História A Ghost Of What Was Once Mine (2025)

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Breaking Point

The next two days felt like a goddamn trial by fire for Katsuki, pushing his patience, his nerves, and his emotional limits to the absolute max.

Physically, he was cleared by the doctors pretty damn fast. Yumi had come yesterday to patch Katsuki up though his body still ached like hell, but nothing was broken, nothing life-threatening. He could walk, he could move—so, in the hospital's eyes, he was good to go... but that didn't mean he was about to leave Izuku alone at the hospital.

Not a fucking chance.

Even entertaining the idea of it made him nervous. He didn't even want to imagine what would go down if he wasn't there and Izuku woke up in full-blown panic mode, surrounded by strangers with needles and machines beeping in his ears.

Aizawa dropped by with some updates from the Hero Association, though none of it was particularly helpful. The suits couldn't agree on jack shit during their last meeting, too busy arguing over whether Izuku was a victim or a walking ticking natural disaster. Thankfully, they decided to hold off on making a decision until Izuku was back on his feet, so for now, there were no bureaucratic assholes breathing down their necks.

That was a battle for another day., and That just meant Katsuki had more time to figure out how to shove their bullshit back down their throats.

But while the bureaucratic mess hovered in the background, Izuku had his own shit to deal with.

Since his condition had stabilized, the medical staff insisted on running some final check-ups, making sure his bones were fusing right, that his body wasn't rejecting the accelerated healing treatments Shot's sidekick had given him.

Which—logically—was a good thing.

Practically?

Getting Izuku to sit still for them was damn near impossible. It wasn't just discomfort. It wasn't just nerves.

It was full-blown trauma laced with anxiety so thick it made Katsuki's chest tight just watching it unfold, Izuku hated being touched by people he didn't trust. Katsuki knew that, and he understood why. Any attempt by the nurses to touch him sent his muscles locking up, his body coiling like a trapped animal, as if the slightest wrong move would send him spiraling back into the hell Katsuki had pulled him from.

Sometimes he even lashed out. Not because he wanted to hurt anyone, but because his body was still wired for survival.

Katsuki had to step in every single time, standing between Izuku and the medical staff, talking him through it, reminding him where he was, that no one was going to fucking hurt him. Even then, it was like walking a damn tightrope, balancing between pushing him just enough to let them help and making sure he didn't go into full-blown attack mode.

It was exhausting.

There was this one moment when Izuku had finally been sitting on the edge of the bed, tense but cooperating, while one of the nurses was prepping for an EMG test on the nerves of his hands where the worst of his injuries had been. Katsuki, thinking he had a goddamn minute to himself, seized the opportunity and ducked into the bathroom.

Then, as if the universe really truly did have a personal grudge against him, another nurse waltzed in, tripped over her own goddamn feet, and turned a metal tray full of medical supplies into a percussion concert from hell.

Theclangof metal against tile echoed through the room, a sharp, chaotic explosion of noise.

And Katsuki knew. Before he even opened the door, before he even saw Izuku's reaction, he knew.

His heart hammered as he surged back into the room, his eyes zeroing in on Izuku who was... was gone. Not literally—his body was still there, sitting in a fetal position—but his mind? His senses?

They'd checked out.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, ragged bursts. His wide, panicked eyes darted around the room, searching for something that wasn't there, something from a different time, a different fucking place. His hands trembled, his shoulders locked, muscles wound tight, ready to run or fight or whatever the hell his instincts were telling him to do.

The nurse who'd caused the mess was stammering out apologies, but Izuku wasn't hearing a word.

Katsuki muttered a low, "Fuck," under his breath. His brain went into overdrive, searching for the quickest way to get Izuku back, to pull him out of whatever fucked-up memory his mind was dragging him through.

He moved fast, stepping in front of Izuku, cutting off his line of sight to the nurse, to the medical tray, to everything. Katsuki positioned himself like a goddamn shield, blocking out as much of the room as possible, trying to cut off the stimuli before it sent Izuku spiraling even further.

"Hey, Deku," he called, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "It's alright. It was just an accident."

Izuku didn't react.

His entire body was shaking, his chest heaving, his gaze darting everywhere as if searching for the quickest escape. He practically ejected himself from the bed, slamming into the wall in a desperate attempt to put as much distance as humanly possible between himself and the nurses. His limbs moved on sheer instinct, erratic and uncoordinated, his mind completely disconnected from reality.

The IV lines ripped free from his arm, a sharp sting of red welling up in their absence, but Izuku didn't react to the pain—didn't even seem to notice. His chest heaved, his back pressing against the cold wall like he was trying to merge with it, his entire body wired for escape.

The nurse, visibly flustered, took a step back, her hands raised in apology, but Katsuki barely registered her.

His focus was entirely on Izuku as he just took a slow step toward him, then another.

"Look at me, Deku."

Nothing.

Izuku's chest heaved, his head jerking toward sounds that weren't there.

"Look at me," he ordered, stepping closer, his hands raised in a careful, non-threatening way. "Focus on me, Izuku."

Izuku's eyes barely flickered toward him.

"Breathe with me, okay?" Katsuki's voice was lower now, softer. He didn't try to touch him yet, didn't reach out—just kept his own breaths slow, deliberate. Izuku's shoulders shook, his hands were gripping at his own arms, nails digging into skin, trembling.

But his eyes were on Katsuki now.

Katsuki lowered himself into a crouch, never breaking eye contact. His own chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths, hoping—praying—that Izuku would sync up with him.

Carefully, he reached out—not to grab, not to force, just to ground. His fingers hovered just above Izuku's forearm, giving him the space to pull away if he needed to. But Izuku didn't move.

Slowly, Katsuki shifted his approach. Instead of touching his arm, he brought his hand up, palm open, fingers spread in invitation. "Deku," he murmured, voice low and steady. "Take my hand."

Izuku blinked, the first real sign of recognition he'd shown since the panic took over. His breath was still ragged, still uneven, but it wasn't as erratic. His gaze flickered between Katsuki's face and the offered hand, hesitation clear in the tightness of his expression.

Katsuki didn't push. He just sat there, waiting. Let him decide. Let him come back on his own.

"In..." Katsuki inhaled deeply, expanding his chest. He held it for a second before exhaling slow, measured. "And out."

Izuku took Katsuki hand.

Katsuki gently took Izuku's hand in his own, trying to anchor him. "Look at me, Deku. Focus on me," he urged, trying to maintain eye contact with him. "Breathe with me, okay? In, out, in, out."

It took an eternity—long, agonizing seconds where Katsuki wasn't sure if Izuku was still with him—but then, finally, finally, the shaky inhales started matching his own.

Not perfect. Not even close, but it was something.

"That's it," Katsuki murmured, his grip still firm around Izuku's trembling hand. "Keep breathing. You're safe. No one's gonna hurt you."

