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The power went out halfway through the storm, like the sky had bitten through the wires and decided Class 1-A didn’t need electricity anymore. The dorms fell into noise and confusion all at once: phones lighting up and dying just as fast, someone yelling about the heaters, someone else laughing too loudly to hide their nerves. Denki stood in the middle of it, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, reminding himself that Recovery Girl’s warning still echoed in his head.
“You must give yourself rest. That means no overusing your quirk for at least three days. It’s vital for your recovery, internally and externally.”
Leaning on a wall with his headphones jammed into his ears, Odetari pulsing through, Denki waited for the inevitable. They’d all look to him as their last resort, as if all his quirk was good for was to power their blue-light screens of nothingness. For a second—a small, split second—Denki loathed them. Each and every single one of his classmates and friends. He knew he was being helpful by putting himself to use, but what if he wasn’t able to help? If his quirk was something different, something flashy like Katsuki’s Explosion, something powerful like Kyoka’s Earphone Jack, something strong like Eiji’s Hardening… how differently would they treat him? Would they still see him as the uncontrollable, braindead Denki they subconsciously did now?
A warm hand landed on Denki’s shoulder, slightly pushing his posture down and making him look up. “Hey,” Kirishima said casually. “Whatcha listening to?” He slid his arm around Denki’s shoulders, plucked an earbud free, and slipped it into his own ear. “Hey, this is that one American hyperpop guy you like!! Jirou was showing me some of his stuff the other day. I like it if I’m being honest. The way he raps is like, almost addicting in a way.”
Walking over to the common room’s couch, Denki listened to Eijirou rant about the music that Kyoka had shown him. This is what he loved about his boyfriend: his capability to turn off Denki’s brain and calm him down by just… being there. They both took a seat, right next to Izuku who was napping in Katsuki’s lap. The latter glared at Eijirou, possibly for speaking too loud, and he chuckled while lowering his voice. Sooner or later, the others gathered around, conversating casually while thunder boomed in the background. Aizawa sensei still wasn’t back yet and made no effort to contact them, so the teenagers were stuck in the dorms until further notice.
“This absolutely sucks!!!” Hagakure shrieked. “I was about to win Fashion Famous…” she pouted. Mina comforted her with small pats on her back.
Hanta scoffed. “That’s nothing. Me and Eiji were about to get our first Victory Royale as duos, then the tormenta estúpida decided it wanted to turn off all the electricity!” He muttered something in Spanish again and looked to Eijirou for cooperation.
“Yeah! Do you guys realize how hard that was? Hanta fucking sucks at Fortnite!” A pillow got launched in our direction from a smirking Sero.
“I was about to bake a cake, you know, the red velvet one, but I can’t since the oven’s out,” Sato added. “My icing’s gonna get messed up if we wait too long.”
Bakugo tch’d. “‘s gonna make katsudon for the nerd, but the stove’s off for the same damn reason.”
Mina looked up and around, setting her eyes on Denki once she saw him. “Denks… do you think you could power our phones again? You’re our last hope,” she giggled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.
Denki nodded before his brain could catch up with him. “Yeah, I—”
A hand squeezed his knee. Hard.
Denki flinched and looked over at Kirishima, who was already shaking his head.
“Recovery Girl’s got him on a break,” he stated sternly. “If he fries himself again, Aizawa’s gonna lose it.” Then softer, only for Denki to hear, “and so am I.”
“Give Dunce Face a break, you leeches,” Bakugo added. “He’s recovering just like we are. Pinky, you wouldn’t want somebody asking you to melt shit right now, and Tapehead, you wouldn’t wanna be used you like some fuckass tape dispenser either, right? Same applies for Kaminari.” Izuku stirred in his lap, blinking slowly.
“What’s up?” he asked softly. “Why’s it so dark in here? Is it past eight already?”
Bakugo shook his head and checked his phone. “It’s 4:48. We’ve got time. Go back to sleep again, dumb nerd.” Without question, the green-haired boy laid back down in Katsuki’s lap and was out in seconds.
Denki spoke, breaking the silence, “It’ll be alright. It’s only the phones, right? I’ll just do it a little. Recovery Girl just said not to overdo it.”
The group sighed in unison. Kirishima looked at him worriedly with an “Are you sure?” gaze. The blond nodded, running a hand through his red hair.
“Denki,” Kirishima said quietly, shifting closer, “that’s not how it works. You always say that. ‘Just a little.’”
He glanced at the others, then back at him. “How about we wait a bit longer, yeah? Aizawa’ll be back soon.”
The class hesitated, but reluctantly agreed. This time, it was Bakugo and Kirishima’s turn to sigh in unison. Denki just shrugged. “I can wait, makes no difference to me,” he said. But on the inside, he was silently thankful that Eijirou intervened. He was kind of exhausted, and even the thought of using his quirk right now seemed like a death sentence.
“Well, while we wait,” Hagakure said. “How about we play some games!” She held up a deck of cards, which only meant one thing:
Bullshit.
