Izuku’s hospital room was quiet except for the soft, rhythmic beeping of machines and the distant shuffle of nurses in the hall. He sat upright with effort, wrapped almost completely in bandages—his left eye hidden beneath white gauze, his arms and torso layered in careful medical wraps. Despite it all, he looked strangely peaceful.

All Might—thin, fragile, but still towering—stood beside his bed, listening with a pained crease in his brow as Izuku explained in a calm tone:

“Only a few embers of One For All are left… and the doctors said there are faint traces of One for All lingering, but they’re fading.” He paused, catching his breath. “I’m… basically quirkless again.”

Before All Might could respond, the door slid open.

You stepped in first, Katsuki right behind you.

Katsuki froze.

His eyes widened—not because of the bandages, not because of the injuries, but because of Izuku’s words still hanging in the air.

“Quirkless… again?” Katsuki muttered, almost under his breath.

Izuku gave a small smile, the kind he hadn’t worn in months. “Yeah. But it’s okay. I didn’t start out with a quirk anyway.”

Katsuki looked at him—as if seeing the kid from middle school standing there instead of the hero who had fought All For One to the end. The guilt hit him hard and fast. Every memory of pushing him aside in hallways, every cruel word he’d hurled at Izuku, every moment he’d tried to bury him under the weight of being quirkless.

And now…

Now the gap he had been desperate to close—the one he’d spent years chasing—disappeared in an instant.

You gently touched Katsuki’s arm when you noticed his jaw tighten.

Izuku looked between the two of you, still smiling faintly. “Really… I’m not sad about it. I did what I had to do. And I’m still here. That’s enough for me.”

All Might exhaled shakily, pride and grief blending in his eyes.

Katsuki finally stepped forward, trying to keep his voice steady but failing to hide the rough edge in it. “You idiot… you’re way too calm about this.