The silence that followed the villains' departure felt heavier than the noise of the battle itself. Down below, in the ruined plaza, All Might stood as a battered pillar of victory, his brave bluff the only thing holding his faltering form together. I could see it even from a distance, the steam pouring from his body growing thicker. He was at his absolute limit.
"We have to go down," I said to Momo, my voice hoarse with exhaustion. The strength had completely left me, leaving a dull ache throughout my entire body.
Momo nodded, her face still pale but her eyes sharp and focused. "Can you walk?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
"I'm more worried about you," I replied. "You're the one who did all the heavy lifting with that cannon. Your lipid reserves must be severely depleted."
She managed a small smile, one that was tired yet genuine. "Don't worry about me. My Quirk might be exhausting, but at least it doesn't try to tear my body apart from the inside out." Her unexpected dark humor made me let out a small laugh, which quickly turned into a painful cough.
"Fair point," I conceded.
Supporting each other, we began the slow, difficult descent from the Landslide Zone. I leaned on her more than I'd admit, each step sending waves of pain through my body. She, despite her visible exhaustion, was my sturdy support. Our roles had been reversed. On the battlefield, I was her shield. Now, she was my crutch. Our partnership felt more real in this shared weakness than it ever did at the height of our strength.
When we reached the bottom, the scene made us pause. The other U.A. teachers had arrived with the police. Yellow police tape was being put up. The scattered students were being gathered near the entrance, some being treated for minor injuries, others just sitting in shocked silence, trying to process what had just happened. The faces that had been filled with excitement just a few hours ago were now etched with fear and the grim reality of the world they had chosen.
We limped toward the crowd. Kirishima was the first to spot us. "Tatsumi! Yaoyorozu! You're both safe!" he called out, genuine relief radiating from his face.
"We're alright," Momo answered, her voice steady. "We managed to neutralize the villains in our zone."
Her statement drew the attention of a few other students and a cat-like police detective, whom I later recognized as Tsukauchi Naomasa. "Neutralize them?" the detective asked, approaching us. "How many?"
I answered this time. "About a dozen," I said, trying not to sound boastful.
The detective's eyes widened slightly. "A dozen? Just the two of you?" He glanced between us—me, barely able to stand, and Momo, looking exhausted. He must have thought we were lying, but the reports from the other heroes checking the zones would soon confirm our story.
"Good work, you two," a familiar voice said. Aizawa-sensei, wrapped in bandages from head to toe like a mummy, was being helped along by Present Mic. "You showed good judgment and excellent teamwork." His rare praise felt like a badge of honor.
I looked around, searching for familiar faces. I saw Bakugo, standing alone, repeatedly punching his palm with a look of burning frustration. He hadn't just lost to Midoriya; the entire class had been confronted by a completely different level of power, and it was clearly unsettling him. I saw Todoroki, standing calmly, but his heterochromatic eyes were constantly glancing toward the ambulance where All Might had disappeared a few moments ago. He knew, or at least suspected, that there was more to All Might's victory.
And I saw Toru. The moment she spotted me, her floating uniform came running over. "Tatsumi-kun! Momo-chan!" she cried, her voice trembling. "I was so worried! You disappeared and..."
"We're okay, Toru," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just a few scrapes."
"A few scrapes?!" she squeaked. "You look like you just got run over by a truck!"
"A fairly accurate description, actually," I joked, which earned me a light punch on the arm. Her normal, cheerful presence was a much-needed anchor in the grim aftermath.
After all the students had been checked and accounted for, and initial statements were taken by the police, we were herded back onto the bus. The journey home was utterly silent. There was no more laughter or chatter. There was only the monotonous drone of the bus engine and the vacant stares of twenty students who had just received their first lesson in how dangerous it is to be a hero. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, processing their trauma. They had faced death. They had seen their teacher nearly killed. And they had witnessed the terrifying power of the Symbol of Peace and the monster it took to push him to his limit. Today, we all grew up in the hardest way possible.
I stared out the window at the passing city, but I didn't really see it. My mind replayed the day's events. The coordinated attack. The bio-engineered Nomu. The childish hatred in Shigaraki's eyes. This wasn't just a random group of thugs. This was something new. Something organized, well-funded, and incredibly dangerous. This was the start of a war whose outline only I knew. And me? I was just a boy with a painful, borrowed power. My victory in the Landslide Zone felt so small and insignificant now. It was a win in a minor skirmish, while the real war had just begun before my very eyes.
The bus finally arrived back at U.A., and we were dismissed, told to go straight home and rest. The school would be closed for a few days while they beefed up security and investigated the incident. As I was walking alone toward the school gates, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Momo.
"Thank you again for today, Tatsumi-san," she said quietly, her eyes meeting mine with a new intensity. "I learned a great deal."
"Me too," I replied. "I couldn't have done it without you."
She offered a small smile. "Next time, let's try to win without one of us having to pass out."
I laughed. "I'll do my best."
We parted at the gate, heading in opposite directions. The walk home felt long. Every step was heavy, not just from physical exhaustion, but from the mental weight of what had happened. When I finally arrived at my apartment door, I took a deep, steadying breath, preparing myself.
The moment I opened the door, my mother was there. She must have seen the news. Her face was pale, her eyes red from crying. She didn't say anything. She just ran to me and hugged me tightly, as if she were afraid I'd disappear if she let go. I could feel her body trembling. My father stood behind her, his face a mask of profound relief and fear.
I returned my mother's hug, burying my face in her shoulder. I let myself be a scared fifteen-year-old boy, not a reincarnator with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I'm home, Mom," I whispered.
In the warmth of my family's embrace, my resolve hardened into steel. I would get stronger. Not for fame. Not for rankings. But for this. To protect these peaceful moments. To ensure that the smiles on my parents' faces would never be erased by the darkness I knew was coming. The dragon inside me may have brought me pain, but for the first time, I saw it not as a curse, but as my only true weapon. And I would learn how to wield it. Whatever it takes.