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Dust settled in the central plaza like gray snow. In the heart of the settling silence, Void stood as a monolith of contained violence, his green eyes burning with an inner light that seemed to absorb the surrounding chaos rather than reflect it.
Beneath his boots, Aizawa lay broken and still. A dark patch of blood slowly matted the dark hair at his temple; his face pressed against the cold concrete. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow, a fragile rhythm against the backdrop of distant muffled screams and explosions from the scattered zones.
Void's gaze was not on his fallen opponent. Oh no, there was no triumph in his posture, no gloating. The victory was a foregone conclusion, a checked box on a list. His attention was instead locked across the plaza, where Kurogiri's warping mist clashed violently with the swirling vortex of Thirteen's Black Hole. It was a silent, deadly dance; the creation of voids against the erasure of matter.
Void nearly quipped at that in his head. How poetic. The watched the far site motionless, not unlike a predator assessing the flow of a hunt. The scrape of decayed flakes against dry skin announced Shigaraki's approach (Seriously get skin care products). The young master stopped beside him, following his gaze with a twitchy, impatient energy.
"What are you doing?" Shigaraki rasped, the words grating like stone on stone. His fingers flexed, itching to reduce something to dust. "Kurogiri's dealing with that space suit. He doesn't need a babysitter to watch his every move. The students are still scattered out there. Go. Hurt them."
Void didn't turn his head. His voice, when it came, was a low, mechanized hum, filtered and cold.
"Kurogiri is capable."
"Then why are you just standing here?" Shigaraki's irritation spiked, his scratching becoming more frantic. "This is boring. I told you to break things. Not watch things, or is the mission already boring you big guy?"
Void's finally head tilted a fraction of a degree at Shigaraki's statement. The green glow of his eyes intensified as he watched a chunk of rubble get swallowed by Thirteen's quirk, only for Kurogiri to seamlessly reform a moment later.
"I am observing the variables young master." Void stated with his tone devoid of all impatience. It was the calm, logical click of a key turning in a lock. "Kurogiri's function is transport and containment. Thirteen's is eradication. He is neutralizing her…Efficiently."
He paused, the hum of his voice behind the metal mouthguard dropping even lower. "My function is escalation. I will assist… if I see he requires it."
It was not disobedience. It was something far more chilling: pure, unemotional strategy. Void most definitely (obviously) was not waiting for an order…He was waiting for a signal.
_______________
Meanwhile, Near USJ Entrance/Exit…
The air at the entrance of the USJ was thick with the ozone scent of warping space and the vacuum pull of a black hole. Thirteen stood as a bulwark between her six remaining students and the swirling, golden-eyed abyss that was Kurogiri. The warped black mist coiled like oil in water, the faint hum of Kurogiri's singularity filling the training dome. He loomed before Thirteen, her gloved hands glowing faintly with spiraling gravity, her stance squared in stubborn defiance despite the cracks spiderwebbing across her suit. Behind her, Mina, Ochaco, Sato, Sero, Shoji, and Shinso huddled close, their voices a cacophony of panic echoing off the metallic walls.
"Sensei! Don't do this alone!" Mina's voice broke through the tension as her pink skin flushed with fear and determination.
"Stay back!" Thirteen's voice, usually cheerful and mechanical through her helmet's speakers, was strained with a desperate edge. Her gloves were raised, the tips of her fingers open as she fought to contain the villain's mist, sucking it into her own gravitational void before it could envelop the children. "Your safety is my priority! Do not engage!"
The six heroes-in-training could only watch as their teacher struggled, the fabric of her suit groaning under the stress of her quirk. The dome's artificial lights flickered erratically, casting long shadows that danced like specters across the floor. Rubble from earlier skirmishes littered the ground, a testament to the chaos that had already unfolded in the USJ facility.
"We have to do something!" Ochaco cried, her hands balled into fists, her round cheeks (I have a dirty mind T_T…) streaked with sweat. The brunette's Zero Gravity quirk activating unconsciously in her agitation.
