Y/N woke slowly, consciousness returning in fragments—awareness of a soft bed beneath him, the antiseptic smell of a hospital, the dull ache radiating through his entire body, and most concerning, a wrongness inside him that felt like something essential had been drained away.

Where am I? he thought groggily, his Six Eyes struggling to activate properly, perception fuzzy and incomplete in a way that was deeply unsettling. What happened to the others?

His last clear memory was of Hosu City burning. Of Stain's blade cutting deeper than it should have been able to. Of his students in danger. Of pushing himself beyond limits that he'd been ignoring for weeks, that exhaustion Aizawa had noticed finally catching up at the worst possible moment.

Of collapsing.

"Oh thank god you're awake!"

The familiar voice cut through his confusion. Y/N's eyes adjusted, bringing the hospital room into focus, and he saw three figures sitting around his bed—all looking exhausted, worried, and incredibly relieved.

Tenya Iida, his left arm in a sling, his usually perfect posture slumped with fatigue.

Izuku Midoriya, sporting fresh bandages and bruises, his green eyes red-rimmed like he'd been crying.

Shoto Todoroki, burn marks visible on his costume, ice crystals unconsciously forming and melting on his fingertips.

All three of his students. All awake. All safe.

"Oh. Hello," Y/N said, his voice rougher than usual. He smiled despite the pain and reached out, his hand finding Izuku's where it rested on the bedside. The contact was grounding, reassuring. "I'm happy to see you three awake."

Izuku's hand tightened around his, the teenager's composure cracking slightly. "Sensei, we—we didn't think you'd wake up. You've been unconscious for almost two days and Recovery Girl said—"

"We stayed," Todoroki interrupted quietly, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on Y/N with unusual intensity. "All of us. We didn't want you to wake up alone."

Two days? Y/N's mind reeled. I was out for two days? That's... that's bad. That's really bad. My healing factor should have—

But it hadn't. Because whatever was wrong with him—that depletion Aizawa had noticed—it was getting worse.

Did they stay up the whole night watching for me? Y/N wondered, studying the exhaustion in their faces, the devotion that had kept three injured teenagers at his bedside when they should have been resting themselves.

He shook his head slightly, both touched and exasperated. "Well," he said with forced cheerfulness, "as I told Stain, it'll take more than a lousy sword and a Nomu to take me down."

Even if it came closer than I'd like to admit, he added silently.

The door opened, and Manual and Gran Torino entered, both looking stern.

"YOU THREE!" Manual's voice was sharp with worry disguised as anger. "What did we tell you about staying up all night? You're injured! You need rest!"

"They wouldn't listen," Gran Torino added, though his tone was softer, almost approving. "Stubborn brats, all of them. Wonder where they learned that."

His knowing look at Y/N suggested exactly where.

Gran Torino stepped aside then, allowing another figure to enter—a massive man with a dog's head, wearing a police uniform that strained against his muscular frame. His presence immediately commanded respect and attention.

"Students," Gran Torino said formally, "this is Kenji Tsuragamae, Chief of the Hosu Police Force. He's here to discuss the... incident."

Y/N's grip on Izuku's hand tightened slightly. Here it comes. The consequences.

Chief Tsuragamae looked at each student in turn, his canine features stern but not unkind. When he spoke, his voice carried authority:

"I want to begin by saying that Stain, the Hero Killer, is currently being treated for serious injuries at a secure medical facility. Thanks to your actions, he will face justice." He paused, his expression hardening. "However, you three are uncertified individuals who used your Quirks to commit acts of violence without permission from your superiors or licensed heroes present."

Todoroki's jaw clenched, ice crackling more intensely around his fingers. "If we hadn't acted, Native would have been killed! We were supposed to just let—"

"Todoroki," Gran Torino's voice cut through sharply. "Let the Chief finish."

Todoroki bit back his protest, but fury radiated from him in almost palpable waves.

Chief Tsuragamae continued, unmoved by the outburst: "As I was saying—legally, you violated hero conduct regulations. You should face punishment. Suspension of your hero licenses-in-training at minimum. Possible criminal charges at maximum."

The room went deathly quiet. Izuku's hand trembled in Y/N's grip.

