Chapter Forty-Five
Bakugo

Bakugo stood frozen, his gaze locked on the empty spot where you'd been just seconds ago. His fists clenched, a storm of regret flashing through his mind. How could he have been so reckless? So stupid to let you slip through his grasp like that?

Krishma's hands gripped his shoulders firmly as he landed beside him, shaking him back to reality. "Come on, man, we've gotta get out of here," he urged, his voice edged with urgency.

He would have protested if he'd had even a shred of strength left—if he could shout, move, do something. But he was too stunned, his words caught somewhere between his chest and throat. All he could do was let Krishma drag him away, step by reluctant step, as the villains closed in like shadows on the edges of his vision.

When they finally arrived at the plaza, chaos had already erupted. All Might was in the thick of it, launching a colossal punch straight into All For One's shadowed face. The ground trembled with the force of the blow, the air crackling with power.

Izuku rushed over the moment he spotted them, his expression lighting up with relief. "Kacchan! You're all right!" he said, a smile breaking through the tension.

But Bakugo barely spared him a glance. His jaw was tight, his eyes distant as he uttered, stone cold, "Y/N's with them."

Izuku froze in place, his breath hitching. "What?" he whispered, the word barely audible over the chaos around them.

"They got Y/N," Bakugo repeated, his voice low but razor-sharp, each syllable laced with anger and frustration. It wasn't just a statement; it was a wound, raw and bleeding, that he couldn't seem to close.

The words struck like a hammer blow, and all around him, his classmates froze, the weight of his revelation crashing down on them like a tidal wave. The air grew thick with tension, the chaotic sounds of battle in the distance fading to a distant hum. Momo's lips quivered as she struggled to process what he'd said, her hands trembling at her sides. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she whispered, "How? How did this happen?" Her voice cracked under the strain, barely managing to hold steady.

Even Shoto, who always seemed so untouchable, so unreadable, let his stony demeanor falter. A flicker of emotion broke through in his mismatched eyes—concern, disbelief, and a hint of fear. For once, the cracks in his icy facade were visible.

No one spoke for a moment, the gravity of the situation pressing down on them all like a crushing weight. Y/N, one of their own, was in enemy hands. And none of them could bring themselves to ask the question lingering in the air: What if they couldn't get them back?

Bakugo just turned his back on the group, refusing to meet their worried stares. Instead, his eyes locked onto the massive screen dominating the plaza, broadcasting the battle as All Might clashed with All For One. The blows echoed through the air, and the relentless fury in All Might's movements lit up his blazing blue eyes.

Bakugo could see it clearly—the anger. Anger directed at him for losing Y/N. Anger at himself, too, for failing to protect a student as vital, as irreplaceable, as Y/N. It was a heavy truth, one Bakugo couldn't escape, no matter how much he wanted to. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as if the pain might drown out the crushing guilt. But it didn't. It never would.

-

Y/N

You lay there, sprawled across the grass, the cool night air tugging at your hair as you stared up at the vast sky. Stars glittered above, their distant light dancing in your blurry vision. Everything around you felt strangely muted, like a dream too vague to grasp. You couldn't remember how you got here, only the weight of silence pressing in.

Then, a raspy voice cut through the stillness, harsh and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine. "Wake up."

You froze, the recognition hitting you like a jolt. It was him—Shigaraki. The voice you never could forget.

"Go away," you growled, teeth gritted, as you tried to shake off the fuzziness in your mind. The stars above seemed to blur further, but the menace in the air was unmistakable. He wasn't going anywhere.

"You know we can't leave you, L/N," Dabi's voice broke through the haze, dripping with mocking amusement. You squinted, trying to piece together your surroundings, but it was a blur of dark shapes and flickers of light. The familiar figures began to form—Dabi, Shigaraki, and Spinner. Their presence was like a weight on your chest, suffocating, a reminder of everything you couldn't escape.

You snarled, baring your teeth, fingers twitching as your thoughts raced to process their words. What the hell are they up to now? You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, even as the exhaustion tried to drag you back into the fog.

"Keep away from me, freaks," you growled, your voice raspy but sharp, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Shigaraki chuckled darkly, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. "Freaks? Is that really the best you've got?" His voice dripped with disdain, amusement dancing in his tone. "You're in no position to talk, L/N. Not now."

You could feel the tension crackle in the air, and you fought to stay grounded, even as their presence pressed in like an unstoppable tide.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your body jerking upright as the searing pain shot through your back. Your wings—a delicate, fragile part of you—flared with the sting of torn membranes. You hissed, gritting your teeth, trying to force yourself to focus through the haze of agony. The sensation of something tearing through your wings felt like a jagged blade slicing deep into your very soul. It was a pain you knew all too well.