"And what?!" Sero shot back, his tape dispensers trembling at his elbows. "Get sucked into nothingness?!"
Thirteen didn't respond, her focus laser-sharp. With a sudden gesture, she fired her Black Hole quirk, the swirling void tearing at the mist and pulling chunks of rubble inward. Kurogiri's body flickered, portions of his gaseous form dragging toward her singularity. The pro hero's voice strained through her helmet speaker. "You won't hurt them while I still stand!"
Gritting her teeth behind the visor, Thirteen poured more power into her quirk. The pull intensified, and for a glorious, heart-lifting moment, it seemed she was winning. Kurogiri's form stretched, his mist thinning as it was violently drawn toward her fingertips, despite his efforts to resist. A low, pained groan emanated from his metallic brace, vibrating through the air like a distant thunder.
"She's doing it!" Mina yelled, a spark of hope igniting in her chest.
The mist wavered, but instead of collapsing, Kurogiri opened a second portal; a massive, pulsing iris of darkness forming behind Thirteen. It wasn't his usual purple-tinged mist; this was a deeper, colder blackness, expanding silently into a perfect, man-sized circle…or perhaps larger, its edges rippling like liquid night.
It was a trap.
Thirteen froze, sensors in her suit screaming warnings. Her helmet's HUD flashed red alerts, the AI voice in her earpiece whispering urgent data about spatial anomalies. "What—?"
A figure stepped out from the swirling darkness.
And from it, Void emerged.
He didn't so much emerge as manifest, as if he'd always been standing there, a shadow given form. His presence seemed to drop the temperature in the dome, a silencing of sound that made the students' breaths catch in their throats. His red veins pulsed faintly under the pale skin of his neck, glowing in time with his eyes; hollow and too bright, locked on the back of Thirteen's helmet. One of his massive hands rose, fingers curling slightly. The air around his fingertips warped, distorting light like heat haze off asphalt on a scorching day.
The students' hope curdled into pure, unadulterated horror. "THIRTEEN-SENSEI, BEHIND YOU!" Shoji's multiple arms shouted in unison, his voice a distorted chorus of panic, his duplicated mouths amplifying the urgency.
Thirteen began to turn at the student's warning, her suit's servos whirring, but it was too late. Void's hand shot forward, aiming not to punch, but to touch. To erase. The air around his palm hummed with repulsive force, a quirk that could shred matter at the molecular level.
Thirteen barely met his strike, her glove flaring as she redirected his force into the ground. The impact made the room quake, tiles fracturing beneath them in a web of cracks that spread like veins. The students screamed, a raw, collective outburst of terror. Unsure whether to flee or fight, they froze in place, their training clashing with instinctual survival (Flight or fight mode…maybe freeze too)
Thirteen's breath hitched as she struggled to keep both Kurogiri and Void at bay, the villains flanking her from opposite sides. Her quirk pulled at the air, creating a vortex that tugged at everyone's clothing. "You—" she gasped, her voice glitching through the speakers.
Void tilted his head, almost curious, almost bored. His second hand twitched, and the air seemed to ripple around it, bending reality. "You're in my way." With a massive curl of his fist, he lunged at the rescue specialist hero, his movements fluid and predatory, like a shark cutting through water.
"GO!" Thirteen roared again, her voice amplified to a boom and laced desperation. "Run!"
But the kids couldn't. They couldn't just watch. Ochaco's hands trembled at her sides, her mind racing through possibilities. Float him? Float herself? Shoji spread his arms protectively, his extra limbs forming a barrier. Shinso's eyes darted like a cornered animal's, his jaw tight, brainwashing quirk itching to be used but held back by fear of failure. Or if there would even be a chance to use it given the circumstances.
Mina clenched her fists, her horns twitching. "We can't just stand here! She'll die!"
They knew that, deep in their bones, and so they acted. It was a decision born not of strategy, but of raw loyalty and the unbreakable bond quickly forged in Class 1-A.
