MHA: Echoes of the Breach

The faint buzz of the alarm jolted Shinji awake. He groaned softly, his left hand fumbling to silence the sound before he sat up, blinking at the faint light creeping through the window. His right arm, as usual, hung stiffly at his side, a dull weight that reminded him of its limitations. He glanced at the clock. It was earlier than he had intended to wake, but he hadn't really slept well. His nerves had seen to that, leaving him restless and caught between uneasy dreams and the persistent ache in his arm.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Shinji sighed, his gaze drifting to the faint scab that now marred the skin on his right forearm. The cut, was now smaller than it had been a day ago. The scab was dark, almost angry-looking, but it had stopped hurting. Progress, at least.

He moved to the bathroom and let the hot water from the shower cascade over him, the steam rising to fog the mirror. Shinji didn't linger. He washed quickly, mindful of his right arm, which remained almost entirely stationary, glued to his side as if in defiance of his attempts to flex or use it.

After drying off, Shinji dressed methodically and fastened the cuffs of his uniform with practiced efficiency. Once his tie was in place and his bag slung over his shoulder, Shinji left his dorm, the quiet of UA's grounds enveloping him.

The early morning calm was soothing in its own way. The soft Sun and faint chirp of the Birds were his only company as he walked toward the classroom. He adjusted the strap of his bag with his left hand.

When he arrived, the classroom was already buzzing with life. Groups of students clustered together, their voices weaving into an excited tapestry of chatter and laughter.

"Bakugo and Midoriya's match was insane!" Kirishima's voice carried over the rest, his tone brimming with admiration. He leaned forward, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "That whole explosion right at the end? I swear, I thought the building was gonna collapse."

"Right? That was wild," Kaminari chimed in, his eyes wide with excitement. "But Todoroki? Man, the way he froze the entire field in, like, seconds? I still can't wrap my head around how you're supposed to beat someone like that."

"It's not just about power," Yaoyorozu said, her voice cutting through the animated discussion with a calm, thoughtful precision. "Raw strength is impressive, but strategy is what really determines the outcome of a battle."

Shinji slipped into his seat quietly, his left hand adjusting the strap of his bag as he placed it on the floor. His right arm rested awkwardly against the desk, the faintest twitch reminding him it was still there, useless as ever. He didn't feel like joining the conversation, though he listened intently. The way his classmates talked, so carefree, so energized, was a reminder of what they were here for. Even if Shinji felt worlds apart from them at times, their enthusiasm was infectious in its own way.

The classroom door slid open with its usual hiss, and a hush fell over the room. Aizawa stepped in, his hair disheveled, scarf draped loosely around his neck, and dark circles accentuating his tired expression. He carried his usual stack of materials, which he dropped onto the podium with a dull thud.

"We're starting something new today," Aizawa said, his tone calm but firm, immediately commanding the room's attention. He scanned the class, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment on Shinji before continuing. "Kaiju defense."

A ripple of murmurs swept through the class, curiosity sparking in every corner. Students exchanged glances, whispering questions to one another.

"Kaiju defense?" Kaminari repeated, leaning toward Jirou. "Like, giant monsters? Are we actually going to fight those?"

"Wouldn't that just be suicide?" Mineta muttered, shrinking in his seat.

"Not if we're properly trained," Yaoyorozu countered, her voice steady. "Though I imagine most of us would be focused on containment and evacuation rather than direct combat."

"Exactly," Aizawa replied. "Most heroes won't face a kaiju in their careers, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be prepared. These threats require a completely different approach from what you've learned so far."

"What kind of training?" Bakugo demanded, his arms crossed. "Are we fighting them or what?"

"You'll be learning strategies for survival and containment," Aizawa said, ignoring Bakugo's edge. "And you won't be doing it alone. Class 1-B will be joining us for this session."

At that, the class exchanged curious looks. Before anyone could ask further, Aizawa gestured for them to follow.

The students grabbed their bags and made their way out of the room, filing down the hallway. Shinji stayed near the back, his stomach twisting with nerves. He already knew what was coming, but that didn't make it any easier.

As they approached the massive warehouse on the training grounds, the towering steel doors loomed like sentinels. The faint hum of machinery filled the air as the doors groaned open, revealing the cavernous interior. The vast space was empty, the polished floor stretching endlessly beneath the high ceiling.

Inside, Class 1-B was already waiting, their chatter a mix of curiosity and excitement. Shinji recognized a few faces from lunch, Monoma's smug smirk, Kendo's steady gaze, but he kept to himself, standing at the edge of the group.

Aizawa stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise. "Listen up. For today's session, both classes will be working together. You'll learn how to handle kaiju-level threats, something no ordinary hero training can prepare you for."

"Who's teaching us?" Kendo asked, her voice clear and calm.

Aizawa's eyes flicked to Shinji. "Takayama will be leading this session. He has firsthand experience with kaiju combat."

All eyes turned to Shinji, who felt the weight of their stares like a physical force. He stepped forward slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor as he tried to find the words.

"Uh… yeah," Shinji began, his voice quiet. "I've… dealt with kaiju before. A few times."

Monoma scoffed, his arms crossed. "Seriously? Him?"

"Quiet, Monoma," Kendo said, giving him a sharp look.

Shinji took a deep breath, his left hand reflexively reaching up to rub the back of his head, a nervous habit that did little to hide the tension in his posture. His right arm remained stiff at his side, a silent reminder of the scars he carried, both physical and otherwise. He glanced over the assembled students, their mixed expressions of curiosity, skepticism, and mild recognition bearing down on him like the weight of the warehouse's towering ceiling.

"For those of you in Class 1-B," Shinji began, his voice quiet but steady, "I'm Shinji Takeyama." His eyes darted briefly to the ground before meeting the collective gaze of the group. "I imagine some of you recognize the name… and probably realize why I'm the one teaching this class."

There was a ripple of murmurs through the crowd. In the back, Monoma raised an eyebrow, his trademark smirk creeping onto his face.

"Oh, so the kaiju slayer himself is gracing us with his presence," Monoma drawled, arms crossed. "Should we be honored or worried?"

"Monoma, enough," Kendo snapped, elbowing him in the side hard enough to make him stumble.

Shinji ignored the exchange, though his shoulders tensed slightly. "Yeah," he said, his voice lowering as if addressing Monoma's skepticism without fully acknowledging it. "I've faced kaiju before, more than once. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's something I survived."

There was a shift in the room, the weight of his words settling over the students.

Shinji nodded slowly, his gaze momentarily distant as if sifting through memories he wished he could forget. "Uh, I guess I should start by saying, hopefully, none of you will ever have to fight a kaiju," he said, his voice quieter now but carrying an undeniable weight. He hesitated before adding, "And for the most part… no offense, but most of you wouldn't be very useful in a fight against one anyway."

The bluntness of his statement sent a ripple through the crowd. Some students shifted uncomfortably, while others, like Bakugo and Monoma, bristled visibly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Bakugo growled, his hands sparking faintly. "You don't think I could take one of those oversized lizards down?"

