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Under the weight of dark, rain-soaked sky, Kirishima paced anxiously in front of Shoto and Jiro, each step echoing in the mud. The relentless downpour only added to his horrible mood. It had been less than forty-eight hours since Emi had been taken – just under two days since his world had spiraled into chaos. In that short span, he felt as though he had aged years, the agony of losing her gnawing at him.

The crisis had begun when Tokoyami and Shoji stumbled upon Aizawa, unconscious but uninjured. Their response was to immediately alert the rest of the school staff after they roused Aizawa and heard what had happen. Principal Nezu had quickly made the decision to shut down the festival and close the campus as teachers scrambled to search every corner of the vicinity.

It was Bakugo who found Kirishima, still working on his clean-up duties. They had made the wise choice sending Bakugo; no one else could have restrained Kirishima from launching into a reckless manhunt of his own when he was told the news. Even as Bakugo raged about finding the "bastard" who had taken Emi, he managed to hold Kirishima in check, forcing him to breathe and regain some semblance of control.

After what felt like an eternity of deliberation with their classmates and Pro Heroes, they found themselves setting out, armed with the hope that Momo's gift to Emi – a bracelet containing a hidden tracker – would lead them to her. The data had pinpointed a small area where she might be held, a thread of hope. Kirishima had been lucky to tag along, since Jiro was there for recon and Shoto because his brother had been involved.

No matter how he got there, he didn't care. Kirishima would bulldoze anyone in his path just to get to Emi; all he had to do now was wait for the signal.

____________________

Emi could sense that not much time had passed since they had taken her, but as each agonizing minute dragged on, she knew she had to act quickly. The initial shock of her abduction had ebbed into a restless sleep, but grief had given way to a simmering rage. She felt it rising within her, hot and fierce, pushing her to think beyond mere escape. If only she could find a moment to strike, she might be able to take one of them down.

Every movement sent pain radiating through her body, with burns and bruises marking her skin. Yet, he suffering only seemed to fuel Dabi, who found some sort of sadistic enjoyment in her torture. They had bound her hands tightly and covered them, a deliberate effort to prevent her from activating her quirk. But Emi was determined; she knew she would find a way to break free.

She had barely recovered from her last "chat" with Dabi when he sat before her, his expression a mix of boredom and anticipation, as if contemplating his next move. The silence hung heavy in the air, and Emi braced herself for the inevitable pain she knew would follow. Just as Dabi stood abruptly, his impatience crackling like the sparks of his own flames, Kazuo burst into the room, drenched and panting heavily.

"What is it? You're interrupting," Dabi snapped, his voice sharp as he turned to glare at Kazuo. The tension in the room thickened, and Emi felt a flicker of hope as Kazuo's frantic demeanor caught her attention.

"There are heroes in the area. A lot of them. No doubt looking for her," Kazuo replied, jerking his chin in her direction. Emi could see the fury boiling in his eyes as he glanced at her, and she couldn't help but smirk back at him.

"Told you so," she taunted, a hint of her old spirit surfacing amidst the dire circumstances. Her hope ignited, just enough to convince her that she had a chance—not just to escape, but to fight back.

"Alright, pack our shit up. I'll see what I can do to divert them until we can take off," Dabi commanded, urgency flooding his voice as he practically sprinted from the room. Kazuo hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Emi, his expression softening.

"You know I'm not leaving you behind, right?" he asked quietly, but Emi remained silent. Deep down, she knew that going with them was not an option—either she would find her own way out, or the heroes would intervene.

As Kazuo dashed out of the room, Emi's mind raced. The chair she was strapped to was bolted to the floor, tipping it over wouldn't help. The bindings around her hands were too tight, and the coverings over her skin seemed impenetrable. Her options were dwindling, but one idea flickered to life—something she had been experimenting with in training.

