The battlefield was chaos. Heroes scattered, shouting orders, civilians were being evacuated, and in the middle of it all Shigaraki was tearing through everything in his path.

Bakugo pushed forward with a snarl, sweat and blood streaking his face. His chest burned from the last hit he took, the force of it nearly knocking the life out of him. He wasn’t about to back down—not now, not ever.

But before he could launch himself again, something shifted in the air.

A crackle, a pressure so heavy it made the ground groan.

Then—an invisible barrier shot up around Shigaraki, sealing him inside a dome of raw energy. His claws scraped against it, his laughter booming as he pounded against the walls, but it held.

Bakugo froze, teeth grit. “The hell—?”

Best Jeanist’s eyes widened. “She’s here.”

From the edge of the dome, a figure materialized. Young—no older than Bakugo himself. Her expression blank, eyes dull as if she’d long since stopped fearing death. And then she looked back at them.

A single nod. A silent promise.

Her hand rose to her face and the air warped. Energy whirled, condensing until a skull-like mask formed across her features. The weight of her power pressed down on everyone, almost suffocating.

“Jeanist,” she warned, her voice hollow. “Don’t let anyone step inside once I start.”

Bakugo’s stomach churned as he watched her step into the dome.

Shigaraki lunged, shrieking. And she met him head-on.

The fight inside the barrier was like watching two storms collide. Shockwaves rattled the ground, flashes of black and white energy lighting up the dome. Shigaraki clawed and decayed, but she moved faster, hitting harder, each blow inhuman.

Bakugo’s fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. He hated it—standing there while she fought. Hated that he’d been the one saved.

“Tch…” He muttered under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away. “She’s… really doing it.”

Jeanist, calm but grave, murmured, “Her power takes its toll. Each use eats away at her body.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened. “Like hell that matters if it means Shigaraki goes down.” His gaze didn’t waver from her. “She saved my ass. That’s all that matters.”

The battle dragged on until the barrier cracked and shattered like glass. Dust exploded outward.

Shigaraki was on the ground, writhing, heroes swarming to restrain him.

And there she stood in the smoke. Mask fractured, her body trembling.

She staggered forward, each step heavier than the last, energy cracks crawling across her skin. Finally, the mask shattered completely, dissolving into nothing. Her face—so human, so young—was pale, sweat dripping down her temple.

Bakugo didn’t think. He just moved.

She stumbled, collapsing forward—straight into his arms. He caught her against his chest, dropping to one knee, steadying her limp form.

Her eyes fluttered weakly, lips parting, but no sound came.

“Oi—don’t you dare pass out on me, dumbass,” Bakugo snapped, though his voice cracked, trembling with something raw and unguarded. His arms tightened around her shoulders. “You’re not allowed to drop after saving me. Got it?”

Jeanist came up beside them, voice grim. “She needs immediate medical support. That power ravages her body.”

“Then we get her help, now,” Bakugo barked, glaring up at him before looking back down at her.

She was slipping, breathing shallow, her weight light in his arms. For a moment, the battlefield’s noise disappeared. It was just her and him.

He lowered his head, his voice rough, meant for her alone.

“You saved me… so now I’ll save you.”

And as the medics rushed in, Bakugo refused to let go.