"It's not about strength," Shinji replied, meeting Bakugo's fiery glare with surprising calm. His left hand fidgeted slightly at his side, but his voice remained steady. "It's about scale. You could blow it up as much as you want, but it'd be like trying to bring down a skyscraper with fireworks. The damage wouldn't even register."

Monoma's smirk returned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "So, what you're saying is we should all just give up and let the kaiju rampage? Sounds like an inspiring lesson."

"No," Shinji said firmly, cutting through the rising tension. His voice carried more weight now, his gaze sweeping over both classes. "I'm saying that fighting a kaiju isn't about winning. It's about surviving. About protecting as many people as you can and minimizing the damage."

Tetsutetsu leaned forward, his steel-grey eyes still wide with curiosity. "But you've fought them, right? How do you even survive something like that?"

Shinji shifted uncomfortably, his left hand brushing the hem of his jacket as he avoided the piercing stares of both classes. "That kinda depends," he began, his voice steady but carrying an underlying nervousness. "What worked for me... won't work for you. My quirk allows me to actually contend with them. That's not exactly something most people can say."

The room remained eerily quiet, all eyes on him. He cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the ground. "And, honestly, when it comes to minimizing damage... other than the obvious stuff, I don't have a lot of experience."

His voice faltered, dropping to almost a whisper. "I wasn't really… concerned about my surroundings at the time."

The silence deepened, the weight of his admission hanging heavy in the air. The students exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. It wasn't the answer they had expected, and it painted a picture of Shinji that was far from the confident, composed instructor some had hoped for.

Yaoyorozu broke the tension, her tone careful but earnest. "Takeyama, if I may… that's still valuable experience. Even if it wasn't perfect, you've faced them firsthand. That's something none of us can say."

Shinji glanced up, his nervousness still evident but tempered by a flicker of gratitude. "Yeah, I guess. But it's not like I'm proud of how I handled it. I was just trying to survive."

Tetsutetsu leaned forward, his voice filled with admiration despite the somber mood. "But you did survive. That's more than most could say. You must've done something right."

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the group, though the atmosphere remained subdued. Shinji rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. "Maybe," he admitted softly. "But surviving isn't the same as winning. And it's definitely not the same as protecting others."

The candid remark hit home, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then, Kendo stepped forward, her expression firm but kind. "That's why we're here, though, right? To learn from what you've been through. To figure out how to protect people, even if we're not the ones fighting kaiju head-on."

Shinji hesitated, his left hand clenching briefly at his side before relaxing. "Yeah," he said at last. "That's the goal. I'll do my best to help you get there."

From the corner, Bakugo huffed, crossing his arms. "Tch. Great. Another pep talk. Let's just get to the part where we actually do something."

Shinji couldn't help but smirk faintly, some of his nerves dissipating. "Alright, then," he said, his voice a touch steadier now. "Let's get started."

Shinji took a small breath to steady himself, his voice firm but still carrying that undercurrent of unease. "Like I said earlier," he began, addressing the combined classes, "fighting kaiju should always be a last resort for you. Unless you find yourself in a position where you know you can actually make a difference... it's not worth the risk. Trust me on that."

His gaze swept over the crowd, lingering for a moment on the more eager faces, Bakugo, Tetsutetsu, and a few others whose excitement for battle was written all over them. He sighed softly. "But... I do know one thing I can teach you. Something that doesn't just apply to kaiju but will help when you're dealing with villains too."

"Mr. Aizawa, could you hand me the remote?" Shinji asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Aizawa passed him the remote without a word, watching carefully.

Taking a deep breath, Shinji pressed a button, and the space around them began to shift. The harsh, sterile walls of the warehouse melted away as the room transformed into a massive, high-tech environment. The floors vibrated with the hum of machinery coming to life, and the entire space felt like it was breathing, alive with purpose. The students stood in stunned silence as towering holograms appeared before them, massive humanoid figures, standing tall and imposing in the center of the room.

The Jaegers.

Shinji stood still for a moment, letting the weight of the room settle in as the students took in the holographic figures before them. The Jaegers loomed in the vast space, towering over the students as if they were real. Their presence was imposing, but Shinji remained calm, his expression unreadable as he glanced from one student to the next.

"These are my Jaegers," Shinji said, his voice steady. "Not real, just projections. But they represent the kind of power and force needed to take on something like a kaiju."

He pointed to the first hologram. "Saber Athena."

He moved his hand to another. "Cherno Alpha."

Next, he indicated the third Jaeger. "Tacit Ronin."

His finger swept to the fourth. "Crimson Typhoon."

Finally, he gestured to the last, standing proudly in the corner. "Horizon Brave."

Each name hung in the air for a moment, the sheer size of the Jaegers making the names feel almost heavier. There was no need to explain their purpose or function, they were self-explanatory in their towering presence, each one an embodiment of what was required to face the overwhelming force of a kaiju.

Shinji stood before the holographic Jaegers, his left hand resting against his side as he regarded the class. The massive machines loomed above them, silent and imposing. His gaze swept over the group, and with a quiet but firm voice, he addressed them.

"I didn't do all this for show. Each of these Jaegers will contribute to today's lesson." He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing.

There was a pause, and then Kaminari, unable to contain his curiosity, spoke up. "Wait, hold up. What are these for exactly?"

Shinji's gaze shifted to him, and he was quiet for a moment. Then, he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Good question, Kaminari," he said. "Why don't you pick one of them?"

Kaminari blinked, surprised by the sudden response, but he quickly stepped forward, his eyes scanning the holograms of the Jaegers. He seemed unsure at first, glancing at the others before his eyes settled on Crimson Typhoon. "This one, I guess?"

Shinji's voice cut through the murmurs as he focused on Kaminari. "Interesting first pick," he said, his tone almost casual but laced with a hint of anticipation. "Though to be fair, I'd say that for any of them. But alright, take a good look at Crimson Typhoon, and tell me what you think it does based on what it looks like."

Kaminari stepped closer, squinting at the massive holographic Jaeger towering in front of him. His eyes traced its imposing structure, the powerful frame of the machine bristling with energy. He scratched his head, trying to put together his thoughts.

"Well, uh, it looks like it's built for speed, right?" Kaminari began, glancing back at Shinji for affirmation. "Maybe it's got, like, enhanced mobility? Maybe it's all about hitting fast and hard, like a tank with quick reflexes?"

Shinji let out a small sigh, shaking his head slightly. "Not exactly. You're on the right track with the speed part, but it's not a tank. Crimson Typhoon is designed for high-speed combat, sure, but it's more about relentless, rapid strikes. Think of it like a blender on high speed, its focus is on overwhelming opponents with rapid attacks. It's about volume and precision. It can deal a lot of damage, but it can't just charge in blindly, or it'll be outmaneuvered."

Kaminari nodded, trying to process the correction. "So, it's more about speed and... lots of punches? Just rapid-fire combat?"

Shinji gave a slight nod. "Exactly. It's like a fighter jet in melee combat. Get in, hit fast, and don't let up. You'll need quick reflexes and stamina to make it work. But it struggles against things just as fast, if not faster than it, and some of the more durable kaiju." He paused, letting the class digest the explanation.