With swift determination, she kicked off her shoes, placing her bare feet against the cold concrete floor. "Come on, please work this time," she whispered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she concentrated, willing her quirk to expand to her feet. It had never been successful before, but desperation ignited a fierce determination.

Then, as if fueled by a miracle—and perhaps a surge of panic-driven adrenaline—she felt the concrete begin to ripple and cover her skin. A wave of relief washed over her, but she held her breath, waiting until the rough texture reached her wrists. With a sudden, powerful pull, she yanked against the restraints, feeling them snap apart with a gratifying crack.

Emi had no idea where she was or how close her rescuers might be, but she couldn't afford to hesitate. Without a second thought, she bolted down the hallway that Kazuo had disappeared into, her heart racing. She didn't bother to be quiet; the thrill of freedom coursed through her veins. If Kazuo caught sight of her, she knew he couldn't use his quirk while she was in this form, and if a confrontation was necessary, she welcomed it. She was ready for revenge—ready to reclaim her freedom.

By a stroke of luck, Emi didn't see or hear Kazuo as she sprinted through the dimly lit hallways, her heart pounding in her chest. She spotted a door clearly marked with an EXIT sign, its fluorescent glow a beacon of hope amid the shadows. As she shoved the door open, a rush of cold air met her, and the rain immediately soaked her skin, a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside the building.

Stepping outside, Emi took a moment to catch her breath and assess her surroundings. She was right; they were just on the outskirts of a small town, the distant glow of lights twinkling like stars against the backdrop of dense woods that surrounded the area. A surge of determination coursed through her—first, she would head into the trees to conceal herself from Dabi and Kazuo if they decided to pursue her. Then, she would find help, or hope that it would find her.

As soon as she plunged into the embrace of the darkness beneath the trees, she heard the door she had just exited slam open again. "Emi! Get back here!" Kazuo's voice rang out, frantic and desperate as he scanned the perimeter. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the stillness, and panic flared within her.

Instinctively, Emi sank behind a sturdy tree, pressing her back against its rough bark. She felt the adrenaline surging through her veins, every muscle in her body urging her to fight, but she knew she wasn't in a position to win. Not yet. One day, she vowed silently, I'll find him again. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Kazuo take cautious steps into the woods, his silhouette tense and determined.

Just as she steeled herself for a confrontation, a gloved hand suddenly clamped over her mouth, and she thrashed in alarm, fearing it was Dabi or someone else allied with him. But the hand turned her face gently, and she froze, recognition flooding her system. "Calm down, kid. It's me," said Hawk, his familiar voice a balm for her frayed nerves.

A wave of relief washed over her, and she nodded, her shoulders sagging as she met his steady gaze. "We're here to save you, but I guess you kind of did that yourself," he added, a hint of admiration in his tone.

Hawk slowly removed his hand from her mouth, putting a finger to his lips as a signal for silence. "How many others are here?" Emi whispered, her eyes darting back to Kazuo, who was still frantically searching for her.

"If you're wondering about your boyfriend—" Hawk began, a teasing lilt in his voice. Emi's heart leaped at the mention of him, her spirits lifting. "—he was on the front lines, ready to charge in."

Before she could respond, Hawk moved with practiced ease, sliding his arms under her knees and lifting her off the ground. She felt a surge of gratitude as her body slumped against his strong frame, the support a welcome relief. He moved silently and swiftly through the underbrush, carrying her deeper into the woods, far from the building and Kazuo's searching gaze.

"How'd you get out?" Hawk asked, his focus still ahead, determination etched on his features.

"I figured out how to activate my quirk with my feet, not just my hands," Emi replied, her voice barely above a whisper. At this, Hawk turned his head slightly, a pleased smile breaking across his face.

"That's pretty impressive. Looks like you're tougher than I thought, princess."

"What did I say about calling me that?" she shot back, though the banter lacked its usual bite. She was too drained to continue the sparring.

