Hospital Room – Musutafu General
When Emi Moshizuki opened her eyes, she was met with a blinding white ceiling. Everything was still—eerily quiet, except for the steady beep of the heart monitor beside her. The sharp pain from before had dulled into a deep, lingering ache. Her body felt stiff and sore, and her mouth was painfully dry, and the lights in the room made her head throb.
She shifted slightly, glancing down at her arms. Both were wrapped in thick layers of bandages, extending from her elbows down to each individual finger. She flexed them slowly. Her fingers moved—but only barely. Stiff and uncooperative.
Her gaze dropped lower. Her ribcage was bound tightly, confirming what she already suspected: fractured ribs. But what truly sent her heart pounding wasn't the pain. It was her face.
The left side of it was bandaged, along with a portion of her head. A dull throb pulsed behind the gauze. Panic swelled in her chest. She wanted to tear the wrapping off, to see what had been done to her—but something held her back.
She wasn't ready.
The sterile quiet of the room was broken only by the presence of a few thoughtful gestures: a vase of flowers, cards, and a stuffed cat placed gently on the side table. Emi stared at it for a long moment before reaching out and hugging the plush tightly to her chest. Her arms trembled with the effort.
How long have I been out…?
As if in answer, the door creaked open, and Mr. Aizawa stepped inside. His tired eyes softened at the sight of her awake.
"Hey…" Emi rasped, managing a faint smile.
"Moshizuki. I'm glad to see you're awake," he replied, dragging a chair beside the bed and sinking into it. He looked utterly drained.
"So… how long?" she asked softly.
"Just a few days. Those dumb kids got you here fast. Recovery Girl's been by once already."
Emi hesitated. "What's the damage?"
Aizawa exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. "You've got a road ahead of you," he said, tone gentle but firm. "Your ribs are mostly healed. Your hands still need a few healing sessions. You'll need a steroid inhaler for your lungs over the next few weeks, and your concussion is going to cause some pain and dizziness."
He paused, and that hesitation hit harder than anything else.
"As for your face and your eye…"
Emi looked away, fingers curling tightly into the sheets.
"There will be some permanent scarring," Aizawa said quietly. "And… I'm sorry. The nerve endings in your left eye were severed. They couldn't be repaired. You're… blind in that eye."
She didn't speak. Didn't cry at first.
She just… sat.
Then, slowly, her shoulders began to tremble, and the tears came silently—falling one by one, soaking into the pillow beneath her. Aizawa stood and placed a careful hand on her head, the gesture light but grounding.
"I'm sorry, Moshizuki. I really am."
She wiped at her eyes, voice barely a whisper. "Mr. Aizawa…"
"I know," he said gently. "Just a few more things. UA is moving all students into dorms. Once you're discharged, we'll send a car to pick you up."
Emi gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. When the door shut behind him, the silence returned.
Curling up with the stuffed cat clutched to her chest, she let the tears fall freely.
Can I still be a hero like this?
⸻
Later that Night
Outside the recovery room, Katsuki Bakugo sat in a hard plastic chair that had long since lost its comfort. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped tightly, knuckles white. He hadn't left since they brought her in.
His mother, Mitsuki, paced a short distance away, arms crossed and frustration barely contained. Masaru stood beside her quietly, stealing worried glances at both his wife and his son.
"She looks horrible," Mitsuki muttered under her breath. "How is she supposed to come back from this?"
"She's strong," Masaru replied gently. "She made it back. That's something."
Katsuki didn't speak. He hadn't for hours.
The last time he saw Emi, she was barely conscious, bloodied and broken in his arms. Her quirk had torn her hands to shreds. She had nearly died. And it haunted him.
Then—a sound. A shift.
Katsuki stood in an instant, eyes locking on the door as the nurse stepped out and gave a small nod. "She's awake."
He moved before anyone could stop him, pushing the door open and stepping into the quiet room. There she was—sitting upright now, barely, the stuffed cat still clutched to her chest. Her bandaged face turned slightly at the sound of the door.
But when her eyes met his… something was different.
There was no spark. No fight.
Just a hollow kind of emptiness.
"Emi," Katsuki said, trying to keep his voice steady.
She blinked at him slowly. "Katsuki."
His heart clenched at the way she said it—like it barely meant anything.
"You're okay," he said, stepping to the side of the bed.
She glanced away. "Am I?"
The silence between them was thick.
"I can't feel anything," she whispered. "Not pain. Not hope. Nothing."
Katsuki sat down beside her, gently taking her hand.
"I don't know how to come back from this," she said, voice flat and distant.
"You don't have to," he said quietly. "Not all at once. Just don't give up."
Her fingers curled weakly around his.
"I don't care if I died, Katsuki," she admitted, her voice cracking. "That's what scares me."
He swallowed hard. "I cared. I still care. So you don't get to give up now, got it?"
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, tears sliding silently down her face again.
Katsuki didn't let go.
Behind him stood his parents, both with disheartened expressions on their faces. Emi didn't deserve this, she's just a student.