Little by little, Izuku's body stopped shaking so violently. His breathing evened out, though it was still too fast, still too shallow. Katsuki stayed right by his side, holding onto his hand like it was the only damn thing keeping them both grounded.

He didn't let go. Didn't dare move, fearing that even the slightest shift might undo all the progress he'd just made.

Even as the rest of the day dragged on, Katsuki found himself in an endless fight to keep Izuku steady through every damn test, scan, and procedure.

Every single time it was the same fucking thing.

One step forward. Two steps back.

Some moments, Izuku tolerated it. But there were other times when he would lose it. And Katsuki learned fast—real fast—that if a hand so much as hovered too close to Izuku's face, it sent him spiraling. At first, he chalked it up to the obvious. The beatings. The way Izuku had probably been smacked around, punched, grabbed by the jaw, maybe even had his head slammed into the ground.

Those were the worst moments.

Because all Katsuki could do was sit there, gripping his hand, whispering low reassurances like they actually meant something, like they could fix anything. But the more he watched, the more it didn't make sense.

Izuku didn't spiral at medical objects or tools near his face. He didn't like it, but he didn't freak the fuck out either.

It was hands.

Every single time.

Hands...hands, hands, hands hands—His mind mulled it over, sifting through everything they knew about Odd Eye, about what that sick bastard could do.

Hands,Odd Eye's hands.

To use his Quirk, he needed contact and Katsuki remembered what a light graze from it had felt like. What had Izuku felt for weeks,Months?No wonder Izuku panicked the second someone reached for his face. No wonder he flinched like he was about to be ripped apart from the inside out. Katsuki's breath stilled, his fingers unconsciously curling around Izuku's just a little tighter.

Fuck—he hated this.

Hated how useless he felt, how useless he was in this whole goddamn situation. Hated the way his own goddamn eyes stung when Izuku flinched at a fucking clipboard snapping shut too loud.

But mostly, he hated that he couldn't do more. The weight of it all was like an anvil pressing against his chest, suffocating him, dragging him under. His patience—his energy—was running on fumes, his exhaustion eating at the edges of his mind, but the thought of leaving Izuku alone in this sterile, godforsaken hellhole was unbearable.

Izuku had already lost too much.

And Katsuki refused—refused—to add to that torment.

There were moments when he felt frustration and sorrow clawing at him from the inside out, moments when he had to wrestle back the sting of tears and the burning in his goddamn throat. If he could take it all away, if he could shoulder every ounce of Izuku's agony, he would.

But he couldn't.

All he could do was be the one person Izuku knew wouldn't leave. There had to be a way to make this easier.

Somewhere between another near-meltdown and yet another failed attempt at getting Izuku to sit through an exam, an idea struck Katsuki like a damn bolt of lightning. He remembered the way Izuku clung to that damn ring of his like it was the only thing keeping him in this reality. The way it had cut through the haze, pulled him out of the worst of it, even if just for a second.

Maybe it wasn't much. Maybe it wouldn'tfixeverything.

But if it could help—even just a little—then he'd give it to Izuku.

He fumbled for his phone, typing out a message to his usual crew, but then stopped. Remembered the guilt weighing him down. He didn't want to drag them deeper into this mess. So instead, he shot a message to Shoto. He hated asking for favors, but he was getting desperate:

Katsuki:Oi, IcyHot. Need a damn favor.

Within minutes, Shoto replied.

Ice Prick:Hello, is something wrong, Bakugo? You don't usually send me messages.

Katsuki:Look, I don't go around askin' for shit, but this is important. Get your ass to a jewelry store, grab a silver chain, and bring it to the hospital. It's for Deku.I'm puttin' my damn ring on it so he can keep it on him. Shit's been rough—he's losing it every time they poke at him, and I think holdin' onto it might help ground him or somethin'.

Katsuki:Just get it here. I'll pay you back, whatever—just make it fast.

There was barely a pause before Shoto replied.

Ice Prick:"Of course. I'll be there shortly."

Shoto showed up not long after, striding down the hallway with that usualcalm and collectedbullshit he always carried himself with. He found Katsuki leaning against the wall outside Izuku's room, arms crossed, his foot tapping out restless, uneven beats against the floor. Clearly he'd been anxiously waiting for Shoto.

The second Katsuki saw Shoto, he pushed off the wall, sharp red eyes locking onto him.

"Hey," Shoto greeted him, low and soft, taking in the worry lines creasing his forehead, the exhaustion shadowing his eyes.

Katsuki wasted no time.

He dug into his pocket, pulled out a wad of cash, and shoved it into Shoto's hand, muttering, "Thanks... I owe you big time, IcyHot."

Shoto took the money with a nod but didn't immediately turn to leave. Instead, his sharp mismatched eyes lingered on Katsuki, something thoughtful in his expression.

"How's Midoriya holding up?" he asked. Then, after a pause, "And... how areyou?"

Katsuki's brows scrunched together.

His fingers traced over the chain in his palm, feeling the cool metal slide between his calloused fingertips. He wasn't the type to spill his guts to anyone, especially not Shoto. But...

These past few months had shifted things between them.

They had both seen some real, ugly shit. They'd both bled for this. Somewhere along the line, an unspoken understanding had formed—one that didn't need words to be acknowledged.

So, for once, he didn't brush the question off. Katsuki sighed, tilting his head back slightly before finally answering. "He's a mess during those damn check-ups," he admitted, his usual bite dulled by exhaustion. "I hate seeing him like that... but I'm doing everything I can to keep him from falling apart."

Shoto raised an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard by therarehonesty. He knew Katsuki as a hothead who didn't take crap from anyone, so this softer side was unexpected. But he didn't push. Instead, he nodded, letting the weight of those words settle, sensing the pain behind Katsuki's eyes.

"I can imagine that's tough," Shoto said gently. "But you're doing everything you can for him. It's not an easy situation for either of you, but he's lucky to have you by his side."

Katsuki let out a dry scoff. "Yeah, well, that's the damn pattern, isn't it?" His grip on the chain tightened. "Anyone who gets too close to me either ends up injured or dead."

Shoto frowned, catching therealweight behind those words—the self-blame, the guilt Katsuki was burying under layers of anger. The heavy burden of responsibility and survivor's guilt—it wasn't a term he'd considered before, but as he turned it over in his mind, it began to make a chilling kind of sense. Shoto knew this wasn't something Katsuki would easily admit or perhaps even fully acknowledge, but recognizing it allowed Shoto to see him before him in a different light.

That Katsuki wasn't the once unbreakable hero Shoto thought he was.

"That's not on you, Bak—" Shoto hesitated, then corrected himself, "—Katsuki."

That got his attention. Katsuki's sharp crimson eyes flicked toward him, but he didn't snap. Didn't correct him at the familiarity. Just waited.

Shoto took it as permission to continue. "We can't control everything that happens in this world, and sometimes bad things happen to good people. It's not your fault."

