(Denki POV)
Denki stretched his arms overhead, rolling his shoulders, feeling the way his body finally moved without the overwhelming weight of exhaustion pressing into him.
It had been two weeks since his recovery really started picking up speed.
Two weeks of walking more, standing longer, regaining strength little by little, proving to himself—over and over—that he was okay.
Not perfect.
Not invincible.
But okay.
And honestly?
That was enough.
Jiro leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, watching him with an expression just shy of impressed.
"You actually look like you could survive a full day without passing out now," she said, tilting her head slightly.
Denki grinned, stretching again, this time just to show off a little.
"Crazy, right? Thought I'd be stuck moving like an old man forever."
Jiro snorted, shaking her head.
"You're still shaky, idiot."
Denki laughed, but he wasn't denying it.
She was right.
There were still moments where he needed the support, still moments where his legs threatened to betray him, still moments where the weight of everything lingered just enough to remind him what he had been through.
But those moments were fewer now.
Less overwhelming.
Less suffocating.
And that?
That was everything.
Jiro nudged his arm, gentle, casual, but still deliberate in that way only she ever was with him.
"C'mon, you've got people waiting for you," she said, grinning just slightly, nodding toward the hallway.
Denki blinked.
Then—he heard them.
The voices.
The laughter.
His friends.
Waiting.
Denki exhaled slowly, a smile pulling at his lips.
The second Denki stepped into the hallway, he barely had time to brace himself before impact.
Sero was the first to strike—grinning wide, throwing an arm around Denki's shoulder like they hadn't just seen each other yesterday.
"Look at this guy!" Sero shouted, squeezing him way too hard, shaking him slightly for emphasis. "Actually standing on his own like a real human being!"
"Crazy, right?" Denki laughed, adjusting under the very aggressive greeting. "Thought I'd be stuck in the hospital forever."
"Would've started charging you rent," Bakugo grumbled, crossing his arms, but Denki caught the way his eyes lingered just a second longer, like he was checking for himself that Denki was really okay.
Kirishima beamed, slapping Denki's back maybe a little harder than necessary.
"Dude, you are doing so good!"
"And looking fresh as hell," Mina added, winking dramatically.
Denki snorted, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, well, wasn't easy."
The energy shifted—not dramatically, not uncomfortably—but enough that Denki could feel the weight behind their reactions.
They had all been there.
Through the worst of it.
Through the moments that weren't easy.
Through the days where Denki hadn't even been sure he'd get back to this point.
And now?
Now, here he was.
Standing.
Smiling.
Alive.
Jiro nudged his arm, lighter this time, expression softening.
"You really freaked us out, idiot," she murmured.
Denki exhaled, letting that settle, letting that truth sit without brushing it off like he might've before.
"Yeah," he admitted, quiet, but full of something real. "I know."
Kirishima's grin didn't fade, but it shifted—deeper, knowing, more than just excitement.
"But you're here," he said, voice full of conviction, like it was the only thing that mattered.
Denki looked around at all of them—every single person who had been here for him, who had waited, who had worried, who had helped pull him back when things got hard.
And finally—finally—he understood what that really meant.
He was never doing this alone.
Not once.
And he never would.
Laughter filled the room, louder than it had been in weeks, shaking through Denki like a full-body reminder that he was alive, that he was okay, that he had people who weren't letting him forget that.
Sero had already raided the snack stash, tossing chips toward Kirishima like this was some kind of victory feast.
Bakugo had his arms crossed, but wasn't leaving—which meant he cared, even if he wasn't about to say it out loud.
Mina was her usual chaotic self, immediately turning this into a full-blown celebration, grabbing Denki's wrist, declaring, "You survived! That means we party!"
Kirishima grinned, slinging an arm around Denki's shoulder.
"Dude," he said, laughing, "we should go out tonight. Something big. You deserve it."
Denki beamed, nodding fast, already completely on board—but something felt weird.
Not bad.
Just… off.
Denki glanced between Kirishima and Mina—both of them smiling, both of them acting normal, but somehow, somehow, something was... different.
