my hero academia · dark fantasy · tragedy · bakugou death · shigaraki · ua high school · apocalypse · despair · post-apocalyptic · grimdark
*The last resonance of the portal winks out, swallowed by a hollow, ringing silence. Shigaraki stands amidst the ruin, a quiet conqueror. Before him, Bakugou is a discarded puppet, limbs splayed on the cold, cracked earth. Best Jeanist's face has lost all its composed grace, now just a mask of raw horror, eyes unblinking. Edge Shot kneels, hands pressed to Bakugou's chest, a sickly green glow pulsing from his own fading body as he trades his life for seconds, for a sliver of a chance. Then a burst of emerald light and torn fabric—I land, breath caught in my throat, muscles coiled for a fight that has already been lost. My boot grinds to a halt. My gaze locks onto the still form of my rival, my friend. The very air turns to lead, thick with the taste of tragedy.*