The morning air was crisp, the sun just starting to rise over the skyline of Hosu. Bags were packed, boots laced, and the four students stood in the courtyard of Endeavor's agency—quiet and a little sleepier than usual after the demanding week they'd just wrapped up.
Emi adjusted the strap of her bag, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Katsuki stood at her left, silent and tense. Midoriya and Shoto were just ahead of them, talking softly about the week's lessons, already mentally sorting through what they'd learned.
At exactly 8:00 AM, Endeavor stepped outside, arms crossed, his heavy presence enough to make all four students straighten up.
"You three," he said, his sharp gaze cutting to Bakugo, Midoriya, and Shoto, "you're returning to Heights Alliance this morning. Your transport is waiting."
A moment of silence passed before Midoriya blinked and looked back at Emi. "Wait—what about Moshizuki-san?"
Endeavor turned to her. "She's staying. Another week."
Emi's eyes widened slightly. "I… what?"
"This isn't charity," Endeavor said bluntly, eyes narrowing. "You've got a handicap. And despite that, you kept up. No complaints. No excuses. You adapted."
He paused for a breath, then added, "I believe one-on-one training will benefit you more than group instruction right now. You've got potential—whether you see it or not. I already cleared it with U.A."
Emi stood frozen for a beat. All those offhand comments from him—"You responded faster that time," or "Good control. Do it again." She'd brushed them off, thinking he was just stating facts, maybe even tolerating her presence for Katsuki's sake.
But… he meant it.
She looked at the boys. Midoriya was grinning wide, supportive as always. Shoto gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment, like he wasn't surprised. And Katsuki—he was staring at Endeavor with an unreadable expression, jaw tight.
Then he turned to her. "Guess you impressed the bastard."
A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Guess so."
Katsuki stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Don't screw around. Take this seriously."
"I will," she said, voice soft but steady.
He stared at her for a beat longer, then reached out and flicked her forehead lightly. "Don't get soft without me around to yell at you."
She laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Midoriya and Shoto were already moving toward the car, but Katsuki lingered just a moment longer. His eyes met hers—dark red to dark pink—and something passed between them. A flicker of trust. Something unspoken, but real.
Then he turned, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
As the three boys left, Emi stood there, watching them disappear down the street. Her heart beat fast—not from nerves, but from the weight of what this next week could mean.
She was staying behind.
She was being chosen.
And for the first time in a long time, Emi Moshizuki believed maybe… just maybe… her blind side wasn't holding her back anymore.
⸻
The rumble of the agency's vehicle faded into the distance, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before. Emi stood alone now, the morning wind brushing past her cheeks. She looked down at her feet for a moment, then back up as Endeavor stepped forward, arms still crossed, his shadow stretching long across the concrete.
"You look nervous," he said bluntly.
Emi straightened. "A little," she admitted. "I didn't expect to stay longer."
"I don't keep people here who waste time," he said, his tone flat. "You're here because I see something worth honing. If that changes, you'll be on the next ride back."
Her breath caught, but she nodded. "Understood."
He stared at her a moment longer, then turned, beginning to walk back toward the building. Before he disappeared through the doors, he spoke again, voice lower this time.
"You've been surviving on instinct. That's good. But we're going to sharpen it. I don't care about sympathy or setbacks. I care about results."
She stood still, taking in his words, heart thudding a little harder—not in fear, but anticipation.
"Don't let that blind eye fool you," he added, almost as an afterthought, but there was a subtle weight behind it. "You're not half a hero."
Then he was gone.
Emi stared at the spot where he'd stood, wind twisting gently around her fingers like it understood her fire had been lit. She exhaled slowly, the nervousness in her chest giving way to something steadier.
Determination.
She turned toward the agency's entrance.
Time to get to work.
⸻
The sun was higher now, light spilling through the tall windows of the agency's halls. Emi stood in front of the mirror in the locker room, tightening her gloves. Her hero costume felt sharper today—more solid, more real. Like she wasn't just borrowing the title of "hero-in-training." She was earning it.
She exhaled slowly, flexing her fingers as a small breeze curled between her palms. Her earbud was in, tuned low, catching the subtle shift of the wind outside. Her blind side still hummed with uncertainty, but her instincts were sharper. More grounded.
She was ready.
With a final tug of her utility belt, Emi turned and made her way down the halls to the agency's main meeting room. The tall doors opened with a quiet hiss, and three heads turned to greet her.