"Now, any more details about Crimson Typhoon?" Shinji asked, his tone expectant.

Kaminari's brow furrowed, his fingers tapping nervously at his side. He opened his mouth to speak but then hesitated. "Uh, I'm not sure," he admitted, his usual confidence fading a little. "I can't really think of anything else."

Shinji glanced at Kaminari, his eyes softening just a touch. "No worries," he said, his voice calm. "That's the point of this lesson, details. But look at how wide its shoulders are, and how the plating is slanted. It's designed to redirect and absorb attacks. If you look closely at its fingers, you can see seams down the middle of them, which means they could come apart in battle. In this case, each finger can split in half to form blades."

He paused for a moment, letting the information sink in. "Now think about it. The Crimson Typhoon is all about getting in quick, hitting hard, and staying mobile. Those blades aren't just for show, they could give you a serious advantage in close combat."

Shinji turned his attention to the rest of the class, his gaze sweeping over both classes 1-A and 1-B. "Alright, now I want someone else to pick another Jaeger. Let's see what you think. I'm curious to hear your take on what makes them unique."

He motioned to the holograms with a slight nod, waiting for someone to volunteer. The class quieted, eager to continue the discussion.

Tetsutetsu from 1-B raised his hand, a confident grin on his face. "I'll give it a go, Takeyama," He pointed to one of the Jaegers, his finger hovering over Cherno Alpha. "What about that one? It looks like a powerhouse."

Shinji gave a small nod, gesturing toward Cherno Alpha with his left hand. "Good choice, Tetsutetsu." He paused, watching the class's attention shift to the towering figure of the Jaeger. "What do you think, based on its design?"

Tetsutetsu furrowed his brow, looking closely at the hologram. "It's definitely built for strength, right? It's massive, its arms are huge, and it looks like it could take a lot of damage. Those big shoulder plates look like they could take a serious hit. I'm guessing it's a heavy hitter in close quarters?"

Shinji nodded again, his expression thoughtful. "Exactly. Cherno Alpha is built for brute force. It's designed to take hits and dish them right back. The wide chest and thick armor are built to absorb a lot of damage, and the arms, like you said, are strong enough to land heavy blows."

Shinji's gaze shifted to the holographic image of Cherno Alpha, and his tone became slightly more serious. "But look closer at it, let me ask you a question, where do you think the head is?"

Tetsutetsu blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the question. He looked back at the towering Jaeger, his eyes scanning its form. The Jaeger's bulky shoulders and large chest dominated its appearance, with almost no visible head or cockpit.

"Uh..." Tetsutetsu scratched his head, squinting at the Jaeger. "It's gotta be somewhere, right? But it's not obvious. Maybe it's inside the chest? Like some hidden compartment?"

Shinji continued, his voice measured and thoughtful, "Exactly. Most blows to that area won't cause any real damage, because the chest armor is designed to absorb a significant amount of force. It's like a decoy, drawing attention to itself, while the cockpit and pilot remain protected within. there are still a few things for Cherno, Does anyone else want to try?"

This time, Jiro her usual calm nonchalant demeanor was replaced with a hint of curiosity. "I'll give it a try," she said, her fingers brushing against her headphones as she focused on Cherno Alpha.

Shinji nodded, encouraging her. "Go ahead, Jiro."

Jiro squinted at Cherno Alpha, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against her chin. "Okay, so... I noticed the feet first," she said, her voice steady but keen. "The spikes at the front, those aren't just for show, are they? They look like they're meant for gripping or even digging into something."

Shinji's eyes lit up with a touch of approval as he nodded. "Exactly. Those spikes on the feet are designed for traction. Cherno Alpha isn't just about punching; it's about holding its ground. The spikes allow it to keep stable when delivering powerful blows or if it needs to stand its ground against an overwhelming force. Think of them like a stabilizer."

Jiro glanced back up, her focus shifting to the forearms of the Jaeger. "And those... springs? On the forearms, they're like, what, shock absorbers?"

Shinji gave a small, approving nod as he watched the class take in the details. "Close," he said, his voice calm, but carrying a slight edge of pride. "They're actual springs. They serve two key functions. First, when the fist makes contact, the spring absorbs some of the impact, but then it rebounds, sending the fist back out with added force. So, effectively, every punch is like two, not one."

Shinji let the words hang in the air for a moment, watching the class process the information. His stance remained steady, his eyes flicking over each student as he gauged their reactions. "And the second part, those hands aren't just for hitting," he continued, his voice unwavering. "Both can deliver a lot of electricity. So, if they connect on both sides of a kaiju's head, at worst, you stun it. At best? You fry its brain."

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he observed their reactions. "Think about that for a moment. An electrically-charged punch, easy way to end a fight before it even gets started."

Shinji straightened slightly, as he addressed the group, his gaze scanning over the combined classes of 1-A and 1-B. "So, do you see the point of what I'm teaching here?" His tone was calm but carried an air of expectation, waiting to see who would rise to the challenge.

Iida raised his hand promptly, speaking with his usual clarity and thoughtfulness. "You're teaching us to observe, analyze, and understand what we're up against. To look at our opponents and figure out their strengths, their weaknesses, and their strategies, before they make a move. It's not just about fighting harder but fighting smarter."

Shinji gave a small nod, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Exactly. You've got to read your opponent. Their stance, their movements, and the way they hold themselves, all tells a story. Whether it's a kaiju, a villain, or even someone in a sparring match, the signs are always there if you know where to look."

He gestured toward Crimson Typhoon, the three-armed Jaeger looming in the hologram beside him. "Take this one, for example. Crimson Typhoon. A fighter like this? You'd know they aren't coming at you in a straight line. Look at the way it's built, sleek, balanced, and optimized for versatility. That third arm isn't just for show. It's designed for precision and overwhelming its opponent with angles they can't cover."

He paced slightly in front of the hologram, his voice gaining an edge of intensity. "A fighter like Typhoon isn't about brute strength like Cherno Alpha, it's about overwhelming speed, coordination, and adaptability. You wouldn't want to get into a prolonged exchange with something like this. You'd need to find its rhythm, disrupt its flow, and force it into a corner where it can't use all its tools effectively."

He uncrossed his arms, his sharp gaze scanning the room as if daring someone to challenge his point. "This isn't just about quirks or kaiju or Jaegers. It's about thinking. Adapting. Learning to break down the pieces of what makes your opponent tick, and using it against them."

Shinji's gaze swept over the group again, his tone calm but challenging. "Alright, someone else from 1-B. Pick a Jaeger and show me what you've got." His eyes landed on a student who hesitated for a moment before stepping forward.

Shinji tilted his head slightly, his expression neutral. "Sorry, I don't know all of your names yet. Mind introducing yourself first?"

The student gave a polite nod. "Yosetsu Awase."

Shinji gave a slight nod in return. "Awase, alright. Go ahead, pick one."

Awase glanced at the holograms and pointed at one with a balanced yet slightly imposing design. "I'll go with Horizon Brave."

