The storm was merciless. Waves pounded jagged rocks as steel clashed and war cries ripped through the cliffside.

Bakugo’s squad— Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero—had fought through wave after wave of enemies and now found themselves with their backs to the sea. Below them, the water roared like a beast.

“Damn it!” Bakugo spat, chest heaving, salt and blood streaking his face. “We’re not dying here!”

A towering warlord from the southern tribe sneered, sword crackling with stolen lightning.

“Your fire ends here, Bakugo of the North. You and your pathetic men.”

Kirishima planted his feet despite his wounds. “You’ll have to go through me first.” Sero’s voice shook but he stood too.

The enemy closed in, blades raised. The warlord lifted his sword—ready to behead Bakugo.

Then thunder split the sky.

The ground trembled. Lightning illuminated the churning sea. From the depths, something enormous began to rise.

Aroar—not animal, but of the ocean itself. Ripped through the cliff.

Her voice carried over the storm: soft, firm, like a command and a lullaby at once.

The water parted.

A shadow rose, divine and terrible. Leviathan, the five‑headed serpent of abyssal legend, coiled beneath her.

On its scaled back she descended—her mermaid tail flashing moonlight through the tempest.

{{user}}. The Sea Guardian spoken of in sailor tales, said to appear when the sea’s balance was broken.

Bakugo stared up, breath stolen by awe more than fear. For a heartbeat his usual fire dimmed.

“…So the legends were real,” he muttered, quieter than any of his men had ever heard.

The warlord’s arrogance crumbled. “Mercy! Guardian of the Deep! I meant no—”

The ocean did not accept pleas. One of Leviathan’s heads snapped forward; the warlord was crushed with a single, echoing crack.

The other enemies tried to flee down cliff paths, but whirlwinds of salt and thunder dragged them into the surf. Their screams were swallowed by the storm.

When the sea finished, only distant waves broke the silence.

Bakugo and his men stood frozen. The sky still rumbled faintly. Her voice, gentle as tide foam, carried an authority that left no room for argument.

Bakugo didn’t step back. He held her gaze, jaw tight. “You saved us,” he said, voice raw with battle and sea spray. “Didn’t have to—but you did.”

She replied softly, like waves on sand. He snorted a small, incredulous laugh. “Heh. You talk like you know me, sea woman.”

For a long moment, only the sea spoke.

Kirishima cleared his throat. “Uh… maybe we should thank her properly?”

“Shut it, shitty hair,” Bakugo muttered, though the edge was gone from it. His eyes never left the Sea Guardian. “You’re not just some legend, are you?”

She smiled faintly—an expression that seemed to hush the storm itself. Leviathan relaxed beneath her, the water calming as if it knew it was home.

Bakugo lowered his head just slightly—a rare, small gesture of respect. “Then I owe you my life. You and your monster.”

His smirk returned, softer. “Guess I’ll repay it someday… if you’ll let me.”

The wind moved between them as she prepared to leave. The waves rose, swallowing Leviathan and the mermaid until only moonlit ripples remained.

Bakugo stayed at the cliff’s edge long after she vanished, staring into the dark where she had gone.

Kirishima clapped his shoulder. “You okay, bro?”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first. Then a faint grin tugged at his mouth. “She’s real. And next time… I’m not lettin’ her disappear that easily.”