Sero launched tape from his elbows, binding Void's arm to a nearby railing with a sharp thwip (Is that how tapes sound, I just made it up). The adhesive held firm for a moment, yanking the villain off-balance. Following suit, Sato surged forward, his muscles bulging as he chugged a quick sugar packet from his belt, his quirk amplifying his strength. He threw a punch into Void's side, the impact echoing like a drum. Mina slid under his legs on a trail of her own acid, slapping more across the floor to corrode his footing, creating a sizzling, smoking moat that ate at the tiles.
"TAPE!" Sero shouted, lifting his second hand to snag a piece of crumbling architecture, yanking it down to create a makeshift barrier. Ochaco lunged forward, slapping the debris Sero pulled down, making it weightless and sending it floating erratically into Void's path as a distraction, the chunks bobbing like deadly balloons.
Sato, now powered up in full sugar-rush mode, dashed forward and delivered a clean uppercut to Void's chin. "Sugar rush!" he bellowed, his voice strained but triumphant.
It was clumsy, desperate, and born of sheer terror. Their quirks clashed in a symphony of chaos; tape whipping, acid hissing, debris floating, fists pounding. Shoji added his strength, duplicating arms to grapple and pull, while Shinso hung back, waiting for an opening as he himself held Void with his capture weapon.
And it worked. For a fleeting moment, it worked. Void staggered, jerking against the tape. His head twitched as his lethal focus broke for a microsecond, he sidestepped the acid and deflected the floating rubble with a contemptuous swipe of his arm. A low, distorted growl emanated from him, vibrating through the dome. He wasn't annoyed. He was… inconvenienced. The sheer audacity of their interference, their pathetic attempt to fight, seemed to pull his attention away from the pro hero.
"...not bad," The sentient nomu muttered, his voice a mechanical rasp that sent chills down their spines. He didn't even sound winded. But with a slight thunderclap, a gush of harsh air peeled Sero's tape off like paper, scattering acid with a hiss and throwing Sato back into Shoji's waiting arms. "But not good enough."
The kids were losing fast. The villain took a single step toward the students. That one step felt like a death sentence, the ground trembling under his weight. Their makeshift barrier crumbled, debris clattering to the floor.
Amidst the chaos, Sato, panting from the adrenaline crash as his sugar high waned, noticed something odd. He was hearing… footsteps? Light, almost imperceptible, like a whisper on the wind.
"Sato, can you hear me?" A voice called out, faint but familiar.
The muscular teen nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart pounding. It felt like a ghost had walked up to him, but then he remembered—one classmate had a quirk that made her invisible. Sato's head snapped toward the voice. "H-Hagakure? You're here too?!"
Toru Hagakure's trembling voice piped up, her invisible form shimmering slightly in the air from stress (She's damn naked bruh). "If… if I can slip past them—if I can get out. I can warn the others!" Her floating gloves gestured urgently. "I need a distraction, just keep them busy long enough for me to get through that door!"
Everyone hesitated. Void was already advancing again, his green eerie eyes glowing with malice. Kurogiri's mist reformed, swirling protectively around his ally. The massive, reinforced exit door loomed behind them, its hinges heavy but carrying a fleeting hope.
That was when Shinso stepped forward, his face pale but resolved. From his utility belt, he yanked the crude voice modulator attached to his capture scarf; a piece of support gear designed to disguise his voice during hero work. He'd recorded snatches of Kurogiri's voice earlier, a precaution during the initial invasion. He had one shot, and his thumb trembled over the switch.
The air beside the door shimmered as Hagakure worked at the hinges, her invisible hands twisting silently. "I-I need to get out! I need to get help! But I can't get past them, and the door's too heavy!"
Shinso heard her plea. His eyes, wide with fear, darted from the monstrous Void to the misty Kurogiri. An insane plan, born of desperation, flashed in his mind. He sucked in a breath and spoke into the modulator, his voice emerging not as his own, but as a perfect, smooth mimicry of Kurogiri. "Void. What about the other mission?"