As they moved deeper into the woods, Emi's heart raced at the sight of more figures coming into view—heroes arriving on the scene. Her eyes scanned the small group, her pulse quickening as she searched for the one person she desperately wanted to see. She searched the faces, each one a blur of determination and relief, but it wasn't until she spotted a flash of bright red that everything else faded away.

"Kirishima!" She cried out, her voice breaking with emotion. The moment their eyes locked, all the pain and fear she had melted away. He was there, standing at the edge of the gathering, his eyes wide with disbelief and raw worry.

"Emi!" Kirishima shouted, his voice echoing through the trees as he surged forward, breaking through the cluster of heroes. Hawks set her down gently, stepping back to provide some space, as Kirishima quickly closed the distance between them.

When he reached her, he enveloped her in his arms, lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. The warmth of his embrace wrapped around her like a protective cocoon, and for the first time since she'd been taken, she felt safe. Tears streamed down her face as she buried her head against his shoulder, the overwhelming rush of emotions spilling out.

"I thought I'd lost you." Kirishima murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He held her tighter, as if he was afraid she might slip away again. "I was so scared. I couldn't – "

"I'm okay." She interrupted, her words muffled against him. "I'm okay now that you're here." But as she clung to him, she could feel the tremors in his body, the way he fought to keep it together. Slowly, Kirishima pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, searching for injuries.

"Where are you hurt?" He asked, concern etched on his features as he brushed a thumb gently across her cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

"A few bruises, some burns." Emi admitted, managing a small smile despite the grief in her heart. "But I'll heal."

Kirishima opened his mouth, his chest tight with worry, ready to say something that might help, but before he could find the right words, he saw Jiro and Shoto rushing over. Jiro's voice was urgent as she reached Emi, her eyes scanning her for injuries. "Emi, are you okay?" she asked, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a tight, comforting hug.

Shoto was right behind her, his expression serious and focused. "Here, let me treat your burns," he said, holding out a small kit with medical supplies.

Emi flinched slightly at the movement, the sting of her burns still fresh, but she shook her head before they could do more. "I appreciate it, you guys. I really do." Her voice was soft but firm. S he paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, before her expression turned darker. The sadness in her eyes was quickly overtaken by a simmering, quiet rage. "But there's something I need to talk to Kirishima about. Alone."

Jiro and Shoto exchanged a brief glance, their concern palpable, but they nodded without question. "Of course," Shoto said, stepping back, his expression sympathetic but understanding.

They retreated toward the rest of the group, leaving the two of them standing together, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Kirishima couldn't help but stare at Emi, his heart sinking as he took in her changed demeanor. Where her usual warmth had been, now there was a coldness, a storm brewing behind her eyes. It was a look he hadn't seen from her before—a raw, unfiltered mixture of fury and sorrow.

He stood still, watching her closely, as Emi's gaze flickered around the area, her mind clearly racing. It was like she was trying to find the right moment to speak, but her thoughts seemed tangled, each one too heavy to share just yet. The silence stretched between them, thick with anticipation, as Kirishima waited for her to be ready.

"They killed my parents."

Kirishima's heart plummeted, a sharp, hollow feeling taking over his chest as he heard the finality in Emi's words. The weight of them settled like a stone in his stomach. His instinct was to reach out, to close the distance between them and pull her into a comforting embrace, but before he could even take a step, Emi took a deliberate step back. The small gesture struck him like a blow, sharp and devastating.

"Kazuo... and Dabi," Emi started, her voice trembling on the edge of breaking. She paused, as though the words themselves were a weight too heavy to bear. She swallowed hard, pushing back against the surge of emotion threatening to overtake her. "They hired someone to do it." The words came out raw, a confession she wasn't sure she was ready to make, but they were out now, and there was no taking them back.

Her eyes, glassy and far away, fixed on a point just beyond him. She seemed to be losing herself in the memory, her voice shaking again, this time with a mixture of fury and despair she couldn't suppress. "They made me watch the aftermath on the news. I heard the reporter count my parents' names under the death toll."

