The next day, the world felt different—sharper, full of promise and nerves. All night, I'd turned over every moment of our fight, every time I'd almost lost control, every second I'd held on just a little longer.
At school, Kacchan was louder than usual, shoving me in the hallway, daring me to say something back. I flinched, then remembered yesterday's victory—not against him, but against my own fear.
After class, we met behind the school, just like always. But this time, Kacchan didn't start with a shout. He just looked at me, serious. "You ever worry you'll run outta chances, Deku?" he asked, like it was nothing.
I blinked, surprised. Did he know? Did he see the way I hesitated before every risk?
"My quirk… It's not perfect," I admitted. "Every time I come back, it gets harder. I'm scared I'll forget something important. Someone important."
For a long second, Kacchan just stared. Then he punched my shoulder, not too hard. "Then don't forget. Make sure you come back better every time."
Something in my chest loosened. He didn't say he was worried, but I could see it in his eyes. He cared, even if he'd never admit it.
We trained until the sun set, sweat and laughter and the unspoken knowledge that we were stronger together. At home, my mom asked if I'd had a good day. I told her, "Yeah. I think I did."
That night, I dreamed of fire and green light, of memories that never faded, of a future I could shape with my own hands. And, for the first time, I didn't feel so scared.