Shinji's eyes flicked to the hologram, then back to Awase. "Good pick. Now, tell me, what do you see? What can you figure out just from looking at Horizon Brave?"

Awase stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the projection. "It's not as heavy-looking as Cherno Alpha, but it still looks durable. The chest and shoulders seem built to absorb a decent amount of damage."

He paused, glancing down at the arms. "The arms are big, reinforced, they're probably designed for powerful strikes. It looks like it could hit hard but might not be the fastest thing out there."

Shinji nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "You're on the right track. What about the legs? What do they tell you?"

Awase shifted his focus downward, his brow furrowing. "They're thick, more than I'd expect for something like this. Maybe for stability? To hold its ground in a fight?"

Shinji allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Not bad. Horizon Brave's legs are reinforced for exactly that, stability. But there's more. Look closely at the feet. What do you notice?"

Awase leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the broad, angular shoulders. After a moment, he pointed. "Those look like... guns? Are they cannons or something?"

Shinji nodded, his expression shifting to one of approval. "Exactly. Those are shoulder-mounted cryo cannons. They're not just for firepower, they're a game-changer in a fight."

He motioned toward the hologram, the cannons gleaming under the simulated light. "Horizon Brave uses these to freeze an enemy in place or slow them down. They're especially useful against fast or heavily armored kaiju. You've got something that moves too fast to hit directly? Freeze its legs, stop its momentum, and then hit it hard."

Pausing, Shinji scanned the rest of the class, letting the significance sink in. "Think about it. This isn't just about brute strength. It's about strategy, disabling your opponent before they can react. That's the real lesson here."

Turning back to Awase, he gave a small nod. "Good call spotting those. Now, when you're analyzing an opponent, remember: that weapons like these aren't just for offense. They're tools that shape the whole battle."

His gaze shifted to the rest of the class again, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright, who's next? Pick a Jaeger and show me what you see."

Shinji's challenge hung in the air, the class growing quiet as they mulled over his words. After a moment, a hand from 1-B rose hesitantly. It was a girl with vines for hair. Her expression was calm but curious.

"Ibara Shiozaki," she said, her voice even. "I'd like to try"

Shinji gestured toward the holographic lineup of Jaegers, his tone encouraging. "Good. Pick one, and tell me what you see."

Shiozaki's gaze swept across the towering machines before settling on Tacit Ronin. "That one," she said, pointing with precision.

The hologram shifted, zooming in to highlight the sleek, angular Jaeger. Tactic Ronin's sharp-edged frame and streamlined appearance stood in contrast to the bulkier designs they'd seen before.

Shiozaki tilted her head, analyzing it carefully. "Its frame is lighter, more streamlined. I'd assume it's built for speed, possibly agility. The narrow arms suggest precision strikes rather than raw power, and its legs look like they're designed for quick movement, not just stability. It's... nimble."

Shinji gave an approving nod. "You're on the right track. Tacit Ronin is all about speed and precision. Its lighter frame allows it to dart in and out of combat, hitting critical points before the enemy even has time to react."

He stepped closer to the hologram, pointing toward the weapons under the Jaeger's arms "Now look here, what do you make of this?"

Shiozaki squinted slightly. "It looks like... blades? Swords, perhaps? Something meant for close combat?"

"Exactly," Shinji said with a faint smirk. "They're called fang blades Perfect for slicing through armor or cutting deep into weak points. Combined with its speed, it's lethal in close quarters. But it comes with a drawback, Ronin doesn't have much in the way of heavy armor. It relies entirely on not getting hit. A glass cannon, if you will."

He turned to the rest of the class. "This is the kind of thing you should be looking for in your opponents. The design tells you everything about how they fight. Large build? Expect a tank. Lighter, sleeker build? Speed or precision. You don't have to know every detail. Just enough to predict how they'll move, where they'll strike, and how to counter."

"Now, Ronin is the one most suited for this... exercise? Lesson? Either way, it's the perfect example," Shinji said, his tone thoughtful as he gestured toward the hologram. "Look at how thin Ronin's chassis is. That sleek design isn't just for show, it's all about speed and efficiency. The slanted armor isn't just thin for mobility; it's also angled to redirect blows. Even if something connects, the armor deflects most of the force, minimizing damage."

He walked closer to the hologram, his hand gesturing toward Ronin's legs. "And its legs. Notice how they're jointed, almost like a goat's. That structure isn't just unique; it gives Ronin incredible push-off power. It can leap higher and farther than most Jaegers. Combine that with its lighter frame, and you've got something that moves almost like a predator. Swift, nimble, and impossible to pin down."

Shinji's gaze sharpened as he continued, "Every part of this design screams precision. It doesn't rely on brute strength or durability but instead on hitting fast, hitting hard, and getting out before the enemy can retaliate."

He paused, glancing around the room, his expression inviting yet firm. "Any questions so far? Don't hesitate, this is the kind of stuff that could save your life someday."

The students exchanged looks, hesitant at first. Finally, a hand went up. Awase leaned forward slightly, his brows furrowed. "If its whole style is about precision and speed, doesn't that make Ronin predictable? Like, if you know it can't take a hit, wouldn't you just set up a trap?"

Shinji nodded approvingly. "Exactly. That's the drawback of specialization. Every strength comes with a weakness. A good opponent will recognize the limits of Ronin's style and adapt. The key is to stay unpredictable and change up your approach before they can counter you. That's a lesson for you, too: when you're analyzing an opponent, think beyond what they want you to see. Look deeper."

Shinji straightened up, letting the weight of his previous point settle in the room. "Now, as for Saber Athena," he began, glancing toward the students, "I'm going to skip her for this lesson. Most of her tricks are hidden or not immediately obvious just by looking. And while she's fascinating in her own right, she's less relevant for today's focus."

He stepped back toward the center of the room, his voice steady as he transitioned. "Alright, let's move on to the next part of the lesson."

As he paused to take a breath, a flicker of something unexpected crossed his face, surprise, maybe even a faint sense of accomplishment. Teaching, of all things, felt like it was starting to come naturally to him. Explaining complex ideas, seeing the students' curiosity, and breaking things down in a way they could understand it was... unexpectedly fulfilling.

But that brief moment of clarity faded as Shinji's thumb hovered over the next button on the hologram remote. His shoulders stiffened, and his stomach twisted slightly in anticipation. This next part, this kaiju, was going to be different. It wasn't just a lesson. It was personal.

He hesitated for a heartbeat, his left hand gripping the remote tighter as his right arm twitched stiffly at his side. The phantom sting of old memories buzzed faintly in his mind, threatening to resurface. He pushed them down, forcing his focus back on the class.

Pressing the button, Shinji watched as the holographic Shatterdome around them flickered and dissolved, replaced by something far more imposing.

The air in the room seemed to shift as a new kaiju appeared, towering at over sixty meters tall. Its form was sleek yet powerful, a monstrous blend of reptilian grace and insectoid sharpness. Scales shimmered in layered shades of blue, from cobalt to deep navy, with streaks of lighter hues etched like scars across its frame, a testament to countless battles.