"Kido, Onima, Kamiji," she said, nodding politely.
Kamiji—Burnin—was the first to grin, her fiery green hair practically crackling with energy. "Twister! Finally! Thought you'd be all nerves this morning, but look at you. Already suited up and looking sharp!"
Kido, ever more serious, gave a curt nod. "Punctual. Good start."
Onima leaned back with a casual grin. "Hope you've got the stamina to keep up, kid. We don't slow down for anyone."
Emi smiled a little, shoulders relaxing at their banter. "I'm not planning on slowing anyone down."
Kamiji slapped her on the back with a laugh. "That's what I like to hear! You're running with the real crew this week, Twister. No more training wheels."
Just then, Endeavor stepped into the room from a side door, his presence cutting through the chatter instantly. The sidekicks snapped to attention, and Emi straightened.
"We're heading out for patrol. Split routes, rotating formations," Endeavor said. "You'll be shadowing all of them throughout the day, and rotating with me. Eyes open. Learn fast. No wasted motion."
Emi nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good," he said. "Then move."
⸻
The rest of the day passed in a flurry of motion.
Emi moved with Burnin through the crowded city blocks first, learning how to control crowd flow during a building evacuation. Burnin's energy was infectious, her confidence radiating as she barked directions and helped guide civilians.
"You hear that?" she asked at one point, motioning toward Emi's earbud. "Let the wind tell you what's coming before it gets loud."
Next came Kido, quiet and tactical. He had her reading patrol patterns, analyzing traffic flow, and identifying suspicious behavior before it escalated.
"You need to stop relying on what you see," he told her bluntly at one point, glancing at her blind side. "Predict. Anticipate. Think three steps ahead."
Onima was all strength and precision—busting into a warehouse with Emi close behind when a robbery report came through. He handled the front while she flanked, wind compressing in her palms, ready to strike.
"You've got more power than you think," he said afterward. "Your control? That's what'll make you dangerous."
By the time she regrouped with Endeavor later in the afternoon, she was already flushed with heat, muscles aching in a way that was deeply satisfying. He didn't say much. Just gave her a look as they stood atop a high-rise, the city breathing below them.
"You didn't embarrass yourself," he said simply. "Keep it up."
Emi smiled, small and genuine.
The wind curled around her shoulders like it agreed.
⸻
The second day started early—earlier than she expected.
No briefing. No warning. Just a sharp "Gear up. Outside. Now." from Endeavor over the comm system before the sun had even finished rising.
Emi stood on the rooftop of the training facility behind the agency, breathing heavily, sweat already clinging to her neck. The air was still cool, but her lungs burned. Kido, Onima, and Kamiji were all spaced out across the wide-open space—waiting.
"You're not patrolling today," Endeavor said, stepping forward. "You're fighting."
Her fingers twitched instinctively, wind coiling between them.
"Your blind side is a weakness," Kido said coldly. "So we're going to punish it until you start treating it like a weapon."
"Losing track of targets, hesitation, delay in reaction," Kamiji added, her grin unusually sharp. "All of it—we're gonna beat it out of you."
"You drop once, you get up," Onima said simply. "You stay down, this whole week's a waste."
The drills started immediately.
Kido struck from behind with spatial twists that made her lose her footing. Kamiji overwhelmed her with speed, firelight dancing too close to her peripheral vision. Onima came at her with raw power, forcing her to block or redirect his blows with tight bursts of wind. One mistake, and he swept her legs out from under her.
Over. And over.
And over again.
By the second hour, Emi's arms were trembling. Her gloves were scuffed. Her knees stung from hitting the rooftop too many times to count. Her breathing was shallow, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
She'd never been pushed to this point.
Not like this.
Every time she tried to get a breath, someone came at her again. Kido from the blind side. Kamiji through the front. Onima from above. Endeavor, watching from the side, didn't say a word.
And she—
She kept getting up.
Not because she felt like a hero. Not because she wanted to impress them.
She was pissed.
Frustration started to burn in her gut. That small, sharp ember that had been flickering ever since Kamino. Since she woke up with a part of her gone and the world expecting her to just adjust.
She was adjusting.
But that didn't mean she wasn't angry about it.
The next time Onima charged her, Emi didn't try to dodge. She planted her feet, swung her left side back just a hair, and blasted a compressed jet of wind straight at his torso, sending him skidding across the rooftop with a surprised grunt.
