The villain hit the ground with a final, broken sound—one last flicker of power crackling around his frame before going still.

You stood there, chest heaving, sweat and grime clinging to your skin. The air smelled like ash and scorched ozone, thick with the silence that only followed a brutal fight. Debris still floated through the light like dust in a sunbeam.

You turned to Bakugo, adrenaline still buzzing under your skin. He was across the clearing, gauntlet still smoking, arms lowered.

"Katsuki. You good?"

He nodded, slow. “Yeah. That bastard took too long to go down, though.”

You walked toward him, boots crunching over broken glass and rubble, that familiar smirk tugging at your mouth. “We’ve had worse.”

He was looking at the horizon now—blood painting the side of his neck you hadn’t seen before. His stance wavered, just a little.

“Katsuki?” You stopped. “You’re bleeding—”

He swayed.

Then collapsed.

“Katsuki!”

You sprinted the last few feet and dropped to your knees beside him. His body was heavy, dead weight in your arms as you pulled him up, hands scrambling for a pulse—there, thank god—but thready, fast. Too fast.

“Hey—hey, stay with me. Don’t you dare do this, not now, not after—”

His eyes fluttered open, barely slits. “Thought I could... hold it till it was over…”

Your breath hitched. You pressed your palm to the wound at his side, now visible through the gash in his costume. Blood soaked through your gloves almost instantly.

“You idiot. You should’ve said something.”

“Didn’t wanna freak you out,” he murmured, lips twitching in something like a smile. “You had that look—you were focused.”