Enough

Hawks paced the floor of the faculty meeting room, the usual calm and casual demeanor that everyone knew him for absent. Instead, a palpable tension seemed to radiate from him. His wings twitched restlessly behind him, the feathers rustling with each sharp step. His cool expression had been replaced by a fury that only those closest to him had ever seen. Even his ever-present smirk was missing, replaced with a tightness that made the atmosphere feel suffocating.

The air in the room grew thick with anticipation as Hawks’ frustrated steps echoed across the floor. The silence that fell after he spoke was heavy, filled with disbelief and barely contained anger. “This is ridiculous. How the hell does a student—my student—just vanish from U.A.? You’re telling me no one saw anything?”

Aizawa and Yagi exchanged a quick, silent glance, both of them understanding the gravity of the situation. Yagi was the first to speak, his voice calm but laced with a quiet tension. “We don’t have all the answers yet, Hawks. But what we do know is that when we arrived at her apartment, it was clear someone had been there. There was a large amount of blood in the kitchen, and the window had been broken. It’s obvious that someone was after her.”

Aizawa, who had remained quiet up until then, added his own grim assessment. His voice was low and measured, his gaze sharp as he spoke. “We also found ashes—remains of something or someone—in the gym. We can’t confirm if the ashes are related, but they could point to someone with a decay-based quirk being involved.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and dark. Hawks’ entire body tensed at the mention of a decay-based quirk. His mind raced, trying to piece everything together, but the fragments didn’t add up. “A decay-based quirk?” His voice was strained, as if the words were physically painful to say. “So, someone with the ability to break down anything they touch? That’s dangerous. But… why would they target her?” His eyes narrowed, frustration edging his voice as he continued. “She’s just a quirkless student. No offense, but who the hell would want a quirkless girl? What’s the endgame here?”

Aizawa rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Yagi before responding. “It’s a valid question, Hawks. But the truth is, we don’t have a clear answer yet. Whoever did this went through a lot of effort. This wasn’t just about hurting her—it was about sending a message. We’re still trying to figure out exactly what that message is.” His eyes darkened, the weight of the unknown hanging heavy between them.

Yagi’s voice softened as he added, his gaze thoughtful. “The fact that Y/N is missing means someone knew exactly how to get to her. This wasn’t a random attack. She was targeted.”

Hawks’ wings fluttered restlessly, as if echoing the agitation running through him. He was trying to process the information, but it wasn’t making sense. “Targeted… so someone with enough power and knowledge to know she wouldn’t be able to defend herself properly? It doesn’t make sense. She didn’t have any enemies at U.A. She didn’t even have a quirk. So why her?” His words came out in a rush, the confusion and frustration finally bubbling over. The question had been gnawing at him since the moment he’d heard about Y/N’s disappearance, but no matter how many times he asked it, the answer didn’t come.

The silence in the room deepened, thick with uncertainty and unanswered questions. Hawks stopped pacing, his wings stilling behind him as he ran a hand through his messy hair. His jaw clenched, and his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before lifting again to meet the others. His voice was tight with emotion when he spoke again.

“I’ve been working with her for a while, and I know she’s had a rough past. But what I can’t figure out is why someone would want to disappear her. It’s driving me insane, you know?” His voice faltered for a moment, the frustration and helplessness seeping through. “She doesn’t have anything to give—no connections, no powerful quirk, nothing that would make her a target in the first place! It doesn’t make sense!”

Aizawa’s eyes softened slightly, though his expression remained serious, unwavering. “Sometimes it’s not about power or what someone has. It could be about what they know or what they can do. We’re still missing crucial details, but there’s something about this whole situation that feels off. Like we’re not seeing the full picture.”

Hawks met Aizawa’s gaze, and the hard resolve in his eyes reflected the same sense of urgency that burned within him. “I’m not waiting around for more answers. I’m going to find her. Whoever’s behind this is going to regret ever laying a finger on her.” His voice dropped to a growl, a fierce determination settling over him as his wings ruffled in agitation. “Y/N may not have a quirk, but she’s not powerless. She will survive this.”