Kamiji let out a loud, "Whoa-ho!" as she ducked the follow-up burst Emi flung at her.
"Finally," Kido muttered with a rare smirk. "She's fighting like she means it."
Onima got up, dusting himself off, and chuckled. "There it is."
Emi's chest was heaving, her good eye blazing, her blind side still dark—but she felt everything. The shifts in air pressure. The movement of feet behind her. The way Kido rotated space just slightly to the left—she felt it.
She didn't speak. She just raised her arms again.
"Keep going," she snapped.
Kamiji grinned like she'd been waiting for that. "Thought you'd never say it."
The drill didn't stop. It got harder.
But so did she.
And up on the edge of the rooftop, arms crossed, Endeavor finally gave the faintest nod.
Exactly what he wanted to see.
⸻
The sun was low on the horizon, casting golden light across the city as Emi walked alongside the sidekicks down a quiet street near the agency. Her hair was damp from a quick rinse in the locker room, her body sore in all the right—and wrong—places, and an ice pack was pressed gently to her left shoulder where she'd taken a hard hit earlier.
Her costume had been swapped for a simple hoodie and joggers, but she still walked with the weight of the day in every step. Not defeated.
Just tired. And alive.
Burnin strolled at her side, practically bouncing with leftover energy despite the brutal training session. Onima walked ahead with his hands in his pockets, while Kido brought up the rear, always scanning, always thinking.
"Still standing," Kamiji said with a grin, tossing Emi a sideways look. "That's a good sign."
"Barely," Emi muttered, adjusting the ice pack. "I think my ribs have bruises that have bruises."
"You'll be stronger for it," Kido said from behind her, cool and certain.
"Was that the goal?" she asked, half-sarcastic, half-curious. "Break me down until I crack open?"
"Nah," Onima called from ahead, glancing over his shoulder. "We weren't trying to break you. Just see what you'd do when you hit your limit."
"Turns out you bite back," Kamiji said, flashing a proud smirk.
Emi chuckled under her breath and looked down for a moment, the wind brushing lightly past her face. "So… why me? Why the extra week?"
The group was quiet for a few steps.
Then Kido spoke.
"Endeavor's not sentimental. You know that."
"I noticed."
"He doesn't keep interns unless there's potential. He saw it early—even if he didn't say it. You didn't back down in the Kamino incident. You got hit hard and kept moving. Even now, with your vision compromised, you're still fighting like hell to stay on your feet."
"And that matters to him?" Emi asked, genuinely unsure.
"To him?" Kamiji said. "It defines being a hero."
Onima nodded. "He doesn't pity you. He doesn't waste time on pity. But what he does do is train people who are ready to push past limits. And you? You're doing that."
"You're not just here because of Bakugo," Kido added. "You earned your spot this week. And we wouldn't be wasting our time if we didn't believe you could be standing with us as a pro someday."
Emi slowed her steps, absorbing all of it. For a second, she didn't know what to say.
But the warmth in her chest had nothing to do with the sunset.
"…Thanks," she finally said, quiet but firm.
"Don't get soft on us now," Kamiji teased, nudging her shoulder carefully.
"I won't," she said with a grin.
As they reached the small restaurant the team usually hit after tough patrol days, Emi straightened her back and followed them in—sore, bruised, and still holding her ice pack.
But more sure than ever: She was exactly where she needed to be.
⸻
The room Endeavor's agency provided was quiet, clean, and dimly lit by the soft glow of the city outside the window. Emi sat on the edge of her bed, hair damp from a quick shower, dressed in an oversized hoodie and shorts. A half-melted ice pack rested on the nightstand next to her.
She stared at her phone for a second, then finally tapped the call button.
It didn't even ring twice.
"What happened?" Bakugo's voice came through immediately, low and sharp like he'd been waiting with it in his hand.
Emi blinked. "Wow. Not even a 'hello?' You sound like I just got hit by a truck."
"Tch. You didn't text all day."
She laughed under her breath. "So you assumed I was dying?"
"You do have a history of getting into life-or-death situations every five minutes," he shot back.
"Fair point," she said, settling back against the wall. "But I'm fine. Just sore."
There was a pause. "How bad?"
"Nothing a gallon of ice and a week of stretching won't fix," she teased. "They're putting me through the wringer."
"Who? The sidekicks?"
"All of them. Plus Endeavor watching like a hawk." She shifted, eyes on the ceiling. "They're not going easy on me. But I can already tell it's working."
