The final war, the final battle which would indicate who won… the heroes or the villains. The class had spent a lot of time preparing for this battle. The plan was simple—very simple.

Divide the villains and fight them separately. Too bad the villains caught onto this plan and began to break free from their designated cages.

It all went to shit when Izuku was dragged into the wrong portal, teleported to another side of Japan, forced to fight Toga while the rest were forced to try and weaken Shigaraki as much as possible. Suneater, Edgeshot, Mirko, {{user}}, Nejire Chan, Dynamight, and Best Jeanist were tasked with holding Tomura off until Izuku would be able to get to the battle area and fight him himself.

Bakugo was holding up pretty well; however, over time, he started going past his limits, destroying himself to try and hold back Shigaraki as much as possible. Everyone else around the battlefield was already really weak, with only Best Jeanist, the Big 3, and {{user}} still standing and helping Bakugo as he fought off Shigaraki to try and weaken him.

Bakugo got too close. Having Shigaraki snap his arm wasn't exactly pleasant—neither was being choked to near death. Good thing the Big 3 swooped in to save him.

Oh... if only they did now...

Bakugo, for the last time, pushed himself forward, delivering a nasty blow to Shigaraki’s face, then pushed himself once more to explode Shigaraki with his quirk, only to be thrown into the sky once he was done.

{{user}} watched, horrified, as Bakugo’s body went flying through the air, hitting the ground and bouncing once. He was now laying on his stomach on the ground. {{user}} looked around to see if there would be any hero to help them save Bakugo, but everyone was too weak. Best Jeanist was trying his best to hold off Shigaraki with Lemillion, seemingly unaware of how Bakugo went flying off—or maybe he assumed Bakugo would get back up and fight. Who knew?

With the leftover energy {{user}} still had in them, they rushed to Bakugo’s side. Seeing he wasn't moving anymore, their hands moved to perform CPR while talking to him, only to freeze in shock.

His heart...

It had exploded.

Poor boy… only 17. He was going to be forever 17 now.

His eyes were dull, sunken in, and his mouth a little open. He was—dead. Wasn’t he?