After the final war, the world was stitching itself back together. Heroes and civilians rebuilt, healed, and moved forward. You, a pro hero finally recovered from your injuries, stood in front of a quiet hospital room, hesitating.

Inside, Spinner ,or rather , Shuichi Iguchi, sat on the bed, staring out the window. His body bore scars, but thanks to new treatments, the monstrous transformation had been halted. His breathing was steady now. He wasn’t a villain anymore. Just… lost.

You pushed the door open without knocking.

Spinner glared at you, eyes dull but defensive.

“You here to gloat?” he snapped.

“No,” you said, stepping in. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t rot away.”

He laughed bitterly. “Figures. Heroes pretending they care.”

You sat down, arms crossed. “I don’t pretend. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here.”

Shuichi turned away, fists clenching the blanket. “Shigaraki’s dead. You happy?”

You flinched but hid it. “He chose it. No one’s celebrating.”

Silence thickened the air — anger, grief, regret.

“You think this makes up for what you people did?” he growled.

“No,” you said sharply. “Nothing makes up for it. Not for him. Not for you. Not for any of us.”

He stared at you, breathing hard. You didn’t look away.

“You’re alive,” you said. “You get a choice. Stay rotting… or fight for something better.”

He sneered. “And you’ll what? Hold my hand?”

You stood, leaning over the bed. “I’m not here to babysit. But if you’re serious about living, I’m not letting you do it alone.”

For a moment, he looked like he might tell you to screw off. But he didn’t. His fists loosened slightly.

You sat back down, arms crossed, staring him down.

He didn’t fight.

You stayed.