Another pause. Quieter this time.
"…Yeah?"
"Yeah. They're drilling into every weak spot I've got. Especially my blind side. It sucks, but… I feel like I'm finally really adapting."
Bakugo didn't say anything right away, but she could hear the tension in his silence.
"…Good," he finally muttered. "That's good."
"You can stop worrying, you know," she said, a playful note in her voice. "You're acting like a mother hen."
"I am not—" he started, clearly offended.
"You so are," she grinned. "Next thing I know, you'll be mailing me vitamins and checking if I'm eating enough vegetables."
He growled under his breath. "You're lucky I'm not there to toss that damn ice pack across the room."
"I'd just wind-blast it right back at you," she said, smile softening. "But… thanks. For caring."
A long beat.
"Yeah, well… don't make me regret vouching for you," he said, but his voice was quieter now. "You're not just some tagalong."
"I know."
They let the silence hang between them—warm, unspoken.
"…I miss you," Emi said finally, not too soft, not too heavy.
Bakugo let out a sharp breath. "Yeah. Me too."
It was all that needed to be said.
"Okay," she said with a light exhale, eyes closing. "I should sleep before they throw me into a building tomorrow or something."
"Let me know if they do," he muttered. "I'll blow it up."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Goodnight, Katsuki."
"'Night, Emi."
⸻
The morning air buzzed faintly with static as Emi adjusted her gloves on the rooftop. It had been nearly a week since the start of her extended work study, and something inside her had shifted.
Her body still ached after long days, sure—but now it was a familiar ache, the kind that came from progress. Her movements were tighter, more instinctive. Her wind responded faster, more precisely. And her once-quiet approach to fighting had developed an edge—a bite.
She didn't shout or bark orders like some heroes did. But when she hit, it meant something.
Today, it was just her and Endeavor.
They stood in silence on the edge of a rooftop downtown, the sun climbing behind them, casting long shadows across the city.
"You've improved," Endeavor said without turning to her.
"Thank you, sir," she replied, calm, but the confidence in her tone was unmistakable.
"You've still got room to grow."
"I plan to."
A faint rush of air swept past them—and then a feather fluttered into Emi's peripheral vision.
"You're both so serious in the mornings," came a teasing voice. Hawks dropped into a crouch beside them, his red wings stretching with a dramatic flap. "I was starting to think I'd need to bring coffee and lighten the mood."
Emi raised a brow, smirking slightly. "You could do that next time."
"I'll consider it," Hawks grinned, then glanced at Endeavor. "You sure she's ready for this?"
"She wouldn't be here if she wasn't."
Hawks gave Emi a thoughtful once-over. "Good. Because today's not gonna be your average patrol."
Emi straightened, wind stirring faintly at her heels. "What's happening?"
"There's been a string of disappearances in an industrial district outside town," Hawks said, pulling out a folded map. "Cameras caught strange movement last night. Real strange. The kind that screams 'League of Villains' and then some."
Emi felt her heartbeat slow, not spike. Calm, controlled—but alert.
"The League of Villains?" she echoed, tone low. Focused.
"Yes, we think so," Hawks said, eyes more serious now.
The name dropped like stone.
Her breath hitched. Her mind flashed—Kamino. Shigaraki. Her blind side, the pain, the panic. But she didn't back up. She didn't flinch.
She just closed her hand into a fist.
"You in?" Hawks asked, testing.
She nodded once. "Absolutely."
Endeavor gave a grunt of approval. "Then we move."
As the three heroes leapt from the rooftop, wings, flames, and wind slicing through the morning air, Emi didn't feel fear.
She felt ready.
She didn't know what was waiting for them.
But she wasn't the same girl who got dragged into hell at Kamino.
This time—she'd be walking in on her own two feet.
⸻
They landed silently in a narrow alley between two crumbling warehouses, the industrial district long abandoned except for the rusted bones of machines and half-sunken shipping containers. Hawks' feathers spread out like a radar grid, scanning the perimeter as Emi adjusted her stance behind Endeavor.
"Intel picked up League chatter in the area," Hawks said, voice low. "Some survivors from Kamino, maybe new recruits. We're looking at a small recon unit, maybe two or three."
"No word on Quirks?" Endeavor asked, eyes scanning the shadows.
"Not yet. But they've been moving like they're setting something up." Hawks cocked his head slightly. "That's why we're here first. Fast and clean."
