The first thing Denki felt was pain.
Not the sharp, blinding kind-this was worse. Deep, suffocating, relentless. The kind that crawled into the bones, settled in the muscles, and refused to let go.
He didn't remember passing out.
Didn't remember being taken here.
All he knew was that something was wrong.
His eyelids felt heavy, his body foreign, his limbs like lead— but none of that mattered. Because the moment his mind snapped back into place, only one thought tore through him with crushing intensity.
Jiro.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
Denki gasped, his chest tightening as his body jerked forward, the monitors beside him screeching in protest.
Hands-too many hands pressed him down.
"Easy-Kaminari, stop!"
The voice was firm, urgent-but Denki wasn't listening.
"Where is she—?" He strained, his throat raw, his words hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
The only thing he remembers is- Jiro, being dragged away, fear etched in her eyes. He must save her!
The hospital room blurred, white walls too bright, lights too sharp, and the figures around him too distant none of them were her.
A nurse pushed him back, her hands steady on his shoulders. "You need to stay down, your injuries-"
"Where. Is. Jiro."
His voice cracked, trembled, barely holding together.
Silence. Thick, suffocating, terrifying silence.
Denki's breathing hitched. His fingers curled weakly around the edge of his sheets, knuckles white, muscles failing.
She wasn't here.
She wasn't in the room.
She wasn't safe.
The moment shattered inside him, something deep and frightening clawing at his chest, his nerves snapping under the pressure.
Jiro was still missing.
And Denki didn't care if he was bleeding.
Didn't care if his body was too weak, too broken.
He had to find her.
The monitors shrieked again as he tried to move, forcing his limbs forward, but the doctors held him down firm, unyielding, their voices urgent.
"Kaminari, you need to stay still!"
"She's gone!" Denki yelled, voice breaking-anger, panic, grief twisting inside him, clawing at his throat. "I have to— she's-"
His breath hitched, his pulse erratic, and suddenly—
Everything blurred.
His chest tightened, his vision flickered, and then-Darkness swallowed him whole once more.
Pain.
It was everywhere, wrapping around Denki like a vice, sinking into his muscles, anchoring him to the hospital bed no matter how much his mind screamed to move.
His eyelids flickered, his body betraying him, barely able to shift beneath the crisp sheets. The monitors beside him beeped steadily-a rhythm that felt wrong, too calm, too steady for the storm inside him.
He didn't care about the pain.
Didn't care about the wires connected to his arms, the ache stabbing deep into his abdomen, the sheer weight pressing against his ribs like he was being crushed from the inside out.
Because the only thing he cared about was her.
Jiro.
His breath hitched.
Memories rushed in not gentle, not gradual, but sharp and brutal, tearing through his mind without mercy.
The fight.
The explosion.
And then-Her eyes.
Wide.
Terrified.
Pleading.
Dragged away, her form disappearing into the darkness while Denki's own body failed him, collapsing beneath a blade he never saw coming.
She was gone, and he had done nothing to stop it.
The door opened. Voices whispered, hesitant, familiar-
"Yo, he's awake!"
Denki barely processed it before figures moved into view-Mina, Kirishima, Sero, their faces shifting between relief and worry.
He didn't look at them.
Didn't greet them.
Didn't care.
His voice cracked, hoarse, broken.
"Where's Jiro?"
Mina blinked, stepping closer. "Denki, you—"
"Where is she?"
His voice shook, weak but demanding, his chest tightening against his own restraint.
Sero sighed, rubbing his face. "Dude, you literally just woke up. Chill-"
Denki's fingers twitched, trying to lift his arm, but the pain clawed through him, forcing him to gasp through gritted teeth. His body refused him. Everything refused him.
Mina's breath hitched. "Denki-"
Mina hesitated, her lips pressing together in a way that instantly told Denki everything.
She wasn't here.
She was gone.
Denki's breath hitched, his chest tightening as if something was crushing him from the inside. The world around him distorted, the edges of his vision shrinking, the sound of the heart monitor growing louder, beating too fast, too uneven.
Gone.
The word echoed through him, pounding against his skull, each syllable like a hammer driving deep into the fragile walls of his mind.
She was right there he saw her, he felt her, he reached-And he failed.
Heat surged behind his eyes, a choking burn rising in his throat. His hands trembled, curling weakly against the sheets as his pulse raced, his entire body screaming at him to do something, but he couldn't. He was trapped, useless, confined to this bed while the worst possible truth settled in his bones. He had let her be taken.
His fingers gripped the blanket with frantic urgency, his muscles straining despite the weakness flooding through them.
She was gone.
And he had done nothing to stop it.
His breath came in uneven bursts, too fast, too sharp, like the air itself was fighting to escape him.
"No," Denki choked, voice raw, unsteady. "She's-she's not gone. She's just-"
His words died, crushed under the weight of reality.
Mina swallowed hard, her eyes filled with guilt, with something fragile and breaking, because she didn't know how to fix this either.
Denki didn't care.
He didn't want comfort.