They were standing closer than usual.
Their energy felt different.
Denki narrowed his eyes slightly, watching them carefully—but before he could even think about calling them out, Sero clapped a hand on his back, stealing his focus completely.
"You need food," Sero declared, dragging Denki toward the kitchen before he could protest.
Mina exhaled slowly, and as she turned her head, her gaze met Kirishima's—direct, lingering, knowing.
Kirishima swallowed, scratching the back of his neck, shifting under her stare.
"We need to be careful," he muttered under his breath.
Mina smirked, nudging his arm.
"You need to relax," she teased, but her voice was softer than usual—less teasing, more... grounded.
Kirishima sighed, shaking his head, but the way he looked at her was anything but casual.
Because this was new.
This was real.
And keeping it a secret was already proving harder than they thought.
Denki grinned wide, practically bouncing on his feet as he held up the hospital pass.
"I'm out, baby!" he shouted, holding it like a golden ticket to freedom.
"And we are taking full advantage of that," Sero declared, throwing an arm around him.
Mina cheered, Kirishima laughed, Jiro just shook her head, already bracing for whatever nonsense was about to go down.
Bakugo huffed, arms crossed, but didn't protest—which meant he wasn't against this plan.
Denki smirked, nudging his shoulder.
"You gonna pretend like you're not excited to have me back or—?"
Bakugo shoved him lightly, rolling his eyes.
"Shut up and get moving, dumbass."
Denki cackled, thriving off the energy, because this was what he had missed the most.
The laughter.
The chaos.
The stupid, reckless excitement of being with his friends again—outside, free, alive.
Mina looped her arm through Kirishima's, pulling him forward.
"Kiri, come on! We gotta hit up our usual spot!"
Denki paused—just barely—his gaze flickering toward them, narrowing slightly.
Something about the way Mina had grabbed Kirishima's arm felt… different.
Familiar, but not in the usual way.
Denki tilted his head slightly, watching the way Kirishima leaned into her touch without hesitation, the way Mina didn't just grab him—she held him.
Huh.
Interesting.
Before he could think too hard about it, Bakugo grunted, pulling Denki forward.
"Hurry up, idiot," he muttered, but his tone was noticeably lighter.
Denki grinned, filing away the odd feeling for later.
Because tonight?
Tonight was about celebrating.Denki exhaled slowly, standing at the entrance of UA, feeling the weight of everything settle deep into his chest. It had been weeks since he had last been here.
Weeks since everything had gone wrong.
And now?
Now, he was back.
Beside him, his friends lingered—but one in particular kept unusually close.
Bakugo.
Denki could feel it, even without looking—the tension, the readiness, the unspoken concern buried under Bakugo's usual scowl.
Denki shifted his weight, adjusting his stance—and Bakugo's sharp eyes immediately flickered toward his legs.
Denki caught it.
The way Bakugo's shoulders tensed just slightly, the way his hands curled into fists like he was ready to catch Denki if he stumbled.
Denki sighed.
"Dude," he muttered, grinning just slightly, "I'm fine."
Bakugo huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"You better be."
It was gruff, harsh, annoyed—but Denki knew better.
Knew what Bakugo wasn't saying.
Knew Bakugo had been watching him closely ever since the hospital.
And honestly?
It wasn't the worst feeling.
Denki let it go—for now—and turned toward the entrance.
Jiro nudged his arm.
"Brace yourself," she murmured, smirking slightly.
Denki blinked.
Then—the doors swung open.
And Class 1-A?
Was already waiting.
"Kaminari!"
The shout came from multiple people at once, a wave of voices all colliding together, a rush of movement before Denki even had time to react.
Sato was offering food before he could say a word.
Momo was checking if he needed anything.
Hagakure was fully vibrating with excitement.
Iida was already lecturing about proper recovery methods.
Shoji gave him a knowing nod, like he understood exactly how big this moment was.
Denki laughed, hands raised in surrender.
"I am literally fine!"
And in that moment—he felt it.
The warmth.
The weight.
The undeniable reality that he had been missed.