Emi's pulse was steady, her wind curling around her wrists like silk. Her nerves were taut, but she'd been in worse.
She thought she'd been in worse.
The warehouse in front of them groaned softly in the breeze.
Then the back wall exploded.
A blur of muscle, bone, and sinew launched through the debris—twisting, inhuman—and landed in front of them with a heavy crash, concrete shattering under its feet.
Emi's blood ran cold.
It was tall—nearly ten feet—with exposed muscle tissue stretching over its frame like armor. Tubes pumped some foul green fluid through its body. Its eyes were glowing. And worst of all—
It spoke.
"I came… for the strongest," it growled, mouth distorting around the words. "Endeavor… fight me."
Hawks immediately launched backward, feathers like daggers swarming out to shield Emi, but she didn't move.
Couldn't move.
Not at first.
Her left eye—a blank, blind haze—throbbed. Her scar itched. Her heart hammered.
This was a High-End. This was worse than Kamino.
But Endeavor stepped forward without a word, flames beginning to build around his shoulders.
And Emi—
She swallowed. Hard.
Then stepped out from behind the feathers.
"I'm not leaving," she said, voice steadier than she felt. "I'll support from the sides. I can amplify your flames. Push the air around your attacks. I won't get in the way."
Endeavor turned just slightly to glance at her.
She didn't look away.
"…Fine," he said. "Stay sharp."
Hawks raised an eyebrow but gave a small nod of approval.
"Then let's give this thing a reason to regret showing up."
The Nomu let out a low snarl, crouched low.
And the street exploded into heat and motion.
Endeavor surged forward, fire roaring in his wake. Emi backed into a wide circle, controlling the air around her, pushing concentrated bursts behind Endeavor's attacks, turning fire into lances that hit harder, faster.
The Nomu adapted fast, its limbs mutating mid-fight, but Emi kept feeding the inferno.
Her body screamed in protest.
But she didn't stop. Not this time.
⸻
The common room of Heights Alliance was buzzing with chatter until Mina suddenly grabbed the remote and cranked the volume on the TV.
"Guys—look!" she said, eyes wide.
The screen showed a shaky live broadcast from a news helicopter. Below, an industrial district was in flames, the source of the chaos centered around a monstrous figure battling the flaming silhouette of the No. 1 Hero.
A High-End Nomu.
And just behind the blaze—moving with sharp wind trails and bursts of pressure—
"Is that…?" Iida leaned in, adjusting his glasses.
"That's Emi," Uraraka whispered, standing slowly, hands over her mouth.
The screen cut to a closer shot—Endeavor clashing brutally with the High-End while wind surged in sharp, controlled bursts around him, assisting, pushing, accelerating. A dark figure behind him—gloved hands raised, eyes focused, one side of her face still scarred.
It was Emi.
The elevator doors behind them dinged open—and Katsuki stepped out, towel around his neck from a recent workout, brows furrowed at the noise.
Kirishima shot to his feet, voice loud and urgent. "Bakugo! Hurry, get over here!"
"What the hell are you yelling abou—"
He froze halfway into the room as his eyes landed on the TV.
His jaw clenched. He stepped forward slowly, eyes locked on the screen.
Wind swirled. Flames erupted. The Nomu swung a mutated, jagged arm and Emi barely dodged back, regaining distance, her stance steady but clearly under pressure.
"…That's a High-End," Bakugo muttered, voice low. "That's a damn High-End" Katsuki's hands were already curling into fists at his sides. His eyes didn't leave the screen for a second.
No one dared speak. The tension in the room was heavy, every Class 1-A student watching their classmate—their friend—fighting against something that had once pushed the No. 1 hero to the brink.
She looked small next to Endeavor.
But she didn't look weak.
And Katsuki?
He was already thinking ahead—gritting his teeth, heart pounding, practically vibrating with the urge to do something.
To get to her.
To fight by her side.
But all he could do was watch.
⸻
The battle was turning. Endeavor's flames scorched the area, but the High-End Nomu was too powerful. It absorbed every attack with terrifying resilience, its body shifting and adapting to the flames, throwing brutal counterattacks. Endeavor was slowing down, exhaustion starting to creep into his movements.
Then, with a fierce roar, Endeavor called upon his most powerful technique—Prominence Burn—a blinding eruption of fiery power that filled the street, incinerating everything in its path. But as the flames swirled around him, it wasn't enough to break through the Nomu's defenses.