Then Tsuragamae's expression softened slightly. "However. That is my personal opinion as a police officer speaking strictly from a legal standpoint. The reality is more complicated."

He pulled out a folder, opening it to show nearly empty pages. "As there were not enough witnesses to the Stain incident who could provide official testimony—and given the chaotic nature of the attack with multiple Nomu present—the full details remain... undisclosed in official reports."

Understanding dawned across the students' faces.

"Consequently," Tsuragamae continued, "Iida Tenya, Midoriya Izuku, and Todoroki Shoto will not face punishment. You will also not receive public recognition for your valiant efforts in stopping the Hero Killer. Your actions will remain classified. Do you understand?"

Todoroki's anger shifted to surprise. "You should have led with that information, Chief."

"Perhaps," Tsuragamae agreed with what might have been amusement. "But you needed to understand the severity of what you did—both the heroism and the violation. Remember this lesson. Acting without authorization can save lives, but it can also ruin your careers before they begin."

"Thank you, sir," the three students said in unison, bowing as much as their injuries allowed.

Then Tsuragamae turned to Y/N, his expression becoming more complex—respect mixed with concern and a hint of disapproval.

"And you, Mr. Gojo." He sighed heavily. "You shouldn't have been involved in this conflict at all. Your internship wasn't in Hosu. You had no authorization to engage."

Y/N met his gaze evenly, his smile polite but his voice carrying steel beneath the casual tone: "I know you're the police chief, sir. But they're all my students, and I do as I see fit as long as they're safe."

"Even if doing so puts yourself at risk?" Tsuragamae challenged. "You collapsed, Gojo. Completely. The medical reports suggest severe quirk exhaustion—the kind that kills pro heroes who push too far."

"Better me than them," Y/N replied simply.

Gran Torino shook his head, his expression caught between exasperation and admiration. "You spooked us all pretty good when you collapsed like that, young'un. One moment you were standing, the next you just... dropped. No warning. No gradual weakening. Just unconscious."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Poor Mr. Aizawa had it worst. He's in another wing right now, answering questions from the police himself. But he's been checking on you every few hours. Worried sick, that one, even if he won't say it."

Something in Y/N's chest tightened. Shouta. Of course he's worried. He knew something was wrong. Tried to warn me. And I...

"We all were worried," Tenya added, his uninjured hand chopping through the air in his characteristic gesture. "Sensei, you saved us. You protected us from both Stain and the Nomu. If you hadn't arrived when you did—"

"But I did arrive," Y/N interrupted gently, squeezing Izuku's hand once more before releasing it. "And you're all safe. That's what matters."

"What matters," Manual interjected firmly, "is that all four of you are recovering. The students need proper rest, and you, Gojo-sensei, need to stay in this hospital bed until Recovery Girl clears you for release."

"I'm fine—" Y/N started to protest, trying to sit up.

His vision immediately swam. The room tilted. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest.

"You're not fine," Gran Torino said bluntly, gently pushing Y/N back down. "Your quirk nearly burned itself out. Whatever's been slowly draining you—and don't try to deny it exists—it accelerated dramatically during the fight. You pushed yourself past your limits to protect these kids."

He fixed Y/N with a surprisingly sharp look. "Which is admirable. And stupid. You can't protect anyone if you're dead, Gojo."

Y/N wanted to argue. Wanted to insist he was the strongest, that this was just temporary exhaustion, that he'd be fine in a few hours.

But his body betrayed him. Even with his Six Eyes barely functional, even with his Limitless not responding properly to his commands, he could sense the truth:

Something was fundamentally wrong.

Chief Tsuragamae cleared his throat. "I'll leave you all to rest. Remember what I said about unauthorized quirk usage. You got lucky this time—very lucky. Don't make it a habit."

He moved toward the door, then paused. "And Gojo-sensei? Thank you. For protecting them. Whatever else happens, you saved three promising young heroes' lives. That won't be forgotten, even if it can't be publicly acknowledged."

"Just doing my job," Y/N replied, though his smile was strained.

As Tsuragamae left, Manual turned to the three students. "Alright, you three heard him. Rest time. Your teacher's awake and stable. Now you need to take care of yourselves. Back to your rooms. Doctor's orders."

"But—" Izuku started to protest.