Katsuki's jaw ticked. He had heard this same bullshit from everyone else. From Aizawa. From All Might. It was the same empty reassurance that did nothing to change what had already been lost.

But Shoto wasn't done.

"What matters now is that you're here," he pressed, his voice steady, not pitying—just real. " "You're not just supporting him; you're fightingforhim, with everything you've got. The old you might not have recognized the strength in that, wouldn't have thought twice about that. Think about that for a second."

That made Katsuki pause.

His gaze finally lifted from the chain, meeting with Shoto's. He searched for something—judgment, scrutiny, some hidden meaning behind the words—but he foundnoneof the usual cynicism. There was just... understanding.

Katsuki only blinked. If Shoto—of all people—could see the shift in him, then maybe it was true, maybe hehadchanged.

He huffed, grumbling, his usual walls dropping just a fraction. "Maybe you got a point, IcyHot." He rolled the chain between his fingers, scoffing quietly. "The old me... he wouldn't give a damn about anyone but himself." His voice dipped lower, almost too quiet to hear. "Especially when it came to Izuku."

He exhaled sharply. "But things change, I guess."

Shoto nodded, like he had already known that answer before Katsuki had even said it. "People change, Katsuki," he said simply. "And it's not a sign of weakness to care about others. It's a sign of strength."

That hit him harder than he expected, because Eijiro had said something so damn similar.

"That just means you've got a heart, man, one that cares deeply, one that can't just turn away when someone you love is suffering."

It was as if the universe was trying to hammer the message into his thick skull, and maybe, just maybe, he might be listening.

They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them—not awkward, not uncomfortable, just... understanding settling into the cracks between their relationship.

Eventually, Shoto turned to leave. But before he walked away, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, his voice quieter this time, more genuine.

"Remember, Katsuki," he muttered, "if you ever need someone to talk to, or if things get too overwhelming... I'm just a phone call away."

Katsuki didn't answer, only watched as Shoto walked away, something settling in his chest, something like recognition. He wasn't sure when the hell it had happened, but at some point in these last few days, he'd stopped seeing Shoto as just some extra he had to deal with.

And started seeing him as an equal.

Once Shoto disappeared down the corridor, Katsuki wasted no time heading back into the room. The second he stepped inside, Izuku's eyes immediately found him, like he had been waiting, searching, needing to confirm that Katsuki was still there. There was something raw in that stare—silent relief, trust, desperation—all wrapped up in one exhausted, fragile expression.

Without a word, Katsuki crossed the room and settled onto the edge of the bed. His arm instinctively wrapped around Izuku's shoulders, pulling him in close.

Izuku melted into him, his face burying itself into Katsuki's chest like it was the safest place in the world. Katsuki could feel the tension coursing through him, the way his muscles remained wound too tight, like he was still waiting for something to go wrong. Even with the tests pushed back for the sake of his mental health—thank All Might—Katsuki could feel the weight of everything clinging to him, refusing to let go.

For the first time that day, Katsuki felt like he could breathe.

After a moment, he shifted slightly, pulling something from his pocket. "Oi, Izuku."

Izuku barely stirred, but Katsuki could feel his slow inhale, feel the way he tensed slightly, waiting for whatever came next.

"I want you to have this for a little while."

Carefully, he slid his ring from his finger and threaded it onto the thin silver curb chain Shoto had brought him, the metal clinked softly as it settled into place.

His hands froze mid-motion as his brain caught up with what he was about to do. Because suddenly,allhe could see was that fucking Iron Maiden around Izuku's throat.

The scars stared back at him, reminders of what had been done to him. Of what he had endured. A pang of something sharp,visceral, ran through Katsuki's chest. Shit, he was a fucking moron. How had he not thought of this?

The last thing he wanted was to put something around Izuku's neck. What if this shit triggered him? What if, instead of comfort, it brought back the suffocating weight of those goddamn restraints?

Katsuki swallowed, his grip tightening around the chain as he looked at Izuku, debating whether he should just scrap the whole damn idea.

"Deku," he said carefully, holding the necklace up so Izuku could see it. "I... I don't wanna trigger anything." His voice dropped lower, quieter. "Don't go all soft on me, nerd, just—if having this around your neck is too much, tell me. I can find another way for you to keep it close."

Izuku's gaze flickered between the necklace and Katsuki, a storm of emotions playing out in his eyes. There was hesitation, Katsuki could see that much. The memories were there, lurking beneath the surface.

But so was trust.

After a moment, Izuku inhaled slowly, then nodded.

Without saying a word, he tilted his chin up ever so slightly, exposing his scarred throat, his body language clear.

Katsuki could do it. Katsuki could be trusted. Katsuki was safe.

He reached forward carefully—gently—and secured the chain around Izuku's neck, making sure it wasn't too snug, that it didn't sittooclose. The second the clasp clicked shut, Izuku's fingers were already there, curling the ring, feeling the familiar weight of it in his palm.

A quiet, shuddering breath escaped Izuku. It brought a sense of comfort that was hard to put into words.

Katsuki watched, his chest tightening, as his Izuku's widened slightly, thumb rubbing over the familiar texture. He held it, grasped it, like the weight of it was something real, something grounding.

Tears welled up in Izuku's eyes, glistening in the dim hospital light. He looked up at Katsuki, overwhelmed, but grateful.

Katsuki didn't say anything, he pulled Izuku in close, wrapping his arms around him, holding him as close as he fucking could.

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Despite the shitshow of the last few days, there were moments—fleeting, small, but there—where things felt like they were getting better. And on the third day, Izuku started showing signs of improvement.

There were even a few smiles—small, barely-there quirks of his lips, but real ones, directed at Katsuki. A few times, he actually talked about little things from their past. Stupid memories. Trivial shit.

Their old dorm rooms, stupid patrols, dumb inside jokes from their UA days.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

It was progress.

Then, finally the news Katsuki had been waiting for.

"Izuku's condition has improved significantly," the physician told them, offering a reassuring smile. "We believe he's ready to be discharged tomorrow."

The words sent a wave of relief crashing over Katsuki, so strong it nearly knocked the air out of his lungs. After days of being cooped up in this sterile hellhole, days of restless nights and constant fucking worry, they were finally getting the hell out of here.

All he wanted was to take Izuku home.

As night settled over the hospital, Katsuki lay in the bed beside Izuku, who—for once—was actually sleeping. His breathing was slow, steady, his body relaxed in a way Katsuki hadn't seen in a long time.

Katsuki wasn't going anywhere.

He had already made up his mind to stay the night again—just like every night before—unwilling to leave Izuku's side for even a goddamn second. So Shoto had swung by earlier, dropping off a fresh set of clothes.

The TV in the background was muted, subtitles spewing out the usual depressing news. Katsuki watched with half-lidded eyes, his head resting against the pillow beside Izuku's, his body too damnexhaustedto even consider moving.