“Sushi!!!” Hanta cheered as Shoto placed his card down—he had lied and gotten away with it. Mina slammed her cards on the table (face down, obviously) and groaned. “YOU’RE TOO GOOD AT THIS!!!” Sero just stuck his tongue out.
Shoto turned to Hitoshi, who was texting somebody on his phone. “Your turn,” he said monotonously. The purple-haired smiled at his phone before shutting it off and playing “2 sixes.”
Mina smirked. “If I call BS and I’m right.. you get the deck AND tell us who you’re texting,” she cooed playfully. Shinsou only shrugged. “Go for it.”
“BULLSHIT!!!” Mina exclaimed. Shinsou flipped the cards he had played: the 6 of hearts and the 6 of diamonds. Mina slouched in her seat as she gained half the deck, sending half of the group into laughter. Even Hitoshi let out a chuckle.
“I’m messing with you. I was texting Shouta. He’s alright, just staying behind at a villain scene to help civilians.” He paused before looking away and muttering, “and I might’ve been texting Neito as well…”
Todoroki stiffened, unnoticed to most of his classmates. He looked down, took a breath, and raised his head again. “Bakugo, your turn.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.” He tossed down his last two cards. “2 sevens.”
“Bullshit,” Mina said immediately, barely even thinking about it.
Flip. Flip. Seven of hearts and seven of spades. Mina screamed and buried her face in her knees as the two cards were slid over in her direction.
“This game is RIGGED, I tell you!!” she groaned. “I hate all of you.”
“You say that all the time, Mina,” Jirou smiled, shuffling the cards.
Denki laughed, soft and genuine, the sound slipping out before he could stop it. It felt normal. For a moment, he forgot about the storm, the outage, and the ache sitting heavy behind his eyes.
Kirishima noticed.
He always did.
Another round passed. Then another. Laughter rose and fell with each accusation, each failed bluff. Outside, thunder cracked again, louder this time, rattling the windows. The lights didn’t flicker, but the phones on the table buzzed weakly, screens flashing before dying again.
Mina groaned. “Ugh, this is torture.”
Shinsou’s phone lit up with a text. He grabbed it and responded immediately. “Shouta’s getting here in a couple hours. Seems like the scene was worse than they thought.” The glare from his phone dimmed then went black. “And now my phone is dead.”
He set his phone in the “Phone Cemetary,” which was just a pile of the phones that had died since the power outage, and looked around. “I think mine was the last to go. We’re completely out.”
Sero leaned back in his chair. “Okay, but like… what if Denki—”
“I’ll do it,” Denki responded instantly. “Trust me, it’s alright. It’s just phones. I won’t even go full charge. I feel okay now.”
Kirishima pleaded, “Denki, please.” That was the moment he felt it: the tight, sinking feeling in his chest. The one that said this is already going wrong.
Denki stood up, walked over to the pile of phones and picked up a clear-phonecase-with-one-polaroid-and-5-bucks-in-the-back phone. He shut his eyes, letting the electricity from his veins concentrate into his palms and out through his fingertips. At last, the phone lit up with 83%. The lock screen was a photo of Izuku and Katsuki as kids. It was quickly snatched by a pissed-off Bakugo. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Eighty-three percent? My phone’s been dead for hours.”
Soon, the entire class got up and grabbed their respective phones, eager for Denki to recharge their batteries. He smiled, laughing it off and stating that he was just “cool like that.” The only ones who didn’t stand in line were Izuku, Kirishima, and Jirou. Denki insisted, saying that he was fine and it didn’t even take that much energy out of him, but they didn’t budge.
ZAP! 92%.
ZAP! 87%.
ZAP! 79%
Zap! 64%.
Zap! 73%.
Zap! 61%.
zap! 59%.
zap! 43%.
zap. 32%
zap. 20%.
“Come on, Denks!” Mina sighed. “Twenty percent?? How am I gonna update my Instagram?”
He laughed it off. “My fault, Mina!” Grabbing her phone, he shut his eyes again frustratedly. He didn’t channel a small burst like he did with the rest of his friends. Instead, he mistakenly let out a surge of electricity that almost fried Mina’s phone entirely. The screen lit up bright and the volume all the way up, the phone’s way of trying to get rid of the excess charge. It flicked on and off repeatedly before finally settling. The screen lit up. 100%. Lingering sparks exploded in his hands.
“FUCK!” Denki yelled. “I’m so sorry Mina. Really, I did not mean to do that!” He handed her phone back, and she immediately snatched it back. “Denks, that was insanely dangerous,” Mina said softly. “You could have killed my phone.”
“Yeah, that’s my… my fault,” Denki replied, voice faltering. “I’m fine! I’m…”
His knees buckled.
Kirishima caught him before he hit the floor.
Denki sagged into his arms, electricity fizzling out like a dying spark. His head lolled forward, forehead pressing into Kirishima’s shoulder.