He wanted Jiro.
His chest collapsed inward, his body shuddering against the weight of grief crashing down, and for the first time since waking up-
Denki felt powerless.
And suddenly, the walls felt too close, the room too small, his body too weak.
"She was right there." His voice cracked, barely holding together. "I saw her. She-"
His throat closed up, his breath coming in uneven bursts, his ribs stabbing against every inhale. He couldn't—
He couldn't breathe.
Kirishima stepped forward, voice low. "Denki, listen. We're gonna get her back."
Denki clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, frustration and grief twisting through him. "We have to find her," he whispered.
Mina swallowed hard, nodding, but Denki could see the uncertainty behind her eyes.
They didn't know where she was.
They didn't know if she was okay.
And that realization destroyed him.
Denki Kaminari was not staying in this bed.
He refused.
Couldn't.
His pulse hammered against his ribs, his breath tight in his throat, and every nerve in his body screamed the same thought over and over-Find her. Find Jiro. Find her now.
"She's out there," Denki rasped, his voice frantic, his fingers gripping the edge of the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. "I—I have to—"
"Kaminari, stop!" Mina grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with worry.
Denki jerked forward, but his body-traitorous, weak, broken gave out beneath him, sharp pain spiking through his abdomen.
He gasped, his vision flashing white, but he didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
"She's not—" His throat closed, every word coming out shaky, desperate. "She's not here—i have to—" Kirishima blocked his path, hands steady, voice gentle but firm. "Denki, you need to breathe—"
"I don't care!" Denki struggled, forced his body to move despite the pain twisting through him, his muscles screaming in protest.
Sero pressed against his shoulders, trying to keep him down. "Dude, you're gonna rip your stitches-"
Denki ignored them. His mind was fixed, trapped in a loop of panic and desperation, replaying the exact moment Jiro was dragged away her eyes wide, fear etched into every part of her face And he couldn't reach her.
He failed her.
Pain tore through him, sharp, deep, and he still didn't care.
"She's out there!" Denki's voice cracked, raw, breaking under the weight of everything pressing against his chest.
The doctors rushed in, their voices urgent, hands grabbing, restraining, but Denki wasn't listening.
He shoved forward again-his limbs shaking violently, his body too weak, but his heart too strong, his grief too overwhelming to stop him-And then—
Bakugo slammed him back down.
Hard.
The force knocked the breath out of Denki, his body collapsing against the bed like the fight had been sucked out of him in an instant.
"Cut it out, dumbass," Bakugo snarled, his grip iron-tight on Denki's shoulders, his red eyes burning with warning.
"You're not helping her like this."
Denki gasped, his chest heaving, his mind still screaming to move—
But he couldn't.
His limbs trembled.
His breath shuddered.
And for the first time—
Denki stopped struggling.
But the weight in his chest didn't lift.
It just settled.
Heavy. Unrelenting. Cold.
Because he still wasn't with her.
And he didn't know if she was still alive.
Denki lay there, body weak, breathing ragged, his entire world crumbling around him.
Bakugo's grip was firm, unrelenting-Denki could feel the weight of it pressing down, the heat of his energy radiating off him in waves.
But none of it mattered.
Because Jiro was still gone.
Denki clenched his jaw, hands trembling as he tried to push himself up again, but Bakugo's grip tightened, forcing him flat against the bed.
"Stay. The fuck down."
Denki's chest heaved, frustration boiling in his veins. "I can't—"
"You can't do a damn thing right now!" Bakugo snapped, voice sharp, unforgiving. "You think you can just walk out of here and find her? Like you're some damn hero?" Denki flinched, his pulse hammering in his ears.
"That's not—"
"That's not how this works," Bakugo cut him off, his red eyes burning with something dangerous, something frustrated, something broken.
Denki hated it.
Hated the way Bakugo was right.
Hated the way his body betrayed him, the pain crippling him, stopping him from getting up, from running, from saving her.
Hated the way Bakugo was the only one saying the truth out loud.
"You got stabbed, dumbass," Bakugo continued, his tone not mocking, not angry, just fact. "You almost died. You think you can just shrug that off and chase after her like some idiot?"
Denki's breath hitched, his fists curling against the sheets.
"She was—"
Bakugo's grip tightened. "She's gone."
Denki squeezed his eyes shut, his ribs aching under the weight of the words.
"She's not dead," he whispered, voice cracking, barely holding together.
Bakugo exhaled sharply, the weight of his anger shifting.
"Yeah. But we don't know how much time she has."
Denki's stomach dropped.
Bakugo let go.
But not in relief.
Not in surrender.
In warning.
"If you wanna save her, you need to be alive to do it." Denki's throat tightened, his breathing uneven, the air in the room too thick, too suffocating.
He hated this.
Hated feeling helpless.
Hated that Bakugo was right.
Hated that every second he spent in this bed was another second Jiro was out there, alone, trapped, waiting for help that wasn't coming fast enough.
And worst of all?
Hated that he couldn't do a damn thing about it.