Yagi nodded solemnly, his expression serious as he placed a hand on Hawks’ shoulder. “We’re with you, Hawks. But for now, we need to be strategic. You know as well as I do that making a move too soon could tip off the person responsible.”

Hawks clenched his jaw, clearly unwilling to wait any longer. His frustration boiled over, but he knew Yagi was right. Still, the impulse to act now, to do something before it was too late, was too strong to ignore. With one final glance toward Aizawa and Yagi, Hawks turned toward the door, his wings snapping to life. The air around him pulsed with his tension as he prepared to leave, his resolve firm.

“I don’t care about strategy anymore. I’m going after her now, and I don’t care who I have to go through to get the answers we need.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air with the force of his determination. In an instant, he was airborne, his wings lifting him effortlessly into the air, and with a single powerful beat, he was gone. The sound of rushing air faded into the distance, leaving behind the tense silence of the room.

Aizawa and Yagi exchanged another glance, their expressions filled with a mix of concern and reluctant understanding. There was little they could do to stop Hawks now. The situation had escalated far beyond anything they could have anticipated. And the urgency of the matter weighed heavily on all of them.

As the sound of Hawks’ presence disappeared into the distance, Aizawa muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible, “Let’s hope he doesn’t make things worse.”

Yagi nodded silently, his expression thoughtful. There was nothing more to be said. They were all waiting now, waiting for something to break—waiting for the next move in a game they couldn’t yet fully understand. The stakes had never been higher.

Yagi sat alone in his office, the dim light from his desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. His tall frame seemed almost hunched as he leaned forward, his hands carefully unfolding and refolding the small handkerchief in his lap. It was plain, with a delicate lace border that had seen better days. Nothing about it seemed special—just an ordinary piece of cloth. But to Yagi, it carried a weight that was impossible to ignore.

The memory surfaced unbidden, pulling him back to the day she had handed it to him. He had been coughing, his weakened body betraying him after an exhausting training session with the students. Y/N had approached him with hesitant steps, concern etched into her face.

“Here,” she’d said softly, holding out the handkerchief. “You don’t look too great, and… well, you should take it. I’ve got more at home.”

Her voice had wavered, as if she were unsure whether it was her place to offer something so simple. But her sincerity had struck him. Yagi had taken the handkerchief with a grateful nod, tucking it away in his pocket, not thinking much of it at the time. 

Now, he stared at it like it was a lifeline, his long fingers tracing the worn edges. 

"Y/N," he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible in the silence of the room. A faint tremor in his hands betrayed the calm mask he always tried to wear. 

He couldn’t stop the gnawing worry that gripped him. The blood, the broken window, the ashes—all of it pointed to a dire situation, and the thought of her enduring it alone made his chest tighten painfully. Y/N, quirkless but determined, had never been a student who drew much attention to herself. But she had been kind, thoughtful—a quiet presence that left an impression on everyone she encountered, including him.

Yagi’s thumb brushed over the small initials embroidered in the corner of the handkerchief: *Y.L.* He smiled faintly, though the weight of his worry didn’t lift. She had been so insistent that day, and now, all he could think about was whether she was somewhere safe—or if she was hurt, scared, or worse.

He folded the handkerchief one last time, setting it gently on the desk in front of him. His gaze lingered on it, his expression softening with a mix of sorrow and determination.

“I’ll find you,” he whispered. “I promise.” 

The words hung in the air, a quiet vow to a student who had given him more than she could ever realize.

The morning sunlight filtered through the cracked blinds of the rundown apartment, the light slanting in muted streaks across the floor. Y/N lay on the creaky mattress, her body a patchwork of bandages and healing wounds, every inch of her aching in protest. The stale smell of smoke and ash still clung to the air, a constant reminder of who she had chosen to spend the night with.

