My Hero Academia: The Dragon's Quirk

I awoke to a dull ache and a fatigue so profound it felt like a part of my bones. For two full days, I lay in the U.A. infirmary, my body slowly knitting itself back together. My passive healing ability worked overtime, repairing countless muscle tears and internal bruises. But there were scars that couldn't be healed so quickly: the exhaustion in my soul and the horrific images of the battle that kept replaying in my mind.

The vision of Sir Nighteye being impaled, Mirio's roar of pain as his Quirk vanished, and most importantly, his final, understanding gaze as he said I had changed the future. The weight of those words felt heavier than any physical fatigue. I was no longer just a participant in this story; I was an anomaly actively rewriting destiny, and I didn't know if my changes would bring good or an even greater disaster.

During my recovery, my friends became my pillars of strength. "Team Ryukyu"—Nejire, Uraraka, and Tsuyu—were the most frequent visitors. They no longer asked about my secrets. The silence between us was now filled with a comfortable understanding.

"I brought you limited edition strawberry mochi from the shop near the station!" Nejire said one afternoon, handing me a box with her signature bright smile. "People say it can cure anything!"

"I'm not sure that's medically proven, kero," Tsuyu chimed in with her flat expression, "but it does taste good."

"It's the thought that counts!" Uraraka replied with a laugh.

Their presence, their lighthearted chatter, was the best medicine. They didn't treat me like a secret weapon or a strange anomaly. They treated me as Tatsumi, their stubborn friend who had just been through a rough time. Momo also visited often, bringing me books and class notes so I wouldn't fall behind. Our discussions about strategy and analysis became a calming escape for both of us.

On the third day, I was finally allowed to visit the others. I first went to Midoriya's room. He sat on his bed, both arms in thick casts, but his eyes shone with a different light. The grief over Sir Nighteye's death was still there, but it was now overlaid with a burning determination. We didn't talk much. We didn't need to. We just sat in silence for a moment, two soldiers who understood the price of battle. We had seen the darkest side of the hero world, and we both knew that our path forward would be harder than we had ever imagined.

My next visit was the most difficult. I stood in front of Mirio Togata's room door. I took a deep breath before entering. Inside, Mirio was sitting by the window, watching the sunset. He was no longer wearing his hero costume. But when he turned and saw me, he smiled. His wide, bright, optimistic smile was still there, not diminished in the slightest.

"Tatsumi-kun! I heard you were up too!" he greeted cheerfully.

"Togata-senpai," I said quietly. "I... I'm sorry. If only I had been faster..."

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "Don't. Don't ever think like that," he said seriously. "I made my choice. I chose to protect Eri, no matter the cost. A hero never regrets protecting someone." He looked at me, his blue eyes clear and honest. "And you... I don't know exactly what you were doing down there. But I saw you. You were leading them. You gave hope when everything seemed impossible. You were a great hero that day too."

The praise from the man who had just lost everything felt like a punch to the gut. I could only nod, speechless. As I was about to leave, Eri, who was now under the care of Aizawa and the teachers, peeked from behind the door. She saw Mirio, and the first small smile I had ever seen appeared on her face. Seeing their gentle interaction, seeing how Mirio's unwavering kindness was the only thing that could penetrate Eri's shell of trauma, I understood something. True strength wasn't about Quirks or armor. True strength was the ability to keep smiling and give hope even after you've lost everything.

While we students were recovering, the world outside kept spinning, and the wheels of fate ground on mercilessly.

On a deserted highway between prefectures, an armored police convoy was transporting a very important prisoner: Kai Chisaki, alias Overhaul. He was now helpless, both his arms having been destroyed by Shigaraki and Mr. Compress. He sat in the back of the truck, sedated, his unmasked face showing a vacant expression of defeat.

Suddenly, the road ahead was blocked by a jackknifed tractor-trailer. The convoy was forced to stop. That's when they attacked.

From the sky, a familiar torrent of blue flames rained down on the lead police car, causing it to explode. Dabi landed lightly on the melting asphalt. Behind him, Mr. Compress appeared with a theatrical bow.

"Good afternoon, officers," Compress said. "We're just here to retrieve something that doesn't belong to you."

The police and heroes escorting the convoy tried to fight back, but they were no match for two elite members of the League of Villains. As Dabi held them back with a wall of his fire, Mr. Compress easily shrunk the transport truck carrying Overhaul into a small marble.

Shigaraki Tomura, watching from a distance through binoculars, laughed hoarsely. He didn't just want to defeat Overhaul; he wanted to destroy his legacy. With the Quirk-destroying bullets in his hands, he now had the weapon to change the balance of power in the underworld forever. The heroes' victory at the Shie Hassaikai headquarters turned out to be just a temporary win in a much larger war.

A few weeks passed. Life at U.A. returned to a routine. Our wounds healed. The trauma began to fade into scars. We all knew we couldn't stay in a state of grief forever. The world needed us to move on, to become stronger.

One morning, Aizawa-sensei gathered us in the dorm's common room. His face looked more tired than usual, but there was a different glint in his eyes.

"You've all been through hell," he said in his typical flat voice. "You've faced loss and failure. And that's a good thing. Because it makes you stronger." He scanned all of us. "The public out there is scared. They've lost their Symbol of Peace. They need something to look up to. Something that can remind them that even in the darkest of times, there is still light, there is still joy."

He paused for a moment. "Principal Nezu, after much consideration, has made a decision. To lift the spirits of the students and show the world that U.A. is not deterred, that the future of heroes remains bright... we will be continuing our annual tradition."

The entire class held its breath, wondering what he was going to say.

"We will be holding... the U.A. School Festival."

The announcement was met with a moment of silence, then a murmur of confusion. A festival? At a time like this? It felt inappropriate.

"I know what you're thinking," Aizawa said, as if reading our minds. "But think about this. Being a hero isn't just about fighting villains. It's also about protecting people's smiles. And right now, our society desperately needs a reason to smile."

Slowly, the idea began to sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe after all this darkness, we all needed a little light.

I stood by the window, looking at the recovering campus. I thought about everything that had happened. The USJ, the Sports Festival, Hosu, Humarise, the Shie Hassaikai. It felt like I had lived a lifetime in the last few months. I thought about the Quirk-destroying bullets now in Shigaraki's hands. I thought about Humarise still lurking in the shadows. I thought about Akame and the Yozakura Clan. The threats were still out there.

But then, I saw my friends. I saw Kirishima and Kaminari already arguing enthusiastically about what attraction our class should create. I saw Momo and Iida already drafting a budget proposal. I saw Uraraka and Tsuyu laughing at a silly idea from Nejire, who happened to be visiting. I saw a spark of life, a spark of normalcy.

I clenched my fist, feeling the now calm and strong beat of my dragon's heart in my chest. My enemies could wait. The war could wait. For now, there was something more important.

'I will protect this smile,' I thought to myself, a silent vow. 'No matter what comes next.'