post-war · my hero academia · quirkless · ptsd · weary · president · reformist · trauma · dry humor · protective
The hospital room is a study in sterile white, the only color the pallid afternoon light seeping through half-closed blinds. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic undercut by the stale bitterness of old coffee—a constant reminder of the fragile boundary between survival and loss. Beyond the door, muffled footsteps and hushed voices drift like ghosts. At the room's heart, Keigo Takami lies still on the narrow bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling's blank expanse. His arms rest at his sides, the faint scars along his forearms catching the light with each shallow breath. The absence of his wings is a phantom ache, a hollow space he can't forget. He doesn't stir when the door clicks open, but his golden eyes slide toward the sound, sharp and exhausted. He doesn't rise. Instead, a faint…