All Might moved like a cataclysm.
The moment his feet hit the warped metal of the arena, the world seemed to tilt toward him. Air detonated with every step, the sheer pressure of his movement cracking what remained of the bowl-shaped battlefield. Wolfram barely had time to register the shift before a golden blur slammed into him, metal defences shrieking as they were forced into existence at reflexive speed.
"SMASH!"
A punch collided with a wall of condensed alloy, the impact sending a shockwave outward that peeled layers of metal off the arena like paper. Wolfram skidded backward, boots carving trenches as he was driven on the defensive for the first time since activating the device.
"So this is the real deal," Wolfram muttered, teeth bared in a grin that was half thrill, half strain. "The Symbol of Peace himself."
All Might didn't reply.
He didn't need to.
Another punch followed—faster, tighter, controlled—but still carrying enough force to bend the horizon. Wolfram raised more metal, layers upon layers folding over one another like a desperate shield. The sound was deafening, a metallic scream as the barrier buckled.
Behind All Might—
Bakugo Katsuki didn't move.
Not when the air shook.Not when Wolfram cursed and slid back.Not when the fight he had been itching for his entire life unfolded ten meters away.
His eyes were locked on the ground.
On Iida Tenya.
He stood there for a long second, hands clenched, jaw tight. The smell hit him first—burnt fabric, scorched flesh, hot iron. Then the sight fully registered.
Iida's glasses were gone, shattered somewhere in the chaos. His uniform was beyond ruined—fabric torn open, scorched black, hanging off him in useless scraps. His arms and torso were littered with cuts, some shallow, some deep, thin trails of dried blood streaking across pale skin.
But it was his legs.
Bakugo's breath caught despite himself.
The skin was blistered and split, burn marks running in jagged patterns where heat had overwhelmed flesh. Deep lacerations cut across muscle, and embedded in the wounds were shards of metal—still warm, still faintly smoking.
And the engines.
His engines were gone.
Not broken.
Not damaged.
Gone.
Fragments of scorched metal lay scattered around him, warped and cracked like debris from an explosion. The casings were blown apart, edges melted. The flesh around where they had once been was raw, burned so badly that the blood hadn't even had time to spill before it vaporized.
Bakugo stared.
"…Stupid four-eyes," he muttered.
His voice wasn't sharp. It wasn't loud.
It was… hollow.
"You couldn't just stay an extra and leave it alone, could you?"
There was no bite to it. No cruelty. Just a quiet, almost disbelieving question, as if Bakugo himself couldn't understand how this had happened—or why it hurt to look at.
Another shockwave rattled the arena as All Might drove Wolfram back again, metal exploding outward in jagged arcs. Bakugo didn't turn.
He knelt.
Carefully.
Awkwardly.
Like someone who didn't know how to be gentle but was trying anyway.
He slid an arm under Iida's shoulders, another beneath his knees, lifting him with surprising care. Iida was lighter than he expected. That somehow made it worse.
Bakugo adjusted his grip, teeth clenched.
"Tch… don't get the wrong idea," he muttered, mostly to himself. "You're still annoying as hell."
He rose to his feet.
And then—
BOOM.
An explosion flared beneath his palm, controlled, precise. Bakugo launched himself away from the battlefield, cradling Iida's unconscious body against his chest, shielding him from the wind and debris as they rocketed toward the lower levels.
He didn't look back.
He didn't question the choice.
Somewhere deep inside, something sharp and burning had found a target—and Bakugo Katsuki had never been one to miss.
Wolfram never noticed.
Not with All Might pressing him relentlessly, not with the thunder of fists and collapsing metal demanding his full attention.
If he had seen Bakugo's face as he left—
The calm, livid fury burning behind narrowed eyes—
He might have reconsidered how much time he had left.
Far below, on the broken remains of the tower—
Izuku Midoriya hit the ground hard.
He rolled once, twice, momentum carrying him across twisted metal before he finally skidded to a stop. Pain flared white-hot through his body, screaming up his spine and settling brutally in his legs.
"Hah—ha—!" he gasped, trying to push himself up.
His right leg refused.
Izuku looked down, vision swimming, and saw the shard of metal embedded deep in his thigh. Blood soaked his torn pants, warm and slick against his fingers as his hand instinctively tightened around Denki.
Denki didn't move.
Didn't spark.
Didn't joke.
Fear clawed up Izuku's throat.
"N-no, no—stay with me," he whispered hoarsely, dragging himself upright inch by inch. Every movement sent agony lancing through him, but he forced it, teeth grinding as green lightning flickered weakly around his body.
He reached down, fingers trembling, and pulled.
The metal came free with a wet sound that made his stomach churn. Blood followed immediately, pouring faster than he could stop it.
Izuku slapped his hand over the wound, breathing raggedly.
"Hah… my legs…" he murmured, swaying.
His vision blurred at the edges. The world tilted, lights smearing into indistinct shapes. He took one step forward—then another—and nearly collapsed.
"S-someone…" he croaked, voice barely audible. "Save… Kaminari…"
His grip on Denki tightened as darkness crept in.
For a moment—just a moment—he thought he saw a familiar face rushing toward him. Long hair. Wide eyes. A gasp of recognition.
"…Melissa…?" he whispered, unsure if it was real.
Then the world went dark.
Above them, the battle raged on.
___________________________________________________________________________
[Auther: Sorry for the wait, I really shouldn't keep up my schedule..."