He should've been sleeping, but instead, his eyes stayed locked on the screen. It was impossible not to think about the mess they were in.

More than fifty-four people dead.

The news was still fucking everywhere. The aftermath of that hellhole, the massacre, the sheer destruction they'd left in their wake. The hideout, once a labyrinthine death trap, had spat them out from its depths like nothing more than trash.

And now—

Now the whole world was pointing fingers... at Izuku.

Once a hero. Oncetheir hero.

Katsuki couldn't help but wonder about the dark power that had emerged that day—about what it meant, what it could mean, and the hell that was bound to follow.

The details of what had happened in that underground graveyard were spreading like fucking wildfire. Like a disease, festering and mutating with every retelling. There was no real proof. No actual evidence tying Izuku to the massacre, other than the statement collected from some of the villains. But that didn't matter, did it?

The world didn't need proof.

They just needed a scapegoat.

And who better than the kid who had once been their shining beacon? The kid who had fought for them, bled for them, damn near died for them—

And had come back from the abyss with blood on his hands and shadows clinging to his skin.

Katsuki could already see it happening.

The whispers turning to rumors. The rumors twisting into accusations. The accusations shaping into a story they could sell to the public, turning Izuku Midoriya into something unrecognizable.

Katsuki knew that even if—by some goddamn miracle—Izuku clawed his way out of this mess mentally, even if he managed to pull himself together, even if he wanted to return to the hero industry...

His chances were slim to none.

The reality was grim.

Izuku Midoriya—The hero who fell from grace.

The prodigy turnedmonster.

Despite everything—despite the fear, the uncertainty, the sheerhellof the last few days—Katsuki couldn't bring himself to hate Izuku. Even if the world was turning on him.

Even if the whispers outside that hospital room were filled with suspicion, with doubt and the news anchors were already painting him as aReaper. Katsuki had to believe that whatever happened down in that godforsaken cave wasn't on purpose.

Had to believe that something else had taken the wheel, that that once stubborn, reckless, self-sacrificing nerd who had never once backed down from saving people hadn't willingly turned that place into a slaughterhouse.

...At least, he hoped so.

The room was heavy with silence, Katsuki trapped in his own thoughts when a soft knock broke the quiet.

His head snapped up.

Standing in the doorway was Aizawa.

He didn't say anything. Didn't ask for permission to enter. Just stepped inside and took a seat, quiet as ever, his presence settling into the space like a shadow.

Katsuki barely acknowledged him, he just watched as Aizawa made himself comfortable, his gaze flicking toward the bed where Izuku lay.

But Izuku noticed.

Even unconscious, even like this, he wasn't truly at rest. He never was, not anymore.

He stirred, the smallest shift—barely more than a twitch—but his body knew. Even deep in exhaustion, he knew. Knew the sound of footsteps, the weight of another presence in the room. His eyes cracked open, just a sliver. Enough to assess, finding it was Aizawa.

His gaze flickered over to the TV, lingering on the headlines running across the news ticker, taking in the words. The implications before shifting to Katsuki.

It was in quiet moments like this that Izuku could see the exhaustion in Katsuki. The quiet resignation. The kind of tiredness that didn't just sit in the body but in the soul.

But Izuku didn't say anything. Didn't call attention to it. Instead, he shifted, adjusting slightly under the sheets, pretending to be asleep. Pretending he hadn't seen the headlines. Pretending he hadn't noticed Aizawa sitting there. Pretending he wasn't looking at Katsuki to make sure he was really truly here.

The room's as quiet as a graveyard.

Aizawa's gaze flicked to Katsuki, studying him for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice quiet.

"See they healed your arm."

Katsuki glanced down at his hand, flexing it absentmindedly. The pain was mostly gone, but he could stillfeelthe strain, the phantom ache of overuse. He rolled his wrist once, then looked back up at Aizawa.

"...How'shedoing?"

Part of him wanted to just shutdownthe conversation, shield Izuku from more stress, but... Aizawa deserved to know. Katsuki exhaled, eyes shifting toward Izuku before answering.

Katsuki looks down at his arm, flexing it. He glances at Aizawa but doesn't respond right away. He wanted to shield Izuku from more stress, but Aizawa deserves to know what's been happening.

"He's had a shitty time. The trauma from... from what happened down there—it's been hell for him to deal with," Katsuki muttered, jaw tight. "Those damn procedures got him almost in a constant state of panic. And don't even get me started on damn media vultures, making everything ten times worse."

Aizawa stayed silent for a beat too long, and that was all the confirmation Katsuki needed—he wasn't here for a health check, this was gonna be bad. His patience was already hanging by a thread, so he pushed.

"Spit it out,"he nearly snapped, bracing for impact. "What's the deal?"

Aizawa exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. He looked exhausted—like he didn't want to be the one saying this, but had no choice.

"The Commission and the Hero Association have been discussing Midoriya's situation," he began gravely. "They've narrowed it down to two options."

Katsuki felt as the ice rushed through his veins, making his heart stutter. Whatever the hell those options were, they were gonna wreck Izuku—either in a good way, or in a way that would ruin him completely.

"What are those options?" Katsuki asked, forcing the words out, forcing himself to stay calm, even as he felt the nausea.

Aizawa met his gaze and Katsuki saw something that wasn't exhaustion. It was concern but there was something else, resignation.

"The first option is to imprison him in the Abyss," Aizawa said.

Katsuki saw red, his eyes nearly exploded with fury.

Why...WHY?!

"Like hell they can do that!" he hissed, barely keeping his voice down. His hands curled into fists so tight, his nails damn near broke skin. "He's been through enough shit already!"

Aizawa lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could start yelling. "Hold up—there's option two," he said, running a hand over his face, exhaustion clear in his features. "The other choice is that Izuku becomes a government agent. They want to use his powers but keep him on a tight leash. They see him as a valuable asset for dangerous missions—things regular heroes can't handle."

Katsuki's blood went from boiling to erupting.

Both options were fucking bullshit.

Both options meant losing Izuku.

One way or another, they were gonna rip him away.

Katsuki was practically shaking with anger. The idea of Izuku getting locked away in the world's worst prison was bad enough—but turning him into the government's attack dog? Using him like a weapon after everything he'd been through? Control him like he wasn't even a person anymore?

No. No fucking way.

The option of running—of getting the hell out of this system, of grabbing Izuku and taking off before they could put those goddamn chains around his neck—was starting to look a hell of a lot better by the second. No way in hell was he letting them get away with this crap.

"That's—that'sfucking bullshit," Katsuki spat through clenched teeth, rage curling in his gut like an untamed inferno. " So that's it, huh?! Either they throw him into that black site hole, or turn him into the government's bitch?! What thefuckkind of choice is that?"

His voice was low, seething, carrying the promise of destruction. "They can't do that to him!"

