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The city lay in ruins, smoke curling in thick, black plumes against a sky bruised with the scars of battle. The once-thriving streets were now graveyards of twisted metal and shattered glass, echoes of a world that had crumbled beneath the weight of its own corruption.The air was thick with dust, heavy with the stench of destruction—charred wood, scorched concrete, and something more visceral.Heroes had fought here. Heroes had died here. And the world, as they had once believed in it, was already gone.Bakugou Katsuki stood in the wreckage, his boots crunching over the broken remains of a city that had never felt more hollow. His red eyes scanned the devastation, but nothing settled the weight in his chest. It was a weight he couldn’t shake—one that had followed him for years, pressing down on him harder with each battle fought, each mission completed.It had never been about winning. Not really. No matter how many villains he took down, no matter how many buildings he reduced to rubble, the rot in their society ran too deep. It seeped through the cracks, infecting everything.He wasn’t sure when everything had started to fall apart—when the dream of becoming the greatest hero had turned into this bitter, relentless war. But he knew the exact moment he had lost Izuku Midoriya.Years. It had been years since he had last seen him. Years since the world had shifted, tearing them from the paths they had once walked side by side.Katsuki had climbed the ranks, becoming the hero he had sworn to be, but no amount of victories could drown out the ghost of the boy he once knew. The boy who had smiled through bruises, who had looked up at him with endless admiration. The boy who had disappeared into the shadows and emerged as something unrecognizable.Izuku Midoriya was gone. In his place stood Eclipse—a symbol of rebellion, the leader of a radical faction hell-bent on tearing down the society that had failed him. The same society that had failed so many. His quirk, once a beacon of hope, had become monstrous—something that devoured him, twisted him into something new. Something the world now called a villain. But Katsuki? He had been there that day.He had watched Izuku walk away, standing amid the ruins of everything they had once dreamed of, fists clenched so hard his nails had cut into his palms.Rage had burned in his chest, but it wasn’t for the world this time. It was for himself. For not stopping it. For not saving him. Now, after all this time, he was being sent to do what no one else could. Capture or eliminate the threat.The order had been given with the same cold efficiency as any other mission. But this wasn’t just another mission. This wasn’t just another villain.His fingers curled around the hilt of his gauntlets, the familiar hum of his quirk thrumming beneath his skin. The air crackled with tension. Izuku had become a threat. A danger to everything they had fought for. But to Katsuki, he was still Izuku.He exhaled sharply, forcing down the ache in his chest. “Where the hell are you, nerd?” he muttered under his breath, his voice rougher than he’d meant it to be.A flicker of movement. Katsuki spun on instinct, gauntlets raised, his breath caught in his throat.There, atop the remains of a crumbling building, stood Izuku.The dying sun cast long shadows over him, his silhouette framed in gold and deep crimson.For a fleeting second, he looked almost divine—like something out of an old myth, a fallen angel watching over the wreckage of the world. His dark, tattered cloak swayed in the wind, the air around him pulsing with barely restrained power.But it was his eyes that struck Katsuki the hardest. Gone was the endless determination, the stubborn optimism that had once burned in them. Now, they were hollow. Haunted. Eclipse.“I knew you’d come,” Izuku said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Calm. Too calm. But underneath, there was something else—something raw, something exhausted.“But you’re too late. The world’s already broken.”Katsuki's chest tightened. He had braced himself for this confrontation, had run every scenario in his head a thousand times over. But hearing Izuku’s voice, stripped of everything that once made it his, sent a crack through his resolve.“What the hell happened to you?” Katsuki growled, stepping forward. His fists clenched so hard they shook. “You were supposed to be a hero, Deku. A goddamn hero. Not—” His voice faltered, throat tightening. “Not this.”Izuku’s gaze flickered—just for a second. And in that second, Katsuki saw something buried beneath the surface. A flicker of the boy he had once known. A glimpse of the Izuku who had stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, daring to dream.“I was,” Izuku whispered. His voice was barely audible, like a confession to no one but himself. “But that boy doesn’t exist anymore. You know that better than anyone.”Katsuki's breath hitched.For a moment, for a fraction of a heartbeat, he wanted to believe. Wanted to believe that there was still something left to save. That he wasn’t too late. But then Izuku smiled. Not the warm, determined smile he used to wear. A sad smile. A resigned one. And Katsuki knew. This wasn’t just a fight. It wasn’t just another mission. This was an ending.“Get down here,” Katsuki barked, pushing past the lump in his throat. His voice was rough, unsteady. “I’m not gonna ask again.”Izuku didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. Instead, his voice hardened, dropping into something cold. Something final. “Do you really think you can stop me?” Izuku asked. “Do you really think you can save me?” Katsuki had never been good at lying. But for the first time in his life, he wished he was.The silence between them was deafening, thick with everything they had never said, everything they had lost. The echoes of the past pressed in, suffocating, relentless.And Katsuki realized—this had never been about winning. It had always been about not losing him. But he already had. And that made this so much harder.
