He blinked slowly, the warmth of it coaxing him from slumber. The scent of fresh grass drifted in with the breeze from the open window, curtains fluttering gently like they were dancing. A woman's laughter rang out from somewhere down the hall — soft, bright, familiar.
Kael sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He was on a couch, sprawled out with a soft blanket over him. A modest but beautiful home surrounded him — hardwood floors, warm ivory walls, shelves filled with books and framed photos. A family photo sat on the nearby table. His fingers brushed against the frame.
There he was, standing in the middle.
An arm slung around a smiling woman — the one who had laughed just a moment ago — her eyes shining like stars. Two kids clung to his legs, laughing, the eldest looking one with dark hair streaked in white at the tips who looked a lot like Kael when he was younger. The other one, a little girl in pigtails held a stuffed animal in one hand and made a silly face in the other, looking just like..
His chest tightened.
He walked barefoot down the hallway, the sound of tiny footsteps racing ahead of him. His daughter squealed as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. There were plates on the counter, toast popping from the toaster, a kettle humming. The woman — his wife? — glanced over her shoulder at him, her smile gentle, sleepy.
"You finally woke up, huh?" she teased.
"I had a good dream," he murmured, rubbing his neck.
"I can tell. You drooled all over my favorite pillow. Must've been dreaming about me, huh?"
He laughed, the sound coming easy. The little girl tugged his hand, holding up a drawing — a mess of stars, a stick figure with hair just like his. "That's me! And that's you, Daddy! We're flying!"
His throat went tight. "It's perfect."
Something buzzed in his head. A flicker. A shadow on the wall.
He blinked it away.
Later, he sat in a lawn chair on the porch, the sky above so blue it didn't seem real. The kids played in the yard. His wife hummed a song as she swept the porch nearby. He could feel the breeze, smell the flowers — but underneath it all, something itched in the back of his mind.
A whisper.
Then another.
Low, distant. Echoing.
"Thief…"
His head snapped up. The wind had stopped. No birds. No buzzing insects. Just—
"You took everything."
He stood, heart pounding.
"Monster."
Darkness bled into the edge of the sky. The blue above was breaking, spiderwebbing with lines of shadow like cracked glass. He turned to call out to his wife, but her face was blurred now — smudged like a bad painting. The kids weren't there anymore. The porch was rotting beneath his feet.
"Give them back."
More voices now. Angry. Bitter. Dozens. Hundreds.
"You thought you were righteous."
"You never asked."
"You made yourself the judge, jury, and executioner."
Kael fell to one knee, clutching his head as the noise rose to a deafening roar. The world around him cracked and bled with lightless static. Hands reached from the walls. From the ground. From the sky.
"Make it stop!" he gasped.
The hands didn't stop.
"You stole our power."
"You erased us."
"You live because we don't."
The dream collapsed in a blast of white.
He woke up with a gasp — a sharp, raw sound, chest heaving as if he'd been drowning. Sweat soaked the sheets. His hand clutched the front of his hospital gown, heart hammering in his chest.
The ceiling above him was white. Sterile.
A monitor beeped faintly beside him.
Pain seized him a moment later — burning through his chest, radiating down his arms. He groaned and collapsed back against the pillow, his breathing ragged.
"What… the hell…"
His voice cracked as he looked around. Curtains pulled back to reveal a quiet room. Medical machinery. Flowers in a vase beside the bed — wilted slightly. The late morning sun poured in from the window, but there was a strange weight in the air.
'A hospital? What happened. I-I can't..' It hurt to think. It pained him to talk.
He looked around the room. There was a T.V playing the news which showed All Might being interviewed in front of the USJ dome. The T.V was mute however so he couldn't hear what he was saying.
As he sighed internally, he noticed a mirror out the corner of his eye. His eyes widened as the reflection in it wasn't him.
'No..'
He ran a trembling hand through his hair.
Stopped.
His fingers touched the familiar strands.
Black with streaks of white.
Kael froze.
He stared ahead, unmoving. A mirror revealing his appearance. It was as though he just came back from a hunt back when he was a vigilante. His eyes, black and low, his hair dark and tattered.
'That means everyone..'
The door opened.
Aizawa stepped in, a clipboard in hand, eyes tired — until they locked on Kael.
He froze.
"…Ishiro?," he said flatly, but his expression didn't match his tone. For a second — just a second — the edges of his calm cracked with something else.
"Doctor," he called sharply, stepping back through the door.
Kael laid there, unable to move, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Something was wrong within him.
The dream was gone.
And the nightmare wasn't over.
He could feel it. Anger, pain, sorrow. The weight and burden of what seemed like countless people.
"What's happening to me.."
…
The door clicked open fully as Aizawa stepped in, a weary figure shadowed by a tall doctor in a white coat. The soft shuffle of their feet against the tile floor cut through the sterile silence of the hospital room.
Kael stayed frozen in bed, pulse pounding behind his ribs. A dull ache throbbed in his chest and legs, but he refused to show it.
"You're awake," Aizawa said. His voice was calm, but the way his brow lifted just slightly betrayed his surprise. "Didn't expect that. Not so soon."
The doctor wasted no time. "Mr. Ishiro, I'm going to check your vitals," he said as he moved to Kael's side and began working quietly with a stethoscope and tablet. "You've been unconscious for seven days. Do you know where you are?"
Kael nodded slowly. "Hospital," he murmured, eyes still on Aizawa. "U.A.?"
"Technically, yes. One of the secure medical wings we reserve for situations like these," Aizawa replied. "You've been through a lot."