Shigaraki's figure loomed over you, the cold gleam of his eyes watching your every twitch with a twisted kind of fascination. With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised one hand and traced his fingers along the damaged edges of your wings, the rough touch pulling at the delicate strands of skin, causing another wave of pain to ripple through you.

"So fragile," he mused, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "Yet so strong. So golden, yet so broken... like you."

The words cut deeper than his touch, his grin widening as he watched you struggle. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the twisted admiration he held for the cracks in your strength, the way he savored every fracture. You couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you. The smile on his face, wide and wicked, only made the pain worse, like salt in a wound.

It was like he knew you better than you knew yourself—how deeply he could wound with nothing more than words, how the quietest taunts could make you question everything you'd ever fought for.

Your wings flared painfully, their trembling edges stretching out like a wounded, fragile thing, fighting against the pull of the pain. You jerked back, barely keeping your balance, feeling your tail whip sharply behind you, the double-barbed tip aimed threateningly at Shigaraki. The sharp sting in your back burned with every movement, but your instinct for self-preservation kicked in, and you hissed through gritted teeth.

"Don't touch me, Tomura," you snarled, the words bitter and defiant, even as the ache in your wings persisted.

The response was a low, mocking chuckle. Shigaraki's gaze never wavered, that unnerving smile twisting his features. He took a step closer, his presence suffocating, pressing in on you like a storm about to break.

"We? You know my name now, huh?" His voice was smooth, almost intimate, but it dripped with something darker. "Y/N... we're meant to be. You just don't see it yet."

His words slithered through the air like poison, lingering far longer than they should. The smirk on his face deepened, like he enjoyed the idea of you resisting him, savoring each flicker of defiance in your eyes. Every inch of him seemed to radiate that eerie confidence, the kind that made it impossible to tell whether he truly believed his twisted words, or if he was just playing with your mind.

The suggestion of we sent a chill through your veins, and your heart thundered in your chest. You weren't sure if it was the fear, the pain, or the sickening thought that he might be right, but something in his voice struck a chord deep within you.

The air was thick with tension as Shigaraki's words hung in the space between you, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur even further. You could feel the oppressive weight of his words digging into your chest, but before you could react, Dabi's voice sliced through the silence, sharp and possessive.

"She's not yours, Shigaraki. And you know that," Dabi growled, his tone dark and unwavering. The words were cold, but there was something else underneath—something almost protective.

Shigaraki's smirk faltered for just a second, but then he stepped back, the smile on his lips never quite fading. Dabi walked forward, the shift in his gaze settling on you with an odd mix of amusement and challenge. His steps were deliberate, like he was approaching prey, but there was a strange gentleness in the way he leaned in closer.

"The boss said we'd share her, so be a good player and share her with us," Dabi teased, a sharp edge in his words, though his eyes were filled with something else—a flicker of something far more complicated than just malice.

Without warning, his hand reached up, fingers brushing against your horns. The touch was slow, almost reverent, and the sudden contact made your skin crawl. You flinched, the touch surprisingly gentle as his fingers traced along the curves of your horns, exploring their delicate ridges as if they were something precious.

"So beautiful," he mumbled, his voice low and almost wistful. His blue eyes flashed, intense and consuming, the smirk on his lips softened into something unsettling. He could have been admiring the way your horns curved, but in that moment, you knew there was something darker behind that admiration.

You couldn't tell if it was the pain in your wings, the poison in their words, or the strange feeling that wrapped itself around you in that moment, but something inside you screamed to escape—before they tore you apart, piece by piece.

You snapped your teeth at Dabi's hand, a vicious, guttural growl escaping you as your instincts kicked in. The sharp pain in your back forgotten for a moment, all you could focus on was pushing them away. Your teeth clicked dangerously close to his fingers, and with a sharp intake of breath, he quickly jerked his hand back, the amused glint in his eyes never fully fading.

"Oi, someone's feisty, eh?" Dabi chuckled darkly, the sound of it rolling off his tongue like a mocking purr. He didn't seem fazed by your reaction—if anything, it seemed to entertain him more.

His eyes gleamed with a strange delight, watching you with the kind of interest that made your skin crawl. He straightened, his smile stretching wider as if your defiance had only amused him. He was playing a game, and it seemed like he was enjoying every second of it.

For a moment, the air hung heavy, thick with unspoken words and the sharp tension between you. You couldn't decide if you wanted to tear him apart or simply escape his grasp. Both options felt impossible.

