The darkness that swallowed me after the fight felt brief. I was jolted awake not by a sound, but by a pervasive, all-encompassing sensation of pain. It wasn't like a broken bone or a burn. This was a deeper pain, the ache of every single muscle fiber in my body screaming in protest, as if they had been stretched to their limit and then violently snapped back into place. I opened my eyes to a sterile, white ceiling. I was in the U.A. infirmary.
"About time you woke up, young man."
I turned my head with difficulty. The Youthful Heroine, Recovery Girl, was sitting in a chair by my bed, looking at me with a sharp gaze from behind her glasses.
"How...?" my voice was a hoarse whisper.
"How are you still conscious after pushing your body like that? Good question," she said, coming closer and checking the IV drip in my arm. "This isn't a normal injury I can fix with a kiss. No severe fractures, no deep lacerations. But my scans show micro-tears in nearly all of your muscle tissue. Your stamina is depleted to a dangerous level. It's as if your body just went to war with itself. What kind of Quirk do you have, that it demands such a heavy price?"
I had no easy answer for her. "It's… complicated," was all I could manage.
I remembered the final moments of the fight. The sensation of the complete Incursio armor enveloping me. It wasn't just physical power. It was a wave of primal rage, a pure killing instinct that threatened to drown my consciousness. I had to fight not only against Bakugo's Howitzer Impact, but also against the savage whispers in my own head that demanded total destruction. That victory felt like one earned by peeking into an abyss, and the abyss had stared back at me.
The infirmary door opened quietly, and two figures—one visible, the other just a floating uniform—slipped inside. "Tatsumi-kun!" Toru whispered anxiously.
"We heard you were awake," Momo said, standing behind Toru, her face showing sincere relief.
Recovery Girl clicked her tongue. "Just five minutes, and don't make him move too much." She gave us some privacy, returning to her desk.
"You're a real idiot, you know that?" Toru said as she came closer, though her tone was more worried than angry. She placed a bottle of an isotonic drink on my bedside table. "But… that was the coolest and craziest thing I've ever seen."
"I agree with the crazy part," Momo added. She was holding a data tablet, an old habit. "I've been trying to find data on Quirks with armor manifestations that cause systemic muscle fatigue like this. The results are nil. Your Quirk is truly an anomaly, Tatsumi-san. But the way you used it to withstand Bakugo-san's attack… that was a tremendous risk calculation."
"I didn't have much of a choice," I said, trying to smile. "Sometimes, the only way to stop an explosion is to become a harder wall."
We chatted for a moment, their presence a soothing balm on my aching body. They recounted the class's reaction and the crowd's cheers. Hearing it from them made my victory feel more real. After a few minutes, the door opened again. But this time, the figure who entered made us all fall silent. It was a skeletal, emaciated man with sunken eyes and an ill-looking appearance. But I recognized him instantly. Yagi Toshinori. All Might.
He gave Momo and Toru a faint smile. "May I borrow your friend for a moment, young ladies?"
Momo and Toru, slightly taken aback by the sickly-looking stranger's entrance, could only nod and politely excuse themselves, shooting me a confused glance as they left.
All Might pulled a chair over and sat beside me. He looked at me for a long time, his gaze far sharper than his frail appearance suggested. "Principal Nezu showed me the full recordings of all your fights," he said, his voice quiet. "And the footage of your entrance exam as well."
I could only remain silent, waiting.
"A power like that," he continued. "One that emerges from desperation, that exacts such a heavy toll on its user's body… that is a very dangerous path, Tatsumi Shonen. I know a thing or two about a power that destroys your own body." He gave a small cough, a bit of blood appearing at the corner of his lips before he quickly wiped it away.
"You have the spirit of a true hero. You protect others, you think strategically, and you have the will to endure pain that would make most pro heroes collapse. But do not let that power consume you from within. You must find a balance. You must become its master, not the other way around. Otherwise, one day, you will unleash it and there won't be a 'you' left to come back to."
His words, spoken with a heavy seriousness, felt like both a burden and an acknowledgment. The Number One Hero, in his most vulnerable form, was warning me. He saw the same danger in me that he saw in Midoriya, though from a different source. "I… I will try, All Might," I answered sincerely.
He nodded, looking satisfied. "Good." He stood up. "Now rest. You will need all your strength for the final round." With that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the echo of his warning.
I turned on the monitor in the infirmary, just in time for the second semi-final match: Todoroki Shoto versus Tenya Iida. I was expecting a fierce battle. But then, an announcement was made.
"Due to a family emergency, Iida Tenya has withdrawn from the tournament! Therefore, Todoroki Shoto advances to the final round!"
My heart sank. A family emergency. I knew exactly what that meant. Somewhere in Hosu City, the Hero Killer: Stain had just attacked Ingenium, Iida's older brother. I gripped my blanket. The wheels of fate kept turning, cruel and inevitable, even while we were all distracted by the splendor of this festival. The real world, with all its horrors, never truly stopped.
So, it was decided. The final would be me against Todoroki. The strategist versus the walking natural disaster. The man who had to beg for power from his dragon against the prince who held limitless power yet rejected half of himself. It was a battle of the most extreme contrasts.
Recovery Girl returned a short while later. "Alright, young man. I've given you enough time to rest," she said, checking my vitals. She gave me a healing kiss on the forehead. I felt a soothing wave of energy flow through my body, mending most of the muscle tears and taking the worst of the exhaustion away. But I still felt sore. "This is as much as I'll do. I'm not going to heal you completely if you just intend to break yourself again in the final. A hero must know their limits."
I understood her message. I was left alone again in the quiet room, with my thoughts as my only company. I had to fight Todoroki. I couldn't possibly withstand his devastating attacks of ice and fire in my current condition. I couldn't risk calling on the full Incursio again; All Might's warning was still ringing in my ears. What was I to do?
I thought of Midoriya, who willingly broke his body to save his opponent's soul. I thought of Iida, who must now be rushing to his brother's side, the festival meaningless to him. I thought of my parents, of Momo, of Toru. This was no longer just a tournament. It was a statement. It was a chance to show the world—and myself—what kind of hero I wanted to be.
I closed my eyes, ignoring the lingering pain, and reached inward. I felt my dragon's heartbeat, faint and tired after the battle with Bakugo. It was wounded, too. I didn't ask for power. I demanded nothing. I simply sent a feeling, a clear, unshakable intention.
'I will fight,' I thought, projecting my thoughts into the warmth in my chest. 'I don't know if we can win. I will probably get hurt badly. But we will not run. Whatever happens, we will face that storm of ice and fire together.'
I felt a faint pulse in return. A tired acknowledgment. It was enough.
The infirmary door opened. A U.A. official stood there. "Tatsumi-kun. It's time."
With a deep breath, I swung my legs off the bed. Every muscle protested, but I ignored it. I stood, my body feeling heavy but my mind as sharp as steel. I walked slowly but steadily toward the light of the arena waiting at the end of the tunnel. I was going to face my final battle, whatever the outcome.