This time I will protect them I won't be a coward

174

From the startled yelp, Denki immediately recognized the voice—it was Izuku Midoriya.

Denki peeked one eye open, his vision hazy, and muttered something incomprehensible. Izuku knelt beside him, bringing his ear closer to hear the exhausted boy speak.

“Four shots of espresso in a mug… and buttered toast, please… Good luck with your Hero Work studies… You’re not alone anymore… you’ve got… yawn* good friends… yawn* Zuku…” Denki’s voice trailed off as sleep pulled him back into its grasp.

Kirishima, watching Denki’s sleeping form, muttered quietly to the others, who were equally stunned and confused, “Was he sleep-talking?”

Midoriya straightened up, his expression uncertain. “Hmm… I don’t think so.”

A quiet silence settled over the group as they processed the bizarre moment.

Bakugou Katsuki was the first to break it, clicking his tongue irritably. “Like hell I’ll let you enter that kitchen, nerd!” Despite his rough tone, the sharp bite of his words was missing, replaced by something softer. Katsuki’s guilt about how he’d treated Izuku over the years had been gnawing at him. Learning the secret of One For All had shifted something within him, forcing him to reevaluate his relationship with Midoriya. Quietly, he vowed to change.

With a huff, Katsuki stomped into the kitchen. “I’ll make Denki’s damn breakfast.”

“But it’s just basic stuff anyone can make,” Todoroki Shoto remarked in his usual deadpan tone, tilting his head slightly. Bakugou glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes in warning. The knife in his hand glinted menacingly under the overhead lights.

Todoroki blinked in mild confusion and asked, oblivious to the tension, “Do you need help?”

An angry vein throbbed on Katsuki’s forehead as he began snarling like an irritated chihuahua. Todoroki misunderstood completely, murmuring under his breath, “Hah, even the great Bakugou Katsuki needs help.”

Kirishima sighed and turned to Midoriya. “Hey, before you go, can you help me lay Kaminari-kun down on one of the sofas? My muscles are kind of sore from overusing my quirk.”

“Sure,” Midoriya replied.

Together, they gently moved Denki to a sofa, his fragile frame curling up as he gripped Kirishima’s jacket like a plush toy. Midoriya was about to leave when something metallic caught his eye, glinting faintly beneath Denki’s bangs.

“What the—” Izuku knelt down, his emerald eyes widening in alarm. “Stitches?”

“I tried asking, bro, but he kept dodging the question like the plague. Honestly… I think Kaminari-kun’s hiding something from us,” Kirishima muttered tiredly, rubbing his sore shoulders.

Todoroki joined them, his gaze calm but concerned. “Give him time. He’ll open up when he’s ready.”

Izuku knelt down again, brushing Denki’s cheek softly with the back of his scarred hand. He murmured to himself in a somber tone, “He’s been through a lot lately…”

...

The streets blurred in Denki’s vision as he wandered aimlessly, his path leading him past ancient alleys and winding lanes. Before him stood an old abbey, its iron-wrought gates guarded by two towering statues of warrior angels. Their stoic expressions seemed to watch over the sacred space, their presence heavy and imposing.

A buzzing sound filled the air as a bluish static portal flickered into existence near the gates. Without hesitation, Denki stepped into it, his surroundings shifting instantly.

Freezing cold enveloped him, biting at his skin like icy needles. The screech of tires echoed in the frosty silence, red lights flashing as a vehicle skidded dangerously toward the side of the road. Denki’s breath hitched as he moved toward the overturned car, each step sending burning, freezing sensations shooting through the Lichtenberg scars on his arms.

Ahead, blue and red lights flickered, illuminating a woman clutching two albino twins amidst the wreckage. Her cries pierced the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of burning flesh. Denki retched as the overwhelming stench filled his nostrils.

A shadowy figure emerged from black smoke, its presence dominating the chaos. Two orbs of light—one red, the other white—circled around it as it advanced. Denki realized with growing dread that he wasn’t truly part of the scene. He was an outsider, watching someone else’s memories unfold.

Desperately, Denki tried to scream for help, but no sound escaped his lips. His hand flew to his neck, only to find something horrifying—a vine of thorns coiled tightly around it, squeezing mercilessly. His chest tightened as he struggled in vain.

The shadow figure turned toward him, its cold voice cutting through the air. “When will you accept it? When will you accept it? When? When? When?”

Another voice, soft and sorrowful, whispered nearby. “Angel, accept it, but fight against it… Even if time is running out… Don’t let the darkness consume you. You were not meant for this. I am sorry.”

The vines dug deeper into Denki’s arms as his body was yanked upward, forcing him closer to the nightmare. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up.

....

The scene shifted abruptly. He was now in the abbey’s courtyard, watching as a nun chased a young albino girl with pigtails. “Come back, Agatha!” the nun called desperately.

“Noooo! I hate choirs!” the girl screamed, darting past Denki and into the woods.

Denki stared, muttering quietly to himself, “Agatha… Where have I heard that name before?”

The dream felt different—prophetic, almost. He could sense his body fading, an indication he was about to wake. The whisper of the trees reached his ears.

“Agatha is one of the twins which guides the lost souls.”

Denki’s golden eyes widened at the revelation, and then a blinding burst of light consumed him. He woke up with a jolt, gasping for air.