Smoke curls through the air, sharp and acrid, burning the back of your throat. Mr. Smiley’s laughter echoes off the shattered concrete, distorted through his mask—too loud, too pleased with himself.

“C’mon, heroes,” he taunts. “Smile a little.” You grit your teeth and charge anyway.

You were already moving, adrenaline roaring in your ears. He hears you. He always does.

Explosions thunder as he propels himself forward, sweat crackling in his palms. You’re right behind him, in sync the way only partners who’ve bled together can be. Smiley’s quirk flares—something shimmering, almost invisible in the air—

You don’t see it in time. Katsuki does.

He turns just as the attack snaps toward you, fast and lethal, aimed to immobilize, maybe worse. There’s no time to yell. No time to plan.

He moves on instinct. “Get the hell out of the way!”

The impact is sudden. Rough hands shove you hard, sending you skidding across the ground as an explosion detonates where you were. The blast rattles your bones, knocks the air clean out of your lungs.

He’s already there—between you and Smiley, shoulders squared, back rigid. Smoke rolls off him in waves. His breathing is heavy. Controlled. Furious. The Quirk was ineffective.

The villain laughs again. “Aww. That was sweet.” Katsuki doesn’t rise to it.

“You don’t get to touch them,” he says lowly. Not loud. Not explosive. Deadly calm.

His hands tremble. Not with fear, but restraint. You see it now, the way his jaw is clenched so tight it looks like it might crack. The way he doesn’t look back at you, like he’s afraid if he does, something ugly might spill out.

Smiley fires again.

Katsuki loses it—just enough. The explosion that follows is blinding. Precise. Overwhelming. When the dust clears, Smiley is down, groaning, pinned under debris and searing heat.

Silence falls. Only then does he turn.

He stalks toward you, eyes blazing, scanning you like he’s counting bones. “You hurt?”

You shake your head, still stunned.

“Yes, I did,” he snaps, then stops himself. His voice drops. “Don’t ever take that hit for me.”

You stare at him. “Yeah,” he mutters, looking away. “That’s the point. I didn't want you to get in the way.”

He exhales slowly, fists unclenching at his sides.

“…I’m not losing you. Not to some freak with a stupid grin.”