Kirishima's breath hitched at the words. Her parents... The reality of it slammed into him like a wave, and his heart broke for her all over again. His throat tightened, and he could feel the heat of his own anger rising, a seething rage at the people who had caused her this pain. But all he could do in that moment was stand there, quietly, as she continued to wrestle with the memory.

"Ems..." His voice was barely a whisper, full of sorrow and helplessness. He extended his hand toward her, giving her the space to decide whether she wanted to take it or not.

For a long moment, Emi stared at his hand, the tension in her expression palpable. Kirishima held his breath, waiting. The silence between them felt suffocating, the weight of her grief too much for words. Then, almost gradually, her hand began to move, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for him.

With quiet, desperate urgency, Kirishima pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Emi's body trembled as she pressed into him, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her quiet, broken sniffles, muffled against his chest.

Kirishima felt his own anger surge again, a blinding, white-hot fury that burned through him. Kazuo and Dabi. The names twisted in his mind like a curse. He wanted nothing more than to rush back into the woods and find them, to make them pay for what they had done. But, in that moment, he knew he couldn't leave her. Not now. Not when she needed him most.

"I want to kill him." Emi's voice cracked, low and bitter, as the words slipped out, and the fury in them seemed to hang in the air between them, thick and suffocating. She wiped her tear-streaked face, her hand trembling as she tried to dry the hot tears still falling from her eyes. "If I had just... given up on him long ago, if I had been able to catch him the last time we met... none of this would have happened."

Gently, Kirishima reached for her, cupping her face in his warm hands, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of her tears. "It's not your fault," he whispered, his voice low and steady. "Don't let them twist this into something it's not. This is exactly what they want— for you to think it's your fault. But it's not, Emi. You couldn't have known."

Before she could respond, however, a deliberate throat clearing broke the fragile silence between them. Emi looked around Kirishima, her shoulders stiffening when she saw Aizawa and Hawks standing a few paces away. They were both avoiding her gaze, giving her the space she needed, but the heaviness in the air was palpable. Aizawa's voice was steady, though laced with concern. "We need to head back to campus. Recovery Girl will need to check you over."

Emi's eyes flickered to her teacher, and without thinking, she broke away from Kirishima. She ran toward Aizawa before she could stop herself, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. Aizawa's body tensed under the unexpected contact, the rigid line of his posture betraying his surprise, but he didn't pull away. Instead, after a long moment, his hand rested lightly on her back, a hesitant but comforting gesture.

"I'm sorry if this is unprofessional," Emi murmured quickly, her voice thick with emotion as she spoke into his chest. "But I'm just so glad you're okay."

"It should be me apologizing," Aizawa said, his voice quieter now, almost self-deprecating. He looked down at her, his gaze clouded with regret. "It's my responsibility to protect all of you—to make sure nothing happens. I failed. I should've done better."

Before she could protest, Hawks, ever the cheerful distraction, stepped in with his usual lightheartedness, trying to shift the mood. "Aw, come on, Eraser. Don't be so hard on yourself," he said with a grin, his arm casually slung around Aizawa's shoulders. "That blood manipulation quirk? You can't prepare for something like that. It would've happened to any of us."

Aizawa gave a sharp grunt and shrugged Hawks off, his scowl deepening. "Either way, it won't happen again," he muttered, his voice stern. He turned his gaze back to Emi, his eyes softening just a fraction, though the sorrow in them still lingered. "Let's get you home," he said quietly, a quiet promise lingering in his words.

As they led her to the transport, Emi took one last glance into the woods. If only she could see past the thick brush, she wondered if her hatred seeped out far enough for Kazuo to feel it in the distance. She would find him. She would track him down, piece by painful piece, until there was nothing left of him but regret and suffering.

I'll make him pay, Emi thought with quiet resolve, her fists clenched at her sides. No matter what it takes.

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