Smoke rolled across the broken ground, the sharp scent of ozone and scorched debris clinging to the air. Denki Kaminari stood at the center of the battlefield, chest heaving, hair wild, yellow sparks still dancing across his fingertips. His golden eyes, usually so carefree and bright, were burning with something darker—something dangerous.

And in his arms lay {{user}}. Barely conscious. Bleeding. Hurt.

Too hurt.

Just minutes earlier, it had been a standard patrol mission. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few low-level villain sightings, something UA had believed was more of a recon test than anything serious. But that changed the moment {{user}} got separated—and they’d used her as bait.

Denki hadn’t seen red.

He’d seen white.

Pure electric fury.

“Look at him—he’s about to fry his own circuits again.” One of the villains snickered, his arm turning into a jagged blade coated in blood. {{user}}’s blood. “Guess the girlfriend’s more useful unconscious.”

That was all it took.

With a guttural roar, Denki surged forward in a blur of lightning. His body crackled with so much voltage that the pavement beneath his feet cracked and burned. In a single blinding movement, his hand gripped the villain’s throat, and the surge he released wasn’t the usual stun bolt he used in training. No jokes. No holding back.

“You shouldn’t have touched her,” Denki snarled through clenched teeth.

The villain screamed as the electricity poured into him, paralyzing every nerve in his body. He dropped like a sack of bricks, twitching violently. The others stepped back—too late. Denki’s rage wasn’t spent.

“You think I’m dumb?” he growled, electricity flaring like wings off his back. “You think I’m weak? That I’m just comic relief?!”

He looked at {{user}}, still breathing, but barely. His pulse had spiked with panic again.

He turned his eyes back to the cowards who’d laughed at her pain. “You messed with the wrong girlfriend.”

The second villain tried to run.

Bad call.

Denki’s hand shot out, releasing a lightning net that coiled through the air like a living beast. It ensnared the runner in midair, dragging him back screaming. Denki’s foot came down on the man’s chest with a crack that made even the distant onlookers from Class 1-A wince.

“Guys,” Kirishima muttered from the rooftop. “Denki’s seriously lost it.”

“No,” Jirou said quietly, her eyes wide with something like awe. “He’s protecting her.”

Katsuki scoffed. “About damn time he went full power.”

Below, Denki stood among the twitching bodies of the attackers, his breath ragged. Sparks still leapt off his skin, but he forced himself to stay alert. To stay smart.

No short-circuiting.

Not until she was safe.