Dense, armor-like plating covered the creature's body, smooth yet jagged along its spine, radiating an aura of strength and agility. Its angular head was adorned with long, curved horns that swept back from its brow and the sides of its face, resembling sharpened extensions of its bone structure.

The creature's pale blue eyes glowed with a predatory intensity, cold and calculating, as though it was scanning the room. Its serrated maw hinted at a lethal efficiency honed from endless survival.

But it was the tail that stood out most t, thick at the base, tapering into a deadly, pointed tip lined with sharp, bony ridges. It swayed fluidly, an ever-present threat, ready to lash out with brutal precision and devastating force.

Shinji stood motionless, his gaze briefly flickering to the hologram before shifting back to the students. The air in the room grew tense as the kaiju's overwhelming presence settled in, unease rippling through the class. Whispers broke out in hushed tones, their collective apprehension feeding into the atmosphere.

A hand went up, tentative yet curious. A student from 1-B spoke up. "Mr. Takeyama, which kaiju is this? It doesn't look like any of the recorded ones we've studied before."

Shinji swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. His nerves stirred, but he managed to keep his expression mostly neutral, save for the tightness in his jaw. His left hand fidgeted slightly with the remote, while his right arm remained stiff against his side, betraying the tension coursing through him.

"Right… yeah, that's a fair question," he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a subtle shakiness. He tried a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "This one's… not in the records. It never made it to Earth. And call me Takeyama. I'm more of a student than a teacher."

He hesitated, glancing at the hologram again and quickly looking away, his breath hitching for a moment. "I thought showing you this kaiju would be… useful. It's, um, one that I learned a lot from. One that… got a little too close to taking me out."

His words hung heavy in the air, and for a brief moment, he looked like he was somewhere else entirely, his mind clouded by memories he wasn't ready to revisit. He cleared his throat, forcing himself back to the present. "This one's from the Breach," he added, his tone soft but firm. "And I'm sure most of you know about that by now… what I went through there."

Shinji's gaze swept over the class, his eyes lingering on the students' reactions. The curiosity, the unease, it all reminded him of himself before he truly understood the stakes. "But that's enough about me," he said, his voice a touch steadier as he tried to shake off the nerves. "Let's break it down. Who's willing to volunteer to analyze this one?"

After a moment of hesitation, a hand shot up, Momo Yaoyorozu stepped forward. Shinji's gaze briefly flicked to her, surprised at how quickly she'd volunteered, considering how intense the lesson had become.

"I'll give it a try," Momo said with calm determination. Her eyes remained focused on the kaiju, though there was a slight flicker of unease in her expression.

"The posture of the creature… It's leaner compared to others I've seen. It's built for agility, despite its size. The tail, it's not just for defense. It looks like it could be a striking tool, especially with that sharp end. Its limbs… they seem built for fast movements, likely to lash out quickly, like a predator."

Shinji nodded in agreement, though his gaze never lingered too long on the kaiju. His left hand twitched as he wiped the back of his neck. "And how would you go about taking this one down?"

Momo paused for a moment before responding, her voice firm. "I'd go for the legs. If you can limit its speed, it'll be less of a threat."

Shinji turned to face the class, his left hand gripping his right arm to hold it in place as he tried to steady his breathing. "Alright, so… do we all agree with Momo? Target the legs to limit its speed?"

A few students nodded, some exchanging glances. Shinji waited for a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh. "Well… that's actually wrong."

The class looked confused, and Momo's expression shifted to one of mild frustration. She crossed her arms, clearly upset at missing the mark. "Wait… what? How is going for the legs wrong? I thought limiting its movement would be the best option."

Shinji's expression hardened slightly, and he looked away for a moment, his right hand still stiff at his side. He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the tightness in his chest before answering. "I…I thought the same thing too," he admitted quietly. "This kaiju… it was the one that taught me how wrong I was."

His gaze flickered to the kaiju's tail, his right hand twitching slightly, but he held it in place, forcing himself not to move it. "If you're fighting a kaiju, always… always go for the tail first. Not all of them have proper tails, mind you, but if they do…" He trailed off, his voice thick with hesitation. "If they do, that's your target."

The class was silent, and Kendo from 1-B raised her hand cautiously. "Why?"

Shinji's eyes shifted to Kendo, his voice tight and strained as he spoke. "Because... It's their main weapon. Think back to what I said about Crimson Typhoon, to overwhelm from angles they can't cover. Kaiju know this too. They adapt, and they use their tails for that exact purpose, creating threats from angles we don't always expect. It's instinctive for them, to the point where it can become a detriment if you understand how to turn it against them."

His gaze flickered back to the hologram, his left hand gripping the remote tightly while his right remained stiff at his side, twitching subtly. The holographic kaiju's tail swayed ominously behind it, almost taunting him with the memories it dredged up.

"I learned that... the hard way," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely audible. His eyes fell to the floor, the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he struggled to hold back the wave of memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He avoided the gazes of his students, his composure slipping momentarily before he forced himself to straighten his posture, though his expression remained guarded.

Shinji exhaled slowly, steadying himself as he forced his gaze back to the hologram, though his right hand still twitched at his side. His voice was steadier now, though the tightness in it lingered.

"If you take out the tail," he continued, "not only does its speed get reduced, but its attack power and balance plummet too. These things rely on their tails for everything, stabilization, counterattacks, and even momentum during charges. Without it, they lose their edge. They're forced to adjust their movements, and that adjustment can create openings we wouldn't otherwise get."

He gestured toward the hologram with his left hand, the tail of the kaiju swaying ominously in response to his words. "Think about how it moves. That tail isn't just a weapon; it's like an extra limb, one that can strike harder and faster than most of the kaiju's other attacks. But it's also one of the most vulnerable points. Target it, and you've turned their greatest strength into a liability."

Shinji paused, his eyes scanning the class. "It's not an easy thing to do, though," he added, his voice quieter. "Getting close enough to a kaiju to disable its tail is dangerous. You'll have to dodge attacks from every angle while keeping your focus on a moving target. But if you can do it, the fight changes entirely. They lose their rhythm. That's when you can start dismantling them piece by piece."

Before he could say more, the shrill sound of the lunch bell echoed through the room, breaking the tension like a glass shattering. The students began to stir, some glancing at each other while others quickly gathered their belongings.

Shinji blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in atmosphere. He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, letting out a small, awkward chuckle. "Uh… guess that's it for today," he said, stepping back slightly.

The class began filling out, some students exchanging quiet words as they left, their expressions a mixture of intrigue and unease. A few lingered, casting curious glances at Shinji before heading out the door.

As the room emptied, Shinji let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. His gaze lingered on the blank spot where the kaiju's hologram had been, his mind replaying the memories he'd tried so hard to suppress. His right hand twitched faintly at his side, the movement drawing his attention. He clenched his left hand into a fist, forcing himself to focus.

"One step at a time," he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible in the now-quiet room.

"Not bad, Takeyama," Aizawa said, his tone as dry as ever as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His half-lidded eyes betrayed no emotion, but there was a faint edge of approval in his voice.