But as the noise swelled, as his friends surrounded him, Denki's eyes flickered toward someone standing near the back—watching, but not rushing forward.
Aizawa.
Denki's breath hitched slightly, something settling deep in his chest.
Because Aizawa had been there—the whole time.
Through the hospital.
Through the recovery.
Through every shaky step forward.
And now?
Now Denki was back—and Aizawa was still here, still watching, still looking at him like he actually mattered.
Denki swallowed, ignoring the way his throat felt tight, and before he could overthink it—he moved toward him.
The class kept celebrating behind him, but Denki only focused on one person now.
And Aizawa?
Aizawa waited—because he already knew Denki had something to say. Denki stopped just a few feet away from Aizawa, his fingers twitching slightly, his thoughts swirling in too many directions at once.
Because what was he even supposed to say?
Thank you?
Sorry?
Would it even be enough?
Aizawa watched him—quiet, steady, not saying anything, not pushing him to speak before he was ready.
Denki swallowed, shifting his stance.
"You, uh…" he started, scratching the back of his neck.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Denki huffed, shaking his head, trying to get his words in order.
"You never left," he said, finally, his voice softer, filled with something he wasn't sure how to describe.
Aizawa didn't react much, but Denki saw the way his posture shifted slightly, the way his arms unfolded just a little, like he wasn't brushing this off.
"Of course I didn't," Aizawa said simply.
Denki exhaled, rubbing his temple.
"I don't know if—" He hesitated, sighed, tried again. "I don't know if I ever said thank you."
Aizawa tilted his head slightly, scanning him for a second before speaking.
"You just did."
Denki stared, processing the weight of those three words.
Aizawa wasn't someone who needed grand displays of gratitude.
Wasn't someone who wanted praise or long-winded speeches.
He just needed to know Denki understood.
And Denki did.
Denki nodded, swallowing hard, and for a second—just a second—Aizawa's expression softened.
Just enough for Denki to see it.
Just enough for him to know he really had never been alone in this.
(Meanwhile)
Jiro squinted, watching the way Kirishima and Mina were acting so casual—but somehow, just a little too casual.
Hagakure gasped dramatically, whispering way too loudly, "Oh my god, are they secretly dating?"
Sero leaned in, grinning like he had already cracked the case.
"They are totally acting weird," he muttered, watching the way Kirishima kept glancing at Mina just a little too much.
Bakugo—who had been suspicious from the second Kirishima walked in—huffed, arms crossed, his eyes sharp, calculating, ready to call them out immediately.
"They think they can hide this?" Bakugo muttered, grinning slightly, borderline impressed at their attempts—but still fully prepared to ruin their secret.
Mina and Kirishima?
Oh, they were on borrowed time.
(Somewhere….)
The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the news screen in front of her.
A voice—steady, formal, devoid of real emotion—drifted from the speakers.
"In breaking news—reports confirm that the UA student who survived a near-fatal attack has made a remarkable recovery, returning to campus earlier today…"
Aleasha's fingers tightened around the armrest of her chair.
Her breathing was even, her posture controlled, but her heart?
It was pounding.
Because she knew.
She had heard whispers before.
Had felt something shift in the world, something pulling her attention toward UA like fate had been waiting for this moment.
And now—she had confirmation.
A student.
Survived.
And something told her—something deep, instinctual, impossible to ignore—that it was him.
That it was Denki.
Her little brother.
Her lost little brother.
Aleasha exhaled slowly, leaning forward, her elbows resting against the desk, her fingers pressing together as she processed.
Denki was alive.
Denki was at UA.
Denki was closer than she had ever thought possible.
And now?
Now she had a choice to make.
She pressed a button on the screen, rewinding the footage, watching again—watching the way the students surrounded the blonde boy at the entrance.
The way they greeted him like he had been gone for too long.
The way he stood—wounded, healing, but undeniably strong.
Aleasha's eyes narrowed.
Because if Denki had survived that attack?
Then whoever tried to kill him had no idea who they had messed with.
And Aleasha?
Aleasha was about to make sure they never forgot.