Aizawa didn't flinch under Katsuki's fury, he closed his eyes for a brief moment like he was collecting his thoughts. "I know it's not fair, Katsuki," he said quietly. "But the Commission and the Hero Association are under immense pressure from the public and the government. They see Midoriya's power as a potential threat, and they're trying to find a way to control it."

"Control it?" Katsuki spat, disgust curling his lip. "He's not some damn weapon! He's a person!"

"I agree with you, but we're facing a difficult situation here. The public is scared, and the government is looking for ways to prevent another rift between the people and their heroes."

Katsuki barely heard him over the roaring in his own head.

Both options were chains. Izuku was going from one fucking pair of chains to another.

Katsuki's gaze flicked to Izuku—still asleep, his breath slow and even, oblivious to the bullshit being decided about his future behind his back, and his heart fucking ached.

Katsuki's vision blurred at the edges, his breath coming short and sharp, his pulse hammering in his ears. The Abyss. The fucking Abyss.

His mind conjured the worst before he could stop it—Izuku locked away, locked down, cold metal walls closing in around him. His wrists bound, his voice hoarse from screaming, screaming for Katsuki to help him. just likethatday.

A violent shudder ran through Katsuki's body as he gritted his teeth, trying to shake the image, the memory from his head, but it stuck. How could they even consider such fucking options?

His gut twisted with anger, with revulsion, with the sheer wrongness of it all.

For a fleeting moment, his mind toyed with the idea.

Running.

Taking Izuku and getting the hell out. Vanishing before the Commission could sink their claws in, before the government could slap those goddamn chains on him.

They could disappear—lay low, bury their identities, live in the shadows where no one could touch them.

No more suits and ties deciding Izuku's fate like he was some liability. No more media vultures twisting him into a monster. No more sleepless nights in hospital rooms, waiting for the next fucking verdict to come down like an executioner's axe.

But it was a pipe dream.

Even if they pulled it off, even if Katsuki used every damn resource at his disposal to keep them hidden, it wouldn't last forever.

The government's reach was too wide. The Hero Association had too many eyes. They'd never stop looking. And worse, it'd mean giving up everything. His title, his career, his entire goddamn life's work. He'd be throwing away everything he'd fought for—everything they'd fought for.

But for Izuku?

Forhim?

Katsuki could throw it all away without a second thought.

That dream—the one they had since they were kids, the one where they stood side by side as heroes—had long since died when Izuku fell into that coma.

Aizawa, watching him carefully, finally broke the silence. "It will ultimately be Izuku's choice," he said, locking eyes with him. "When he's ready, he'll stand before the council and make his decision. They want to hear his side of the story."

Katsuki's head snapped up, hands twitching as he leaned forward. "So they expect him to pick between a life in the slammer and being a government lapdog?"

Aizawa nodded grimly. "Yeah. That's the bottom line they've narrowed it down to. They think giving him a choice makes it more digestible, but I know it's far from perfect."

"Perfect?" Katsuki scoffed, his laugh bitter, his throat tight. "It's a goddamn nightmare! They're backing him into a corner, forcing him into this impossible decision!"

Aizawa's expression softened just a little, but his eyes carried something darker—something heavier. "I know this is brutal for both of you," he admitted. "my hands are tied, but I've been in touch with All Might. He's pulling every string he can—"

Then Aizawa's eyes flicked to the TV, his entire body stiffening mid-sentence. Katsuki's own eyes flicked over, tracing Aizawa's line of sight to the TV. The muted screen blared with flashing red banners—BREAKING NEWS—but it wasn't the headline that made the blood drain from Katsuki's face. He quickly reached over snatching the remote to put the volume up—and the world around him fucking stopped.

The reporter's voice filled the space, the words coming fast and urgent, but Katsuki's mind barely processed them—

Because the screen switched to a partially masked figure, A scar slashed across his right eye, but even with the new damage, those unmistakable, unnerving eyes burned through the broadcast.

Odd Eye.

At the sight of those eyes, Katsuki's entire body went rigid. A cold, electric charge shot up his spine, every nerve in his body screaming danger.

He couldn't tear his gaze away from the screen.

"Good evening, citizens of this dreadfully...mundanesociety."

Odd Eye's voice slithered through the speakers with an eerie calmness, the kind that seeped into your skin, crawled up your bones, and froze you in place.

"My name is Odd Eye, and regrettably, certain persistent interferences have necessitated the hastening of my plans. Some particularly bothersome nuisances have so carelessly stumbled upon my sanctuary, forcing my hand. But worry not, dear citizens— for my vision for this world remains unchanged, and it will come to fruition, one way or another."

Katsuki's grip on the remote tightened so hard it might've snapped in half. His heart was hammering like he was about to drop into a fight.

The bastard wasn't just alive—he was broadcasting on every channel. And from the gleam in his mismatched eyes, even through that damn mask, Katsuki could see that wicked grin. How he was probably enjoying this.

"In these past few months, I have wielded myuniquequirk to infiltrate the very ranks of your so-called 'Heroes,' twisting their minds and reshaping them into unwitting instruments of devastation. These walking bombs—my mind-controlled pawns—now move among you, blissfully unaware of the chaos they are destined to unleash. And where, you ask, will they deliver my message? To the very heart of authority—police stations, Hero agencies, the pillars of power that uphold this fragile society. Soon, the world will witness the cost of its blind faith in heroes."

The remote slipped from Katsuki's grip, clattering against the floor with a sharp, hollow sound. He didn't even notice, didn't feel it leave his fingers or hear it as the plastic bounced against the tiles.

Katsuki couldn't breathe.

The implications of it were nightmare fuel—a stranglehold wrapping around his throat, suffocating, relentless. Heroes, ticking time bombs, primed to self-destruct in the very heart of society.

No one in their wildest dreams could've cooked up something so perfectly planned, there was no way. but a small voice in the back of his voice was telling him that this wasn't a bluff... this was real.

Wait... Odd Eye had managed to get his hands on him, he'd been in his fucking head. What if he planted something in Katsuki? His stomach twisted violently. His body, which had always been his, his strength, his own damn power—what if it wasn't anymore?

What if he was one of those bombs?

What if he was already compromised?

What if he hurt someone—hurtIzuku?

Katsuki had been in his fucking hands and he doesn't know if he did something. He doesn't—

"As we speak," Odd Eye continued, "my pawns are already in position, their fates sealed, their purpose set in motion. The countdown has begun, ticking ever closer to the inevitable. And let me make this abundantly clear—should anyone dare to interfere, to play the hero in a futile attempt to halt what has already been set in motion, the consequences will be swift, merciless, and far more devastating than you could possibly imagine."

Aizawa's normally unshakable presence wavered. His lips parted slightly, his fingers curling against his knee.

"This is bad," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Verybad."

The broadcast rolled on, Odd Eye's voice dipping lower, more venomous, more self-assured. The kind of confidence that sent chills down your spine because it didn't need to be loud—it was the voice of a man whoknewhe had already won.

