Hitashi Kokomi. Mitabi Sako. Kaito Yamamoto. and Ito Kobayashi.

These names.. They were like a haunting shadow that casted overhead during the pouring rain. The soft patters of droplets hitting the thick glass of his hospital room were slightly muffled by his tainted hearing. But it helped, in a way.

The title, hero was so valiantly passed around as a symbol of protection. But no one ever dwindled on the weight the word brings on the successor. Not even he.

Life. It was such a fickle little thing. Could go on for years—decades. But it could also be snuffed out in an instant.

Bakugou wasn't sure why there was so much.. depth behind his thoughts. It was too damn late for this shit. He mused, but that didn't change the darkness that clouded his mind.

The room was dead silent, everyone who came to visit having been long gone. There was no motion in the room other than his subtle breathing and the jittery leg that anxiously bounced faster with each tenebrous thought.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was so damn weak.