Red in Different Shades

20. Lingering Frustration

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Edited 17.MARCH.2022

Edited 20.OCT.2024

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Denki Kaminari knew he was probably the dumbest kid in class. Academically, at least. But honestly, that had never bothered him too much. As long as he scraped by on exams at an elite school like U.A., he figured he was doing okay. Being a hero was more about guts and instincts, right? That was where he thrived. At least, that's what he told himself.

But no amount of confidence could help him now. Even someone like Yaoyorozu, with her incredibly smart mind, would have trouble seeing a way out of this mess. And Denki, well he was no Yaoyorozu. All he could do was sit there, hands fidgeting uselessly, stomach twisting tighter by the second.

When the villains finally retreated, it felt like the air inside the room loosened, if only slightly. The students released a shaky breath together, relief mixing with dread. They were safe now. But at what cost?

The two classes gathered inside the cramped building under Vlad King's watchful eye. His presence was solid and grounding, but it couldn't banish the unspoken tension in the room. Aizawa-Sensei and the Pussycats were still combing the forest for students and villains. No one knew if they'd find everyone. Or if they'd be too late.

And then came the first real gut punch: Midoriya's condition.

Denki's stomach churned when he saw him. Midoriya's right arm looked destroyed. Twisted, purple, and grotesquely swollen, as if it had taken the full force of a bomb. His ribs were broken, and every breath he took looked like it hurt. On top of that, the poor guy had a concussion and multiple fractures. It was a miracle he was even conscious when they loaded him into the ambulance.

Everything around Denki passed in a blur after that.

Out of both Class 1-A and Class 1-B, thirteen students were unconscious. Eleven others had minor injuries. Bruises, scrapes, maybe a sprain here or there. The lucky ones, fourteen of them, had no injuries at all. Physically, at least.

Denki wasn't one of the lucky ones. Not because he was hurt, but because he couldn't shake the feeling clawing at his insides. That he should've done something, anything more.

He'd wanted, needed, to help his friends out there. He could've zapped a few villains, stunned them just long enough to make a difference. But the teachers hadn't allowed it. They'd kept everyone in the classroom, locked in safety while their friends bled and screamed in the forest.

The frustration burned in his chest, hot and heavy, and judging by the grim expressions around him, he knew the others felt it too. The ones stuck in that room all wore the same exhausted, hollow look of frustration tangled with guilt.

We should've done more.

The worry hit next, creeping in like an evening shadow. It settled over the students, weighing them down.

They worried for their classmates, the ones who were hurt. They worried for Yaoyorozu, who had blood dripping from her scalp, staining her hands as she tried to press against the wound. They worried for Midoriya, whose battered form looked like it was hanging by a thread.

And, they worried for Kirishima.

Denki's eyes drifted to his friend. He'd never seen Kirishima like this. Not once. The redhead looked like the fight had been drained right out of him, his normally bright and determined face reduced to something bleak and empty.

Denki had seen Kirishima happy, angry, exhausted, frustrated. Every emotion under the sun. But now? Now Kirishima looked lost. And that scared Denki more than anything else.