Mailin’s POV

The air feels different today. There’s an underlying tension, the kind that creeps into your skin and stays there, like a warning. We’ve been called out on our first real mission—a rescue situation in the city, and even though we’ve trained for this, nothing can truly prepare you for the real thing.

I stand with Nemuri, Shota, Shirakumo, and Hizashi, waiting for the briefing. My heart is pounding, but I keep my focus steady. This is what I’ve been preparing for. My healing abilities have always been my strength, and today, I’ll finally be able to put them to use outside of training.

Nemuri steps forward, her usual confident smile replaced with something more serious. "All right, listen up," she says, her voice firm. "There’s been an incident in the city center. A building collapsed, and there are multiple injuries. Our job is to get in there, assess the situation, and help the people who need us. Focus on the rescue. Leave the combat to the pros already on the scene."

I nod, absorbing every word. This is it. This is where I can make a difference.

As we arrive at the scene, the reality of it all hits me. The building is half-destroyed, debris scattered everywhere, people crying for help. The scent of dust and smoke hangs heavy in the air. It’s chaotic, overwhelming—but I push it all aside and focus. This is where I belong.

Nemuri gives us our roles quickly and efficiently. "Mailin, you’re with me. We’ll handle the injured. Shota, Shirakumo, Hizashi—assist with clearing the debris and making sure there are safe routes for evacuation."

I follow Nemuri through the rubble, my mind already working. We find a group of injured civilians huddled together near what used to be the entrance of the building. Some of them are bleeding, others struggling to breathe. Without hesitation, I kneel beside them and get to work.

Water pools from my hands, cool and soothing as I let it wash over their wounds, healing the torn skin and broken bones. I work quickly, my quirk flowing through me like second nature. I can feel the tension in their bodies ease as the healing takes hold, and I move from person to person, making sure everyone gets the care they need.

There’s a rhythm to it now—find, heal, move on. It’s not glamorous, and it’s not flashy, but it’s effective. This is what I do best.

But even as I work, I can’t help but glance over at Shota. He’s been quiet this entire mission, his face set in that same serious expression he always wears. He’s working with Shirakumo, clearing paths through the debris with his capturing scarf, but I can see the frustration in his movements, the way his jaw tightens every time something doesn’t go as planned.

I know he’s struggling. His quirk, Erasure, isn’t built for rescue work. It’s built for combat, for stopping villains in their tracks. And here, in the middle of this chaos, he must feel as though he’s not contributing enough. I respect his dedication, though. Even when he’s frustrated, even when things aren’t going his way, he keeps going. He’s strong like that—stronger than he gives himself credit for.

As the mission goes on, the sun starts to set, casting long shadows across the wreckage. We’ve saved a lot of people, but there are still more trapped inside. Nemuri signals for us to regroup, and as we gather, I catch Shota’s eye. For a moment, our gazes lock, and I see something there—something deeper than the frustration he’s been carrying. Something that makes my heart skip a beat.

But there’s no time to think about that now.

"We’re heading in deeper," Nemuri says, her voice clipped but steady. "There are still people trapped in the basement. This is going to be tricky, so stay sharp."

We move quickly, making our way through the damaged building. The deeper we go, the more dangerous it becomes. The walls groan under the weight of the rubble, and every step feels like a risk. But we push forward, determined.

In the basement, we find a young boy trapped under a fallen beam. He’s conscious, but barely. His breathing is shallow, and I can see the fear in his eyes. Without thinking, I rush to his side, water already gathering in my palms.

"Stay still," I murmur, my voice soft as I begin the healing process. "You’re going to be okay."

The beam is too heavy for me to lift on my own, and I call out for help. Shota’s there in an instant, his scarf wrapping around the debris and pulling it away with precision. As the weight is lifted, I finish healing the boy, feeling the rush of relief as his breathing steadies.

"Thank you," I whisper, looking up at Shota.

He just nods, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a connection, a silent understanding that passes between us. And for the first time, I feel like we’re truly working as a team.

---

Shota’s POV

This mission... It’s not what I expected.

From the moment we arrived, it’s been chaos. I’m not cut out for rescue work. My quirk’s useless here. All I can do is clear paths and hope it’s enough. But even that feels like a stretch. Every time I pull someone out of the debris, I wonder if I’m actually helping or just getting in the way.

I glance over at Mailin. She’s in her element—calm, focused, her hands glowing with water as she heals the injured. There’s a natural grace to the way she moves, like she was born to do this. While I’m struggling to keep up, she’s thriving. It’s impressive, I’ll admit that much. And maybe a little infuriating.

We’re supposed to be heroes, right? We’re supposed to save people. But here I am, barely managing to keep things together while she’s over there saving lives like it’s nothing. I don’t know how she does it—how she stays so calm when everything around us is falling apart.

I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away. This isn’t the time for self-pity. There are still people who need our help.

We get the signal to move deeper into the building. It’s dangerous—more dangerous than anything we’ve faced so far—but I follow Nemuri’s lead without hesitation. There’s no room for doubt. Not now.

In the basement, we find a kid trapped under a beam. He’s hurt, but alive. Mailin rushes to his side, her hands glowing with that familiar blue light. I watch her work, my frustration gnawing at me again. She’s so... steady. So sure of herself. I don’t get it. How can she be so confident in a situation like this?

When she calls for help, I’m there before I even realize what I’m doing. My scarf wraps around the beam, and with a sharp pull, I lift it away from the boy. Mailin finishes healing him, her hands moving with practiced ease.

She looks up at me, her eyes soft, full of gratitude. "Thank you," she whispers.

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me that makes my chest tighten, like she can see right through me. Like she understands more than I’m ready to admit.

We’re supposed to be focused on the mission, on saving lives, but for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about her. About the way she works, the way she moves through the chaos like she’s always known exactly where she belongs.

And then it hits me. She’s everything I’m not—calm, composed, sure of herself. And maybe... maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about her.

As we pull back from the mission, the weight of the day settles over me. It wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t perfect. But in the middle of all that chaos, there was one thing that kept me grounded.

Mailin.