This made quip his eyebrows at Kurogiri beside him. "Aren't we already doing i-" Shinso couldn't help but have a shaky grin on his face.
Got him.
The effect was instantaneous.
Void froze mid-step before he could finish his sentence. His body went rigid, the sinister glow of his eyes dimming, clouded over by a vacant, glassy sheen. He was caught in Shinso's brainwashing quirk, amplified by the mimicked command. The tension in the room dropped like a snapped cable.
The heroes didn't waste the slim chance of opportunity they have. "Now, Hagakure! NOW!" Shinso screamed, his own voice returning, raw with strain from the mental exertion.
"Sato, help me!" Hagakure's voice cried out. The sugar-hero didn't hesitate, his muscles bulging once more as he threw his weight against the door, prying it open just enough for a person to slip through. Shoji joined him, his duplicated arms adding leverage. The invisible girl squeezed through the crack and was gone, her footsteps echoing into the hallway beyond like a fading hope.
Kurogiri's form solidified, his yellow eyes narrowing in dawning understanding. "You…!" he intoned, his mist swirling with uncharacteristic fury. He moved to pursue, a portal beginning to form—
"Not so fast!" Sero yelled, launching tape that wrapped around Kurogiri's metallic brace he had managed to target by pure chance, yanking him off balance for a critical second. Mina added acid to the mix, spraying it toward the portal to disrupt its formation.
It was all the delay she needed. Hagakure was away, racing toward the main USJ area to alert All might, Principal Nezdu or anyone who could help.
But their victory was fleeting.
A tremor ran through Void's body. The brainwashing was powerful, but it was a lock on his mind, not his body. And his mind was a fortress built on a foundation of unimaginable pain and rage; experiments, losses, a life twisted by All For One's machinations. Shinso's hold shattered like glass against a diamond.
The vacant look in Void's eyes vanished, replaced by an inferno of pure, incandescent wrath.
"I…" Void said quietly, body shaking from boiling rage.
A memory, sharp and terrible…
straps on a table,
"I…"
A voice in his head that wasn't his,
The agony of losing control,
"I am…"
The grating voice of Garaki as he told him this won't hurt…flashed behind his eyes, triggering a primal fury.
"I am going to kill you!"
Just like that, Void moved faster than any of them could track. He was suddenly in front of Shinso, who was still panting from the mental effort. Void's hand, wreathed in that same light-distorting energy, lunged for the brainwasher's face. It was a killing blow, born of utter rage, the repulsive force coiling like a serpent ready to strike.
Time seemed to slow down as Shinso looked at his upending doom, too slow to move out of the way, too late to react. His life flashed in his eyes faster than his brain could process.
"NO!"
Thirteen shoved Shinso aside with all her strength, throwing herself into the path of Void's strike. Her suit's boosters fired briefly, propelling her forward.
Void's repulsive-force quirk, meant to violently repel and shred matter at a subatomic level, didn't connect with Shinso's skull. It connected…with the center of Thirteen's helmet.
There was no loud impact. Just a terrible, silent pulse of red and black energy that spider-webbed across her suit's visor. Time seemed to stop, the dome holding its breath.
Thirteen's body went rigid. A choked, guttural scream, horribly distorted by her helmet's speakers, tore from her. It was a sound of agony beyond comprehension, echoing like a digital death knell. The pupils of her helmet's visor flickered and died, the HUD shorting out in sparks.
Inside the helmet, an invisible catastrophe unfolded. The repulsive force didn't crush; it expanded. It pushed outwards from the point of contact with unimaginable pressure, turning her head into a pressure cooker of destruction.
The students watched in petrified horror as Thirteen's helmet bulged grotesquely for a split second, strains of red and black energy cracking through the interior.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!! MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STTTTOOOOOOOOPPP!!!!"