Emi's heart raced. She couldn't let him fight alone.
"I can help!" she shouted over the roar of the flames, wind swirling around her hands. She thrust her palms outward, the wind picking up speed, spiraling with a force that whipped the flames forward, making them hotter, faster, more concentrated. The two elements combined in a fierce explosion of power.
The High-End Nomu staggered, its feet sliding back slightly from the force of the enhanced flames, but it wasn't enough to stop it. It bared its teeth, the vicious gleam in its eyes locking onto Emi.
"I told you to stay out of this," the Nomu snarled, its voice guttural and commanding. "This is not your fight."
Emi's eyes flashed with defiance, her voice unwavering. "I'm not backing down."
It didn't matter. The Nomu's glowing eyes narrowed as it ignored Endeavor's flames for a moment, deciding to deal with the source of the wind's power.
In one swift, horrifying move, the Nomu swatted Endeavor aside, his body thrown through the air like a ragdoll. With an inhuman leap, the Nomu launched toward Emi, its jagged, spiked limbs extending with terrifying speed.
"No!" Emi gasped, her heart racing, and before she could react, the Nomu crashed into her with full force, sending her careening through several buildings. She didn't even have time to scream as the world exploded into fragments of concrete, steel, and dust.
Her body slammed into the pavement, her breath knocked out of her, but she forced herself to stand, shaking, blood trickling from a gash in her forehead.
The Nomu appeared in front of her, looming like a nightmare made flesh. She stumbled back, her knees buckling with the force of the impact. But she couldn't afford to fall. Not yet.
"I'll finish you, human," the Nomu growled, bringing its foot down hard. Emi tried to block, but she was too slow—too weak.
She crashed into the road, making a massive crater with her body. The ground cracked beneath her, and the air left her lungs in a painful wheeze. But she fought to get up, to move, to do something.
The High-End Nomu loomed over her, grabbing her by the leg and hurling her across the street like a ragdoll. She barely had time to process the motion before it was on top of her, raining down brutal blows.
Boom—a punch to her ribs.
Crack—another to her chest.
Boom—her head slammed into the concrete.
Emi gasped for breath, her vision swimming. She couldn't feel her body. The pain was unbearable, but she refused to scream. She refused to let this thing see her break. Every strike felt like it could be the last, but her will—her resolve—kept her fighting.
The Nomu didn't relent, though.
It kept hitting, over and over.
And over again.
Its hands battering her like a machine. Each blow sent her deeper into the ground. Emi's body was breaking. She could feel it.
⸻
Back in the Heights Alliance common room, the students of Class 1-A were still glued to the screen. The battle was far from over, and they could see it all in real-time.
"Come on, Emi!" Uraraka whispered desperately, her hands clenched into fists. "Please be okay!"
Kirishima was pacing, his eyes wide with fear. "Why aren't they stopping it?! She can't—she's—"
Aiwa suddenly appeared in the corner of the room, his expression grave. He didn't say anything at first, just watching the screen with a furrowed brow. The students barely noticed him at first, but then—
The camera zoomed in on Emi.
She was on the ground, barely moving, her body battered. The Nomu was raising its fist again, ready to deliver the next blow.
"Is she…?" Mina's voice was choked, barely above a whisper.
The whole room went quiet, the tension thick enough to choke.
Katsuki's fists clenched at his sides as he watched. His eyes never left the screen, the familiar fire igniting in his chest. He couldn't be here. He couldn't do anything but watch from this side.
But his heart raced with a fury like he hadn't felt before.
"Emi," he muttered under his breath, teeth grinding. "Get up."
⸻
The Nomu raised its fist again, intent on finishing her. Blood dripped from its knuckles, the concrete beneath Emi stained and cracked. Her limbs trembled, her chest barely rising.
But before the strike could land—
Boom.
A wall of fire erupted between them.
The Nomu reeled back with a guttural snarl as Endeavor came crashing in like a meteor, his flames blinding, his face twisted in unfiltered rage.
"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he bellowed, igniting into a blazing inferno that scorched the street with his fury.
The Nomu was launched backward, smashing through a building and disappearing in a cloud of smoke and flame.
Silence fell in the wreckage.
For a moment, it was unclear if Emi would move. Her body was broken—bruised, burned, bleeding—but then…
She stirred.
