Megumi woke to the sound of nothing.
No soft knock.
No quiet, careful voice from behind the door.
No noise from the kitchen.
The apartment felt wrong in a way he couldn't understand. The Divine Dogs beside his bed twitched in their sleep, ears flicking toward the hallway like they heard something he didn't yet hear.
He pushed his blanket aside and slid the door open.
Tsumiki stood in the kitchen.
For a moment, it looked normal. She had her hair pulled back, sleeves rolled up, a pan on the stove. But her body moved like it was underwater, slow, half a second behind what it should be. When she turned, her smile came a beat too late.
"You're up," she said.
"You didn't knock," Megumi replied.
"I figured I'd let you sleep in for once."
He frowned. "You always wake me up."
"Do I?" She laughed softly. "Guess I'm getting lazy."
Her hand shook when she reached for a bowl. The spoon slipped and clinked against the floor. She flinched, pressing a hand to her temple for just a second.
"Tsumiki," Megumi said.
"I'm okay," she answered quickly.
"You're pale."
"I'm just tired. Don't look at me like that."
The Divine Dogs crept into the doorway, tails low, watching her.
Megumi's chest tightened. "Sit down. I'll finish."
"You can't cook."
"I'll try."
"I don't want you burning the apartment down."
"I won't."
She sighed, but sat at the small table anyway. He could see how relieved her shoulders looked to drop the weight of standing.
He cooked in stiff silence. Rice that stuck to the pan. Eggs that went from raw to nearly burnt in seconds. He set the plates down anyway.
Tsumiki smiled like it was a feast. "Thank you, Megumi."
He sat across from her. "You should see a doctor."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"I don't want you to worry."
"Too late."
She looked at him then and her eyes softened with something gentle and tired. "You care too much, you know."
He looked away. "No I don't."
She laughed, faint but real.
After breakfast, she stood and almost immediately grabbed the table to stay upright.
Megumi shot up. "Sit."
"I'm okay, really."
"You almost fell."
"That was just… me getting dizzy."
"You never get dizzy."
"First time for everything." She tried to walk to the sink. Her steps wobbled.
Megumi grabbed the plate from her hand. "Stop it."
"You're being overprotective."
The Divine Dogs pressed against her legs, whining. Tsumiki scratched between their ears with a trembling hand. "See? They're worried too."
She disappeared into the bedroom for a while. When she reemerged, she looked worse.
But she had her bag over her shoulder.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To the market. We're almost out of food."
"No."
"We have to eat, Megumi."
"I'll go."
"You don't even know what to buy."
"I'll figure it out."
She shook her head. "It's just a short walk. I'll be fine if you come with me."
The dogs paced restlessly between them.
Megumi stared at her, at the faint sweat on her forehead, the too-bright look in her eyes.
Everything in him said no.
But she'd already put on her shoes.
"Stay next to me," he said.
"Bossy," she murmured, but smiled.
They stepped outside.
The sky was clear. The city moved like it always did, cars, conversations, the distant echo of hero patrols. It looked like any other day.
It wasn't.
Tsumiki leaned into him more than she probably realized as they walked. Megumi matched her pace without comment. The Divine Dogs brushed against her legs.
"You're really quiet today," she said.
"I'm always quiet."
"More than usual."
"You're really annoying today."
"I'm always annoying," she said, smiling.
He didn't disagree.
The market was crowded. Voices overlapped.
Somewhere, a radio played a cheerful song that didn't fit the way Megumi's stomach felt.
They didn't make it far.
A blast sounded down the street. Smoke puffed up behind a row of buildings. People flinched.
"Villain attack!" someone yelled.
"Stay calm!" a hero shouted. "It's just a small-time smoke quirk! We're handling it!"
Another hero fired off a counterattack. The shot went high, smashing a billboard and raining dust. Panic spread faster than the smoke.
Megumi instinctively reached for Tsumiki's wrist. "We're leaving."
Her eyes tracked the commotion. "What if someone gets-"
"Heroes are there," he snapped. "It's their job."
"But there are kids—"
"Not our problem."
"But it is," she said quietly.
"You can't help anyone like this. You can barely stand."
"That's not true."
"It is."
She looked torn. The crowd jostled around them as more people rushed past, some crying, some cursing, some just annoyed.
Megumi tightened his grip. "We're going home."
Her fingers twitched in his. For a second he thought she would argue.
Then someone slammed into her from behind, shoved by the wave of bodies.
She stumbled forward.
"Sorry!" The stranger's voice vanished into the noise.
Tsumiki gasped.
Megumi hauled her back toward him. "Watch where you're-"
She swayed.
"Hey."
Her pupils were blown wide. Her eyes didn't quite find his. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
"Tsumiki!"
Her knees gave out.
For a moment, the world slowed. He saw the exact instant her body forgot how to hold itself upright, how her fingers slid from his grip, how her hair fluttered as she fell.
He caught her before she hit the ground.
Her head fell against his shoulder. Her body was warm. Her heartbeat was there. Her breathing was there.
But she wasn't.
"Tsumiki!" He shook her gently. "Hey. Wake up. This isn't funny."
Her eyes stayed half-open, staring at nothing.
The Divine Dogs erupted, barking and snarling, sending shadows lashing out across the pavement. People screamed, backing away.
A hero pushed through the edge of the crowd. "What happened? Did debris hit her? Is she hurt?"
Megumi glared. "No."
"She might have inhaled the smoke-"
"She didn't."