Her jacket, a black one she’d scavenged the day before, lay draped over the corner of a chair. It didn’t fit quite right and felt constricting against her healing body, but it was better than nothing. The fabric brushed against her tender skin as she shifted, sitting up slowly. Every movement tugged at her wounds, and she bit back a wince, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

The bed beside her was empty, though the faint indentation on the mattress and lingering warmth in the sheets told her Dabi hadn’t been gone for long. Her eyes darted toward the far corner of the room, where she spotted him slouched in an old chair, flipping lazily through TV channels on a battered remote. His lean figure was illuminated by the pale morning light, his sharp features relaxed but alert. 

Dabi’s blue eyes flicked toward her as he caught her movement. “You’re up,” he said, his voice low and raspy from years of smoking—or maybe just from existing as who he was. 

Y/N didn’t respond right away. Her gaze lingered on him, her mind flashing back to the events of the previous night. They’d fallen into bed together after hours of talking—or more accurately, her talking, and him mostly listening. It had started with questions about her disappearance, her vague answers leading to a quiet exchange of truths neither of them expected to share. Somewhere between her recounting the moment she’d realized no one was coming to save her and his dry observations about the world’s inherent cruelty, they’d crossed an invisible line. 

His touch had been surprisingly gentle, his lips tracing over the bruises and cuts that littered her body. And despite his quirk—his entire being—a furnace of destruction, his body had run warm, almost soothingly so. That warmth had lulled her to sleep eventually, a rare solace after weeks of uncertainty and pain. She wasn’t sure if it was comfort or desperation that had led them there, but this morning, she wasn’t inclined to dwell on it. 

“You’re staring,” Dabi drawled, snapping her from her thoughts. His lips curved into a lazy smirk as he set the remote down. “Regretting last night already?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at her sore ribs. “No. Just wondering if you’re as much of an ass in the morning as you are at night.”

He chuckled, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms behind his head. “Guess you’ll find out.”

She ignored him, sliding off the bed and gingerly pulling on her jacket. It wasn’t much protection, but it would have to do. She glanced toward the kitchen, where the remnants of a meal he’d thrown together last night still sat. Her stomach churned at the memory of food, a reminder of how little appetite she’d had lately. 

“Dabi,” she said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—something determined, even desperate. 

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“I need a favor.”

His smirk faded, replaced by a look of cautious suspicion. “A favor?” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You know those don’t come free, right?”

Y/N met his gaze, unflinching. “I know.”

Dabi stared at her for a long moment, his sharp eyes searching her face for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he sighed, running a hand through his blackened hair. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as they clenched at her sides. “I need you to burn me.”

The room seemed to grow colder despite his ever-present heat. Dabi’s expression darkened, his amusement evaporating in an instant. “Burn you?” His voice was low, dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, her voice firm despite the way her body screamed in protest. “I need you to burn my body. It’s the only way.”

Dabi stood slowly, his boots scraping against the floor as he approached her. His presence loomed over her, his usual air of casual indifference replaced by something far more volatile. “Are you out of your damn mind?” he hissed. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?”

“Yes,” she said simply, her tone calm despite the intensity of his reaction. “I know exactly what I’m asking for.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening as his fists clenched at his sides. “Why?”

“Because I’m insane,” she said flatly, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “And because I need to take back control. This… pain, this body—none of it is mine anymore. If I’m going to keep going, I need to start over. And I need your fire to do it.”

Dabi let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re something else, you know that?” He stepped closer, his breath warm against her face as his blue eyes bored into hers. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”

“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Just do it.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it to her, his lips quirking into a crooked grin. “Put your number in. If you’re asking for a favor this big, you owe me one down the line.”

Y/N hesitated, then took the phone, quickly typing in her number before handing it back. “Deal.”

Dabi’s fingers sparked with blue flames as he stepped back, the heat rolling off him in waves. “You’re insane,” he muttered, though there was something almost admiring in his tone. 

