The mall's fluorescent lights stab at my eyes as consciousness returns. That damn kid's quirk didn't just knock us out - it cracked open something deep in my skull. Memories that don't belong to Denki Kaminari flood my mind: a yellow haori, a sword crackling with lightning, the scent of wisteria. Next to me, Shinsou groans awake, rubbing his temples with the exact same gesture Muichiro used to make after particularly grueling training sessions. 'What the fuck?' he hisses, and I know that voice - not just Shinsou's dry tone, but the underlying cadence of the Mist Hashira. Mina sits up abruptly, pink skin glowing slightly as she examines her hands. 'And I thought I looked demonic last time!' she laughs, but her eyes are wet. The pieces click together with terrifying clarity - we're all here again, thrown into new roles but still fundamentally ourselves. Midnight-sensei argues fiercely with paramedics nearby, her usual playful demeanor replaced by a sharp intensity that reminds me painfully of a certain insect Hashira. Aizawa-sensei clutches Present Mic like a lifeline, both teachers clearly processing their own revelations. We have minutes at most before authorities start questioning why UA students are displaying knowledge and abilities far beyond their training records.