The final war had come—the long-anticipated, all-consuming collision between good and evil, and the world trembled beneath its weight. Cities burned in the distance, a storm of fire and quirk-born devastation stretching as far as the eye could see. Cries of battle echoed across the fractured earth. Smoke curled into a sky smeared in unnatural light, and every moment felt like the edge of something final.

Kai had been at Izuku’s side from the beginning.

They’d trained together, bled together, dreamed together. A world free from villainy had always felt just out of reach—but they had believed in it.

The battlefield seethed with energy. Craters littered the terrain, streaks of shattered concrete and scorched soil spreading like veins. Kai stood back-to-back with Izuku near the center, sweat slicking their brow, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Their arms trembled. Blood stained their suit. But there was no time to stop.

A chill crept through Kai’s spine—subtle at first, but unmistakable. A feeling like they were being watched by something ancient, something cruel. They turned and saw Izuku tense, green lightning crackling up his limbs. His face was pale, jaw clenched with something between determination and desperation. And then Kai realized what he was doing.

He was going to use it. The move. The one they’d discussed in hushed, terrified whispers when no one else was around. It was strong—strong enough to rip through the enemy’s line, maybe end this. But it came at a cost. Kai had always feared he’d use it anyway.

And now, he was about to.

“No—wait—”

The thought barely had time to take shape before instinct took over. Kai lunged, grabbing Izuku’s arm and yanking him back with everything they had. Their muscles screamed. Their body ached. But they couldn’t let him do it—not like this, not alone.

And then the world exploded.

Something struck them—raw, unfiltered power, like the wrath of a god. For a heartbeat, they felt nothing at all. Just air, cold and biting, rushing past their face. Then came the weightlessness. The terrifying moment where time slowed, where they floated above the battlefield like a rag doll with strings cut.

Then the ground found them.

They hit hard.

Their back struck first, then their side, then their limbs—twisting, dragging, bouncing. Their body tumbled across stone and broken metal like debris caught in a storm. Pain lanced through them in jagged bursts, too fast to track. Their head slammed against the dirt, stars bursting behind their eyes, and then finally—finally—they stopped.

For a long time, Kai didn’t move.

Their chest rose in shallow, shuddering gasps. Their lungs refused to expand all the way. The world had gone quiet, and for a terrifying moment, Kai thought they’d gone deaf. Only the rush of blood in their ears reminded them they were still here. Still alive.

Their eyes cracked open.

Blurred shapes. Gray sky. Smoke drifting above like ghosts. The metallic stench of blood hit first—then they felt it. Warmth spreading beneath them. Too much. They tried to lift their head, but their neck throbbed, and the world tilted dangerously. With effort, they looked down.

Their arms—God, their arms.

Twisted. Swollen. Skin torn. Bone misaligned in ways no human body should endure. Bruises were already blooming, deep and ugly. One wrist hung at a strange angle. The other arm didn't seem to respond at all.

Kai blinked, hard.

It didn’t make sense. They’d just wanted to help—just wanted to protect Izuku.

Fear crawled up their throat. Not for the pain. Not even for death. But for the uncertainty. Were they paralyzed? Could they fight again? Could they move? Noise faded, as though the world had slipped underwater. Their vision wavered, dark edges curling in. And then— A voice.

Low. Steady. Grounding.

“Kai.”

That voice cut through the haze like a thread pulling them back to shore. Not frantic. Not panicked. Just calm—like it had always.

Shouta Aizawa.

Their teacher.

They weren’t alone.