She didn’t respond, standing still as he raised his hand toward her. The flames ignited her jacket first, the fabric disintegrating almost instantly. The heat seared into her skin, cutting through her like a blade. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as the fire consumed her. 

Dabi didn’t hold back, his flames relentless as they licked at her body. He watched her closely, his sharp eyes taking in every twitch, every flinch, every subtle sign of pain. And yet, she didn’t scream. She stood firm, her body trembling but unyielding. 

When the fire finally died down, Y/N collapsed onto the floor, her body covered in burns, her breathing shallow and ragged. Dabi crouched beside her, his expression unreadable as he studied her charred form. 

“You’re still alive,” he said, his voice tinged with something like surprise. 

“Of course,” she rasped, her lips cracking as she forced a weak smile. “I told you it wouldn’t kill me.”

Dabi shook his head, standing up and stepping away from her. “You’re insane,” he said again, though there was a hint of respect in his voice now. 

As he turned toward the door, he paused, pulling out his phone and dialing quickly. His voice was cold and emotionless as he spoke. “Yeah, police? I’ve got a report for you. Someone’s body just turned up—looks like they’ve been burned alive. I don’t know if they’re alive or not, but I can tell you this: there’s no way they’re going to make it.”

He hung up without waiting for a response, shoving the phone back into his pocket as he stepped outside. The cold air hit him like a slap, but he barely noticed. 

Dabi glanced back at the apartment one last time, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. Maybe he’d made a mistake by helping her. Maybe he hadn’t. Either way, it wasn’t his problem anymore. 

He walked away, the lingering scent of smoke and ash following him like a shadow.

The police swarmed the dilapidated apartment building, sirens piercing the early morning stillness. Officers cordoned off the area, responding to the anonymous tip that had brought them there. Inside, the remnants of blue flames still lingered, the air thick with the acrid stench of burnt flesh and fabric. 

Midnight, the R-rated pro-hero, arrived swiftly, her usual playful demeanor absent. Instead, her sharp gaze swept the charred room, landing on the figure sprawled across the floor. The sight of Y/N’s body—a scorched, barely recognizable form—sent a chill through her. Burns covered the girl entirely, her clothes reduced to blackened shreds. Midnight’s gut clenched as she stepped closer, assessing the damage. 

“Get paramedics in here now,” she ordered, her tone clipped. She crouched near Y/N, her sharp eyes noting the faint rise and fall of the girl’s chest. Despite the horrific burns, she was alive—barely.

The medics arrived moments later, swiftly kneeling to check Y/N’s pulse. “It’s weak, but she’s hanging on,” one of them reported, carefully securing Y/N onto a stretcher. 

“Take her to the hospital,” Midnight instructed firmly, her expression hard as she followed them. “Do everything you can to keep her alive.”

As the paramedics worked, a police officer approached Midnight. “No sign of forced entry,” he said grimly. “But the window was broken. Whoever did this planned it carefully—no fingerprints, no evidence left behind.”

Midnight frowned, her arms crossed. “This wasn’t random. Someone wanted her dead—or worse.” She glanced at Y/N as the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, the girl’s scorched body eerily still. Midnight climbed into the back without hesitation, her protective instincts taking over.

The ride to the hospital was tense. Midnight watched as the medics monitored Y/N’s fragile vitals, her mind racing with questions. Who had done this? And why? 

At the hospital, the medical team whisked Y/N into the emergency room. Midnight lingered outside the glass, her arms folded tightly as she watched the doctors scramble to stabilize the critically injured girl. Hours seemed to stretch into eternity before a doctor emerged, exhaustion etched into his face.

“She’s alive, but just barely,” he said. “The burns are severe. We’ve stabilized her for now, but the next 24 hours will be critical.”

Midnight nodded, her jaw tight. “Do everything you can.”

