The alarm buzzed.
"Villains have occupied the building!" boomed All Might's voice. "Heroes, your mission begins now!"
Mineta adjusted his ridiculous Grape Juice hero costume—skin-tight purple, with the stupid diaper belt and suction balls already sticking to his gloves.
"Heh… Tight quarters, just me and Tsuyu… I mean, uh, Froppy… heh… lucky me…"
Tsuyu didn't look at him. Just muttered, "Focus, Mineta. Ribbit."
He didn't. "With you on my side, it'd be a bit hard," he muttered to himself, grinning like an idiot and trying not to drool. It didn't work. His face already felt sticky, and not from the suit.
They moved down the hallway. The place was quiet except for the hum of the fake lights. Dust floated in the air. Everything felt still.
Tsuyu stayed low, eyes sharp. She stopped at a corner and held out a hand.
"Wait," she whispered. "I hear something."
Mineta crouched behind her, trying to keep his eyes forward. He was already sweating.
"Probably Bakugo stomping around like usual," he said. "You think he's mad at Iida or just mad at the walls today?"
Tsuyu ignored him.
She peeked around the corner. Nothing yet. Then her tongue shot out and tapped the ceiling.
"Clear," she said.
Mineta followed, stepping over a piece of broken plaster.
Then the wall ahead exploded.
A flash. A roar. Smoke filled the hallway.
Mineta yelped and dropped to the ground. His ears rang.
Out of the smoke came Bakugo, walking through the hole like he owned the building. His gauntlet steamed. His eyes burned.
"You little pervert," Bakugo said. "I heard that...You're dead."
Mineta scrambled back. "It was a joke, man!"
Bakugo raised his arm, charging up the attack.
"I don't care." He said, angry.
Mineta fumbled for a sticky ball and threw it. It missed.
"Move!" Tsuyu shouted.
Her tongue grabbed Mineta and yanked him to the side.
Another blast hit behind them, making the ceiling shake.
Something snapped.
Mineta looked up as a metal beam came down on him, fast. Too fast.
He didn't move. More like he couldn't move in time.
The last thing he heard was Tsuyu calling his name.
Then everything went dark.
Mineta woke to a dull, constant beeping.
His head throbbed. His vision was blurry, and the room around him looked too white, too quiet. It took a few seconds for everything to click.
He was in the infirmary.
He blinked a few times. The ceiling above him wasn't collapsing. No smoke. No Bakugo. Just clean panels and a soft humming from medical equipment.
"Good. You're awake."
Mineta turned his head—too fast. Pain shot through his skull.
Aizawa stood beside the bed, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as always.
"You've been unconscious for four hours," Aizawa continued. "Minor concussion. You're lucky that's all it was."
Mineta didn't say anything. He just stared at the wall.
Aizawa's tone shifted—barely. "You could've been killed."
Mineta didn't respond. He blinked slowly, still staring at the wall.
A moment passed. Then another.
A soft knock broke the silence. The door opened, and Recovery Girl stepped in, holding a clipboard and wearing a tight-lipped expression.
"He's stable," she said, glancing over at Aizawa. "Vitals are fine. But..."
"But what?" Aizawa asked.
Recovery Girl looked down at the clipboard, then at Mineta.
"The impact wasn't just blunt trauma. There was a very brief loss of oxygen to part of his frontal lobe. Not long enough for any motor damage... but enough to trigger neural disruption."
Aizawa frowned. "Disruption?"
Recovery Girl hesitated. Then she sighed.
"It's rare, but not unheard of. Sometimes, a blow to the head can alter someone's neural chemistry—especially if there's prior... irregularity. Personality shifts. Behavioral changes. Memory reprocessing."
"You're saying he's different now?"
She nodded.
"Potentially. I ran him through basic cognitive responses already. Speech, memory, and reaction time—all within range. But his emotional regulation is... altered."
Mineta finally spoke, his voice steady and low.
"I'm still me. I remember everything. I just... don't feel the same."
Both of them looked at him now.
Aizawa raised a brow. "Explain."
Mineta turned his head slowly toward him. His eyes weren't darting, weren't wild. They were still.
"I'm aware I was a liability. That I wasted time. That I made people uncomfortable. I thought it was harmless. A joke." He paused. "Now it just feels pathetic."
Recovery Girl watched him carefully. Aizawa's eyes narrowed, studying his posture, his voice.
"You don't sound upset," Aizawa said.
"I'm not," Mineta answered. "I feel... clear. Like something got wiped off the window."
Recovery Girl scribbled something on her clipboard. "He might level out in a few days. Or this might be permanent. Either way, monitor him closely."
Aizawa gave her a nod, then looked back at Mineta.
"You'll be released by tomorrow morning. Until then, rest. When you're back in class... show me this 'clarity' isn't just talk."
Mineta met his eyes.
"Understood, sir."
Aizawa said nothing more. He turned and left the room.
Mineta looked down at his hands as his face contorted in disgust. 'God, was I that big of a douchebag?'
He clenched his fists.
All those moments he thought were funny—Tsuyu, Momo, Hagakure—blurting out crap like a middle schooler hopped up on hormones and zero shame. And nobody ever stopped him. Not really. They rolled their eyes. Avoided him. Some probably pitied him. But nobody really called him out, because what would be the point?