"No buts," Gran Torino said firmly. "You've done your vigil. Now let the man recover in peace. Besides—" he glanced at Y/N, "—I think Mr. Aizawa will want some private time with his colleague once he's done with the police."

The students reluctantly stood, each one lingering for a moment.

Tenya bowed formally. "Thank you, Sensei. For everything."

Todoroki simply nodded, but his eyes carried gratitude he didn't know how to voice.

And Izuku paused at the door, looking back with those earnest green eyes. "Sensei... please take care of yourself. You're always telling us not to break ourselves. Maybe you should follow your own advice?"

Y/N's smile became more genuine. "When did you get so wise, problem child?"

"I learned from the best," Izuku replied softly, then followed the others out.

Silence settled over the hospital room. Manual and Gran Torino exchanged glances.

"We should go too," Manual said. "Let him rest."

"Hmm." Gran Torino studied Y/N for a long moment. "You're hiding something, Gojo. Something big. I don't know what, and I won't pry. But whatever it is—whatever's eating away at you from the inside—you need to deal with it. Before it kills you."

"I'm working on it," Y/N lied.

"Sure you are." Gran Torino moved toward the door. "Stubborn fool. Just like Toshinori. Just like all the powerful ones—thinking you can carry everything alone."

He paused at the threshold. "You can't, you know. Carry everything. Eventually, even the strongest break under enough weight."

Then he was gone, leaving Y/N alone with his thoughts.

He's right, Y/N acknowledged to himself, staring at the ceiling. Something's wrong. Something's been wrong for weeks. That depletion, that wrongness—it's getting worse. Faster now. And I don't know why.

I don't know how to fix it.

And I'm terrified that if I tell anyone—if I admit weakness—my students will be vulnerable. That something will happen and I won't be strong enough to protect them.

His Six Eyes finally stabilized enough to perceive the room properly. The monitoring equipment. The IV in his arm. The way his own cursed energy—or whatever passed for it in this world—was flowing sluggishly, like a river running dry.

How much time do I have? he wondered. Before whatever this is takes me completely? Before I can't protect them anymore?

The door opened again, and this time it was Aizawa who entered.

The exhausted teacher looked even more exhausted than usual—hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, his capture weapon hanging limply around his neck. But when he saw Y/N awake, something in his expression cracked.

"You're awake," Aizawa said, his voice rough with emotion he was trying to hide.

"Hey, Shouta," Y/N greeted, his smile automatic. "Come to lecture me about collapsing dramatically?"

"Yes," Aizawa said bluntly, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "But first—" He reached out and, in a gesture that surprised them both, grabbed Y/N's hand. "—I'm glad you're alive. When you dropped... I thought..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

Y/N squeezed his hand gently. "Takes more than a villain to kill me, remember? I'm the strongest."

"Stop," Aizawa said quietly. "Stop pretending. Not with me. We both know something's wrong. Something serious. And it almost killed you this time."

Y/N's smile faltered.

"So," Aizawa continued, his tired eyes boring into Y/N's, "are you going to tell me the truth? Or are we going to keep dancing around this until the next time you collapse—maybe when there's no one there to catch you?"

Y/N was quiet for a long moment.

Then, finally, he admitted: "I don't know what's wrong, Shouta. I know something is. I know it's getting worse. But I don't know why, and I don't know how to fix it."

His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And I'm scared. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm genuinely scared. Because if I can't protect them—if whatever this is takes me out—who's going to keep my students safe?"

Aizawa's grip tightened. "We will. All of us. The other teachers. The heroes. Your students themselves—they're stronger than you give them credit for."

He leaned forward. "But they need you, Gojo. Not as a shield. Not as an invincible protector. They need you as a teacher. A mentor. Someone who shows them it's okay to be vulnerable sometimes. To ask for help."

"When did you become so wise?" Y/N asked, echoing his own earlier words to Izuku.

"When I started worrying about an idiot teacher who thinks he has to carry the world alone," Aizawa replied.

Despite everything, Y/N laughed—a real laugh, painful but genuine.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'll talk to Recovery Girl. Get properly examined. Figure out what's happening. No more hiding it."

