The dorm room was suffocatingly quiet.
Kirishima lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything he had done pressing down on his chest like a cinder block. His muscles ached from the fight, his knuckles raw beneath the bandages he had wrapped around them in the bathroom. But it wasn't the pain keeping him awake.
It was the villain's voice.
"That's the monster. That's what I wanted to see."
The words repeated in his head like a curse, like an itch beneath his skin that wouldn't fade. Kirishima squeezed his eyes shut, but the images remained. The blood on his hands. The way the villain grinned, even as his face caved in under Kirishima's fists. The way he had enjoyed it.
Kirishima sat up sharply, breathing hard. No. That wasn't true. He had saved a child. He did what needed to be done. Didn't he?
A sharp knock at the door made him flinch.
He knew before opening it who it would be.
Aizawa stood on the other side, arms crossed, face unreadable. His hair was down, tired eyes half-lidded, but his presence still carried weight.
"Walk with me."
Kirishima didn't argue. He grabbed a hoodie, threw it on over his t-shirt, and followed his teacher down the dimly lit halls of Heights Alliance.
Outside, the night air was cold, crisp against Kirishima's skin as he followed Aizawa across campus. The streetlights cast long shadows, making the world feel smaller, more closed in.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Aizawa just walked, leading Kirishima to a quiet bench near the training grounds.
"Sit."
Kirishima obeyed, his stomach tight with anticipation.
Aizawa stayed standing, his hands stuffed into his pockets, gaze fixed on the horizon. "You broke the law tonight."
The words cut through the silence like a blade.
Kirishima swallowed hard. "I know."
Aizawa sighed, tilting his head back slightly. "You could've been arrested. Expelled. That villain could've killed you."
"I couldn't just sit around and do nothing while people were dying," Kirishima said, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be.
Aizawa turned to look at him fully now, his expression unreadable. "You think the rest of us don't feel that way? That we don't hate the rules when they slow us down?"
Kirishima's hands curled into fists in his lap. "Then why don't you do something about it?"
Aizawa's stare didn't waver. "Because the second we abandon the rules, we stop being heroes."
Kirishima felt something twist in his gut.
Aizawa's voice softened—just slightly. "You saved that child tonight. You did good. But the way you did it? That's dangerous, Kirishima."
Kirishima clenched his jaw. "So what? I should've just waited? Let that kid die?"
"That's not what I'm saying," Aizawa said, his tone still frustratingly calm. "I'm saying you need to be careful. Because when you start making choices outside the system, you don't always realize how far you've gone until it's too late."
Kirishima looked away. His heart was pounding again, but not from adrenaline this time.
From doubt. From something deeper.
"Do you regret it?" Aizawa asked.
Kirishima thought about the blood on his hands. The way the kid had clung to him, sobbing into his chest.
"No."
Aizawa's shoulders tensed ever so slightly.
"That's what worries me."
The words felt like a slap.
Kirishima looked up sharply. "Why? Because I didn't let some bastard get away with hurting a kid? Because I fought back?"
Aizawa exhaled through his nose. "Because the first time you step outside the rules, it's for the right reasons." His voice was quiet now, almost… sad. "But every time after that, it gets easier."
Kirishima said nothing.
They sat in silence for a long time. The wind rustled the trees, carrying the distant sounds of the city beyond U.A.'s walls.
Finally, Aizawa turned to leave. "Get some sleep. You'll need it."
Kirishima didn't sleep.
Instead, he sat in his room, staring at his hands.
The next morning, he avoided everyone. He skipped breakfast, stayed silent during class, ignored the way Bakugo kept glancing at him with that pissed-off concern of his.
He didn't know what to do with himself.
That night, he found himself in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. At his hands. At the bruises on his knuckles.
He had done the right thing. Hadn't he?
Then why did Aizawa's words keep repeating in his head?
Because the truth was…
He had enjoyed it.
Not the saving. Not the heroics. The fight.
The moment the villain had pushed him, had threatened that child—something had snapped. The hesitation had vanished. The rules had disappeared.
And he had felt free.
Kirishima's grip on the sink tightened.
He wasn't like that.
He wasn't like them.
A sudden movement behind him made his stomach lurch.
Kirishima spun, his heart in his throat—but the room was empty.
Just shadows. Just his own reflection.
But for a split second, he could've sworn his reflection was grinning.