"All I ask for is Izuku Midoriya—a simple request, a single life in exchange for countless others. The lives of my pawns, the walking bombs, and the innocent souls around them hang in the balance. A fair trade, wouldn't you agree?

A slow, creeping horror pooled in Katsuki's stomach.

"I suggest your so-called 'Heroes' and authorities weigh their choices carefully, for every passing second brings you closer to an irreversible fate. All necessary details regarding the location of our meeting have already been provided to the authorities."

Odd Eye's eyes practically glowed through the screen.

"Your time is slipping away, and the consequences of your decisions—or your hesitation—will be nothing short ofexplosive."

This entire thing—everything Odd Eye had just outlined—wasn't just an attack. It was a goddamn hostage crisis. Not a dozen people. Not a hundred.

Possibly thousands.

Thousands of lives, held at gunpoint, every single one of them an unwilling pawn in this bastard's game. Every cop, every pro hero, every civilian unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—all of them collateral damage.

And all of it—all of it—in exchange for one person.

A faint creak from the bed cut through his thoughts, making Katsuki's head snap to the side.

Izuku was still, wide-eyed.

But not in fear or shock, just... empty.

Like a goddamn statue, staring straight at the TV—unblinking, unmoving, as if he'd turned to stone the second Odd Eye's voice filled the room. Katsuki felt the first prick of unease at the look on Izuku's face—like something inside him had just shut off completely. Katsuki turned his attention back to Odd Eye practically purred, his tone dripping with amusement.

"Ah, but there's a special message for you, Young Midoriya. After all, this entire spectacle revolves aroundyou. Every move, every carefully laid plan, every ounce of destruction set into motion—it all leads back toyou."

A sinister, twisted delight.

"You were stolen from me... ripped away like a prized possession. And in your escape, you mercilessly butchered half of my loyal minions in that hideout. Tell me, Midoriya, was it worth it? Was your fleeting freedom worth the blood you spilled?"

Odd Eye lifted a hand, fingers dragging lazily along the jagged scar slashed across his right eye, the movement deliberate, calculated.His head tilted just slightly, the dim lighting of the broadcast casting sharp shadows across his face, making the already menacing gleam in his mismatched eyes glow like embers in the dark.

"Nevertheless, you still possess something I desire—One For All. And make no mistake, Midoriya, I will claim it. I'll be waiting for you near the so-called Hero who Defied Darkness. Let's see if you have the resolve to face me..."

The Hero Who Defied Darkness?

Katsuki's brain fired at full damn speed, connecting dots before he even realized it. That was the statue, the one dedicated to Izuku, the one meant to honor the hero he'd been.

As the bastard's message reached its peak, Katsuki tore his gaze from the screen—turned fully to Izuku—something was wrong.

Really fucking wrong.

The eerie stillness in his face. The unsettling, glassy-eyed stare. The way his expression had gone so blank, so eerily calm, that it didn't even seem like he was in the room anymore.

Like he had just checked the hell out.

"Don't even think about running, Midoriya. There is no escape. Unless you surrender One For All to me—willingly and without resistance—I will never cease my pursuit of the only person you hold dear. I will ensure his death is slow, excruciating, and utterly unforgivable. And you? You will be left to rot in the ruins of your own making, burdened by the weight of not only Japan's downfall but the undeniable truth that his demise—his suffering—wasyourfault."

Odd Eye's voice dripped with cruel amusement as he leaned in. "So go ahead, struggle, fight,runif you must. It will only make his end that much sweeter. I'll be waiting, Midoriya... waiting for that fire that flickers deep within the shattered remains of your soul."

Katsuki felt the air shift as a violent tremor ripped through Izuku, his aura swelling like a storm on the verge of detonating. Power pulsing off him in thick, suffocating waves, the very air around him warping like reality itself was struggling to hold him together.

His eyes—

God, his fucking eyes—

They weren't green anymore. Not in the way they should've been.

They were cold, hollow, a deep emptiness lurking behind them—something dark, something dangerous, something that made Katsuki's instincts scream at him to move, to do something, to pull him back before it was too fucking late.

The hospital room groaned. Wallscracked. Monitors flickered, their screens glitching under the sheer force of whatever the hell was leaking off of Izuku. Every fiber of the universe seemed to be shrinking away from him, like even reality itself didn't want to be in the same space.

Aizawa—who had only seen the cracks of what had happened to Izuku—took a single, measured step back.

Not out of fear, but out of instinct, because he didn't know if stepping forward would help or make things a hell of a lot worse. Izuku's eyes zeroed in on him, locking in like a missile seeking its target. Before Aizawa could even breathe, Katsuki was in front of him, standing between them like a human goddamn wall.

"Izuku," Katsuki's voice was low, steady—commanding. "Look at me. Snap out of it!"

He could see it, feel that Izuku was slipping into that abyss, into that fucking void, and if he didn't pull him out now, there'd be no coming back.

But Izuku was unreachable, like a door bolted shut, and Katsuki couldn't find the goddamn key.

Izuku didn't move towards them but the glow around him flickered as he slowly began to hover off the bed, tendrils of Black Whip snaked off him like an angry beast behind him, his whole body pulsing with unchecked energy. The sheer force of his emotions—pain, rage, something twisted and dark—radiated off him so intensely that Katsuki swore he could taste it in the air.

Fuck, this is bad. This is really fucking bad.

Katsuki didn't budge. Didn't fucking dare look away. Aizawa took another slow, measured step back, his fingers drifted toward his capture scarf, a barely perceptible motion, a precaution made from pure instinct.

But Izuku reacted. Not with thought, but with the instinct that had never failed him.

Tendrils of Black Whip rippled behind him, coiling like something alive, something feral. They pulsed, tightening, flickering with a violent, wild energy, lashing out in warning. Katsuki's breath remained steady, but every muscle in his body was tense, ready to move at a moment's notice.

This was it, this was the line between control and chaos. Katsuki knew what would happen if Aizawa activated Erasure.

He knew what would happen if Izuku felt cornered.

"Aizawa."

A beat of silence.

Katsuki's voice was steady. Low. But it cut through the charged air like a blade.

"I ain't ever asked you for much."

Katsuki didn't turn his head but his eyes snapped to Aizawa, sharp, demanding—pleading.

"But right now, I'm asking you to trust me."

Because if Aizawa made one wrong move—if he even thought about erasing Izuku's Quirk, about taking something from him when he was already teetering on the edge—

They would lose him.

Aizawa clenched his teeth, his usual cool exteriorcrackingas he struggled to decide whether to act. He knew damn well that confronting Izuku now could send him into a full-blown frenzy. He didn't move. Just held Katsuki's gaze, searching—reading him the way only he could. He had to put his trust in Katsuki's skills. Slowly, his hand lowered.

Aizawa put his faith in the one person who might actually be able to reach him.

