★⊱ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ⊰★
Take it from one human,
To another,
A hero to a villain,
Or a villain to a hero,
Being burned once or twice,
Is just the way the earth will turn,
But there's no time,
To cry,
Because to whom it may concern,
My heart may be fireproof now,
Yet the same cannot be said,
For those I would die for,
This is a truth,
That will always be undeniable,
And to be once burned,
Means to be twice strong,
With a dash of rebelliousness,
And a little bit of trouble for all,
Bring it on,
Bitches
★⊱ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ⊰★
Strong: able to perform a specified action well and powerfully; powerfully affecting the mind, senses, or emotions; able to withstand great force or pressure; showing determination, self-control, and good judgment; very intense.
★⊱ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ⊰★
There once was a great battle,
so mighty and fierce, that shook the very foundations of everyone bearing witness to such a catastrophic event.
Though few and far between, still, only a few could withstand the earth-shaking aftershocks of what most would call the showdown of the century, shaken to their core as a momentous juncture in history played out right before their near disbelieving eyes.
The crumbled, upheaved terrain was unrecognizable from the booming metropolis it once was, its glory long gone in a wisp of heavy smoke and haunting ashes that smelled like burned flesh and pulverized bones.
Those that could not protect themselves, much less their loved ones, fell victim to the unprecedented attack, their unfulfilled lives removed from the face of the earth as if they were never there.
Of course, some found the upsetting situation advantageous and thrilling, waiting and watching to see and experience how it could escalate further. How the ferocious assault could destroy the hopes and dreams of many, the sick satisfaction of simply knowing people suffered fueled their malicious thoughts of wanting absolute domination over the weak and misery for all.
The substantial bloodshed, heavy and thick in the stagnant, parched air, smelled horribly metallic, and those hoping – wishing – for good to triumph over evil, desperately prayed to whatever merciful deity may be listening that the outcome would be a favorable one.
Prayed even more, rather selfishly, that they would not have to encounter a nefarious monster of a man because if he won, escaped, and ran loose, not a single soul would have the capability to stop him on his path of outright destruction.
Their inevitable deaths would be pointless and futile, that is how alarmingly powerless anyone was when it came to going against his unshakable, intense strength and his sheer unwillingness to fall and admit defeat.
However, amidst the gloom and despair, that singular ray of hope remained.
At the center of all the chaos, beyond the decimated skyscrapers, scattered houses, and incensed, blazing fires, were two blurry figures.
Barely breathing, a battered and beaten man was standing strong amongst the smoldering heat and utter annihilation, wide shoulders hunched as he grimly heaved, gut furiously churning at the loss of life surrounding him on every side, but, he could not yet rest. Now was not the time to be uncertain or soft-hearted. Not when his archenemy was still alive. Still a threat.
The devastated man, previously an untouchable existence that stood atop the world with very few others and was also considered an important presence, observed, both simultaneously regretful and unmerciful, as his enemy drew in labored, croaky breathes, smiling a crooked smile filled with a warped, twisted sense of humor.
Neither spoke, there was no need. Sometimes, some things were better left unsaid, or in this instance, the silence festering between them, save for the crisp, crackling sounds of the bellowing wind and fire, said everything and nothing.
As the seriously injured foe lay dying, face distorted and bleeding profusely, the triumphant victor – the hero of the day – paused suddenly when he heard a strange noise coming from directly in front of him. Struggling with difficulty, he clutched his bruised and shredded side, taking a small step forward and then another until he stopped before a heap of splintered wood and concrete. With one arm, he gently and cautiously, yet hurriedly, pushed all the rubble aside, using the last of his draining willpower to find what he had heard.
Chocking on a gasping, relieved sob, the dumbfounded man dropped to his knees, no longer able to support himself as an overwhelming emotion overcame him.
"Even if— even if it's. . . just one. . . Just one is. . . fine. I managed to protect just one little life. This is more than I deserve."
Below the considerable wreckage, a deceased woman protected an awake baby, the skin, muscle, and tendons on her hands were stripped and missing, her skeletal hands gripping the restless infant unyieldingly. She probably had a defensive Quirk that manifested from her limbs and constant overuse physically destroyed the part of her body her power gathered toward.
He deliberately ignored the woman's concaved skull, it was too difficult, at this fragile moment, to carry the enormous weight of a mother's unfortunate death, carefully scooping the baby from the debris and holding it tightly and safely to his shuddering chest.
He passively looked all around him disjointedly, emotionally distancing himself while listening to the wheezing, floundering gasps of the perishing man behind him until his very last, and drowning under the uncomfortable pressure of his decisions, guiltily sparing a glance at the curious baby unfazedly staring straight into his tearful, unfocused eyes.
"I've done the unforgivable," he whispered lowly, lips trembling as he wrestled with his consciousness to resist fainting. "I've failed too many. . . I– I don't deserve this life of mine anymore. . . I don't deserve forgiveness from those affected by me," he dizzily prattled on, body temperature rapidly decreasing. "I'll never deserve it." As his mind swirled with numerous possibilities as he deliriously fought sleep, he subconsciously did what he thought best before it was too late.
His crimson blood and tears mixed together, unintentionally falling on the seemingly confused baby as they babbled nonsensically and he, in his half-comatose state, didn't interrupt this development.
"Hopefully," he slurred drowsily, painstakingly stumbling to his aching feet, indifferently inhaling the smoldering, black vapor rising toward the blackening sky. There was no light above or ahead except the raging infernos trying to drag him down into a hell well-earned. "Hopefully, I've made the right choice this time."
Beneath the hidden stars, the man disappeared without a trace, scattering some soot that endlessly rained like snowflakes – falling and plummeting like cascading tears – concealing the fact that a lukewarm body was being covered by the smothering ash.
A disfigured body that began breathing once again. . .
YOU ARE READING
Strong | BnHA/MHA {Katsuki Bakugō x Reader} {Discontinued!}
FanfictionFight for your freedom, you're more than a pawn, and we'll make sure the world knows what we truly are when we're through kicking ass, they'll have no choice but to call...