Back at the UA dorms, the students were settling into their new rooms. Mr. Aizawa had just finished explaining the consequences of their rescue mission. After a brief tour, the students were dismissed to unpack.
They were all lounging downstairs when they heard a car door shut outside. Mina rushed to the window.
"It's Emi-chan!"
Everyone jumped up to greet her.
Emi stood outside the car, dressed in a black cropped tank top and gray sweatpants. Her blonde hair was down, loose and unstyled. Bandages still wrapped her arms, the side of her head, and her eye. The bandages on her chest were slightly visible beneath the tank top.
Her head was low, expression unreadable. The driver was retrieving her belongings from the trunk.
"Emi-chan!" Kirishima ran out. "How are you? You're still pretty bandaged up…"
"I've been better," Emi replied with a weak, clearly forced smile.
"Here, let us help," Kaminari said, grabbing a box, and Mina picked up her duffle bag.
"Thank you," Emi said softly, her face still shadowed by her bangs.
Midoriya and Uraraka exchanged a worried glance. Something was definitely off. Yaoyorozu stepped forward and hugged Emi tightly.
"Emi, I'm so sorry about the training camp. If I had just been stronger—maybe you wouldn't have been taken—"
"Please don't talk about it," Emi interrupted, her voice low and flat. She didn't return the hug. She walked past them into the dorm.
The others shared an uneasy silence before following her inside.
Mina caught up first. "Here! Let me show you your room."
Emi nodded quietly and followed her toward the elevator. On the way, she spotted Bakugo sitting on the couch. Their eyes met for a moment. Emi's steps faltered, but she quickly looked away and continued on. Bakugo watched her go, his face unreadable.
⸻
Later that night, no one had heard from Emi. Her door remained closed.
A knock came at my door. I ignored it at first—then came another knock.
"Open this damn door before I blow it off the hinges!" came Katsuki's voice.
Sighing, I dragged myself to the door and cracked it open.
"What?" I asked flatly.
He ignored me, kicked the door open, and walked inside.
"Hey! I didn't say you could come in!" I snapped.
"Don't care," he said, plopping down on my bed.
Closing the door with a huff, I repeated, "What do you want?"
He gave me a look, then scanned me from head to toe, taking in the bandages. His expression darkened.
"How bad is it?" he asked quietly.
I didn't want to talk about it. I closed my eyes and looked away.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I don't care! You're moping around like a kicked dog—just tell me!"
I stared at him, stunned. He wasn't going to let this go.
Turning away, I wrapped my arms around myself. Silence filled the room before I finally whispered, "I'm blind in my left eye. And there'll be scars. I haven't looked yet… I can't bring myself to."
I paused, squeezing my arms tightly. "My ribs are mostly healed. My hands are still recovering, but Recovery Girl says they'll be fine. I have to use an inhaler for a while—probably from pushing my support gear too hard."
He was silent. Then I felt him get up and approach me.
"Hey," he said.
I didn't move.
"Hey!" he barked, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around. "You're gonna hurt yourself worse, idiot," he muttered, gently pulling my arms away from myself.
Looking into his eyes, my own began to sting.
"What does it matter?" I choked. "I can't be a hero like this! I'm blind in one eye—this happened because I'm weak! I let them win! How can I protect people if I can't even protect myself?!"
The tears fell fast and hard, and suddenly, he pulled me into a hug. I froze, then melted into him, sobbing.
"I… I've been wanting to look under the bandage," I whispered. "But I'm scared…"
He slowly pulled away and reached for the bandage on my face. I didn't stop him. I was frozen, heart pounding as he gently unraveled the wrapping. He was so close—I could feel his breath—but my anxiety drowned out everything else.
When he was done, he just stared.
"How bad is it…?" I asked, voice trembling.
His fists clenched. "I'm gonna kill those bastards for doing this to you."
I stood slowly and stepped in front of the mirror. My breath caught.
A jagged scar stretched from the center of my forehead, across my temple, and down to my upper cheekbone. The skin was red and rough. My left eye was clouded, pale pink and lifeless, in stark contrast to the deep pink of my right.
I collapsed to my knees, tears pouring freely. Katsuki knelt beside me, wrapping an arm around me again.
"I can't show my face like this," I sobbed. "I look hideous…"
He sighed. "No, you don't, dummy. You couldn't look ugly if you tried."
I let my forehead rest against his chest. That was the thing about Katsuki—he never lied. His honesty grounded me.
I slowly raised my hand to the scarred side of my face. I truly couldn't see out of that eye. I could still see in front of me just fine, but everything to my left was a blind spot.
Letting out a shaky breath, I looked up at him.
"I'm gonna have to train twice as hard with this kind of blind spot."
A proud smirk lit up his face. "That's more like it. None of that 'I can't' crap."
I laughed softly, genuinely, for the first time since this happened.
Everything would be okay, maybe.
The soft rustle of cardboard and the occasional thud of things hitting the floor filled the quiet dorm room as Katsuki Bakugo set down the last container with a grunt.
"Alright. That's the last one," he muttered, straightening up and brushing his hands off on his sweatpants.
