Izuku Midoriya plummeted through the air, the cold wind rushing past him. His Danger Sense had blared a warning, but too late to stop him from losing control. Below him, a mother pushed a stroller carrying twins, oblivious to the danger descending from the sky.

Twisting in mid-air, Izuku managed to fire a strand of web-like energy, snagging the edge of a billboard across the street. The tether yanked taut, halting his descent with a jarring force that tore the top sheet off the billboard in one smooth peel. The momentum swung him back toward the ground, and though he managed to slow the fall, he landed awkwardly on his shoulder, the impact jarring.

The twins in the stroller let out startled cries as their mother spun around.

"Maniac! Idiot!" she shouted, glaring at him as if he'd personally tried to ruin her night.

Izuku scrambled to his feet, wincing. "Sorry! I—"

Before he could explain, two large men rushed toward him, one brandishing a heavy-duty set of handcuffs. Izuku barely had time to react before they lunged at him.

"Not tonight," he muttered, deflecting their attacks with a few quick, almost lazy moves. Their size was intimidating, but their coordination wasn't a match for his training. Within moments, they were both sprawled on the pavement, dazed and cuffless.

Izuku's eyes darted skyward, scanning for any sign of the disturbance that had triggered his fall. The skies above Ninth Avenue were empty now, eerily quiet.

"Hey, look! It's the ten-million-yen man!" a voice jeered from the gathered crowd.

Izuku turned, noticing the growing group of onlookers. Their expressions weren't kind; they watched him with a mix of suspicion and greed, like predators circling prey.

"We get five or six guys together, we could take him!" the taunting man continued. "That's like, what? Two million apiece?"

The crowd murmured but hesitated. No one dared step forward.

A boy, no older than thirteen, pushed through the throng, holding up a crumpled newspaper. "You're in for it now," the boy said, shoving it toward Izuku.

Izuku glanced at the headline, his stomach sinking as he read: WANTED: TEN MILLION YEN REWARD FOR DEKU.

The photo underneath was one he'd sold earlier that day—a shot of himself in action, now twisted to frame him as a menace.

"Ten million yen?" Izuku muttered, shaking his head. "I should arrest myself."

With a burst of energy, he vaulted over the crowd and disappeared into the night. "Give it your best shot, New York," he mumbled under his breath.

XXX

Izuku hurried into the lobby of the concert venue, his heart racing. The place was empty, save for a lone usher standing stiffly near the door. The man's arms crossed as Izuku approached.

"Tell me I didn't miss the show," Izuku said, breathless.

The usher didn't reply, his expression stony. That was all the confirmation Izuku needed.

XXX

The performance had ended, and the crowd was still abuzz with excitement. Sera Vee, the enigmatic genius behind Gold Crown Technologies, had just unveiled her latest creations: hoverboards and crash bracelets.

The spectacle had been dazzling. As Sera—Kuri Hikawa to those who truly knew her—sang her final song, she'd risen above the crowd on one of the hoverboards, her voice ringing clear and strong. Firework-like bursts erupted from the bracelets she tossed into the audience, wowing them with the fusion of tech and artistry. The crowd had cheered wildly, but one line had lingered with everyone, especially Izuku.

"This one's for my best friend!" she'd announced during the performance. "All I wanna do is help him save the world!"

Izuku had been too late to witness the spectacle himself, but those words haunted him. Did Kuri know? How much? And why had she said that? The questions gnawed at him as he waited by the stage door.

XXX

The performers began trickling out, their faces flushed with the glow of success. Izuku leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the crowd for her. Finally, she appeared—Kuri, radiant and smiling despite the late hour. Her expression softened when she saw him.

"Izuku," she said, walking toward him. There was no anger in her tone, only a calm understanding.

"Kuri… I'm sorry," Izuku began, his voice filled with guilt. "I should've—"

She held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "It's okay. I know you were busy."

He blinked, surprised by her reaction. "You're not upset?"

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No, Izuku. I get it. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders. But you don't have to carry it alone."

Before he could respond, she pulled a small flash drive from her pocket and handed it to him. "This has the concert on it," she explained. "I wanted you to see it. Especially the part where I introduced the crash bracelets."

Izuku hesitated, but she pressed it into his hand. Then, from her bag, she produced a set of the very same crash bracelets, their sleek design gleaming under the streetlights.

"I made these for you," Kuri said softly. "You've always been there to catch me when I fell. Now it's my turn to catch you."

Izuku stared at the bracelets, emotion welling up in his chest. "Kuri… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," she replied. "Just promise me you'll use them. And stay safe."

XXX

As Izuku settled into his small, cluttered room, his phone buzzed. The caller ID showed his mother's name. He smiled faintly, answering the call.

"Inko?" he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Izuku," her voice was warm, familiar, and filled with concern. "I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay?"

He glanced at the crash bracelets sitting on his desk, their reflective surface catching the dim light. "Yeah, Mom. I'm okay," he said softly. "Just… trying to figure some things out."

"Well, don't forget to take care of yourself," she said. "And remember, you're not alone."

Her words echoed Kuri's, and Izuku felt a small weight lift from his shoulders. "Thanks, Mom," he said. "I won't forget."

As the call ended, Izuku sat in silence, staring at the flash drive in his hand. Kuri's voice from the concert echoed in his mind: "All I wanna do is help him save the world."

Sliding the flash drive into his laptop, he watched as the concert unfolded on the screen. Kuri's passion, her brilliance, her unwavering belief in him—it was all there. And for the first time in a while, Izuku felt a glimmer of hope.