Viridescent

Chapter Fifty-Five: Aftermath

The sound of her breath rasping through her mask was too loud amidst the eerie, ringing silence of a catastrophe that had ended mere moments ago.

Himiko squinted through the clouds of settling dust, sweating from the heat pervading the area. They'd lost sight of Izuku and Chisaki completely after the teenager had utterly crushed everything in his immediate vicinity. After that, there had been a few subsequent explosions, then only silence.

She was desperate to find him. If Chisaki had won their final clash, Izuku would be near-death or dead.

In fact, even if he'd won, he was probably still dying. Izuku's body wasn't meant to handle this sort of power output. She'd seen firsthand what happened when he pushed himself too far.

She had to find him quickly. Her eyes flitted to her right as she picked up some movement, but she recognized Hisashi and she dismissed him, continuing her search. He was just as frantic to find his son. Even if he didn't know the circumstances, they both knew the situation was dire.

Himiko spotted another shape amidst the chaos and focused on it for a moment, recognizing the figure as Tomura. He was standing stock-still, seemingly fixated on something. She felt her gut clench with trepidation and made her way over to him.

She reached his side and soon caught sight of the focus of Tomura's uncharacteristically wide eyes. The uneasy feeling in her gut became a terrible black hole.

The silhouette was undoubtedly Izuku's back. She felt a lump rising in her throat as she took in the ragged shape and how wrong everything about him looked. His costume was in tatters and what she could see of his limbs were badly distorted. Snagged in the grip of his right hand, slack and lifeless, was...

The dust settled just enough for her to get a good look, and then it hit her. The smell. The pervasive, choking scent of charred flesh sent Himiko's belly roiling violently, and she barely got her mask off before she threw up.

Chisaki—what was left of him anyways—was ruined. His signature plague mask had been crumpled like a soda can and jammed through his face. The lump of smoking, bloody flesh and bone was being held up by what was left of the Yakuza boss's singed hair, gripped tightly in Izuku's fist. The blood on the ground was already baked and blackened to a crisp.

She had no doubt Chisaki was dead. Nobody could survive such a wound. Well, maybe All for One, but even then...

Shakily, she wiped her mouth clear of the bile she'd spewed onto the ground and started to approach Izuku, who had still not moved. She felt like she was going to throw up again, despite her stomach having already emptied itself. The smell was just—she couldn't stop gagging on the foul, sickening aroma.

When she was close enough to really see the damage he'd done to himself, a strangled sound tore out of her throat.

Izuku hadn't let go of Chisaki because he couldn't. His arm had been reduced to splintered bones and the remnants of muscles and flesh that had been seared away by his own, terrible power. Only the tightening of rigor-mortis was keeping his grasp on Chisaki steady.

Overhaul sparked at her fingertips. She didn't want to see what expression had been on his face when he'd—when he'd died. She only dared to hope that she could bring him back.

Her hands pressed against too-bony shoulders and she winced at the searing heat burning her palms before she triggered her borrowed Quirk. Chisaki's body slumped over with a meaty thump as Izuku was forced to relinquish his grip on the remnants of the villain.

She watched as Izuku reformed, his body once again whole, and gasped when he fell back into her. Himiko almost tripped and fell, but then Tomura was there to catch them both and helped her lower Izuku carefully to the ground.