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The silence stretched between them, an endless abyss filled with years of memories, unspoken words, and wounds that had never healed. Katsuki's breath came sharp and uneven, but his eyes never left Izuku—no, not Izuku. Not anymore. The boy he had fought with, fought against, and fought beside was gone. In his place stood Eclipse. A villain. A monster.And yet, as much as Katsuki wanted to deny it, he could still see echoes of the past in the way Izuku stood, the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly, like he was holding something back. Like some small, buried part of him still remembered.“I didn’t want this,” Katsuki said, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. It felt foreign, that softness. But it was the truth, stripped bare. “I didn’t want this to happen to you.”Izuku’s eyes flashed—not with anger, but with something deeper. Something darker. Pain. Sorrow.“You didn’t even try to stop it, Kacchan.” His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was unbearable. “You were too busy chasing your own damn dream to notice what was happening right in front of you.”The words struck like a fist to the gut. Katsuki staggered under their weight, even as he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stand tall.Because he remembered.He remembered the moments when Izuku had tried—tried to reach out, tried to tell him something in that stupid, hopeful way of his. And Katsuki? He had shoved him away. Called him weak. Called him useless.Again. And again. And again.“Don’t act like you’re the only one who’s suffered,” Katsuki spat, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’ve been fighting for my own damn survival since the day you ran off.”Izuku let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Ran off?” He shook his head, eyes burning. “No, Kacchan. I never ran. I stayed. I held onto everything you threw away. And for what? It was never enough. I was never enough.” His voice cracked—just for a second, just enough for Katsuki to hear it. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by something cold and distant. “In the end, it was always just me. Just like it always has been.”Katsuki's breath hitched.No. That wasn’t true.But what if Izuku believed it was?“No,” Katsuki said, his voice raw. “You don’t get to say that. You think you’re the only one who lost everything? You think I didn’t see what happened to you? What do you think I’ve been doing all these years?”Izuku’s expression twisted, sorrow bleeding into something dangerous.“You’ve been playing their game,” he said, almost pitying. “Living for them, just like everyone else. A hero. A puppet in their little show. While I watched it all burn.”Katsuki flinched. He hated that—hated that Izuku’s words felt like truth.But he forced himself to keep standing, to keep moving forward.“You’re wrong,” he ground out, voice shaking but firm. “I’m not playing anyone’s game. I’m trying to save what’s left of this damn world.” His breath came sharp, uneven. “But you—” his voice broke, just for a second, “—you’ve thrown it all away.”Izuku smiled, slow and empty. “There’s nothing left to save, Kacchan.” His voice was quieter now, almost tired. “Don’t you get it? The heroes. The villains. They’re the same. You’re just another cog in their machine.”Katsuki's chest ached, not from battle, not from exhaustion—but from something deeper. A pain that clawed at the inside of his ribs.This was Izuku. His Izuku. The same boy who had once looked at the world with boundless hope.And now?Now all that was left was this.“Enough of this,” Katsuki snarled, pushing everything down, crushing it beneath rage. His emotions didn’t matter right now. Only the fight did. “I don’t give a damn about your speeches. You’re going down, Deku.”He moved before he could second-guess himself. Explosions ignited from his gauntlets, launching him forward with bone-rattling force. The ground cracked beneath him, smoke and fire trailing in his wake. His fist swung toward Izuku with the full force of years of training, of battles fought and won.Izuku didn’t move.He didn’t even flinch.Katsuki's explosion tore into the ground, sending debris flying in every direction. Dust filled the air, thick and suffocating, choking the sky itself.And yet—When the dust settled, Izuku was still standing. Untouched. Unshaken.“I told you, Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice was almost gentle. Almost. “You can’t stop me. No one can.”Katsuki's chest heaved, his arms trembling from the force of his own attack. He had expected this. He had known it would come to this.But knowing it and feeling it were two very different things.“Don’t you dare,” Katsuki growled, his voice breaking against his own fury. “Don’t you dare act like I’m the one who’s wrong here.”Izuku’s expression flickered. And for the briefest moment—so quick that Katsuki almost didn’t catch it—regret passed through his eyes.Then it was gone.“I’m not the one who’s wrong, Kacchan.” His voice was quiet, almost unbearably so. “We both are.”The air changed. Heavy. Suffocating. Power hummed through the space between them, thick enough to taste. Katsuki's pulse pounded in his ears.This was it.Everything—every fight, every word left unspoken, every mistake—had led to this moment.And yet—Izuku didn’t attack.He just stood there. Waiting.Katsuki's body tensed, every muscle coiled, instincts screaming at him to move, to fight.But then Izuku spoke.“You’ve already lost, Kacchan.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You just don’t know it yet.”Katsuki felt his stomach drop.Because, for the first time, he wasn’t sure if Izuku was lying.