As the doctor disappeared back into the ER, Midnight turned her gaze toward the hospital doors, her resolve hardening. Y/N’s survival was uncertain, but Midnight knew one thing: whoever had done this wouldn’t get away with it. She would find the truth—and justice for the girl clinging to life behind the glass. 

The news of Y/N’s discovery spread quickly within the inner circle of U.A. staff, though it was kept tightly under wraps. Only a select few knew the full details: Aizawa, Yagi, Midnight, and the police officers assigned to the case. Even among them, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily, a tension that seemed to seep into the walls of the staff room.

Hawks, the only one outside the immediate circle with a personal connection to Y/N, was a storm of restless energy. He paced back and forth in the staff room, his wings twitching in agitation, his mind a hurricane of emotions. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t sit still. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, the image of her burned body filled his mind, and his heart clenched painfully. She was alive—he knew that much—but alive didn’t mean safe, and it certainly didn’t mean okay.

“Is she…?” Hawks’ voice broke as he finally stopped pacing and addressed Aizawa. His golden eyes, usually calm and calculating, were wild with worry.

“She’s alive,” Aizawa replied gruffly, not lifting his gaze from the floor. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid, but there was a flicker of weariness in his voice. “That’s all we know right now. The doctors are doing what they can, but it’s touch and go.”

Hawks exhaled sharply, his hand raking through his tousled hair. The others in the room—Yagi, Midnight, and a few police officers—watched him in silence, their own concern evident. But Hawks was the only one pacing, the only one whose emotions were so raw and unfiltered.

“I don’t care what happened,” Hawks muttered, his voice tight, barely containing the storm brewing inside him. “She’s one of ours. You all know that. She’s not just some random kid we’re responsible for. She’s my student.”

The room remained silent, the weight of his words sinking into each of them. Midnight shifted uncomfortably, her usual confidence replaced with a quiet seriousness. Yagi rested his hands on the table, his brow furrowed, as if deep in thought. Aizawa, as always, remained the calmest, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed the strain he was under.

“I need to know who did this to her,” Hawks continued, his voice rising with frustration. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll find out. And when I do—”

“Calm down,” Yagi said softly but firmly, interrupting him. His steady voice cut through the tension in the air like a blade. “We’re doing everything we can, Hawks. Believe me, I understand how you feel. We all do.”

Hawks turned to face him, his wings flaring slightly as his emotions got the better of him. “But it doesn’t make sense,” he snapped. “A quirkless girl—why? Why would anyone go this far? What’s the point? She can’t even fight back!”

Aizawa finally looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Hawks’. “That’s exactly what we need to figure out,” he said evenly, his voice low but firm. “And we can’t do that if you go charging into this without thinking. If you’re too reckless, you might just make things worse for her. Is that what you want?”

Hawks bristled at the implication, his fists clenching at his sides. “Of course not,” he shot back. “But sitting around doing nothing isn’t helping her either.”

“You’re not doing nothing,” Midnight interjected, her tone sharp but compassionate. She stepped forward, placing a hand on her hip as she fixed Hawks with a piercing look. “None of us are. But we have to be smart about this. Whoever did this isn’t going to stop just because you’ve got fire in your belly. If we make the wrong move, it could put her in even more danger.”

Hawks let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. He knew they were right. He hated it, but he knew it. Charging in without a plan wouldn’t help Y/N—it might even hurt her. But the helplessness he felt was suffocating. He wasn’t used to standing still, to waiting. He was a man of action, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something.

“I can’t just sit here,” he said finally, his voice quieter now but still filled with resolve. “I need to see her. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

Aizawa studied him for a long moment, then sighed quietly. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging but understanding. “You can visit her. But you’ll do it calmly, Hawks. No outbursts, no dramatics. She doesn’t need more chaos right now.”

“Right,” Hawks said, nodding stiffly. “I’ll keep it together.”

