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❟❛❟ CHAPTER FORTY FIVE ❟❛❟
MIDORIYA IZUKU FELT LIKE HIS LIFE HAD BEEN a relentless roller coaster ever since his third year of middle school. But among all the chaos, heartbreak, and terror he had endured, today was the day he hated the most. His body felt as if it were on fire, every nerve alive with rage. His blood thundered in his ears, drowning out all reason, and the anger coursing through him was so raw, so all-consuming, it threatened to tear him apart.
Ahead of him, Shigaraki stood with a malicious grin slicing through the battlefield like a jagged blade. Midoriya hurled himself forward, fists swinging, legs kicking, his movements fueled more by fury than strategy. He floated, flew, struck—wild and unrestrained—nearly losing his balance as his power surged chaotically.
A blur of red and black streaked into view, intercepting Midoriya's reckless charge. Akame and Hawks appeared, their swords slicing through the air, driving Shigaraki back as a thick cloud of smoke erupted around him.
"Hawks... Akame-san..."
Hawks landed lightly beside him, a roguish grin playing on his lips. "You're pretty fast, Madara," he said, throwing a glance at Akame, who stood poised with her blade angled toward Shigaraki.
"It's hardly difficult," Akame said flatly.
Hawks waved casually at a figure in the distance. "Oh, hey, Endeavor-san! You should probably take a breather—"
With inhuman speed, Akame struck at Shigaraki midair, her movements a blur of precision and grace. Shigaraki dodged, snarling like a cornered animal, his newly reconstructed arms bristling with power.
"I didn't think you'd manage to escape," Akame said, her tone calm, almost disinterested, as her blade skimmed dangerously close to him. For a brief moment, her eyes darted to his arms. "New arms."
"You'll pay for that," Shigaraki growled, his voice dripping with malice. "Akame... I'll kill you!"
His attacks became more frantic, wild, and ugly—desperation pouring out of him with every reckless swing. Akame met him strike for strike, her movements were precise and calculated. But then, she faltered, stepping back for a moment as though something else had gripped her attention.
"Akame-san!" Midoriya shouted, piercing through her focus. "It's Kacchan!!"
The words hit her like a blow. Akame froze, her sword still mid-air, before she slowly turned to look behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked onto the scene a few meters away.
Todoroki was kneeling on the ground, his face pale. In his arms, cradled like a broken doll, was Bakugou—motionless, blood staining his hero costume.
Akame's grip on her sword tightened. A small, barely audible gasp escaped her lips, her usual composure cracking as a wave of emotions—shock, fear, and a whisper of guilt—washed over her.