He was the joke.
Mineta leaned back into the pillows and exhaled hard.
Why didn't I see it sooner?
He remembered Tsuyu's eyes. Sharp. Calm. But never once looking at him like he was someone she could count on. Just... tolerate. And maybe that was generous.
"Fuck!" he cursed.
Recovery Girl chuckled, "It's a pretty tame reaction to what I was expecting. The old you, from what I heard, didn't do anything to put a smile on your face, that's for sure.
Mineta stared at her, stunned. Not because of the words—he knew they were true—but because she didn't sound angry. Or even annoyed. Just... tired. Like she'd treated too many bruised egos in her time to be shocked anymore.
"I'm not trying to make anyone smile," he muttered. "Not anymore."
Recovery Girl walked over to the side of the bed and adjusted his IV drip. "Good. Because hero work isn't about being liked. It's about being reliable. Honest. Steady." She glanced down at him. "Not loud."
Mineta swallowed hard. "You think I can be that kind of person?"
"I think anyone can be," she said. "You have to let go of the past, kid. The chances of the old you coming back are very slim, negligible. Your actions—there's nothing you can do about it. The most you can try to do is be better. That's what makes a good man."
"You sound just like my grandma..." I mumbled.
SMACK!
"Ow! It was a compliment! I'm just saying you're really wise and all."
Recovery Girl didn't even blink after smacking him with her clipboard. "I know what you meant, Mineta. And if you're smart, you'll learn that intent doesn't always matter. Results do."
Mineta rubbed his forehead, but the sting was brief. It was the words that stayed.
Intent doesn't always matter. Results do.
He'd meant to be funny. Harmless. But looking back, he wasn't. Not really. He'd been the kind of guy people tolerated. Barely respected. Maybe pitied.
"In reality," he muttered, voice low, "I was just a nasty little brat, huh?"
Recovery Girl raised an eyebrow.
"Wow," he added, wryly. "Sneaking in the wisdom without warning. You really are my grandma in disguise."
Her eyes narrowed, lips twitching—not quite a smile, not quite a scowl.
"Keep calling me that and I'll start prescribing prune juice and unsolicited life advice."
Mineta laughed. Short. Honest. No bravado. No wink. Just a real, rough-edged chuckle.
"Fair enough," he said, settling back into the pillows. "No more grandma jokes, wise woman who's definitely seen more than I have."
She smirked. "That's much better, kid."
She turned to go but paused at the door again, not looking back this time.
"Just remember—everyone loves a redemption story. But only if the ending's earned."
Mineta stared at the ceiling, the smile fading into something quieter.
"I'll earn it," he whispered.
The room was quiet again. But this time, it didn't feel empty.
He looked at the TV, playing some boring news about how Kamui Woods saved a kid from a burning building.
How'd he do that?
Yeah, that was a genuine question. HOW DID KAMUI WOODS, WHO IS MADE OUT OF WOOD, SAVE A KID FROM A BURNING BUILDING?!
"Hey, can you change the channel? This is total bull," he muttered.
Recovery Girl didn't even glance up. "Deal with it, kid." She said as she exited the room.
He sighed, helpless.
He lay there in silence, listening to the low hum of machines. Every beep and click felt louder now. He was hyperaware of everything—his heartbeat, the soft scratch of the sheets, the way the IV tugged against his arm when he shifted.
Was this how everyone else lived? With this kind of clarity? He didn't know whether to be impressed or overwhelmed.
The door creaked open again.
This time it wasn't Aizawa. Or Recovery Girl.
It was Tsuyu.
She stepped inside slowly, eyes scanning the room until they landed on him. She looked exactly the same—uniform slightly wrinkled, eyes calm and unreadable, arms folded behind her back. And yet Mineta felt like he was seeing her for the first time.
Not as a girl.
Not as a crush.
Just… Tsuyu. A teammate. A hero-in-training. Someone he'd never really looked at straight because he'd always been too busy trying to turn her into a punchline.
He sat up straighter, unsure what to say.
She beat him to it.
"You alive?"
Mineta blinked. "Uh. Yeah. Mostly."
Tsuyu walked over, stopping at the foot of his bed. "Good. I was worried. Ribbit."
"I, uh… I'm sorry," he said. "For before. And for everything before that."
Tsuyu tilted her head, like she was trying to figure out if he was joking. When he didn't smirk or make some offhand remark, her eyes softened.
"You hit your head pretty hard, huh?"
He let out a short laugh, "The hit affected some part of my frontal lobe or something, changed my personality it seems. Not really the ideal way to redeem yourself but here we are."
"I've heard from Aizawa sir. I wanted to check if you alright, even if you were a douchebag." she said.
"Thanks, for that." He said.
Tsuyu shrugged, her expression unreadable as usual. "You're welcome. Ribbit."
Mineta let out a breath. "You didn't have to come. I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't."
"I didn't come for you," she said. "I came for the team. You're still part of it… at least for now."
"I'm gonna go," she said eventually, turning toward the door. "Class is still on. Aizawa-sensei said you'll be back tomorrow."
"Right," he said. "I'll be there."