Spinner stepped forward, his posture tense, eyes burning with an impatient edge as he shot a glance at the others. "Let's just put her to sleep and bring her back to the hideout. I'm bored of being in this barren shitland," he muttered, his voice low and rough, the exhaustion in his tone unmistakable. Without waiting for anyone's response, he drew a dagger from his belt, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light, and moved closer, the sharp point hovering just above your neck. The sudden movement made your pulse spike, the threat of the blade too real to ignore.

But before he could press it closer, a sharp, angry voice cut through the tension.

"No one touches her, you hear me, lizard?" Shigaraki snarled, his voice dripping with venom. He was on Spinner in an instant, his hand outstretched, fingers twitching in warning. In the blink of an eye, Shigaraki's power activated, and Spinner's dagger was reduced to nothing but dust in the air, disintegrated as easily as it had appeared.

The change in the atmosphere was immediate—cold, suffocating. Shigaraki stood over Spinner, his eyes flashing with a dangerous warning, his smirk now full of malice.

"You know your place," Shigaraki hissed, the sharpness in his voice making it clear that you weren't to be touched by anyone but him. His gaze flicked back to you, an unsettling mix of possessiveness and amusement dancing in his eyes.

You could feel the tension crackling in the air, each of them watching you like you were a prize to be claimed. But their words didn't just wound you—they told you something darker, something dangerous. You were caught in their web, and no matter how hard you fought, it seemed you were never truly free.

You pushed yourself up with a grunt, your body screaming in protest, but the need to stand, to move, was stronger than the pain. Your wings twitched involuntarily, the sharp ache radiating from the torn membranes, and you instinctively glanced back to see the extent of the damage. The wound was deep, right at the root, and blood—dark, thick, and slick—slowly oozed over the torn edges, pooling across the delicate surface of your wings like poison. The sight of it made your stomach turn, and a low, pained hiss escaped your lips.

You reached back, extending one clawed hand to touch the wound carefully, testing the fragile membrane with a wince. The blood that seeped from the gashes was sluggish and dark, spreading over the broken surface, tainting your once-beautiful wings. Each movement sent a pulse of agony through you, but you couldn't stop.

Dabi's voice broke through your focus, sharp and annoyed as he stepped closer. "What do you think you're doing, dollface? Don't try anything."

You glared at him, teeth bared in a sneer, your frustration bubbling over. "I'm trying to heal my wound, assface," you snapped back, the words dripping with venom, though your voice trembled slightly from the effort of staying upright.

His eyes flashed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you struggle. There was no sympathy, no empathy—only a twisted amusement in his gaze, like he was enjoying the sight of your vulnerability. It made the wound burn even more, the sting of it mingling with the sting of his presence.

"Don't waste your time," he murmured, almost casually. "It won't matter. You'll never fully heal with them around."

The implication hung in the air, like a dark cloud waiting to swallow you whole.

Despite the sharp sting and the searing pain that seemed to radiate through every nerve, you locked eyes with Dabi, and with a quiet snarl, you focused every ounce of your remaining energy. Your wings twitched again, and you pressed your clawed hand gently against the torn membrane, the edges glowing faintly as you used what little of your healing power remained. It wasn't instant—your wings didn't suddenly heal in a flash—but slowly, the edges began to mend, the flow of blood slowing and the tissue knitting itself back together. It wouldn't be perfect, not right away, but it would be enough to keep you standing.

You winced at the effort, the ache lingering, but the worst of it was under control for now.

"Now, can I go home?" you spat, the frustration and pain in your voice evident. "I'm no use to you guys here."

Shigaraki sighed in that way he did when he was tired of dealing with you, but his gaze never wavered. "No, you can't go home," he answered flatly. "And you know that. You're ours now." His voice dropped lower as he spoke again, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "We're done playing games. You'll never get away. Not now."

The cold, bitter reality of his words settled over you like a weight, and you flinched at the finality in his tone. He turned away, walking towards the city's edge, his figure outlined against the pale snow that began to fall, a constant reminder of the world you were trapped in now.

"You belong to us," Shigaraki called over his shoulder, his words cutting through the chill air, "and there's no turning back."

Your heart sank at the truth of it, a heavy, suffocating feeling tightening in your chest. You knew it wasn't just him speaking—he had Spinner and Dabi with him. Kurigiri was still out there, too. The forces aligned against you now were too great to fight alone, and with the city looming in the distance, you realized with painful clarity that escape was no longer an option. There was only one way forward.