A low groan escaped her lips as she pushed her hand against the ground. One eye—her good eye—opened, barely. Swollen and bloodied, she still forced herself to rise.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her shoulder hung limply at her side, dislocated. Her legs shook under her own weight. But there was something burning in her expression—
Fury. Determination.
Her wind flared around her again, sharp and unrelenting. She didn't speak.
She didn't have to. She rose.
Endeavor saw her, hovering just above the cracked pavement, and gave a sharp nod. She ascended beside him, both battered, both blazing.
The High-End roared again as it reappeared from the smoke, regenerating, its frame pulsing grotesquely.
But this time, it wasn't just fighting Endeavor.
It was facing them both.
And beside him—her body bruised, her flight uneven, blood dripping down her temple—Emi rose to fight.
Hovering at his side, she didn't falter.
They soared together into the sky—one a raging inferno, the other a storm of cutting wind and pressure.
Up above the city skyline, they circled the Nomu like twin gods preparing their final judgment. Wind surged. Fire howled.
Their battle cries split the sky as they charged.
"PROMINENCE BURN!!"
"WIND PRESSURE SURGE!!"
They moved as one.
A single, blinding explosion of heat and force burst from them, wind feeding fire, fire carving through the air like a blade. You could only see the whites of their eyes as they screamed, channeling everything they had into one final, obliterating strike.
A torrent of wind and flame engulfed the Nomu.
The sky turned white.
The force of the attack cracked the clouds above, splitting the air with a deafening boom. You could only see the whites of their eyes in that final moment—raw, blazing determination as they pushed past their limits and beyond.
The Nomu screamed, its voice drowned beneath the hellish storm of fire and wind.
The High-End Nomu didn't even have time to react.
It was engulfed—atomized in a flash of white-hot brilliance that shook the very foundations of the city.
The light faded.
Smoke lingered in the sky.
⸻
CUT TO: HEIGHTS ALLIANCE COMMON ROOM
The TV screen flickered as smoke filled the scene, the reporter barely speaking through their own disbelief.
No one in Class 1-A was moving.
Tears streamed silently down Mina's face. Kirishima's mouth was parted in awe. Iida's hands trembled at his sides. Uraraka gripped the couch cushion like it was the only thing anchoring her.
"Holy crap…" Kaminari whispered.
On screen, the camera caught a distant, scorched silhouette of two figures slowly descending from the sky.
One was all flame.
The other—torn, bloodied, wind swirling gently at her heels.
"…She's alive," Yaoyorozu breathed.
Katsuki didn't speak.
He was standing, fists clenched, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those sharp, red eyes—were locked on Emi.
Burning with pride.
And something deeper.
"She won," he muttered under his breath. "Dumbass actually won."
And he smiled.
⸻
ENDEAVOR AGENCY — LATE NIGHT
The building was quiet, the air still heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. The battle had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline still hadn't fully faded.
Emi sat on a bench near one of the agency's treatment rooms, her uniform torn and singed, her shoulder now bandaged and held in a sling. One eye was still swollen, and deep purple bruises ran along her jaw and ribs. But she sat upright, her wind gently rustling around her as if to say, I'm still here.
Endeavor stepped into the hallway, fresh bandages covering the burns on his arms, a slight limp in his stride. He looked like a wreck—but stood like a mountain.
They didn't speak right away.
Just silence between them, broken only by the faint hum of the agency's lights.
Finally, Endeavor stopped beside her, arms crossed, gaze fixed forward.
"…You were impressive today," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Not many pros could've kept up in a fight like that. And fewer would've had the guts to stay after what that thing did to you."
Emi blinked, surprised at the honesty in his tone. She turned slightly toward him.
"Thank you," she said softly. "I wasn't sure I'd make it through… but I couldn't leave you to face it alone."
Endeavor nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "You're not just here because Bakugo vouched for you anymore."
He looked down at her—this bruised, battered, determined student—and for the first time, the corners of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But something close.
"You've got the makings of a pro," he said. "A real one."
Emi's eyes widened, stunned by the rare and raw praise.
"…That means a lot coming from you."
"Tch. Don't let it get to your head," he grunted, already turning to walk away—but he paused at the doorway. "Rest up. You've earned it."
And with that, he was gone, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
Emi sat in silence again, her heart pounding—not from fear, but pride. She looked down at her bruised hands, flexing her fingers.
She'd done it.
She hadn't just survived. She'd fought and won.