“…tired,” Denki mumbled.
Kirishima picked Denki up bridal style, carrying him through the group of his concerned classmates. The redhead was on his last nerve. “I’m gonna be back,” Kirishima said tightly. “and if I see a single phone in any of your hands, we’re gonna have a serious problem.” He walked into the elevator and let the doors shut.
•••
Recovery Girl tsk’d. “I told you, young man. I told you. No quirk overuse!” she scolded. “I can’t believe it.”
Denki laughed awkwardly, but it was more like a cough. He didn’t know what to say. “Um, am I gonna be okay?” he asked quietly.
Recovery Girl set her book down and sighed, turning to face Denki. “Yes, you’ll be fine. With adequate rest and plenty of time, you’ll recover.” She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. “I just don’t understand. Anyone with sense would have rested. What sparked you to think you’d be fine without it?
Denki was at a loss for words. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just have said no. He spoke without thinking. He wanted to feel useful. He was the one his friends were looking to in that moment of need. He was able to provide some solace, and that’s what he did, even if it hurt him. Was he always like this? Maybe this was just post-quirk haze talking. He wasn’t useless. He knew that. He felt okay. This was just… a side effect.
Right?
But he feels okay. Did Denki really think he was useless…?
With a final kiss on his forehead, Recovery Girl was on her way. “I’m serious, Kaminari. You need to rest. You need to heal.” She grabbed her staff and made her way out of Denki’s room. A couple seconds later, Kirishima walked in.
“Eiji…” Denki whispered, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Kirishima’s footsteps were quiet but deliberate, making their way over to Denki’s bedside. He sat on the edge, right next to Kaminari in his Pikachu pajama pants and black hoodie.
“Hey…” he spoke softly. He raised a hand to Denki’s cheek, wiping away any tears that had fallen. “It’s okay, Denks. You’re okay.”
“I just… I don’t know. I thought-“ Denki hiccuped. “I thought I would be okay. I don’t know what happened.” His chest heaved, the tension in his shoulders making him feel like he could crack. Kirishima scooted closer, wrapping his arms around him in a strong, grounded hug. Denki leaned in without thought, burying his head in the nook of Kirishima’s shoulder and wetting his shirt with his tears.
“You don’t have to do this on your own. You know you’ve always got me. Right, Denks? I’ve always got you,” Eijirou reassured. Denki let out a shaky breath. He wanted to apologize, to say he’d failed, to say he’d been reckless. But Kirishima pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head and shook his head no. “You don’t have to say anything. We can just stay here. As long as you want to.” Denki nodded.
“You can rest,” Kirishima whispered again. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
And for the first time in hours, Denki felt like he could.
Outside of his room, Izuku peeked through the gap of Denki’s bedroom door while Bakugo leaned back on the wall. “Izuku. He’s alright,” Katsuki stated. He knew Denki would be alright. Kirishima had a superpower and that was his ability to comfort. With Eijirou, there’s no doubt he’ll be okay.
“Oh, I feel so horrible Kacchan,” Izuku whispered before looking away from the door and over to the blond. “Kaminari’s quirk is so powerful and useful! I don’t understand how he could feel so useless when he’s one of the most valued people in our class.”
“It’s not about his quirk and how useful it is. It’s how it’s being used,” Katsuki responded. He looked at Izuku, motioned towards his room, and the two stated walking. “The dipshit obviously wants to feel useful, but he doesn’t want to feel used. Charging electronics is one thing. Saving people and using your quirk for good is another.” He unstuffed his hands from his pockets and reached for Izuku’s, who took his hand and laced their fingers together with no hesitation. “Izuku… promise me you’ll tell me if you feel useless. I’ll show the entire fucking world how amazing and useful you are.”
Standing right outside Katsuki’s dorm, Izuku laughed, squeezing Katsuki’s hands in his. “I promise, Kacchan. Now come on, let’s do an All Might rerun!!”
Bakugo side-eyed him. “How the fuck are we supposed to do that? The electricity’s still out.”
The green-haired boy stared at him and tilted his head. “DVDs?” he responded sassily. Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Kacchan needs to think sometimes…”
“HEY!!! I THINK PERFECTLY FINE, YOU DUMBASS NERD!” Katsuki exploded. Over them, the dorm hallway light flick flick flickered, then lit up brightly with the familiar hum that filled the air. The two looked up simultaneously, then looked at each other smiling.
“Lights are back on,” Izuku stated matter-of-factly.
Katsuki nodded with a small “mhm,” then dragged Izuku into his dorm, laughing and smiling like two idiots.
With the two other idiots, Denki yawned and nuzzled further into Kirishima’s shoulder, his small body relaxing completely.
Kirishima pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and whispered, “Rest easy, Denks. I’ve got you.” For the first time in hours, Denki’s breathing evened, and Kirishima let himself stay still, just holding him, feeling that quiet warmth settle between them.
Outside, the storm had passed, but inside, everything felt safe.