The days blurred into one another, each passing moment a steady rhythm of growth and change. I could feel my strength returning, an unrelenting tide that swept away the weakness I had once feared would consume me. The fall into the void, that deep, suffocating darkness that had threatened to steal everything from me, had not broken me. It had only made me more resilient, more determined. Each beat of my heart seemed to send a pulse of power through my veins, a reminder that even in the face of death, I was still here, still standing.

All Might, too, was recovering. The once-proud hero had emerged from his coma, the hazy cloud of unconsciousness lifting to reveal a man reborn. His scars, those deep, painful reminders of the battle we had fought, had vanished as if they were never there. Even the large, gaping wound on his stomach was no longer a mark of suffering—it was gone, healed by forces far greater than any ordinary medicine could offer. I couldn't help but feel a small flicker of satisfaction at that, even if it was tempered by the memory of what had happened.

Today, I found myself standing at the edge of the training grounds, watching Class 1-A with a mixture of pride and curiosity. The students were more than just classmates now—they were comrades, each one sharpening their skills in preparation for the inevitable. The Training Camp loomed on the horizon, and their progress was evident in every movement they made. But it was Izuku who stood out the most.

He had changed. In the weeks I had been here, I could see the transformation, the subtle but undeniable shift in his presence. The boy who had once been timid, unsure, had blossomed into someone far stronger—both in body and spirit. His movements were more confident now, more deliberate. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He was pushing himself harder, striving to become the hero he was always meant to be, and it was clear to anyone watching that his efforts were paying off.

The others, too, were improving. Bakugo's explosive temper was now matched by an equally explosive power. Todoroki's control over his ice and fire abilities had grown more precise. Even the more reserved students were showing signs of strength. But it was Izuku, with his unwavering determination, who held my attention. I couldn't help but wonder how far he would go, what he would become.

As I stood there, the wind tousling my fur and feathers, I couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose settle into my chest. There was still so much to be done. The world outside these walls was far from peaceful, and the challenges that awaited them all were immense. But for now, I could find solace in watching them grow, in knowing that I had a part to play in their journey. And maybe, just maybe, I could continue to guide them—to help them become the heroes they were destined to be.

All Might approached me, his footsteps echoing softly on the gravel as he offered me a warm, almost nostalgic smile. "Won't you train with us, young Onyx?" His voice was steady, inviting—unlike the weight of guilt and uncertainty that often gnawed at me.

I flicked my tail at the back of his head, careful not to strike too hard, though I couldn't deny the temptation. The old man was strong, but I still didn't trust myself around him. "No, All Might, I don't think so," I replied, my voice light but laced with a hint of humor. I wanted to keep my distance, to keep myself in check. It wasn't about him; it was about me.

His smile didn't falter as he placed both of his large hands on my shoulders. The gesture was familiar, almost fatherly, yet there was something deeper in it—a reminder that he didn't see the creature in me, just the person I used to be, or maybe the person I still was. "You are not a danger to us all, Onyx," he said, his voice unwavering, reassuring. "Whatever happened was a one-time incident. We all trust you."

I felt a flash of frustration surge through me, something cold and sharp. I turned my head, my eyes narrowing into a glare. "No one forgets anything here, All Might." The words were a bite, a snap that tasted bitter on my tongue. He wanted me to believe that everything was fine, that the world could just move on. But I knew better. I had seen too much. I had done too much.

All Might sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, the weight of my rejection sinking into him. But his expression softened, and there was an understanding in his eyes that cut through the tension. "Call me Toshinori," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper now, filled with something more than just the words. "We are friends, aren't we?"

His words lingered in the air, a promise—or maybe a plea—for reconciliation. It was a simple request, one that felt like an olive branch extended, yet I couldn't help but feel it slip through my fingers. Friend. The word was foreign to me now. Could I ever trust anyone again after what I had done? Could I ever accept the idea that I was worth trusting?

I let out a long breath, the air heavy in my lungs, and lowered my head slightly. My wings rustled nervously behind me, the faintest tremor in the way they folded. "You want me to believe that, don't you?" I muttered. "That after all that's happened, I can just walk in and be a part of this again. That I can be your friend."

Toshinori's hands remained firm on my shoulders, not to force me but to ground me, a silent plea for me to see the truth in his words. I swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze breaking through the walls I'd built. But I wasn't ready. Not yet.

"I'm not ready for that," I finally said, my voice quiet, almost lost in the wind. "But... maybe one day."

Toshinori's smile was brief, but it carried understanding, like he knew exactly where my mind was. "I see, I understand," he said, his voice soft but resolute. "Well, I won't press you, but at least help me with one exercise. I want you to put some fire on the ice that Todoroki has been making."

I tipped my head toward the training area, my eyes narrowing slightly as I observed the dual-haired boy, Shoto Todoroki. His control over both fire and ice was impressive, but I could see the familiar tension in his posture—the kind that always lingered when someone was still trying to master the balance of their power.

The way his quirk flickered between extremes, ice shooting out from one side and fire roaring from the other, was a clear sign of his internal struggle. The fire was bright and fierce, but the ice was calm and controlled, like a silent predator waiting to strike. It was obvious that Todoroki was still trying to reconcile both halves of himself.

I took a breath and flexed my wings, feeling the familiar rush of power flow through me. The sun had shifted, casting long shadows over the training ground, but I felt a renewed sense of purpose pulse in my chest.

Toshinori's request was simple, but it wasn't just about the exercise. He wanted me to interact with Todoroki—to acknowledge the potential for growth, to show him that balance could be found even in the most chaotic of situations. I couldn't ignore that, no matter how much I wanted to pull back into the shadows.

I stepped forward, my claws scraping against the gravel, my tail swishing with anticipation. I focused on Todoroki, who was so engrossed in his quirk he hadn't noticed me approaching. The air around me seemed to hum as I channeled the heat within me, my scales tingling with the surge of fire that flickered to life beneath my skin.

Todoroki's eyes flicked toward me just as I raised my clawed hand, and I could see the brief flash of surprise before he quickly shifted his stance, preparing for whatever I had in store. I smirked, the flames in my chest growing hotter.

Without a word, I lifted my tail and snapped it forward, releasing a torrent of fire that shot across the ground in a wide arc, curling around Todoroki's ice. The moment the fire touched the frost, it hissed and steamed, the contrasting forces colliding in a chaotic, beautiful burst of light and sound.

The ice began to melt away, steam rising into the air in a swirling dance, and Todoroki's eyes widened as he watched the flames consume the icy barrier. The fire didn't burn uncontrollably—it was controlled, but wild, like me. It was a reminder that balance could be achieved, even with the most destructive of forces.

As the steam cleared, Todoroki stood frozen for a moment, his expression unreadable. I turned to Toshinori, who had been watching with an almost proud smile. "There," I said, my voice a little breathless from the effort, but also strangely satisfied. "I've put fire on his ice. Not the way you probably intended, but... it works."

Todoroki gave a slight nod, his eyes still flicking between the melted ice and me. "Impressive," he muttered, his voice cool, but with a hint of respect that I hadn't expected.

I flexed my claws again, feeling the power shift within me, the burn of my fire fading into the air. "Balance," I said softly, more to myself than anyone else. "Balance is the key."

Toshinori clapped a hand on my shoulder, his touch firm yet gentle. "Exactly. Balance is something we all need to find, especially in this chaotic world."

I looked at Todoroki one more time, meeting his gaze with a sense of quiet understanding. He had his own struggles, his own internal battles. And for the first time, I thought maybe... just maybe, I could help him find his balance too.