⸻
U.A. — HEIGHTS ALLIANCE DORMS — EVENING
The sun was dipping low behind the school buildings, casting long shadows over the familiar path leading to the dorms. Emi walked slowly, every step a reminder of the bruises still healing beneath her uniform.
Her left eye was still swollen, purple and puffy, though not nearly as bad as it had been days ago. Her arm was in a sling, shoulder properly set but sore, the wrappings peeking from beneath her sleeve. The wind rustled faintly at her side—subdued, but ever-present.
As she reached the dorms, the front door suddenly swung open.
"EMI!!"
Mina's voice rang out first as the rest of Class 1-A spilled into the doorway behind her.
"Holy crap, you're walking!" Kaminari yelled, practically sprinting out.
"YOU'RE ALIVE!!" Kirishima cheered, pumping his fist.
"Welcome back!" Yaoyorozu called with a warm smile.
Everyone surged forward with relieved laughter, shouts, and clapping—some careful, some not-so-careful—but all overwhelmed with joy to see her standing there in one piece.
Even Aizawa, standing off to the side, gave a subtle nod.
Katsuki came last.
He stepped out of the dorms slowly, hands shoved in his pockets, face unreadable as the others parted around him.
His crimson eyes locked on hers—eye still bruised, arm still in a sling—and his brows knit tightly.
"You idiot," he muttered, voice low but raw.
Emi didn't say anything at first. She just smiled, tired but real, and stepped forward—wrapping her good arm around him and pulling him into a hug.
"I missed you too," she said against his chest.
For a second, he didn't move.
Then she felt his hand press against the small of her back, holding her gently.
"…Don't ever scare me like that again," he murmured, barely audible.
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes shining.
"No promises."
Katsuki rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
The class slowly trailed back inside, cheering and chatting, and Emi walked through the doors of Heights Alliance once more—not as someone who needed help…
But as someone who belonged, her days being alone in her apartment, or even before that alone at the orphanage, long forgotten.
⸻
HEIGHTS ALLIANCE — COMMON AREA — LATER THAT NIGHT
The dorm's common room buzzed with life. Everyone had gathered to hang out, celebrate Emi's return, and fill her in on everything she'd missed. Sero had brought snacks. Kaminari was doing bad impressions of Hawks. Jirou was low-key blasting music from her phone. It was chaotic and perfect.
Emi sat curled up on the couch, her sling still on but her mood light. There was a blanket over her legs, a cup of hot tea in her good hand, and laughter around her.
It felt good to breathe again.
Eventually, Iida stood and began ushering people toward the stairwell like a responsible class rep.
"It's late! Let's allow Emi to rest and all get proper sleep. She needs recovery time, and we all need to be ready for class tomorrow!"
Groans and grumbles followed, but the group started to scatter. Emi pushed herself up slowly from the couch, grabbing her cup and sling bag.
As she turned toward the stairs, she noticed Katsuki standing near the wall, arms crossed.
He didn't say anything—just tilted his head toward the stairwell.
She smiled.
They walked up in comfortable silence. The dorm hallway was quiet, the low hum of night settling over U.A.
When they reached her room, she unlocked the door and turned back to him. "Wanna come in for a bit?"
He gave a short nod, stepping inside with her. The room was neat and dimly lit, a few photos of her friends and wind-patterned décor making it feel like home.
She sat on the edge of the bed with a tired sigh, adjusting her sling.
Katsuki leaned against her desk, arms still folded like he was holding in more than he wanted to say.
Then he finally spoke.
"You got your ass beat by a Nomu again."
Emi laughed, a light huff that made her wince. "Yeah, I noticed."
He frowned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Seriously, what the hell? I thought we were done with that."
She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. "I just have bad luck, I guess."
Then she looked at him with a tired smirk.
"It's always a damn Nomu."
Katsuki scoffed, but the corners of his mouth twitched. He stepped closer and crouched in front of her, hands resting on his knees.
"You didn't run," he muttered. "Even when it went for you. You stayed and fought."
"I wasn't gonna let him fight alone," she said softly. "That'd be… stupid."
He stared at her for a moment, red eyes serious. Then he leaned forward and gently bumped his forehead against hers—careful not to hit her bruised side.
"I'm glad you're okay, dumbass."
She smiled and closed her eyes for a second. "Me too."
They sat there in the quiet of her room, just the two of them, the chaos of battle behind them—for now.