"Alright, you can do this. Keep talking, Bakugo. Keep him grounded."

Katsuki swallowed down the fire burning in his throat and nodded. There was no choice but to charge headfirst into this emotional minefield.

He climbed onto the bed, moving slow, controlled, trying to get eye to eye with Izuku without making him feel cornered. His hands lifted, palms facing out, a silent sign of peace, even as Black Whip slithered behind Izuku like a viper waiting to strike.

The tension was a goddamn razor's edge, and Katsuki was balancing on it.

Izuku was still sizing up Aizawa when his head jerked toward the door.

The nurse froze in the doorway, her wide eyes locked onto Izuku, her facepale as deathas she took in the sight of him—hovering mid-air, power lashing out, his presenceunnaturalin every way. Her hands were shaking, fingers clutching the clipboard like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Katsuki saw the moment Izuku saw her, the way his shoulder tense and his lip curled back.

An almost animalistic growl resonated from his throat.

Shit—

"Look at me, dammit!" Katsuki barked, snapping Izuku's focus back to him, demanding his undivided attention. "You need to calm the fuck down before you do something you'll regret, you hear me?"

For a moment, Izuku just stared at him. Then his head tilted slightly, his glare locking onto Katsuki with a dangerous sharpness... he laughed.

A hollow, bitter sound, nothing like the awkward nerdy chuckle Katsuki had known his whole damn life. "You don't get it, Kacchan."

The nickname—once his, oncetheirs—was laced with something Katsuki hated.

"You don't know what it was like down there," Izuku hissed, his voice low, vibrating with barely contained rage. "The pain. The torture. I refuse to go back!"

His voice was a roar, shaking the very walls of the room, his aura burning brighter, hotter, wilder.

Katsuki's grip on his own emotions had turned into a vise, his temper flaring at the words. He was fucking angry, yeah—but not at Izuku.

At them.

At every single bastard who had made him this way. At the fucking world for turning its back on him. Katsuki inhaled deeply, struggling to keep his composure despite the chaos.

"Dammit, Deku! I know how much those bastards hurt you, and it pisses me off!" he said, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the urgency in his words. " But succumbing to this damn darkness won't fix a thing. It won't erase your pain. And it sure as hell won't stop Odd Eye and his bombs from killing a shit ton of innocent people. You used to be a hero, Deku. Don't tell me you fucking forgot that!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt Izuku's reaction. His aura flared, his rage burning white-hot.

"And where the hell did that get me, Kacchan?!" he snapped, his voice laced with pure, unfiltered bitterness. "What did I get for saving people? A grave with my name on it?"

His chest heaved, nose wrinkling.

"I'm a danger to everyone around me," Izuku snarled. "Why the hell should I care about those people?! They abandoned me! They called me a monster, told me I should just die, that I'm no different from a damn villain!"

"I don't give a flying shit about what those people said!" Katsuki shot back, but there was pain laced in it now, too. His chest ached, because he knew. He knew what people had been saying. He heard the whispers. Saw the social media post. The accusations.

But Izuku—Izuku—

"You're not a monster, Deku. You never were. You never will be."

His voice cracked—not with weakness, but with something real.

"Don't let their bullshit define who the hell you are."

Silence.

For a moment, it was just the sound of their breathing, the static hum of Izuku's power crackling in the air.

Izuku stared at him, unblinking. Then, his lips curled—not into a snarl, but something colder.

"Then tell me, Kacchan—"

His voice was razor-sharp, ice-cold.

"If I'm not a monster—"

Izuku leaned in, close enough that Katsuki could feel the static of his quirk still snapping in the air, feel the heat of his breath—

"Then why the hell are youshaking?"

Katsuki blinked once. Twice before looking down at his trembling hands.

He hadn't evenrealizedhe was shaking. Hadn't noticed the raw, bone-deep fear coursing through him like wildfire. He'd been so damn focused on Izuku, on reining in his meltdown, on keeping him from spiraling, that it hadn't even registered that he was barely holding it together himself.

His hands fell to his sides, fists clenching as he forced himself to regain control. Because this wasn't just about him.

It was Izuku's life on the line.

It was the lives of countless innocents.

It was the very reputation of what it meant to be a hero.

"I'm scared shitless, Deku."

The words left his mouthraw, trembling with intensity, stripped of every ounce of bravado. No masks, no bullshit, no explosive rage to cover up the truth. Just thebarestform of himself.

"Terrified I'll lose you. Scared I won't be strong enough to keep you safe. That I'll fail—fail as a hero, fail as—"

His throat tightened, but he swallowed hard and pushed through it.

"But screw that fear."

His voice hardened, like steel tempered in fire.

"I won't give up on you. No matter how dark things get. But if you give in to this darkness—if you let it win—you'll prove them all right. You'll become the one thing they always said you were—"

The moment the words left his mouth, Katsuki knew he had fucked up.

Silence crashed between them, deafening.

Izuku's eyes, already alight with fury, darkened—but this wasn't just rage. This was something else, something deep, something that cut deeper than any physical wound ever could.

Betrayal.

Deep, gut-wrenching, soul-cutting betrayal.

"You believed—" Izuku's voice was barely above a whisper, but it sliced through the air like a fucking blade—sharp, seething, wounded. "Even after the accident, after all the pain, you still thought I'd turn into a monster, didn't you?"

Katsuki's stomach dropped as tears welled up in Izuku's eyes, but he didn't wipe them away. He didn't even try to hide them. He just stared straight into Katsuki's soul, his voice quivering with something unraveling.

"Were these past months just anact, Kacchan?" Izuku pressed on, his breath hitching, words cracking with the sheer weight of them. "All those moments we shared, the trust we painstakingly rebuilt—was it all just empty gestures to you?"

Katsuki felt like someone had ripped open his chest and left him bleeding out on the floor.

"Was I nothing but a ticking time bomb in your eyes?" Izuku's voice broke, his expression crushed. "Did I ever mean a damnthingto you?"

Katsuki staggered.

Like someone had sucker-punched him, right in the goddamn ribs.

Because fuck, that wasn't what he meant. That wasn't what he was trying to say. But Izuku—Izuku fucking Midoriya—had always felt too much, had always believed too much in other people, and now—

Now, he was standing there, looking at Katsuki like he had just destroyed him.

"Did you stay close to me just because you saw me as a looming threat, Kacchan?" Izuku whispered, voice barely holding itself together. "Tell me—have I always been nothing more than a potential danger in your eyes?"

The final blow landed, quiet, devastating.

"Have I ever truly mattered?"

Katsuki's eyes widened in sheer horror as Izuku's tears finally fell. It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. Like something inside him had fractured, cracking wide open with the force of a mistake he never meant to make.

He hadn't meant it like that. He hadn't meant to hurt him, but his words had inadvertently cut deep into the core of their relationship, reopening old wounds that had never truly healed.

