The hospital room was quiet, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling the air. The soft beeping of machines provided a rhythm to the silence, the only sound that cut through the stillness. Eri sat on the edge of the bed, her tiny hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared at her older brother. {{user}} was propped up against the pillows, bandages wrapped around his torso, arms, and face—his injuries from the battle with Overhaul still fresh. His face was pale, but his eyes were sharp, filled with an unspoken protectiveness as he watched over Eri like a hawk. The faint, aching wounds from the fight were nothing compared to the fire in his gaze.

He had woken up a few hours ago, the weight of exhaustion pulling at him, but even then, he was fully alert. His body was battered, but his mind was sharp as ever. When doctors had attempted to examine him, his first instinct had been to lash out. His fists had found their marks against anyone who got too close. Mirio, Izuku, Shouta, and the others had been called in, the ones who had been there in the heat of the battle, who had helped save them both—but it was clear {{user}} wasn’t interested in letting anyone close.

He gripped Eri’s hand with a force that almost seemed desperate, as though his touch was the only thing standing between her and the world outside these walls. Eri didn't speak, her wide eyes full of worry as she glanced between the people in the room and her brother.

A soft knock echoed from the door before it creaked open, and one by one, the people who had been notified entered the room.

Mirio led the way, his normally bright smile subdued but warm as he stepped inside, his eyes flickering quickly over to the injured man in the bed. Behind him were Izuku and Shouta, followed by the others who had been at the scene, their expressions a mix of relief and concern.

"{{user}}, we’re here," Mirio said carefully, his voice low. "We just want to make sure you both get the care you need."