Chapter 117 : Echoes of the Stage and a Precious Silence

As the final note from Jiro's guitar faded, a magical silence fell over the U.A. gymnasium. The entire audience, which had been swept up in a sea of holographic light and thrilling music, seemed to hold a collective breath. Then, the silence broke. A deafening roar of applause and cheers erupted, far louder and more sincere than any cheer at the Sports Festival. This wasn't a cheer for a winner, but a cheer for a pure joy that we had all shared.

On stage, my friends hugged each other, their faces wet with sweat and happy tears. Jiro, who had started the show with crippling nervousness, now stood tall in the center, smiling broadly as she bowed to the audience. Bakugo wasn't even grumbling; he just slammed his drumsticks one last time with a satisfied smirk. They had succeeded.

From the control booth in the back, I watched it all. I saw the students from other courses smiling and laughing. I saw the teachers, including Aizawa-sensei, clapping with a rare expression of pride. But my eyes were fixed on one sight. In the middle of the crowd, on Mirio's shoulders, Eri was clapping enthusiastically, her wide, sincere smile illuminating her entire face. Our mission was a success. And this victory felt far sweeter than any I had ever achieved in an arena.

"We did it, Tatsumi-san," Momo said quietly beside me. There was a warmth in her usually calm voice.

"No," I corrected with a smile. "You, Jiro, and everyone on that stage did it. I just helped turn on the lights."

That night, the Alliance Heights dorm was filled with a party atmosphere. We weren't celebrating a victory in battle, but celebrating our success as a class, as a family. The culinary team led by Sato made stacks of delicious snacks, while others rearranged the common room into a makeshift dance floor. The music was playing again, this time from speakers, and even Iida seemed to relax his shoulders a bit, though he still tried to make sure everyone was "partying responsibly."

I grabbed a drink and walked out to the balcony, seeking a bit of quiet from the happy noise. I looked at the lit-up U.A. campus, feeling a satisfying exhaustion throughout my body.

"A nice view, isn't it?"

I turned and saw Momo leaning on the balcony railing beside me. "Yeah," I replied. "It's very peaceful from up here."

"You know," she said after a moment of silence, "this is the first time I've used my Quirk for something… beautiful. Not to create a weapon, a shield, or a functional tool. But to create butterflies of light and a galaxy. It felt… nice."

"Your power is one of the most versatile I've ever seen, Yaoyorozu," I said sincerely. "Its capabilities aren't limited by combat. You can create anything. You could rebuild a city if you wanted to. That's a different kind of hero power, one that's just as important."

She looked at me, and I saw gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, Tatsumi. I think… I'm starting to understand that now."

The next day, our adrenaline-filled lives called again. Aizawa-sensei asked me, Midoriya, and Mirio to accompany him to visit Eri. We found her in a bright playroom at U.A.'s care facility. She was no longer huddled in a corner. She was sitting on the floor, hesitantly trying to build a tower of blocks.

When she saw us, especially Mirio, a small, shy smile appeared on her face. "You came," she whispered.

We spent the next hour with her. Mirio, with his boundless energy, made her laugh with silly jokes. Midoriya patiently showed her how his All Might action figure worked. I myself felt a little awkward. I was never good with children. I just sat near her, and when she looked at me curiously, I took the Yozakura wooden token out of my pocket.

"Here," I said. "It has a flower on it."

She took it carefully, her small fingers tracing the carving of the cherry blossom under the moon. She didn't say anything, but her large red eyes seemed to shine with curiosity, no longer just with fear. From the doorway, Aizawa watched us. He saw three of his strongest and most troubled students, sitting quietly on the floor, just to try and make a little girl feel safe. And on his tired face, a very rare smile appeared. Perhaps, he thought, this generation would be alright.

That night, I finally had time to fulfill my promise to Ryukyu. I locked myself in my room and used the encrypted communication device. I sent a full report about my meeting with Akame at the festival and attached a copy of the data from the flash drive she had given me. The data contained detailed information about the distribution network and several small operations of the Yozakura Clan, a treasure trove of intelligence for the heroes.

The reply from Ryukyu came a few minutes later. Her message was short and professional. "Information received. Initial analysis indicates this data is valid. Good work, Tyrant. Stay alert. Focus on your recovery and training. Do not act alone. Ryukyu out."

Though her message was cold, I could read between the lines. She was starting to trust me again. I had proven my value as an asset, not just a problem.

As I lay in bed that night, the exhaustion from the past few weeks finally caught up with me. I fell into a very deep sleep. And in that sleep, I dreamed. I was the original Tatsumi again, standing alone in a dusty training field. In my hand was Incursio's spear, Neuntote. It felt perfectly right, perfectly balanced, as if it were a part of my body. In the dream, I was training, not against an enemy, but against myself. I swung the spear in a series of complex and deadly movements, a war dance that felt so natural. I felt no pain. I felt no anger. I only felt... unity. The unity between a user and his weapon.

I woke up with a clear feeling. I knew what I had to do. I knew what my next training goal was. I had to recreate that spear. I had to achieve that same level of mastery.

That weekend, the school gave us a two-day break to visit our families, a chance to recover before the new semester began more intensely. I took the train home, feeling a simple and sincere joy.

When I opened the door to our small apartment, the smell of my mother's cooking immediately greeted me. "I'm home!"

"Tacchan! Welcome back!" my mother exclaimed from the kitchen. She ran out and immediately hugged me tightly. My father appeared from his study, a warm smile on his face.

"We watched your class's performance at the festival," he said proudly. "The stage effects were incredible, son. You did a great job."

I stood there, in my mother's arms, smelling her cooking, seeing my father's smile. There were no villains. No conspiracies. No dragons or cursed swords. There was only home. Only the warmth and love of a family that had accepted me unconditionally.

I hugged my mother back.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I'm home."