He turned toward the door, his wings twitching with pent-up energy, ready to take flight. As he stepped outside into the crisp morning air, he paused, taking a deep breath. The weight pressing on his chest felt slightly lighter now that he had a direction, a purpose. Y/N was alive. That was all that mattered right now. He would see her, make sure she was safe, and then he would do whatever it took to uncover the truth.

The hospital loomed in front of him, sterile and imposing. Hawks landed lightly on the pavement, folding his wings behind him as he made his way inside. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh glow on the pale walls, and the faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air. He hated hospitals—they always felt so cold, so lifeless. But this wasn’t about him.

He approached the reception desk, flashing his hero license. The nurse on duty looked up, startled for a moment before nodding and directing him to Y/N’s room. Hawks muttered a quick thanks, his pace quickening as he followed the directions. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and fear.

When he reached her room, he stopped outside the door, his hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, he hesitated. What would he find on the other side? He knew she was alive, but the image of her burned body was still fresh in his mind. Could he handle seeing her like that again?

Steeling himself, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. Y/N lay motionless on the hospital bed, her body swathed in bandages. Machines beeped softly around her, monitoring her vitals. Her face was partially covered, but what little skin was visible was pale, almost translucent, as if the life had been drained from her.

Hawks moved closer, his footsteps almost silent. He stood at her bedside, his eyes scanning her fragile form. She looked so small, so vulnerable. It was a far cry from the strong, determined girl he had known. Seeing her like this was like a punch to the gut.

He reached out, his hand hovering over hers for a moment before he finally let it rest there. Her skin was cold to the touch, and his chest tightened. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m here.”

She didn’t respond, of course. She was still unconscious, her body too battered to do much more than survive. But Hawks didn’t care. He just needed to be there, to let her know she wasn’t alone.

“I’m going to find out who did this,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “I promise you. I won’t stop until I do. And when I find them… they’re going to regret ever laying a hand on you.”

As he sat there, the weight of everything began to settle on him. This wasn’t just about revenge. It was about protecting her, making sure she never had to go through something like this again. And for that, he would do whatever it took.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital room blinding her momentarily. Her body felt stiff and heavy beneath the layers of bandages wrapping her from head to toe. The faint beeping of machines punctuated the sterile quiet around her, and the scent of antiseptic was suffocating. As her senses sharpened, a dull ache radiated from her burns, though a strange warmth hinted at the beginning of her body’s slow healing process. Yet, when her gaze fell on the exposed patches of decayed skin—dark, mottled, and unresponsive to the treatment—her stomach twisted.

The weight of reality hit her harder as her vision cleared. Standing at the foot of her bed were Yagi and Aizawa, their faces solemn and tense. A police officer lingered a few feet away, his notepad open, pen poised to capture her words. Their presence felt like an anchor, tethering her to a situation she couldn’t escape. The weight of their gazes pressed down on her, heavier than the bandages enveloping her fragile form.

“Y/N,” Yagi spoke softly, his usual warm tone tinged with concern. “It’s good to see you awake.”

Y/N blinked slowly, her throat dry and scratchy as she tried to form words. “What… happened?” she rasped, her voice barely audible. Her mind felt foggy, the edges of her memories blurred and disjointed. She struggled to piece together the moments leading up to her blackout, but clarity remained elusive.

The officer stepped forward, his expression professional but not devoid of empathy. “Miss L/N, we need to understand what happened. Can you tell us how you ended up here?”

Yagi offered her a small, reassuring smile, though his eyes betrayed the depth of his worry. “There’s no rush. Take your time. We’re here to help.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing between the three of them. Her heart pounded, the weight of the moment squeezing her chest. She could feel their expectation, their need for answers. But she couldn’t tell them the truth—not now. It was too dangerous, too complicated. Instead, she inhaled shakily, steeling herself as she prepared to lie.

“It… it happened yesterday,” she began, her voice trembling. She forced her gaze to the officer, feigning a mixture of fear and shame. “There was a man. In the gym.” She paused, her mind scrambling to construct a narrative that would be both plausible and distant enough from the truth. “He had some kind of… decaying quirk. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t do what he wanted.”