Shinji turned to Aizawa, his left hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks, Mr. Aizawa," he muttered, his voice tinged with surprise at the acknowledgment. "Still figuring this whole teaching thing out."

Aizawa gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "You're doing fine. You've got their attention, and they're learning. That's what matters." He shifted slightly, glancing at the hologram of the kaiju still looming in the center of the room. "Though, maybe ease up a bit on the personal war stories for now. They're here to learn, not carry your baggage."

Shinji flinched slightly at the comment, his hand dropping to his side. "Right. I'll... keep that in mind."

Aizawa stepped closer to Shinji. His voice dropped, becoming more conversational. "You've got potential as a teacher. Just don't let your past consume the lesson."

Shinji glanced at him, his expression softening. "I'll try. It's... harder than I thought it'd be."

"It always is," Aizawa replied with a shrug, already heading toward the door. "But you're not doing it alone. Remember that."

Shinji stood in the now-empty room, the hologram of the kaiju flickering once more before disappearing entirely. He let out a slow breath, his left hand pressing the remote to his side as he stared at the empty space where the kaiju had stood.

"One step at a time," he muttered to himself before turning to leave.

Shinji entered the cafeteria, the loud chatter and clinking of trays forming a constant backdrop of noise. He kept his head down as he maneuvered through the crowd, his left hand gripping the tray tightly while his stiff right hand hung uselessly at his side, only twitching slightly as he moved. He scanned the room quickly, finding a corner table tucked away from the larger groups of students. It was exactly what he was looking for, somewhere quiet, out of the way, where he wouldn't have to engage with anyone.

He set his tray down and slid into the seat, letting out a quiet sigh. His eyes lingered on the food for a moment, but the thought of eating didn't appeal to him. He wasn't sure if it was the lesson, the memories it had dredged up, or the ever-present exhaustion, but his appetite had completely disappeared.

Shinji leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and letting his head tilt slightly into his hand, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. He told himself he just needed a few minutes to collect his thoughts, then he could move on, and focus on the next task.

"Takeyama?"

The voice startled him, and he blinked, glancing up. Standing in front of him was Momo Yaoyorozu, her tray balanced neatly in her hands. Behind her were Izuku Midoriya and Ochako Uraraka, both looking hesitant but curious.

"Do you mind if we sit here?" Momo asked, her voice polite.

Shinji froze for a moment, caught off guard by the question. He wasn't sure how to respond. They weren't exactly strangers, they were in the same school, after all, but he didn't know them well, and they certainly didn't know him. Why would they want to sit with him?

"I, uh…" He hesitated, his voice trailing off before he finally gave a small shrug. "Sure. I guess."

Momo nodded, placing her tray down across from him and taking the seat directly in front of him. Izuku followed, sitting to Shinji's left, while Ochako took the spot to his right. Shinji felt a flicker of discomfort at how close they were, but he didn't say anything, unsure of how to politely ask why they'd joined him.

"You seemed kind of… alone," Ochako said after a moment, her voice light but uncertain, as though she wasn't sure if she was crossing a line.

"I prefer it that way," Shinji replied bluntly, his tone not unkind but clearly dismissive.

"I can understand that," Momo said, her tone calm and composed. "But after today's lesson, we thought you might… appreciate some company."

"Yeah," Izuku added, his voice soft but genuine. "What you taught us earlier, was incredible. It's clear you've been through a lot to learn what you know."

Shinji's gaze flickered to Izuku, and he shifted slightly in his seat. "It's not a big deal," he muttered, his voice quieter now.

"It seems like it is," Momo countered gently, her posture straight and composed but her tone carrying a note of concern. "Sharing something like that, especially something so personal, it's not easy."

Shinji looked away, his jaw tightening slightly. "I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me," he said, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

"We're not," Ochako said quickly, leaning forward slightly. "We're just… trying to understand. You're clearly going through a lot, and we just thought maybe… maybe you shouldn't have to sit here by yourself."

Shinji let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension drained from him. He wasn't used to this, people reaching out to him, trying to connect. It felt… strange.

"Thanks," he said finally, his voice low and uncertain. He didn't look at them as he spoke, but the words carried a genuine note of appreciation.

The conversation shifted gradually, the tension from earlier easing as they ventured into safer, lighter topics. Izuku, ever curious, began to steer the discussion toward Jaegers, his enthusiasm shining through as he talked about the mechanics of Shinji's machines. His voice carried an almost childlike excitement as he speculated about how such technology might be replicated or adapted in their world.

Ochako listened attentively, occasionally chiming in with questions that showed her interest, her tone warm and encouraging. She asked about the sheer size of the machines, their energy requirements, and how they could be piloted without overwhelming a single person.

Momo, ever the intellectual, offered thoughtful observations. Her insights were sharp and deliberate, showcasing her natural intelligence as she suggested potential ways to streamline the designs or theorized about the materials needed to construct something of that scale. The discussion flowed smoothly, a delicate balance of curiosity, intellect, and shared intrigue as if they were building a fragile connection through their fascination with Shinji's world.

But as the cafeteria hummed with chatter and the occasional scrape of trays, Shinji found himself drifting. The words around him softened, growing faint against the pulse of his own heartbeat. His eyes flicked toward the windows, where the distant sky seemed to darken unnaturally, the light casting unfamiliar shadows that didn't belong.

And then the piercing alarm struck.

It didn't just sound; it slammed into Shinji like a physical blow, a high-pitched, relentless wail that carved into his mind with brutal precision. The air in the room shifted instantly, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as a heavy silence fell over the cafeteria.

Shinji's hands tensed against the edge of the table, his breaths quickening as the rhythmic flashing of the red emergency lights filled the space. Around him, the silence cracked, giving way to scattered whispers and the scrape of chairs as students began to rise, the first ripples of unease spreading through the room.

The whispers turned to shouts, and the shouts to panicked cries. Shinji barely noticed the growing chaos as students scrambled for the exits, chairs overturning and trays clattering to the floor in their wake. The room blurred into a mass of movement and noise, a rising tide of fear that seemed to press in from all sides.

Shinji's breath hitched, his chest tightening as the alarm's blare warped into something else entirely. The sound wasn't coming from the cafeteria anymore, it was from there, the endless, crushing depths of the breach. The present dissolved, the weight of the neural suit clinging to him once more as the cockpit of Striker Eureka enveloped him in its cold, suffocating grip.

The kaiju that loomed before him was an overwhelming mass of raw muscle and primal ferocity, towering slightly taller than Striker Eureka. Its body was hulking and powerful, built like an apex predator designed for brute force.

Its proportions resembled that of a gorilla, with massive, broad shoulders and long, thick arms that dragged slightly as it moved. Its skin was smooth and leathery, almost jet black, glistening wetly in the light of the breaches gray sky. Faint veins of glowing blue coursed beneath the surface, pulsing in rhythm with its heaving breaths, giving the creature an eerie, otherworldly aura.

