It didn't happen on purpose. One minute, we were practicing in the empty lot, Kacchan daring me to block his biggest blast yet. The next, heat and sound roared around me, and everything went white.
I woke up somewhere cold and dark, a place that felt like the inside of my own mind. I remembered dying—again. The pain, the fear, the sudden stop. Then, slowly, the world spun back into focus.
I sat up, gasping. Kacchan was there, panic and anger fighting on his face. "You idiot! You're not supposed to actually get hurt!"
My quirk's cooldown made my body heavy, my mind fuzzy. There was a blank spot in my memory, a piece of the day missing. I tried to grab it, but it slipped away like water.
"It's okay," I said, but my voice shook.
Kacchan looked away. "You need to be more careful. Heroes don't get themselves killed for nothing."
The rest of the day was quiet. I felt different—like a puzzle with a piece missing. At home, I tried to remember what I'd lost. My mom hugged me, tighter than usual, and I wanted to tell her everything but couldn't find the words.
That night, I stared at the ceiling, wondering how many more times I could lose myself and still be me.