Emi stood a few feet away, a bit stiff and awkward as she glanced around the room. Her posture was tense, her left eye still bandaged, and her expression unreadable. Even surrounded by a fresh room, storage bins, and little homey touches, it didn't quite feel real to her yet.
The dorm room was small but clean, painted in soft neutrals. The bed had a plain mattress waiting to be dressed, the desk sat untouched in the corner, and the window let in a gentle wash of golden evening light.
Katsuki moved toward one of the boxes labeled Bedding and opened it, pulling out a bundle of pale pink and white linens. "My mom picked this crap out," he said, almost defensively, as he tossed it onto the mattress. "Said it 'matched your vibe' or whatever that means."
Emi blinked, then gave the faintest chuckle. "She picked pink? I mean it is in my hero costume."
"She said it was 'cute but not obnoxious.' Don't ask me," Katsuki grumbled. "Also, there's towels in the other box. Some… toiletries, I guess. New clothes. And snacks. She went overboard."
Emi stepped closer to the bed, brushing her fingers over the soft comforter. It was nice. Cozy. Warm. Her heart ached a little, but she forced a small smile. "Tell her thank you… please."
Katsuki watched her silently, his expression unreadable.
After a beat, he moved over to one of the open boxes still sitting near the desk. He rummaged through it, then carefully pulled out a familiar object—the stuffed cat she'd clung to in the hospital.
"I, uh…" Katsuki hesitated, then walked it over to her. "This was me, actually. Not my mom."
Emi looked up at him, surprised. "Wait… what?"
He scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. "I got it. The night they said you might not wake up for a while. Thought maybe… if you saw something soft, something you'd think was cute… you wouldn't feel so alone when you woke up."
Her breath caught in her throat.
"It was stupid," he added quickly. "But you held onto it, so…"
Emi sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, hugging the stuffed cat to her chest. Her hands trembled just slightly, the bandages still peeking out beneath her sleeves.
"It wasn't stupid," she whispered. "It helped."
Katsuki finally met her eyes. For once, there was no sharpness in his gaze. Just quiet concern. Quiet loyalty.
They stood there in the silence that followed, soft and safe, the weight of the past few days finally starting to settle in.
"You don't have to do this," Emi murmured. "Help me. Be here. I know I'm not easy to be around right now."
"I want to," he said firmly, stepping closer. "And I'm not goin' anywhere. So get used to it."
She let out a shaky breath, then smiled—tired and small, but genuine.
"Okay," she whispered.
Katsuki reached down and gently tugged the comforter over the mattress, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Now help me make this damn bed. I'm not doing all the work."
And Emi laughed—just a little.
UA Training Grounds Gamma
The afternoon sun was brutal, but Emi stood in the shade of the viewing platform, watching her classmates tear through the training dummies with flashy, refined techniques.
Aizawa's voice rang out.
"Today, you're working on creating your Ultimate Move—a technique that can overwhelm your opponent or protect civilians when you're pushed to your limits."
She stayed silent, arms crossed over her bandaged chest. Her left eye still had the bandage on it—though the damage beneath had already scarred.
Bakugo stood beside her, arms folded, watching too.
"You gonna just stand there or start training?" he muttered.
"I don't even know where to start," Emi said softly. "I'm still figuring out how to fight with a blind side."
"You figure it out by doing," he snapped. "You still got one good eye, right? Wind's your Quirk. You don't need both eyes to feel a damn breeze."
She turned to him, brow furrowed.
"You gonna help me or just keep talking trash?"
His smirk was sharp. "I can multitask."
Earlier that day Recovery Girl giving clearance
"Light training only," she told Emi sternly. "Nothing high impact until your ribs are fully healed. But you do need to start adapting."
She raised her hands slowly. A small gust stirred at her fingertips.
She closed her right eye—and tried to feel the air currents with her left.
Nothing.
She opened her right eye again and sighed.
From the side, Yaoyorozu approached. "I've been working on a support item prototype for you," she said. "A motion-sensitive earbud—it amplifies wind flow from your blind side and relays it back. It's not perfect, but…"
Emi's eyes widened. "Momo… that's amazing."
"It's just a prototype. You'll have to test it."
Emi started training with the prototype At first, her movements are awkward. She gets caught off-guard by surprise attacks. But over time, she starts relying less on vision and more on airflow. She creates a new move: "Spiral Shift"—a tight wind vortex that deflects incoming attacks from her blind side.
Bakugo watches from afar, arms crossed but clearly impressed.
Kirishima nudges him. "Man, you've been watching her like a hawk."
"Shut it, Shitty Hair," Bakugo grumbles, but his eyes don't leave her.
⸻
Later, Emi was back in her room, sore but satisfied. Her prototype earbud rests on her desk.
A knock at her door.
It's Bakugo. He tosses her a cold drink.
"You didn't suck out there today."
She raises an eyebrow. "Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment."
He rolls his eyes. "Don't get used to it."
A pause.
"…You ever think," he says quietly, "that maybe this happened to make you even stronger?"
She blinks. "I think it broke me." She said quietly.
"It didn't." He meets her gaze. "You're still standing, aren't you?"
She smiles, soft and real.