Kirishima awoke to pain. A deep, bone-deep ache that pulsed through his entire body. His vision was blurred, and for a moment, all he could hear was a dull ringing in his ears. Then, slowly, the world came back into focus.
The USJ was in ruins. Smoke still curled from the shattered ground, the remains of the battle between All Might and the Nomu evident in the gaping craters and fractured steel beams. The acrid scent of scorched concrete and blood filled the air. Students huddled together in small groups, some being helped by teachers and emergency responders. The battle was over. The villains were gone.
But Kirishima didn't feel relieved.
He pushed himself up with trembling arms, wincing as pain lanced through his shoulder. His arm was wrapped in thick bandages, the remnants of Shigaraki's decay still evident in the flaking, dead skin near his wrist. The memory of that moment burned in his mind—Shigaraki's fingers grazing his hardened skin, the sheer agony of it breaking away as if he were made of nothing more than brittle stone.
He had been powerless to stop it. If All Might hadn't been there… he would have died.
His gaze drifted toward the Symbol of Peace, who stood a short distance away, speaking in hushed tones with the remaining pro heroes. His massive frame, once the picture of invulnerability, was hunched ever so slightly, his breath coming in slow, controlled inhales. Kirishima could see it now—really see it.
The way All Might clutched his side ever so subtly. The tension in his jaw. The faint tremble in his fingers before he curled them into a fist.
He was hurt. Exhausted.
And yet, he still stood there, as if refusing to show any sign of weakness to the world.
Kirishima clenched his fists. The skin over his knuckles was raw, cracked from how hard he had fought. He had given everything, thrown himself into battle against something far beyond his limits. He had tried to stand against the Nomu, tried to prove that he could take a hit and keep going.
But it hadn't been enough.
The truth settled into his bones like a bitter weight. They were all still alive only because of All Might.
Without him, the USJ would have been a massacre. Without him, the students would have been slaughtered. Without him… Kirishima wouldn't be breathing.
And that scared him.
What happens when All Might isn't here anymore?
His grip tightened, nails biting into his palms. It had taken everything All Might had to stop the Nomu, and even then, it had been a battle of inches. The Symbol of Peace had given 120%, and yet… it had been that close. That uncertain.
A chill ran down his spine. For the first time, he let himself truly consider it.
The thought that maybe—just maybe—the hero system wasn't as unshakable as he had believed.
He had grown up idolizing heroes, believing in their strength, their ability to protect. He had wanted nothing more than to be like them, to be strong enough to stand beside them. But today… today he had seen something different.
He had seen fear.
The look in the other students' eyes. The hesitation in the pro heroes' movements. The way Shigaraki had smirked, not because he had lost, but because he had tested the waters and found them wanting.
And worst of all—he had seen the cracks in All Might's armor.
He wasn't unbreakable. He wasn't immortal. He was human.
And one day, he wouldn't be here to stop the monsters.
Kirishima swallowed hard, his thoughts a storm of uncertainty. He had always thought that being a hero meant standing in front of the weak, taking the hits so others didn't have to. But what if that wasn't enough? What if being strong wasn't about standing in the light, but being willing to step into the dark? To fight without hesitation, without limits—because the villains wouldn't hesitate either?
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. His quirk had limits. His body had limits. But today, standing at the edge of life and death, he had felt something. A glimpse of what he could be if he pushed past them.
Not just a hero. Not just someone who stood behind the greats and hoped to one day reach their level.
He had to be something more.
The weight of that realization settled deep in his chest, a seed planted in the soil of his doubt. A seed that, one day, would grow into something unshakable.
Because heroes like All Might wouldn't always be here.
And if the world was going to survive, someone had to be strong enough to shoulder it when they were gone.
Kirishima took a slow breath, steeling himself. This wasn't fear. It was resolve.
He wasn't done.
Not by a long shot.
And the next time a villain like Shigaraki came for him—he wouldn't be the one left broken.
But before he could properly assess and ponder about society, his eyes dimmed and rolled back as exhaustion got the best of him.