Aizawa’s sharp eyes remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Yagi’s brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent, letting her speak. The officer’s pen scratched against the paper as he recorded her words, his eyes never leaving her face.

“He forced me to take him to my apartment,” she continued, her voice growing steadier as she committed to the story. “I didn’t know what to do. I—I tried to fight back. I cut myself in the kitchen, hoping it would scare him or… or give me a chance to run.” Her hand twitched, clutching at the blanket draped over her. “But he got angry. He used his quirk on me. My shirt—it just started disintegrating. And then he broke the window. He said I had to leave with him.”

Yagi’s lips pressed into a thin line, and Aizawa’s jaw tightened. They were both listening intently, but neither interrupted. Y/N swallowed hard, letting her voice waver slightly to sell the illusion of vulnerability.

“He took me to this apartment,” she continued, a tremor running through her voice. “I thought… I thought he was going to kill me. There was another man there. He—” She stopped, her breath hitching as she pretended to choke on the memory. “He burned me. His quirk was fire. I could feel it on my skin. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop him.”

She allowed herself to shudder visibly, her hands trembling slightly as she clenched the blanket. Aizawa’s gaze didn’t falter, his stoicism making it hard to tell whether he believed her. Yagi, however, reached out and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You’re doing well, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice a lifeline of encouragement. “Take your time.”

The officer leaned in slightly, his pen hovering over his notepad. “Did they say what they wanted? Why they targeted you specifically?”

Y/N froze for a fraction of a second before forcing herself to nod. “They kept asking about All Might,” she said, her voice cracking as she spoke his name. “They knew I was quirkless. They said… they said I’d be easy to use.” She looked down, her shoulders hunching as if weighed down by shame. “They wanted to know if I had any connection to him. If I could get close to him.”

The officer frowned, his pen scratching furiously as he recorded her words. “Did you know either of them? Had you seen them before?”

Y/N shook her head quickly, almost too quickly. “No. I’d never seen them before,” she lied, keeping her eyes on the blanket to avoid their scrutinizing gazes. “I don’t know why they picked me.”

Yagi’s hand squeezed her shoulder gently. “You don’t have to blame yourself for this,” he said, his voice full of quiet strength. “You’ve been through something unimaginable, Y/N. We’re going to make sure you’re safe now.”

Aizawa finally spoke, his tone even but firm. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything you remember about the men? Their quirks, their appearance, anything at all?”

Y/N shook her head again, letting her hands clutch at the blanket. “No. I—I don’t remember much. It’s all a blur.”

The officer nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If you recall anything else, no matter how small, let us know immediately.”

Y/N nodded faintly, her eyes darting between them. The story she had woven was shaky, but it had been enough to satisfy their immediate questions. Still, she could feel guilt clawing at her insides. She had lied to them—people who only wanted to help her—but she didn’t see another option. The truth was too dangerous to reveal, not when she wasn’t sure who she could trust.

“I just… I just want to rest now,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Aizawa’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment before he nodded curtly. “Rest,” he said. “We’ll make sure no one can hurt you again.”

The officer closed his notebook, tucking it into his jacket. “Thank you for speaking with us, Y/N. If you need anything, let the staff know. We’ll be in touch.”

Yagi offered her a final reassuring smile as he stood. “You’re safe here, Y/N. Focus on recovering. We’ll handle the rest.”

She nodded again, her eyes closing as she tried to shut out the world. The sound of their footsteps faded as they left the room, leaving her alone with the steady beeping of the machines.

As silence enveloped her, Y/N’s façade began to crack. Her hands trembled as she clenched the blanket tighter, her breathing uneven. She had done what she needed to—she had bought herself time. But the guilt of her deception gnawed at her, a constant reminder that she was walking a tightrope.

The truth was buried deep, locked away where no one could reach it. For now, that was where it needed to stay. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that, eventually, it would all come crashing down.