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Izuku’s words echoed in Katsuki's skull, burrowing deep like splinters. The dust-clogged air burned his lungs, his heart slamming against his ribs. His fists were clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms, but he barely felt it.He wished it was just exhaustion. That would’ve been easier. But this—this was something else. A sickness, a creeping rot that had been waiting beneath the surface for years.It had finally reached him.“Stop talking in riddles, you damn coward.” Katsuki's voice came out harsher than he intended, his throat tight. He took a step forward, forcing his legs to move even as they resisted. “If you’re gonna stand there and act like a villain, then just admit it already. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”Izuku’s eyes flickered to him, and for the briefest moment, Katsuki thought he saw it—the boy who used to trail after him, all wide eyes and relentless hope. But then Izuku’s lips curled into that damn sad smile, and whatever flicker of the past had been there was gone.“You’re still the same, Kacchan,” Izuku murmured. “Always so quick to throw fists, never willing to listen.”A fresh wave of anger surged in Katsuki's chest, but it was tangled up with something heavier—something he didn’t want to name.“I don’t need your pity,” he spat.“I’m not giving you pity.” Izuku’s voice was soft, but there was nothing warm about it. “I’m just telling you the truth. This world is beyond saving. You and I both know that. The hero system? The corrupt society? It’s all falling apart. You’ve seen it. You’ve felt it.”Katsuki had felt it. That was the worst part. The whole damn world was crumbling, and they were standing in the wreckage. But that didn’t mean—“And what?” Katsuki barked, shoving the thoughts aside. “You’re gonna destroy it all? Become some twisted god of chaos? You’re no better than the heroes you hate.”Izuku’s smile finally faded, and the air grew colder—charged with that same overwhelming presence Katsuki used to admire. That power had once made Izuku unstoppable.Now it made him unrecognizable.“I’m not a god, Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice was hollow. “I’m just the end of what you couldn’t stop.”The words hit harder than any punch. Katsuki staggered a step back before he caught himself.This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.But it was.Katsuki clenched his jaw so hard it ached. “Damn it!” His voice cracked with something dangerously close to desperation. His hands sparked with violent energy, bright against the ash-darkened sky. “This isn’t you, Deku! I won’t let you do this!”Something flickered in Izuku’s gaze. A shadow of the boy who had once smiled even when Katsuki shoved him away. But it was gone just as quickly, swallowed by something colder.“I don’t need saving, Kacchan.”The way he said it—like a death sentence.“I don’t need you to fight for me anymore.”A sharp inhale punched through Katsuki lungs, but he didn’t even realize he had stopped breathing.He’s lying. He has to be.“You’re wrong!” Bakugou’s voice was raw, his chest tight. His quirk flared wildly, sending sparks skittering across the rubble. “I’ll always fight for you!”The wind howled around them, stirring the ashes of a ruined city. They stood there, locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to break first.Then Izuku spoke, and the world caved in.“Then you’ll have to kill me.”Katsuki's ears rang.For a second, he swore he misheard.No. No, he wouldn’t—But Izuku’s expression didn’t change. His stance didn’t waver. He was serious.The weight of it slammed into Katsuki's ribs, making it hard to breathe.“No.” The word barely made it past his lips, hoarse and weak. But he shook his head, louder now, firmer. “No.”But Izuku just exhaled, a breath that sounded too much like defeat. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Kacchan.” His voice was too quiet, too final. “The world doesn’t care about what you want. It only cares about what needs to be done.”Izuku’s fingers twitched. Energy crackled around him.Katsuki had seen this before—Izuku winding up for a fight. But this wasn’t a fight. This was suicide.“I’m already dead.” Izuku lifted his hand, power surging like a storm. His expression didn’t waver. “You just have to finish it.”Katsuki's stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat.No. No, I—But there was no way out. No words left to say.There was only this.Katsuki's hands shook. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to stop, to fix this, to drag Izuku back from whatever abyss he had fallen into.But the world had made its choice.And so had Izuku.Katsuki's fingers curled into fists. The glow of his explosions reflected in Izuku’s tired, unblinking eyes.“I’m sorry,” he whispered.Then he moved.The explosion roared to life, ripping through the air between them. Izuku didn’t flinch.But Katsuki did.And as he closed the distance, he knew—There was no turning back.