Chapter Text
your mother took the liberty of tidying your hospital room while you are in your current comatose state. below are some fanmails you've received in the past month or so:
⋆ ˚ ₊ 𖤓 ✶ ⋆. ˚ ☽ ˚ . ⋆
from rody soul, otheon:
yo, lifeline!
it’s rody—yeah, the rody you met back in otheon. listen, i caught the broadcast, and you were crazy kickass! i thought you were dead and then BAM, there you are, doing hero stuff again. don’t scare me like that. anyway, come back and visit, i still owe you a drink. (not the kind you have to be legal for, unless you want to, then… i know a guy.) stay alive, you’re way too cool to kick the bucket yet.
- rody (and pino too, she says “bweee!”)
from katsuma shimano, nabu island
dear miss lifeline,
hi! it’s katsuma from nabu island! my big sister helped me write this because i wanted to say THANK YOU for saving us and for telling me it’s okay to be scared. i saw your fight on tv and i was like, WOW! you’re even cooler than before. i’m practicing my cellular regeneration quirk, but i still get a headache sometimes. when you wake up, can you teach me? i hope you like the seashell i sent! (it’s the pink one.)
your #1 fan,
katsuma (and mahoro says “hi!!”)
from camie:
yo lifeline~!
u better wake up soon or i’m gonna start prank calling u in the afterlife. real talk tho, class just isn’t as chill without u and the vibes are suffering. when u get out we gotta selfie & i wanna hear all the coma dreams. ps mina’s planning a “welcome back” cake with glitter. hope ur not allergic.
miss u girl~
- camie
from inasa, a blue card with makeshift winds scribbled on the side:
DEAREST LIFELINE,
IT’S INASA! I HOPE THIS LETTER GETS TO YOU. EVERYONE IN CLASS SAYS YOU’RE THE STRONGEST AND THE COOLEST! I WANT TO DO MY BEST TO BE A HERO LIKE YOU! IF YOU NEED ANY WIND POWER, LET ME KNOW!! GANBATTE!!
- INASA (WITH THE MOST WIND!)
from mina, a pink and white envelope with faded hearts around it:
hey bestie!!!
you better hurry up and wake up or i’m coming in there and dancing on your hospital bed. (jk… unless?) we all miss you and the girls and i made you a playlist for when you wake up. also… bakugo looks SO WORRIED it’s hilarious, but don’t tell him i said that. ps, i stole your favorite hoodie to keep it safe, you can have it back when you come hang out.
see you soon!!!
- mina <3
from shinso:
hey.
i’m not good at these, but aizawa said writing letters is a “bonding experience.” i hope you’re back on your feet soon. class isn’t the same without your comebacks. if you need help sneaking out for some fresh air, you know who to call.
- shinso
from an anonymous little kid, age 6:
to hero lifline liftline lyfeline lifeline!
i saw you on the tv and you punched the nurse so hard and it was awesome. i drawed a picture for you. get well soon hero lady!! tank you for saving us!!
- love, tamayo (age 6)
stick figure drawing attached, complete with wild hair and a stick Bakugo yelling “BOOM!” in the corner
from a grateful parent, rika togami, tokyo:
dear lifeline,
i am the mother of a girl you saved in a collapse. i have no words except thank you. when i pray at night, i pray for you and your family, too. please rest and come back to us soon—the city needs heroes with hearts as big as yours.
with deepest gratitude,
rika togami
from denki, in chicken scratch:
yo lifeline!
hope you’re not using this as an excuse to get out of homework lol. get well soon so you can zap bakugo with your comebacks, we all miss you.
- denks
from stars crew:
hey kid,
it’s ethan. the gang chipped in on this, so you know it’s sappy. listen, we saw what went down, and we’re all damn proud. you’re tougher than half the grizzled guys in my squad, and that’s saying something.
star would be giving you her “hell yeah” look—chin up, hands on hips, grinning at the sky. you made her proud, kid. you made all of us proud. don’t forget that. you get better, and next time you’re in the states, first round’s on me (and the second, and the third, you know how it is. but this coupons only redeemable once you're 21).
hold your head high, hero. we’re watching.
the whole damn crew
from pro hero ‘windbreaker’ in chicago:
hey, lifeline!
word gets around the bean city, and everyone here is watching you. the way you handled yourself out there? real hero work. people are bragging, btw. like oh my god i know her!
keep putting on for chicago. we’re rooting for you—don’t let those tokyo folks steal you forever!
stay breezy,
windbreaker
from pro hero ‘ranger’ in texas, currently stationed in la:
lil’ lifeline,
heard about your fight. damn impressive. takes guts and heart—and you got both in spades.
you make us all in the states proud. even my partner (who never cries) got misty seeing you up and running again. star woulda been yelling at the screen in her boots, that’s for sure.
if you ever need backup stateside, you got a whole cavalry waiting.
ride high,
ranger
from captain sullivan (quick text, couldn’t resist):
yo, superstar.
word from the states is you’re making the rest of us look lazy. don’t let it go to your head. chill out, cuz i'm almost at retirement age. i don't need no official tellin me to step up cuz a 17 year old outdid half of america.
ps—i better see you eating, or i’m flying over there to drag you out for a burger.
- thomas
from the chicago heroics club (group email):
subject: go lifeline go!
we’re all so proud to see you out there! everyone in the club watched the news, and you’re a legend at our HQ. keep showing the world what chicago heroes can do!
can’t wait to see you back home for a visit.
- the cheroics
from first responder, in methodical cursive, as if he penned the declaration of independence:
kiddo,
i remember the first time you walked into my agency—tiny, stubborn, and way too smart for your own good. i worried about what this job would do to you, what the system might try to take.
but you surprised me. you kept yourself safe, not just from villains, but from the system itself. you found a way to help without letting them turn you into something you’re not.
that’s not easy. it’s brave. i wish more heroes remembered how to do that.
take care of your heart, kid. it’s your best power.