The doctor's hands moved efficiently—checking Kael's heart rate, tapping gently at his ribs and collarbone. When Kael flinched at the pressure, the doctor glanced at him. "Still tender. You've suffered two cracked ribs, a fractured femur, dislocated shoulder… the list keeps going. Honestly, it's a miracle."
Kael didn't respond, just let the dull pain ground him.
Aizawa's gaze didn't waver. "You saved lives, Kael. I don't say that lightly."
Kael blinked. "What happened? Last thing I remember… we were on the bus. Katsuki was yelling, Mina was showing everyone her dance moves, Izuku was.."
A long pause followed.
Then, Aizawa pulled over a chair and sat down slowly. His right arm was in a thick brace; stitches trailed down the side of his face, and a fresh scar crossed his jaw. His entire demeanor was heavier.
"The USJ was attacked. Villains used some kind of teleportation Quirk to scatter the class into different zones. Their goal was to kill All Might, cause chaos… and something else." He didn't say what, not yet.
Kael stayed silent, watching him carefully.
"You ended up in the Mountain Zone," Aizawa continued. "You were next to this beast called a Nomu. You defeated it, but we could all tell that it wasn't easy for you. Nonetheless, you held it off long enough for backup to arrive. And not just any backup—All Might came. Along with several other pro heroes."
The name still hit like a bell. All Might. The Symbol of Peace.
Aizawa didn't flinch as he continued. "All Might fought the same kind of artificial human you did. A Nomu. That thing nearly killed me before he arrived. It was stronger than me. Regenerative. Built to kill."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Ishiro, you really fought one of those things." Aizawa said. "And you won. You stopped it before it could move into the main plaza. If you hadn't, there would've been more destruction—maybe even death."
It hit Kael like a delayed blow. The weight of it. He won?
"I—" he began, but the words felt foreign in his mouth.
Aizawa leaned forward slightly. "You should've died."
Kael looked up sharply.
"But you didn't," Aizawa added. "And that says something."
Kael's eyes finally flicked to Aizawa's brace. He hadn't noticed how stiff the man was sitting, how rigid his posture had become.
"…You were hurt too. You really didn't have to come check up on me..," Kael said.
Aizawa glanced down at his injured arm, like it was nothing. "Yeah. Took a beating. Doesn't matter now."
But Kael's voice dropped, rough. "You really lost to that nomu thing, huh. Guess even the might eraser head has limits"
"Yeah," Aizawa admitted plainly. "I do."
A long silence passed between them.
Kael leaned back against the pillow, exhaling slowly. His body screamed with every movement. But even louder than that was the ringing truth in Aizawa's words.
He had fought a Nomu… and survived. But barely.
"Rest for now," the doctor said, tapping something into his tablet. "You've got a long recovery ahead."
Kael stared at the ceiling, the brightness of it now almost taunting.
Everything had changed. Again.
…
The door clicked shut behind Aizawa and the doctor, leaving Kael alone in the stillness of the hospital room. The soft hum of machines and the gentle ticking of the wall clock were the only sounds that filled the space.
Kael lay there, staring at the ceiling, the sterile white tiles above flickering faintly under the fluorescent lights. He felt the dull throb in his chest again and slowly shifted his weight, biting down on a low grunt. His body still ached—his arms sore, legs heavy, ribs like cracked stone held together by gauze and tape.
He shut his eyes, just for a moment.
Flashes returned.
The Nomu's roar.
Its weight shaking the ground.
The sound of his bones fracturing.
The feeling of his Quirks stretching too far.
The numbness in his fingers.
He'd fought like he had nothing left to lose.
And in a way… he hadn't.
Kael exhaled shakily, letting the air drag out of him. His mind drifted to the faces of his classmates—screaming, running, fighting. Some looked terrified. Others held their ground. He saw flashes of Yumi—her eyes locked onto his just before the teleportation, that split-second connection burned into his memory.
Where was she now?
A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. It opened gently, and a woman stepped inside, clipboard in one hand, a small medical kit in the other. She wore a crisp white coat over her scrubs, her deep brown eyes warm, yet observant. She had a kind face, framed by soft waves of dark auburn hair tied neatly into a low ponytail.
She looked to be in her late twenties, and carried herself with an easy confidence.
"Good afternoon," she said, smiling as she set the clipboard down. "Just need to run a few more quick tests. Blood draw, vitals, nothing major."
Kael gave a faint nod.
She moved around the side of the bed, setting up the tools with practiced efficiency. "Heard about what happened at the USJ," she added gently, swabbing his arm. "Terrible attack. I can't even imagine what it must've been like for you kids."
Kael said nothing, his mouth opening only slightly, but the words refused to form. It was still difficult to speak, to explain… to even process it.
But the nurse didn't push. She glanced at him, her voice softening. "Still—you protected your classmates. Took on one of those… things. Risked your life."
She looked at him as she finished inserting the needle.
"You're a Hero, you know," she said quietly. "Whether you think so or not."
Kael blinked. The words felt distant and yet oddly grounding. Something in her tone wasn't forced or rehearsed. She meant it.
He gave her a faint, tired smile—just a small pull at the corner of his lips.
"There," she said after a few more checks. "All done."
She packed away the last of the supplies and picked up her clipboard. "Try to get some rest," she said as she walked to the door. "Doctor'll be back to check in later. You've more than earned a break."
Kael nodded once.
The door clicked shut behind her, and silence returned.
He turned his head slowly, gazing at the light filtering in through the blinds, soft shadows falling across the floor. His thoughts drifted again—to Yumi. To his classmates. Were they okay? What had they gone through? Did they make it out unharmed?
His breath caught for a moment, and his eyes closed again. Not to sleep—but to remember.
To wait.
To wonder.
…