The kaiju's head was brutish and angular, its wide jaw giving it a menacing profile. Two small, glowing blue eyes burned beneath a heavy brow, radiating an unsettling intelligence that made it clear this was no mindless beast. Its nostrils flared with each exhale, releasing bursts of vapor that mingled with the swirling abyss around it. Its mouth, wide and filled with sharp, uneven teeth, seemed perpetually twisted in a snarl, each breath accompanied by a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through the water.

Its arms were the most terrifying aspect, massive, muscular, and impossibly strong, each limb ending in enormous hands with thick, clawed fingers that scraped across the breach's uneven terrain. The claws were cracked and worn, evidence of countless battles, but no less deadly for it. With each lumbering step, the kaiju's knuckles dragged slightly, leaving gouges in the ground.

The torso was thick and barrel-like, its chest broad and heaving, the powerful rise and fall of its breath sending ripples through the surrounding waters. Its muscles were impossibly dense, flexing with each subtle movement, radiating a sense of overwhelming power.

Its legs were shorter compared to its arms, but just as thick and muscular, built to support its massive frame. The feet were wide and flat, the toes tipped with blunt, claw-like nails that helped it grip the ground with crushing force.

Trailing behind it was a short but brutally thick tail, swinging in tandem with its movements. Though not as long or whip-like as other kaiju tails, it was a dense, bludgeoning appendage that could shatter steel with a single strike.

The creature moved with a loping, knuckle-dragging gait that sent tremors through the ground, each step deliberate and calculated. Despite its hulking size, there was a terrifying grace to its movements, a predator's rhythm that hinted at its capacity for explosive speed and overwhelming power.

Shinji could feel every ounce of the Jaeger's weight through the neural suit, each movement a strain as he braced for the incoming assault. The kaiju moved first, a blur of mass and power as it surged forward, claws slicing through the water with terrifying speed. Shinji instinctively raised his arms, Striker Eureka mimicking the motion, its massive gauntlets catching the kaiju's attack with a deafening clang.

The force of the impact rattled through his body, his muscles screaming in protest as he struggled to hold his ground. The kaiju roared, its bellow reverberating through the cockpit, a sound so primal it felt like it could shatter him from the inside out.

He moved on instinct, twisting his body to the left. Striker Eureka followed, driving its elbow into the kaiju's side. The impact sent the creature staggering, but it recovered quickly, its tail lashing out in retaliation. The jagged appendage struck Striker Eureka's shoulder, slamming through the armor and exposing the intricate mechanisms beneath.

Pain flared in Shinji's left shoulder as the suit registered the damage, the feedback sharp and immediate. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stay focused. Every move and every decision felt like a battle against time, the alarms blaring relentlessly in his ears.

But the kaiju wasn't slowing down. It lunged again, its claws aimed directly at Striker Eureka's chest. Shinji shifted his weight, stepping back and twisting his torso. The Jaeger mirrored him, narrowly avoiding the strike. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a thunderous echo in the silence of his mind.

The kaiju's eyes glowed brighter, its movements growing more erratic. Shinji could feel the exhaustion creeping into his limbs, the weight of the fight pressing down on him like an iron vice. His breaths were ragged now, each one a struggle against the suffocating pressure.

And then it happened.

The kaiju's claws swiped again, faster this time, catching Striker Eureka across the chest. The force of the blow sent the Jaeger reeling, its massive frame stumbling backward. Shinji's back hit the cockpit wall hard, the impact jarring him as the alarms grew louder, more insistent.

The red lights flashed in rapid succession, the glow illuminating the kaiju as it advanced. Its massive claw rose, poised to strike, the jagged edges glinting menacingly in the breach's faint light.

Shinji couldn't move. His body refused to respond, the weight of the neural suit and the crushing fear rooting him in place. The alarms, the flashing lights, the kaiju's roar, I t all blurred together, an overwhelming storm that drowned out everything else.

The kaiju's claw descended, the jagged appendage slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Shinji's vision blurred, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as the memory folded in on itself, consuming him entirely.

And then, as if the past and present had collided, the claw was no longer part of the kaiju. It was here, in the cafeteria, a massive, grotesque thing, reaching for him through the haze of flashing lights and panic. Its edges glinted, sharp and deadly, as it loomed closer, closer.

Shinji couldn't scream. His breath caught in his throat, and every muscle in his body locked as the massive, clawed hand loomed closer. It filled his vision, dark and grotesque, its leathery texture gleaming with imagined wetness under the fractured light of the breach. The kaiju's guttural growl vibrated through his chest, a low, resonating hum that rattled his very core.

Move! His mind screamed, but his body wouldn't respond. He was frozen, paralyzed in the unrelenting grip of terror. The claw surged forward, unstoppable, ready to crush him into the depths.

Something snapped. A surge of adrenaline tore through Shinji's body, breaking the chains of his paralysis. He twisted, his left arm lashing out on instinct. His fist connected with a satisfying crack against the kaiju's outstretched claw.

The beast recoiled, but before he could feel even the faintest relief, more emerged from the swirling waters. Shadows clawed their way forward on either side of him, hulking figures with glowing, predatory eyes fixed on him. The breach churned with their movement, alive with an overwhelming tide of monsters.

"Takayama!" A voice pierced the chaos, faint at first, like a whisper in a storm. "Takeyama, wake up!" The words grew louder, insistent, cutting through the roar of the kaiju and the alarms blaring all around him.

But Shinji couldn't focus. His heart raced, his breaths came in sharp gasps, and his vision tunneled. One of the kaiju lunged at him, and he swung again a wild, desperate strike. His knuckles met something solid.

"Ow! What the hell, man?!"

The voice jolted him out of the nightmare. The kaiju dissolved into formless shadows, the breach fading into nothingness. The cold, damp air transformed into the fluorescent-lit chaos of the cafeteria, the murmurs of students around him rushing back into focus.

Shinji blinked, his chest heaving, his fist trembling in midair. Slowly, he lowered it, his gaze locking onto the figure in front of him. Kirishima was standing there, clutching his jaw, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt.

"Dude, you punched me!" Kirishima exclaimed, rubbing his face. "What's going on?!"

Before Shinji could respond, another voice cut in, sharp and reprimanding. "I told you not to get close to him, Kirishima." Momo stepped into view, her tone laced with both irritation and worry, though she kept her distance.

Kirishima winced, glancing between her and Shinji. "I thought he needed help! I didn't think he'd,"

"Exactly why I said to stay back," Momo interrupted, her calm facade slipping slightly as she glanced at Shinji's trembling form. "He wasn't aware of what he was doing."

Shinji's breaths were still uneven, his left hand clenching and unclenching at his side. The cafeteria swirled around him, the fluorescent lights too bright, the murmurs too loud. He forced himself to meet Kirishima's gaze, guilt twisting his stomach into knots.

"I... I didn't mean to..." he rasped, his voice hoarse.

Kirishima, still holding his jaw, softened. "It's okay, man. I've had worse, just... next time, give a warning, yeah?" He gave a sheepish grin, trying to ease the tension.

Shinji didn't answer. His gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The kaiju's growls still echoed faintly in his ears, and the sight of his fist striking out against an ally replayed in his mind over and over.

Momo watched him carefully, her expression softening. "You need to sit down," she said gently. "And breathe. We'll figure this out."