- you know me as jake
pro heroes and mentors first responder and captain sullivan!
if you were interested in little small information about them!
captain sullivan/sully - your first mentor & brother figure
*you actually call him sully cause of watching a movie called monsters inc!*
real name: thomas sullivan
age: 34
nationality: american
first responder - your second mentor & sorta-father figure
real name: jake trujillo
age: 35
nationality: american
how did you meet them?
captain sully:
metal clangs, punching bags thumping, a boom of laughter echoing off the concrete. you’re barefoot, little, dragging a staff that’s taller than you across the gym floor.
there’s a crowd of adults in uniforms arguing near the sparring mats. one guy stands out—built like a tank, skin the color of rich earth, hair cropped tight, scar running down his nose like a warning sign. that’s captain sullivan. he’s pacing, arms crossed, face twisted in outraged annoyance.
“you want me to train a kid?” he barks, pointing at you. “look at 'er! staff weighs as much as she does. what’s next, put her in the ring with an elephant? y’all lost your damn minds.”
someone from the staff tries to hush him, muttering about “government orders” and “special program,” but he just scoffs, glaring at the grown-ups like they’re the dumbest people alive.
then you step up. still quiet. still barefoot, knuckles white around the staff. he glances down, expecting tears, or maybe a tantrum. but you look him straight in the eye.
“i want to learn,” you say. voice small but stubborn as bedrock. “i’m not scared. if you’re scared, you don’t have to teach me.”
he stares for a second, caught off guard—then throws his head back and laughs.
“oh, you got jokes? alright, little boss. let’s see what you got.” he drops to one knee, smirks, and pokes your staff. “first lesson: don’t let some loudmouth knock this outta your hands. and if you cry, i’m sending you back to your mom, got it?”
from that day, he’s a thorn in your side—and your biggest fan. calls you “squirt” or “runt” or “future pain in my ass.” teaches you to fight like you’re twice your size. brags to everyone about “his little disaster magnet.” by the time you’re ten, you can out-spar half the agency.
and god help anyone who messes with you, because captain sullivan will be the first one in their face, barking, “that’s my little sister, idiot.”
first responder:
you remember the smell first—bleach, old wood, fast food wrappers, the whiff of something burnt in the far corner. the station buzzes like a beehive, radios squawking, boots thumping, coffee poured thick as tar.
you’re about thirteen, wearing a red vest that nearly swallows you, pressed into a chair in the corner with a clipboard. they call it “junior shadowing”—but everyone else in the room is at least sixteen. you try not to stare at the bulletholes in the corkboard or the patch jobs on the windows.
that’s when he walks up. tall—like, movie-tall—with tired purple eyes and a jaw that looks like it’s seen too many late nights. “first responder,” he says, sticking out a hand. “call me jake. you must be the... prodigy they’re all talking about.”
you don’t feel like a prodigy. you feel like a kid who’s already read too many trauma response manuals.
he sees that, you think. he doesn’t smile—just gives you the once-over and kneels so you’re eye to eye. “look, i don’t know why they put you here. but i’m not gonna let anyone teach you the wrong way. stick with me, kid. you’ll do more good than they ever will.”
that’s how it starts. he becomes your anchor, your “don’t worry, kid, i got you” in the chaos. every disaster call, every long night—he’s there. sometimes that’s all you need to make it to the next day
their backstory
before anyone called them legends, before either of them could even grow a full beard, thomas sullivan and jake trujillo were already household names in their own right.
new york city high school for heroes was a battle zone for the brainy, the scrappy, the born-for-headlines types. jake thrived on adrenaline, never missed a drill, captain of the disaster rescue squad, teacher’s pet and class clown in equal measure. if you were buried in a subway tunnel or dangling from a window, you wanted jake at your back. rumor was, he once single-handedly pulled an entire bus off the FDR, then clocked in at work like it was a tuesday.
capital hill high school for heroes was the home of the “perfect products.” thomas sullivan walked those marble halls with the discipline of a soldier and the attitude of someone who knew he could snap your neck and fix it again. kid was raw power, already six feet tall at sixteen, the star of every martial arts team, quickest to volunteer for the hard jobs. his quirk was the stuff of schoolyard legend—he could smell a fight brewing before anyone else even felt the wind change.
chicago is where fate threw them together, two big dogs in a city with too many fires and not enough hands. assigned to the same agency, they butted heads from day one. at first it was all trash talk—“hey, capital boy, nice tie, you gonna save the mayor or just his re-election campaign?” and “what’s up, new york? you ever fight a villain who doesn’t run at the sight of your mom?” but the rivalry ran deeper: rescue ops, charity events, even chili cook-offs. every time there was a disaster, the agency started taking bets—whose team would save more people, who’d be out of the rubble first.
somewhere between the third rooftop chase and a tornado rescue, rivalry turned to partnership. they’d argue over the plan, but always had each other’s back in the end. “don’t die, idiot,” was thomas’s way of saying “good job.” jake would punch his arm and say “yeah, love you too, man.”
when thomas was tapped by the agency for “special assignments” (read: black ops, the dirty work the public never hears about), jake was the only one who knew all the details. even after thomas moved back to d.c. to train the next generation, every time jake called, thomas answered. sometimes they’d just argue over football. sometimes, they’d put their heads together to solve the kind of crisis only old dogs could handle.
then came you. the kid with the healing quirk and stubborn will. neither of them had ever trained someone so young. but jake saw a spark, thomas saw a fighter, and suddenly they had a new reason to team up: making sure you didn’t become the kind of weapon the system wanted, but the kind of hero the world needed.