𝔸 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕍.𝟚 💥𝔹𝕜𝔻𝕜💥

Chapter 55

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

In The Wake of Devastation

Vortex dropped Eijiro with a sickening thud, his body crumpling to the floor —motionless. Lifeless.

Katsuki's stomach twisted, something rancid and unbearable clawing up his throat before it erupted.

"NO!"

It was more than a scream. It was a raw, guttural sound that tore out of him, scraped his throat bloody, shattered something inside his chest. The kind of sound that came from the deepest, ugliest part of him—the part that knew this was his damn fault.

Eijiro—fucking Kirishima—the one only other person who truly understood him, the only other person who he trusted with his life, who never backed down, who never treated him like a ticking time bomb—was gone. Just like that. Gone. And it wasn't just him. Hitoshi too. Two of them. Their lives snuffed out. And why? Because Katsuki couldn't fucking hold himself back. Because he had to charge in like some goddamn idiot, tearing through the hideout, hunting down Izuku like his life depended on it—like their lives didn't.

His legs wouldn't fucking move. The weight of it all —guilt, grief, failure—crashed down on him, heavy as concrete, crushing, suffocating. Somewhere, just past the roaring static in his ears, he could hear Izuku screaming his name.

But it was distant. Hollow. White noise against the deafening thunder in his skull.

He collapsed. His hands hit the ground, his fingers digging into the dirt, but he didn't feel it. His breath was coming too fast, too ragged, like he was trying to gulp down air through a slit throat. His chest heaved, his ribs aching under the pressure. but none of it compared to the absolute fucking agony in his heart as he stared at Eijiro's lifeless body on the ground.

The world blurred, twisting at the edges, sinking into something cold and empty.

As Katsuki lay motionless, reeling from the loss of Eijiro, the trio of villains closed in on Izuku. And despite the horror of it all, Izuku forced the panic down, buried it deep beneath the fire in his veins. He refused to surrender because if he hesitated, even for a second, they'd take Katsuki away, too.

And he would never survive that.

Izuku's breath came ragged, burning through his throat like acid, his body felt like it was dying, but he forced himself to stand, to fight. He had nothing left to give—but he'd find something anyway.

Izuku lunged forward, barely dodging a wicked slash from Knives, his body moving on pure instinct. His vision was useless—darkness still clung to the edges, his world a swirling mess of static and shifting shapes. He could barely make out vague outlines, hazy figures that pulsed and warped, but it didn't matter. He didn't need sight to fight. He didn't need his fucking eyes to kill.

His hands snapped out, Black Whip snapping out like a living beast, striking wildly, seeking targets even he couldn't see.

A blur to his left.

Izuku swung hard, pouring every last shred of power he had into the attack, but Knives and Vortex slipped just out of range, phantoms made of smoke and sickly blue light. His laughter cut through the chaos, cruel and taunting.

Izuku attacked again and again, but they were too fast. Too calculated. Too perfectly coordinated.

Odd Eye had tailored them for this. They weren't just strong—they were designed to break him