Where the Light Meets Shadow 💥BAKUDEKU💥

Where the Light Meets Shadow

How Hori never talked about Katsuki dying in the manga will forever haunt me and because of that, it has wormed its way into my thoughts and now has become a one-shot.

The hallway stretched out in front of him, a long, sterile line of white walls and fluorescent lights that seemed to pulse in time with the dull ache in his chest. Katsuki Bakugo dragged his IV stand along beside him, the steady beeping of the attached heart monitor a reminder of the damage that still threatened to rip him apart from the inside.

It's been a week. He gritting his teeth as he took another step, feeling the pull of fresh stitches under his hospital gown. Only a damn week since the end of the war, but it felt like he was still trapped in the thick of it. The sounds of explosions, the feel of his body being torn apart, the screams, the flash of powers clashing—it all replayed behind his eyes every time he blinked, leaving him in a constant, half-conscious daze where he wasn't sure if he was breathing or drowning.

His mind dragged him back to that moment, to the final fight—the one he hadn't even won. Up there on the damn floating fortress, where Shigaraki had been waiting. Where he'd nearly killed him. He could almost still smell the smoke and taste the iron in his mouth, the memories vivid and sharp, too raw to be ignored.

He'd known it was a one-way ticket, charging in like that. Hell, that was the whole point. No way in hell was he just going to stand around and let that twisted bastard tear apart everything he cared about. But Shigaraki... That villain was like something out of a fucking nightmare, an embodiment of death with eyes that bore right through him. That gaze—unfeeling, monstrous, like Shigaraki was seeing right through him to the core of his soul, and he'd found it horribly lacking. Katsuki could still feel the scorch of that stare, the weight of it pressing down on him even now.

He'd given it everything he had, pushed himself past every limit—until his whole damn body felt like it had been thrown into a meat grinder, every blast forcing out more pain than he thought he could handle. And still, it wasn't enough. Shigaraki hadn't even flinched; Katsuki was just another obstacle, just another body in the way. The bastard snapped his arm in two like nothing, like Katsuki's efforts, his pain, his sacrifice were all worthless in the face of Shigaraki's monstrous strength.

Katsuki's teeth ground together as he recalled the sharp, sickening snap, the feeling of his arm giving way under Shigaraki's grip, his own scream choking him. it had been the first of many breaks in his arm. The pain had been a wildfire, fierce and consuming, spreading through his body until he could barely tell where one wound ended and the next began. He had been thrown aside like he was nothing. He'd almost given up, in the heat of the moment. That thought was a bitter one, eating at him from the inside even now.

But he'd held on, dug his heels in and refused to back down. Because he'd never backed down before. Never. That was the only thing he knew how to do, the one way he'd always lived his life—push forward, keep fighting, break through whatever stood in his way.

He'd kept going, even as his body screamed, his quirk tearing through him like he was just fuel to burn, no matter what it cost him.

And somehow, in the middle of that agony, his power had shifted, flared up in a way he'd never felt before, like something had snapped and broken open inside him. His quirk had surged, wild and untamed, like every last ounce of fury he had had taken physical form, pushing him past the limits he thought he'd already broken through. He remembered the searing pain that had ripped through him with each blast, a raw fire that seemed to burn him from the inside out, and still he'd thrown himself forward.

It was then, in the middle of that blistering, brutal pain, that one single, maddening thought hit him harder than any blow: Is this what it's like for Izuku? Fighting, struggling, every move tearing him apart, every step forward feeling like it might be the last? He'd seen Izuku fight that way, countless fucking  times—bones shattered, skin bruised, fighting like every move cost him something he didn't even have. But seeing it from the outside and feeling it in his own flesh and bone were worlds apart.