"No, that ain't what I meant, Deku!" Katsuki protested, desperation twisting through his voice, clawing at his chest. His face was open, raw with regret. "I—I just meant that you'd be proving them right if you let this darkness swallow you!"

His throat tightened, his breath short and uneven, but he pushed through it.

"I've always believed in you. Always cared about you—damn it, I love you! I swear!"

But Katsuki could see with the state of mind he was in, the damage was done.

Izuku's anger twisted into something that cut deeper than simple rage. It was personal now, the last tether to whatever shred of sanity was holding him together snapping under the weight of betrayal.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, the tension reaching its breaking point. And Katsuki realized, with a sickening, twisting dread, that in his desperate attempt to save Izuku... He had pushed him further away.

"What do you gain from trying to save me?" Izuku spat, his voice laced with venomous self-loathing. "Do you really believe you can be the hero who puts me back together?"

Izuku scoffed, the bitterness so deep it burned. "Is that it, Kacchan? You think if you fight hard enough, if you scream loud enough, you'll fix me? That you can mend all the broken pieces, is it because you blame yourself for what happened back then?"

His eyes burned, wild and furious and so damn tired.

"Well, let me tell you something—" Izuku's voice dropped, low and dangerous, "—you can't fix me. No one can. And I'd ratherdiethan go back."

"I ain't saying I can fix everything, Deku."

His voice was quiet, but unshakable. No yelling. No explosions. Just the truth, the need to make him understand, to reach him.

"I'm doing this because you meaneverythingto me. "I'm just asking you not to let this hatred change who you are."

Izuku's breathing staggered, but he didn't speak.

"Because if you give in to it, you're not just risking yourself," Katsuki pressed, "you're risking us. Our bond. Everything we've been through. You're risking me."

That got him.

Izuku's entire body tensed, his eyes locked onto Katsuki's with something wild—something torn.

"Are you willing to risk me, Deku? Are you gonna let Odd Eye destroy the one person who's seen you at your best and your shittiest, the one who believed in you even when you couldn't believe in yourself?"

Izuku's snarl was feral, his breath ragged, and suddenly his hand shot out, grabbing Katsuki's collar, yanking him forward so fast their faces were mere inches apart. But Katsuki didn't flinch; no way in hell was he backing down.

"I'll kill him before he even touches you," Izuku growled, voice rough with something ugly, something deadly. "He'll suffer for what he did to me."

Katsuki felt a lump lodge in his throat, thick and suffocating, as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train.

Words weren't enough.

Despite every damn thing he had said—despite laying himself bare, despite trying to pull Izuku back from the ledge—nothing was working. The darkness inside him was too deep, too strong, wrapping around him like chains forged from rage, pain, and betrayal.

And Katsuki had one option left.

He was going to have to fight him.

His hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms as he took a slow, measured step back, his mind racing through a thousand possibilities in an instant. Aizawa also sensed the gravity of the moment, but he didn't move—because he knew. Intervening now might just make things worse.

Katsuki couldn't believe it had actually come to this.

"Katsuki,tread lightly."

Aizawa's voice was a steady warning, quiet but firm.

Izuku's brows furrowed as his eyes darted towards him with confusion.

Katsuki's expression hardened as he steeled himself for what was to come. He knew that fighting Izuku wouldn't be easy, but he couldn't just stand by and let him unleash his powers unchecked.

"Izuku, I don't want to fight you," Katsuki said, giving it one last shot. His voice was sharp, but there was still a plea buried in it.

Izuku lurched forward only to stop short when red dots began to glow on Izuku's chest. Both he and Katsuki stood there, dumbfounded, completely clueless as to what the hell was happening.

Izuku's head snapped down, eyes widening in that split second before he ducked. Fast.

Too fast.

The next second, the windows exploded, Izuku was a blur of movement, twisting with inhuman speed as tranquilizer darts shattered the glass, embedding into the walls with deadly precision.

And just like that, all hell broke loose.

The door burst open, and Kamui Woods stormed in, his branches lashing out like restraints ready to bind Izuku in place. Behind him, a flood of SWAT officers surged in, weapons raised, their barrels locked onto Izuku.

What the fuck is going on?!

"Freeze!" one of the officers barked, voice sharp and commanding. "Put your hands up!"

But these idiots didn't understand. Izuku wasn't in a place to listen anymore.

His eyes burned with that wicked glow, his aura humming with sheer, untamed power, the air itself crackling. They had just thrown a lit match into a room soaked in goddamn gasoline.

And Katsuki knew what was coming. "No!" Katsuki roared, stepping forward, desperate, furious. "You idiots! Don't shoot!"

But it was too late, the SWAT team was on high alert, their hands tight on their triggers, their bodies wired with fear. They didn't understand what they were dealing with—didn't realize that their every move, their every damn action, was only making things worse.

Aizawa moved to intervene, but the chaos was already erupting like a goddamn wildfire.

In the blink of an eye, Izuku snapped. Whatever little hesitation he had, the conflict, the momentary doubt, it all vanished. His body moved before thought, his instincts overtaking everything. His pupils shrunk, his quirk rippled around him, and in less than a second, his entire being had shifted into full-blown attack mode.

His eyes burned feral, and he moved with a speed and power that were beyond human. Kamui Woods reacted first, his vines lashing out, thorned and defensive, barreling forward to shield the officers before Izuku's wrath could reach them.

But Aizawa knew that wasn't going to be enough. His instincts took over and his hand flashed to his goggles, and his Quirk activated. For the briefest second, Float deactivated, and Izuku's body dropped.

And in the same heartbeat, Aizawa's scarf lashed out, coiling tight around Izuku's arms, the reinforced material locking him down for a single, critical moment.

For just one breath, it seemed like Aizawa might have turned the tide. That there might be an opening. Katsuki saw theopeningand both he and Kamui Woods lunged in tandem, branches whipping forward to reinforce Aizawa's hold.

Izuku's wrath zeroed in on Aizawa, and in a single, explosive motion, he unleashed a point-blank Air Force blast. The shockwave detonated through the room and Katsuki barely had time to brace before the force caught him, sending him rocketing backward like he'd been shot out of a cannon. His back slammed into the wall with a brutal, bone-rattling impact, the air ripped from his lungs in a sharp, breathless choke.

And before he could even push himself up, a snarling roar tore from Izuku as he ripped free from Aizawa's scarf, the reinforced material shredding like wet tissue under the sheer, explosive force of his rage.

Black Whip snapped out and the hospital bed was obliterated in an instant, blown apart like it had been hit with a bomb, metal and debris splintering in every direction. The tendrils Sliced straight through Kamui Woods' defenses—tearing through his branches, ripping through the room with the force of a goddamn storm.

The SWAT team never stood a chance. Blood splattered against the walls, screams choking the air, bodies hitting the ground before they could even react.

Izuku's focus was singular—predatory—but he wasn't even looking at them anymore. He lunged; his sights set on Aizawa.