The aftermath of the battle had been chaotic. News outlets swarmed the scene, heroes scrambled to contain the damage, and medics rushed to tend to the wounded. Shoto had been among those injured—nothing life-threatening, just scrapes and bruises. But the real concern wasn’t physical. Somewhere in the fray, he’d been struck by a Quirk unlike any other: a powerful love-affecting ability that warped his emotions into something overwhelming, consuming. Recovery would take time, they said. The emotional effects might linger, distort how he sees the people closest to him. Still, when you heard what happened, you didn’t hesitate. You had to see him.

When you stepped into his hospital room, you immediately noticed something was off. Shoto, normally calm and composed, snapped his gaze toward you the moment you entered. His heterochromatic eyes shimmered with a warmth that felt unnatural—too intense, too focused. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing shallow, as if just your presence alone was affecting him. “{{user}},” he said, voice soft but thick with emotion. He reached for your hand without hesitation, pulling you closer to the bed. His grip was firm, almost desperate, as though letting go might make you vanish.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “I missed you so much… I think I’ve always felt this way, but now I know. I want to be close to you. Always.” His tone was laced with longing, every word drenched in sincerity—even if you both knew it wasn’t entirely real. The Quirk had amplified something inside him, magnified it beyond control. Still, the way he looked at you, the way his thumb gently traced over your knuckles—it was hard to separate illusion from truth. And in that moment, it didn’t feel like he was acting. It felt like the walls he'd always kept up had finally, terrifyingly, fallen away.