But Shinji barely registered her words. All he could feel was the crushing guilt, the lingering fear, and the distant roar of monsters that haunted his every step.

Shinji stood frozen for a moment, his body tense and his mind still halfway in the breach. The edges of his vision blurred, and the sound of the cafeteria, the whispers, the murmurs, the occasional shuffle of chairs, felt too close, too loud. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he tried to ground himself.

Momo's hand hovered near his arm, though she didn't touch him. "Takeyama," she said softly, her voice steady but firm, "it's over. Whatever you were seeing, it's not real anymore. You're here."

The words barely registered at first, their meaning distant and muffled, like sounds underwater. Shinji's eyes darted around the room, scanning for any lingering threat. The cafeteria was nearly empty now, with only a few students lingering near the exit. The flashing lights had ceased, and the alarms had fallen silent.

How long had he been… trapped in there?

His breathing was uneven, his body still coiled tightly, ready for a fight that had already ended. It felt like hours, though logically, he knew it couldn't have been more than minutes. Time always twisted itself in moments like these, stretching and compressing in strange, unrelenting ways.

Kirishima, still nursing his jaw, stepped back slightly, giving Shinji some space. "Hey, seriously, man, it's fine," he said, his tone awkward but sincere. "You were... uh, clearly going through something." He glanced at Momo as if seeking backup, before adding, "No hard feelings, okay?"

Shinji's head tilted slightly, his gaze dropping to his trembling hands. "I didn't mean to hit you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"We know," Momo assured him, her tone kind but firm enough to draw his attention. "Kirishima knows. But you need to focus on calming down now. Can you sit?"

Shinji nodded stiffly, though his movements felt sluggish as if his body were moving through water. He allowed Momo to guide him to a chair, though he didn't make eye contact with her or anyone else.

As he sank into the seat, the room seemed to spin less violently. The cold surface of the table under his hands grounded him somewhat, though his fingers still twitched involuntarily.

Momo took a seat across from him, keeping her movements calm and deliberate. She didn't press him further, instead waiting patiently. Kirishima hesitated, his usual boisterous energy dimmed, before settling into a chair nearby.

"Man, you must've been fighting something pretty intense in your head," Kirishima said after a moment, his tone carefully light. "Whatever it was, I'm glad you're back with us."

Shinji didn't answer. His jaw tightened, and he stared at his hands as if they were foreign to him. The weight of his past battles pressed on him like a vice, the vivid image of the kaiju's claw, the breach's oppressive darkness, and the deafening alarms refusing to fade.

The silence stretched for a moment, thick and heavy. Then Momo broke it, her voice gentle but firm. "Takeyama, you don't have to explain anything now. But you can't keep carrying this alone. Whatever it is, it's clearly hurting you."

Her words cut through some of the fog in his mind, but they also brought a pang of irritation. He didn't want their pity, their concern. He didn't want to be seen as weak.

"I'm fine," he said curtly, though his shaking hands betrayed him.

Momo frowned but didn't push further. "If that's what you want to say," she replied evenly, "then we'll respect it. Just know that we're here if you need anything."

Kirishima nodded, his usual grin creeping back, though it was softer this time. "Yeah, what she said. I mean, we're all classmates, right? Gotta have each other's backs."

Shinji finally glanced up at them, his gaze flickering between Momo's calm expression and Kirishima's earnest one. Something in their sincerity made the weight on his chest feel just a fraction lighter.

"Thanks," he muttered, the word feeling foreign in his mouth.

Momo gave a small nod, her lips curving into a faint smile. Kirishima grinned wider, his jaw already forgotten. "No problem, dude! Just maybe next time, aim for a villain, not my face."

Before anyone could say more, the cafeteria door swung open, and Aizawa stepped in, his expression as unreadable as ever. His sharp gaze scanned the room, lingering briefly on each of them before landing on Shinji.

"Everyone's been cleared to leave," Aizawa announced, his voice calm but firm. "School's out for the rest of the day. Go home and rest. That includes you, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu."

"But," Kirishima began, only for Aizawa to cut him off with a pointed look.

"No arguments. You've done enough," Aizawa said, his tone brooking no dissent.

Momo hesitated, glancing toward Shinji, her concern evident. Aizawa gave her a subtle nod, as if silently assuring her it was under control. Reluctantly, she stood, giving Shinji a final, encouraging smile. Kirishima clapped him lightly on the shoulder, his grin still unwavering despite the day's events.

The door swung shut behind them, leaving Shinji alone at the table, his head low and his hands still trembling slightly. The silence pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting, until the sound of footsteps drew his attention. Aizawa approached, his usual tired expression tinged with a hint of scrutiny. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from Shinji, his movements deliberate and calm.

"Shinji," Aizawa began, his tone steady and logical, "we need to talk about what happened today. You know as well as I do that this kind of reaction, losing yourself in the middle of a crisis, could endanger others if the situation is bad enough."

"I know!" Shinji snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He exhaled sharply, dragging his hands through his hair, his fingers clenching tightly. "I know, okay? That's why I'm so... so upset about it. I'm better than that. I went through actual hell. And yet... here I am." His voice cracked on the last words, the weight of his frustration and anger bleeding through. "An alarm was enough to beat me."

Aizawa leaned back in his chair, his expression steady and composed, giving Shinji the space to vent. Once the tension in the air had settled just enough, he spoke, his tone calm but firm.

"You're human, Shinji. And a kid. No matter what you've been through, no matter how strong you think you should be, you're still going to have moments like this. It doesn't make you weak, it makes you alive."

Shinji's head snapped up at the words, his eyes narrowing. "A kid?" he repeated, bitterness edging his voice. "I haven't been a kid in a long time."

Aizawa didn't flinch at the retort, his expression unchanging. "Maybe not in your mind. But you're still growing, still learning. It's okay to stumble, even when you think you shouldn't. What matters is how you pick yourself up afterward."

"I froze," Shinji muttered, his fists clenching. "In a real fight, that would've gotten someone killed."

"You froze because your brain thought you were in a fight," Aizawa corrected. "That's not wweaknessthat's trauma. Your body was trying to protect itself, even if it didn't know how to do it right in the moment."

Shinji's shoulders slumped, the weight of Aizawa's words settling heavily on him. He wanted to argue, to push back against the logic, but he couldn't find the energy.

"Look," Aizawa continued, his voice softening slightly, "you've been through things most people can't even imagine. You're carrying all that with you, and it's not going to just disappear because you want it to. That's why you're here, to learn how to carry it without letting it crush you."

Shinji stared at the floor, his jaw tight. "And if I can't?"

"Then we keep trying until you can," Aizawa replied simply. "That's how it works. Step by step. One day at a time."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Aizawa's words hanging in the air. Finally, Shinji let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

"Your sister will be here soon," Aizawa said after a moment, straightening. "Talk to her. Lean on her if you need to. You don't have to handle this alone, Shinji."

Shinji nodded slowly, the fight draining out of him. He didn't feel better, not really, but the flicker of reassurance in Aizawa's words was enough to keep him grounded, at least for now.