A week passed. My body felt stronger, my mind clearer. The fear was still there, but it didn't own me anymore.
One morning, Kacchan showed up at my door, scowling but determined. "Let's go," he said. "We're training early."
We ran to the park, breathless in the cold morning air. We didn't talk about dying or forgetting or being scared. We just fought—hard, fast, wild. Every time I stumbled, Kacchan reached out a hand to pull me up. Every time he fell, I did the same.
Kids watched us from the swings, their laughter bright. For the first time, I didn't feel like a freak.
Afterward, we sat on the curb, legs dangling, sweat cooling in the breeze.
"We're gonna be heroes, Deku," Kacchan said, almost softly. "The best."
"Yeah," I said, believing it.
That night, as I fell asleep, I thought of all the tomorrows waiting for us—full of fights and laughter and mistakes and hope. And I knew, no matter how many times I fell, I'd always get back up. Because that's what heroes do.