Chapter Text
Day 1: After the Paranormal Liberation War
The sterile lighting of Central Hospital buzzed faintly overhead, a mechanical rhythm that matched the antiseptic sting clinging to the air and the persistent beep of vitals on the monitor beside Katsuki’s bed.
Katsuki hated that sound.
Not because it annoyed him — although it did — but because it meant he was the one in the hospital bed and not out in the field where he could actually do something. His side still throbbed in dull pulses, the skin tender where the bandages pressed against the site where Shigaraki’s rivets had punched through him.
A hole. They’d used that word. A damn hole in his stomach.
“Shitty damn nerd,” he muttered, scowling at the ceiling. “Still asleep… What the hell’s Deku waiting for, a signed invitation?”
The only reply was the warmth of Tsuyu’s hand, cradled gently in his own.
His girlfriend of three months sat beside him, knees tucked together, her body folded into a near-perfect stillness like she was afraid to move too much and jostle him. The sunlight caught the sheen of Tsuyu’s dark green hair, and her fingers were warm where they rested against his. She had caught him up to speed on what had happened after he was knocked out.
Her eyes gazed intently at Katsuki, but he avoided looking back at her. She needed to know that he was fine. Probably.
Tsuyu suddenly stood up, gently releasing Katsuki’s hand. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Do you want the usual?”
“...You know it.”
“I’ll be back.” She disappeared out into the hallway with her frog-quiet gait.
Katsuki rolled his neck around, shrugging deeply into his pillow. His throat ached—not from any injury, but from demanding to see Deku earlier. But the nurses had told him to rest . Told him to stay in bed .
But the second he’d opened his eyes and realized that damn nerd wasn’t in the room, he’d tried to stand up. The damn oxygen mask got tangled up and he nearly faceplanted before he could reach the door.
It was Tsuyu who’d stopped him in the hallway. Without a word, she’d lashed her tongue around his body like an oversized safety belt and gently reeled him back into bed.
She hadn’t let go of his hand since.
The door eased open again, and Tsuyu returned, holding a can of UCC coffee in one hand and a straw in the other. She opened the can with a quiet crack , then slotted the straw in before handing it to him.
He took it without comment. “Thanks.”
But she didn’t sit back down right away.
Instead, her free hand — the one not holding his — clenched the edge of his hospital sheet.
“They said you had a hole in your stomach, Katsuki,” she said, voice tight. “That it was a miracle he didn’t hit any of your vital organs.”
He turned to look at her, and froze.
Tsuyu wasn’t crying, not outright. But her eyes were glassy, and she sniffled once, her shoulders trembling as she kept her head low.
“I know you’re okay now,” she went on, a little shakier, “but when the doctors told me you were still unconscious… all I could think about was what would’ve happened if you were hit at a different angle. If Todoroki hadn’t caught you. If you hadn’t gotten to the hospital in time…”
Her grip on his hand tightened slightly.
“They told me you’d wake up,” she whispered. “But my brain wouldn’t stop imagining the worst. That you’d be like Midnight-sensei. That I’d get a call, and—”
Her voice broke. Just for a second. Enough to make his heart twist.
“…Damn,” Katsuki muttered under his breath, setting the coffee can aside on the tray. His chest pulled uncomfortably — not from pain this time, but something more vulnerable. Messier.
“Hey. Hey, come on.” He tried to shift, reaching out with his free hand to awkwardly pat her wrist. “You know it’ll take more than that bastard to kill me.”
Tsuyu laughed softly, even through the tears. “I know. You’re tough. But we all thought Midnight-sensei was, too…”
He went still.
Their teacher was dead. No fancy recovery quirk. No miracle survival.
He hadn’t even gotten a chance to see her in that final moment. He’d been too busy keeping himself alive — and trying to keep Deku from being torn apart.
“We’ll bounce back,” he said finally, voice quieter. “Shitty as this all is, we will. Todoroki’s awake now, and his old man’s still breathing, for better or worse.”
Tsuyu’s face darkened at the mention of their classmate’s father. She opened her mouth to say something, but faltered.
“...It’s been hard,” she said instead. “It reminded me of the summer training camp. When the League ambushed us. Or when some of us fought the Shie Hassaikai. Except this time it wasn’t just Sir Nighteye that we lost.”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
Tsuyu’s fingers brushed over his wrist, then gently picked up his free hand. She brought it to her cheek and leaned against it, her face cool from the hospital air.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
Katsuki’s eyes softened. He squeezed her hand lightly. “I’m glad I’m here with you, too.”
For a while, the room was quiet. No words. Just their breathing, the faint buzz of machines, the weight of what they’d all been through pressing down between them — but not enough to suffocate.
When Tsuyu finally spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I was scared for Ochako, too,” she said. “I found her while we were evacuating people… She’d been fighting Toga.”
Katsuki’s brows drew together. “That psycho with the knives?”
Tsuyu nodded slowly. “Her blades could’ve killed Ochako. She’s fast, but Toga is almost too fast to react to. I know we trained for that kind of thing, but it still scared me. What if I’d found her five minutes later?”
He looked at her, really looked at her.
Behind her quiet composure and calm tone was the same fear he’d seen in his own reflection — that gnawing dread that even when you won, you still lost something.
Katsuki let his hand slide over hers, thumbs brushing lightly along her knuckles.
“You helped with the evacuation,” he said firmly. “Saved people. Civilians who’d have died if you weren’t there. You kept your head when the rest of us were getting our asses kicked.”
She shook her head faintly, but he wasn’t done.
“This ain’t over. I know that. There’ll be more fights. More bullshit. But we’re not gonna stop. Not you. Not me. Not until the whole damn Liberation Front is buried so deep they forget what daylight looks like.”
His voice grew quieter. More certain.
“We’re gonna keep winnin’. Keep savin’ people.”
He looked her in the eye, fierce and honest.
“I promise.”
Tsuyu’s lips parted just slightly. Her shoulders eased. And for the first time since she’d walked into his room that morning, she smiled — not a tired one, not a mask, but a real, gentle smile.
“I know,” she whispered. She held onto his hand a little tighter.
And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Katsuki finally exhaled without feeling like the world was collapsing in on itself.