryuu tilted his head to read the spines:
*Understanding Quirk Psychology*
*Trauma and Recovery*
*The Mind-Body Connection in Quirk Usage*.
"Heavy reading?," he commented.
"Important reading," Tsuyu corrected. "You've experienced significant trauma. Your quirk burnout is a physical symptom of psychological stress. Reading about it might help."
Ryuu blinked.
Most people had been dancing around the topic, but Tsuyu just... said it. Directly.
It was oddly refreshing.
"Or you can ignore them," she continued, reading his expression with her large eyes. "But bottling up trauma isn't healthy, ribbit. I've seen what happens when people don't process what they've been through."
"Speaking from experience?"
"My parents are busy. I help raise my younger siblings." She stated it as simple fact. "I learned early that emotions are like water...if you try to hold them back, they find another way through. Usually messier than if you'd just let them flow in the first place."
Ryuu considered that, turning it over in his mind. "What if you don't know how to let them flow? What if you've spent so long sensing everyone else's emotions that you don't know how to process your own?"
"Then you practice. Same as any skill." Tsuyu tilted her head, frog-like. "Do you want to talk about what happened? What you're feeling?"
"I don't know what I'm feeling," Ryuu admitted. "Without my quirk, I can't sense my own emotional state clearly. It's like... like trying to see in the dark after spending your whole life in light."
"Describe the darkness then. What does it feel like?"
And somehow, with Tsuyu's direct gaze and patient silence, Ryuu found himself talking.
About the emptiness where Resonance should be.
About the guilt of not being strong enough to protect everyone.
About his father's revelation and not knowing whether to be angry or understanding.
About feeling disconnected from his own body, watching his life through glass.
Tsuyu listened without interruption, occasionally offering a soft "ribbit" of acknowledgment.
When he finally ran out of words, she simply nodded.
"That all sounds very difficult," she said. "And very normal, given what you've experienced."
"Normal?"
"Trauma responses are normal, ribbit. They're your brain and body trying to protect you." She stood, moving to look out his window at the UA campus beyond. "But you don't have to recover alone. You have friends. People who care. Let them help carry some of the weight."
"Like you're trying to help right now?"
"Exactly." She turned back to him, something almost like a smile on her usually stoic face. "I'm good at being direct. It's useful when people need someone to state the obvious truths they're avoiding."
Ryuu huffed a quiet laugh. "Thanks, Tsuyu."
"You're welcome. I'll check on you tomorrow, ribbit." She paused at the door. "And Ryuu? Everyone has responsibilities they didn't ask for. Parents to take care of, siblings to raise, quirks that are more burden than gift. But those responsibilities don't define our worth. You're valuable because of who you are, not what you can do for others."
She left before he could respond, the door clicking shut quietly.
Ryuu looked at the books she'd brought, then at the textbook Momo had left, then at the empty mochi container from Ochaco.
Evidence of care, of friendship, of people who saw him as more than just his quirk.
Maybe Tsuyu was right. Maybe he didn't have to carry everything alone.
---
That evening, Ryuu attempted his first walk outside his room beyond therapy sessions.
The hallway stretched before him, familiar and strange at once. He moved slowly, still adjusting to his body without his quirk.
He made it maybe twenty feet before his chest tightened, breath catching in his throat for no reason he could name.
The walls seemed to close in, fluorescent lights too bright, sounds too loud.
His heart raced, palms sweating, and suddenly he was back in the Research Institute, pain exploding through his skull, unable to breathe—
"Hey. Hey, look at me."
Hands on his shoulders, it felt gentle.
Pink skin, golden eyes full of concern....it was Mina.
"You're okay," she said softly. "You're at UA. You're safe. Can you breathe with me?"
She demonstrated, exaggerated breaths that Ryuu tried to match.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Slowly....painfully slowly, his heart rate decreased. The hallway stopped spinning.
"There you go," Mina murmured, guiding him to sit against the wall. She settled beside him, their shoulders touching. "Panic attack?"
"I guess." Ryuu's voice was shaky. "I don't... I couldn't feel it coming without my quirk. It just hit me."
"That's how they work sometimes." Mina's hand found his, threading their fingers together. "Especially after trauma. Your body remembers even when your mind tries to move forward."
They sat in silence for several minutes, Mina's presence a warm anchor beside him. Slowly, Ryuu's breathing fully normalized.
"I hate this," he admitted quietly. "Being like this...."
"What do you mean, like this??." Mina's voice was fierce. "You're healing."
"Doesn't feel like it."
"I know how you feel," she squeezed his hand. "When I first came to UA, I had nightmares about my acid quirk not being enough and how my poor academic performance might mess things up."
Ryuu turned to look at her, surprised.
Mina always seemed so confident, so comfortable in her own skin.
"I never told anyone except the school counselor," she continued. "Because I was scared they'd think I was weak, or wasn't hero material. But keeping it secret just made it worse." She met his eyes. "So I'm telling you now....you don't have to pretend to be okay. Not with me."
Something cracked in Ryuu's chest, that careful wall he'd been maintaining. "I'm terrified my quirk won't come back. That I'll be useless."
"You could never be useless."
"My entire quirk is built around other people. Without it, I'm jus—"
"Just Kazama Ryuu," Mina interrupted. "Smart, kind, protective, stubborn as hell. Your quirk is amazing, but it's not what makes you valuable." She bumped her shoulder against his. "Though I'll admit, the amplification is pretty nice in certain situations."
Despite everything, Ryuu felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Mina."
"What? I'm just saying, emotional resonance has its perks durin—"
"I know what you're saying!." He raised his voice slightly as his cheeks turned more crimson.
She grinned, mission accomplished in making him blush.
Then her expression softened. "But seriously, Ryuu. Quirk or no quirk, I'm here. We're here. You're not alone in this."
Ryuu leaned his head on her shoulder, exhaustion crashing over him. "I was more scared of losing all of you than I was of dying. When The Collector came, all I could think was that I couldn't protect you."
"You did protect us. You coordinated our entire fight,heck,you even amplified me and Momo's quirks, kept us fighting." Mina's hand moved to stroke his hair gently. "And when it was too much, when you literally couldn't do anymore, we protected you. That's what teammates do."
"What partners do," Ryuu corrected quietly.
"Yeah." He could hear the smile in her voice. "What partners do."
They stayed in the hallway for a while longer, two teenagers recovering from trauma, finding comfort in shared presence.
Eventually, a nurse discovered them and gently suggested Ryuu return to his room, but the panic attack didn't return.
That night, Mina stayed in his room again...not in the uncomfortable chair but beside him in the hospital bed, both of them fully clothed, nothing sexual or even particularly romantic.
Just two people who'd been through hell seeking comfort in not being alone.
---