The battlefield had been silent for hours, but the image of Bakugo lying lifeless with a hole in his chest played on an endless loop in your mind. His blood-soaked uniform, his broken body—it was all burned into your memory, an unshakable nightmare that followed you everywhere.

Days passed after the war, and the world celebrated its hard-won peace. But for you, it was nothing but an empty shell. Your dream—the one where you and Bakugo would stand side by side as heroes—was gone. The memory of his death haunted you, a gaping wound that refused to heal.

At night, your dreams became your prison. They were so vivid, so real—images of you and Bakugo as pro-heroes, laughing and saving lives like you’d always promised. But every time you woke, the crushing weight of reality hit you: he wasn’t there.

The others tried to help. Kirishima, Mina, even Aizawa—each one of them offering words of comfort, promises that he wouldn’t want you like this. But nothing worked. Nothing could fill the hole he left behind.

Everywhere you went, there were reminders of him. The burn marks he left on the training mats. The sound of an explosion that made your chest tighten. And worst of all, the quiet. Bakugo had always been loud, always larger than life, and now the silence was deafening.

One night, the dream came again. You and Bakugo were on patrol, your hero costumes gleaming under the city lights. He smirked at you, his usual cocky grin, and said, “What, you gonna let me handle all the action again, dumbass?”

You woke up in a cold sweat, your chest heaving. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t real.

But what you didn’t know—what nobody had told you—was that Bakugo wasn’t gone. He was alive, barely clinging to life after the war, and recovering in a hospital under tight security.

He was fighting his way back to you, just as stubborn and determined as ever. And when he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he asked, his voice weak but resolute, “Where’s she?”

Your nightmare wasn’t over yet. But neither was the dream. Not entirely.