"Kids faint all the time in situations like this," the hero said, trying to sound reassuring.
"Shock, sensory overload, panic—"
"She doesn't panic," Megumi hissed.
The hero opened his mouth, then closed it. "We'll get her checked. Let us help."
Megumi didn't trust him.
He didn't trust any of them.
But Tsumiki's body was limp in his arms.
He stood.
"I'll take her," he said.
The hospital wasn't far. He didn't wait for an ambulance. He just walked,fast, silent, jaw clenched, carrying her the whole way.
No villain appeared.
No suspicious figure followed.
Just sirens wailing in the distance, heroes shouting orders, civilians going back to their errands once the danger was announced "under control."
As if nothing irreversible had happened.
As if this was just another day.
They put her in a hospital room with white walls and buzzing lights.
Megumi was pushed to the hallway while doctors examined her. He could only see fragments of hands moving, machines being adjusted, a nurse frowning at a monitor.
Minutes blurred.
Finally, a doctor came out, expression carefully neutral.
"She's stable," he said. "Her heart rate and breathing are normal. No signs of trauma. No quirk-related injuries we can identify."
"But she's not waking up," Megumi said.
The doctor hesitated. "Her brain activity is… faint. Like she's in a very deep sleep."
"She's not sleeping."
"Sometimes," the doctor said gently, "when people, especially children, are exposed to sudden danger or intense quirk usage, their minds shut down as a protective measure. We call it a shock coma. She may wake up in hours, days… longer."
"Or never?" Megumi asked.
The doctor didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Megumi turned away from him and walked to the window looking into Tsumiki's room.
She lay on the bed, hair tucked under her head, hands resting on the blanket. If he squinted, he could pretend she'd just drifted off while waiting for him to complain about the food.
Megumi pressed his palm flat against the glass.
"You're an idiot," he whispered.
His voice didn't shake.
"You didn't have to go near the crowd."
Tsumiki didn't move.
"You didn't have to care if strangers were okay."
No response.
"You didn't have to be… you."
His chest hurt.
"I knew this would happen," he said very quietly. "Good people get hurt. I knew that."
He'd always hated bad people who preyed on the weak. Hated their arrogance, their entitlement, the way they treated others like toys.
But he'd also hated good people who saved them. Good people who forgave. Good people who, in his mind, opened the door for monsters to attack again.
Tsumiki was both the best example of a good person he knew and the one who frustrated him most.
She forgave too easily.
She worried about everyone.
She'd rather think of who she loved than curse those who hurt her.
He'd called that foolish.
He'd called it weak.
He'd called it hypocrisy.
Looking at her now, eyes closed, chest rising and falling to the rhythm of machines, he realized he had never been more wrong about anything.
Megumi opened the door and stepped inside.
The room smelled like antiseptic and quiet.
He took Tsumiki's hand carefully, like it belonged to someone fragile, not the girl who had held their entire world together for years.
Her fingers were warm but limp in his.
"I hated that part of you," he admitted softly. "The part that smiled at people I wanted to break. The part that wouldn't walk away when someone was crying. The part that prayed there'd be no more villain attacks even when you knew there would be."
The words came easier than he thought they would.
"I thought it was stupid."
He swallowed.
"I was annoyed by it. By your… peace-loving hypocrisy."
The phrase felt sharp. True. Ugly.
"But now…"
His voice cracked.
"…now I know I was wrong."
He squeezed her hand.
"You didn't forgive people because you were naive," he said. "You forgave them because you decided to be better than the world. Better than me."
His shoulders trembled.
"You chose to care about me, even when I gave you every reason not to."
He remembered her scolding him for beating up bullies, making him bento when he stayed out too late, tugging on his sleeve when he looked too tired, smiling at him like he was worth the effort.
"You chose to care for everyone," he whispered. "And the world hurt you for it."
He bent forward and pressed her fingers to his forehead.
"I was immature. I thought I was right because I saw how ugly people can be. I thought that made me smarter than you."
His chest felt like it was collapsing inward. The Divine Dogs came out of his shadows, resting their heads against the side of the bed.
"I wasn't smarter," he said. "I was just scared."
He stayed like that for a long time.
His breathing evened out. The shaking stopped. The burning despair in his throat faded into something resolute.
He lifted his head.
His expression had changed. He looked at Tsumiki's image not like a promise the world had broken, but like the one true ideal worth fighting for.
"I know I can't make the world fair," he said quietly. "It's chaotic, and it's cruel to the kindest of people." The words tasted bitter, but firm. "But if the world insists on crushing the vulnerable, then I will be the weight that holds them up."
He stood, still holding her hand for a final moment.
"I will use my strength," he vowed. "To save good people. The ones like you. The ones who stand up for others but need somebody to stand for them."
He exhaled slowly.
"I don't care if it's logical. I don't care if I have to throw myself into impossible fights. I will use every power I have to fight the villains and the chaos that preys on the innocent."
His eyes hardened with fierce commitment.
"I'll save good people. No matter what I have to do."
The Divine Dogs lifted their heads, watching him.
He looked down at Tsumiki one last time before letting go of her hand.
"In my mind," he whispered, "every good person I save is a victory for the kindness you showed this dark world."
He turned and walked out of the room, his shadow stirring at his feet. The boy who was paralyzed by the world's unfairness was gone.
In his place was someone who finally understood what Tsumiki had been all along, a beacon of hope who chose love in a cruel world and someone who had decided he would become the unwavering protector that people like her deserved.