"Good." Aizawa didn't release his hand. "And until you're cleared—fully cleared—you're on medical leave. No teaching. No training. No heroics. You rest and you recover."

"Shouta—"

"That's an order from your colleague and friend," Aizawa said firmly. "Don't make me get Nezu involved. He'll put you on lockdown."

Y/N sighed, but nodded. "Fine. Medical leave. Rest. Recovery. I can do that."

Can I? he wondered. Can I really rest when I know threats are still out there? When the League is planning something? When my students might need me?

But looking at Aizawa's concerned expression, at the genuine care beneath all that exhaustion, Y/N knew he didn't have a choice.

He had to get better.

Had to figure out what was wrong.

Had to be there for his students.

Because if he wasn't—if he burned out completely—then who would protect them from what was coming?

"Get some sleep," Aizawa said, finally releasing his hand and standing. "I'll be back tomorrow. And Gojo?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For saving them. For being there when they needed you."

"Always," Y/N replied simply.

As Aizawa left, Y/N settled back into the hospital bed, his mind churning with questions and fears and determination.

The fight in Hosu was over.

But the war—the real war—was just beginning.

And Y/N Gojo needed to be ready.

Which meant first, he had to heal.

The strongest didn't stay strong by pushing until they broke.

They stayed strong by knowing when to rest, recover, and come back even more powerful.

I'll figure this out, Y/N promised himself. Whatever's wrong with me, I'll fix it.

My students are counting on me.

I won't let them down.

Not ever.

He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion finally claim him properly.

Outside his room, Aizawa stood for a moment, his back against the wall, his own exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him.

"Please be okay," he whispered to the empty hallway. "Please figure out what's wrong. Because I don't know what we'll do if we lose you."

Then he pushed off the wall and headed back to his own recovery.

Because his students needed him too.

And the world kept spinning.

Whether they were ready or not.

 Later that evening, as the antiseptic-scented hospital room was bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun filtering through half-drawn blinds, Y/N received visitors—his other students had finally tracked him down. The sterile white sheets rustled softly as he shifted, and his expression—usually masked behind casual indifference—softened into something genuinely warm when he caught sight of familiar spiky black hair appearing in the doorway. Megumi entered first, his dark eyes scanning the room with that perpetual slight furrow between his brows until they landed on his teacher.

"There you are," Y/N beamed at his student, his voice carrying that characteristic warmth that seemed so at odds with his godlike presence. The fluorescent lights overhead caught the pristine white of his hair—each strand seeming to absorb and reflect the light like freshly fallen snow—and made his cerulean eyes shine behind the bandages he'd partially removed.

Without his usual hesitation, Megumi crossed the room in four quick strides, his footsteps nearly silent against the polished linoleum floor, and hugged him close. Y/N could feel the slight tremor in the boy's shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the thin hospital gown with just enough pressure to wrinkle the fabric. "Yaga-sensei said you'd be here," Megumi mumbled against the older man's shoulder, his voice slightly muffled but thick with relief that he'd never admit to out loud. The warmth of his breath seeped through the cotton material.

Yuji was there too, hovering anxiously near the doorway with his characteristic pink hair slightly disheveled, as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His honey-brown eyes darted between Y/N and the various medical equipment with barely contained worry. Nobara stood with her arms crossed, her orange hair catching the light, though the tightness around her mouth and the slight redness at the corners of her eyes betrayed her stern posture.

"You worried us, Gojo!" Nobara reprimanded, a prominent tick mark appearing on her forehead as she glared at him with that familiar mix of exasperation and concern. Her voice cracked almost imperceptibly on the word 'worried,' her fingers digging into her own arms hard enough to leave temporary crescent-shaped marks from her nails.

They never change, do they? Y/N thought with an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips, creating those subtle laugh lines that most people never got close enough to notice. He gently released Megumi, his long fingers—calloused from years of combat yet somehow still elegant—patting the boy's shoulder reassuringly. He could feel Megumi's reluctance to pull away in the brief second of resistance before the teenager stepped back, quickly wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand in a gesture he thought went unnoticed.

"I'm fine, you guys. Honestly—I'm getting cleared soon," Y/N said, though even as the words left his mouth—his tongue forming each syllable with practiced ease—he could see in their expressions that they wouldn't be entirely convinced. The IV needle in his arm pulled slightly against the medical tape securing it, a small discomfort he ignored with practiced ease.

