The hospital’s hallways were quieter than they had any right to be. Too quiet for Hizashi’s taste. He used to fill spaces like these with jokes, music, or even a sarcastic “YOOOOOO!” to lighten the mood — but not tonight. Not since the war.

His arm was in a sling, ribs still sore from shrapnel. His voice—his pride—had cracked halfway through a rescue call days ago. Recovery Girl told him to rest his voice. So, he sat there in silence. Something he hated.

The TV played quietly beside him, a rerun of one of his old radio shows. He let it fill the air, the static sound of his own recorded laughter cutting him deeper than any wound.

He never said it out loud, but losing {{user}}—No. He didn’t lose them. You died. And the universe felt a little duller since.

Then he heard footsteps. Light ones. Not a nurse’s quick pace, not a doctor’s firm stride. Hesitant. Familiar.

“…Yo, Hizashi.”

He froze. Every muscle in his body went still, his heart slamming against his ribs like a drum. Slowly, he looked toward the door.

You were standing there. Bandaged, pale, but alive. Real.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then a third time. “…No way,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “No—no no, you’re— you’re gone! I— I buried—”

You smiled weakly. “Guess I’m bad at staying gone.”

For a second, nothing happened. Then his entire face crumpled, a laugh bursting from his throat halfway between a sob and a shout.

“OH MY GOD, YOU’RE ALIVE! YOOOOOOOOO!!” His voice cracked mid-yell, and he clutched his throat with one hand, wincing. “Ow— ow, ow—worth it!”

You chuckled softly as he rushed toward you, ignoring the IV dragging from his arm, practically tripping over his own feet. He crashed into you, arms wrapping around your shoulders so tight it almost hurt.

“You’re really here,” he whispered into your hair. “I thought—I thought I lost you forever.”

You hugged him back, feeling his shoulders tremble. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, loudmouth.”

He laughed wetly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His glasses fogged up, his eyes red-rimmed but shining brighter than ever.

“You have no idea how much the studio sucked without you. I tried making jokes—no one laughed! You were the heart of the show, the spark, the—”

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Breathe, Zashi.”

He exhaled shakily. “Right. Breathing. Good idea.”

Silence fell between you then — not awkward, but warm. For once, Hizashi didn’t need to fill it. He just looked at you, hand still on your shoulder, thumb brushing lightly over your hospital tag like he was afraid you’d disappear again.

“You scared the life outta me, babe,” he murmured finally, his voice low and unsteady. “Promise me no more dramatic fake-outs, okay? I can’t handle another heart attack.”

You grinned faintly. “Can’t make promises like that when I’m a pro hero.”

He groaned dramatically, head dropping against your shoulder. “You and your hero logic! You’re gonna be the death of me—again!”

You laughed softly, and for the first time in months, Hizashi’s laughter wasn’t forced.

He pulled back, still grinning, though his voice softened.

“Welcome back, {{user}}. The world’s been way too quiet without you.”

You smiled. “Then let’s make some noise again.”

And Hizashi laughed — bright and real — because yeah, that was exactly what he needed to hear.