Yuji immediately plopped down on the bedside with enough force to make the metal frame creak softly, the mattress dipping under his weight and causing the thin blanket to slide an inch toward him. His usual energetic demeanor was tempered by genuine worry that creased his youthful features. "Yeah, sure. Sukuna says you're hurt inside too." The words came out with Yuji's characteristic bluntness, though his voice dropped to something softer, more careful. "That stain guy got you pretty bad, huh?"

Y/N's jaw tightened involuntarily, the muscles along his jawline flexing visibly beneath pale skin as his teeth ground together with enough pressure to make his molars ache. A muscle twitched near his temple. Sukuna. Of course he can feel it. The curse's ability to sense such things—to feel the lingering damage to his internal organs, the bruised ribs that protested with each deep breath, the cursed energy still working to knit together torn tissue—was both impressive and deeply inconvenient. He released a slow sigh through his nose, the exhale stirring a strand of white hair that had fallen across his forehead, and forced his expression back to something more relaxed. His fingers uncurled from where they'd unconsciously gripped the bedsheet.

"He did," Y/N admitted, his voice dropping to something more serious, more honest. The playful lilt disappeared entirely, replaced by a tone that carried the weight of near-death and hard-won survival. His eyes—those impossibly blue Six Eyes that could perceive the world in ways no other living soul could—darkened with memory. "But he won't—not again. No one will do it again."

He raised his hand demonstratively, his movements fluid despite the lingering soreness. The air around his palm seemed to shimmer slightly, like heat waves rising from summer asphalt, though the temperature in the room hadn't changed. Megumi, ever curious and concerned despite his stoic exterior, reached out to touch it, his fingertips extended. They stopped short exactly three centimeters from Y/N's skin, meeting invisible resistance that sent tiny ripples across the surface of space itself—visible only to those who knew exactly what to look for. Megumi's eyes widened fractionally as he felt the subtle push-back, like pressing against an impossibly smooth, immovable surface.

"See?" Y/N's trademark grin returned, stretching across his face and revealing the flash of perfectly white teeth, though there was something harder beneath it now—something forged in pain and cemented in determination. The corners of his eyes crinkled, but the smile didn't quite reach those crystalline depths. "From now on, Infinity will be active all the time. Twenty-four seven, three-sixty-five."

Nobara's brow furrowed, creating three distinct lines across her forehead as her practical mind already worked through the implications. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her boots squeaking almost imperceptibly against the floor. "Won't that be exhausting though, Sensei?" The question came out tinged with genuine concern that she tried to mask with casual curiosity. "Maintaining a technique constantly, even for you..."

Y/N shrugged with that effortless confidence that seemed to radiate from him like heat from the sun, the movement causing his hospital gown to slip slightly off one shoulder, revealing the edge of pristine, unmarred skin—the external wounds already healed completely. His brilliant blue eyes—those Six Eyes that saw everything, processed everything, understood everything on a level that would drive normal humans mad—glinted with absolute certainty. The light caught in them seemed to swirl with cursed energy, making them appear almost luminescent.

"You forget who I am, Kugisaki." He leaned back against his pillow, the fabric crinkling softly beneath his weight, that insufferable smirk playing at his lips like a private joke only he understood. His hair splayed across the white pillowcase like a halo, each strand catching the dying sunlight. "I am the strongest."

The words weren't a boast—not really. They were simply fact, stated with the same certainty one might say the sky is blue or water is wet. His cursed energy hummed beneath his skin, vast and bottomless as an ocean, barely contained within his mortal form.

And I'll never let them get that close again, he added silently, the unspoken promise settling over his heart like armor. His fingers curled slightly against the sheets, remembering the sensation of being vulnerable, of being caught off-guard. Never again. The invisible barrier of Infinity shimmered around him, imperceptible to normal eyes but absolute in its protection—a wall between himself and a world that had, for one terrible moment, managed to hurt him.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the steady beep of the heart monitor and the distant sounds of the hospital beyond the closed door. His students remained close, their presence a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature, and Y/N allowed himself this moment of connection before the barrier between them became permanent in more ways than one.