A horrible pop echoed, like a balloon bursting underwater. Red splattered inside her visor; chunks of brain matter spraying against the glass as her body twitched and crumpled, steam rising from the edges of her ruined suit.
The kids screamed. Mina fell to her knees, uncontrollable tears burning tracks down her face. Ochaco sobbed uncontrollably, her hands covering her mouth. Shoji covered Shinso's eyes a second too late, his own duplicated ones and his eyes wide with shock. Sero retched, tape dangling limply from his elbows. Sato stood frozen, his sugar rush forgotten.
After the whole ordeal, Void's expression flickered. Rage dimmed, replaced by something rawer; shock, then a deep, weary revulsion. His chest heaved as the memory that triggered his anger clawed its way back into the recesses of his mind. He staggered slightly, dragging his hands over his face, his red veins pulsing erratically.
"...damn it," he whispered, his voice low and shaking, stripped of its mechanical menace. "Not again." He stared at his own hand as if it were a foreign, cursed object. He had not meant to kill her. Not like this.
The brainwashing… it had unearthed something old, a trauma he buried deep. The monster was gone, leaving behind a man haunted by ghosts of his creation.
The students pressed back against the wall, tears streaking their faces, waiting for death. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the scent of ozone now mingled with the metallic tang of blood…
…Instead, Void exhaled heavily, as if the fight had been drained from him. His gaze turned distant, haunted. He raised his hand; not to strike them, but to signal Kurogiri, who had disentangled himself from the tape.
"I still have business," he muttered, his voice flat now, devoid of emotion. "Kurogiri."
Kurogiri didn't question, his mist bowing slightly in acknowledgment. "Of course." Shadows swallowed Void whole, a warp gate swirling to life and snapping shut behind him, warping him away toward his next target, a certain blonde who couldn't even do his job right.
The silence after which left behind was suffocating, louder than any explosion. The students stood frozen, the mangled body of their teacher sprawled across the floor, smoke rising from her ruined suit. Their breaths shook, realization clawing in like icy fingers.
Thirteen was dead.
Actually dead.
A hero had died in their presence; this couldn't be happening. But it was real.
And Void was unstoppable. The USJ invasion had claimed its first pro hero, and the students knew, in that harrowing moment, that their world had changed forever. Hagakure's escape offered a sliver of hope, but as they huddled together, weeping and waiting for rescue, the weight of loss pressed down like the void itself.
________________
Shipwreck Zone
The world had shrunk to a cage of rust, choking saltwater, and the taunting laughter of predators. The sunken ferry was a rotting tomb, half-submerged in the artificial flood zone of the USJ, its once-proud hull now a labyrinth of tilted decks and flooded compartments. Katsuki, Kirishima, and Mineta were the cornered prey, their hero costumes sodden and heavy, clinging to their skin like a second, unwelcome layer. The air was thick with the metallic tang of rust mixed with the briny rot of seaweed and decaying wood, a stench that clawed at the back of their throats with every labored breath.
Katsuki slammed against the slimy, tilted deck, his boots skidding for purchase on the algae-slick surface. Pain shot through his shoulder from the impact, but he bit it down, pushing himself up with a growl that echoed off the rusted walls. His lungs burned from the acrid stench of stagnant water and decay, a foul replacement for the familiar, comforting smell of nitroglycerin and smoke that usually accompanied his explosions. He glared at his palms, pruned and wrinkled from the constant immersion, veins standing out like angry rivers under his pale skin. When he tried to spark an explosion; clenching his fists, willing the sweat to ignite; all he got was a pathetic fizz-pop and a puff of steam that was instantly whipped away by the relentless wind whipping through the dome.
"Goddammit!" he snarled, the curse ripped from his throat raw and furious. It was the tenth time he'd tried. The tenth time he'd failed. His right gauntlet, the one he'd been forced to abandon in his earlier clash with that half-and-half bastard Todoroki, was long gone, and UA were still making a new one for him. But his left… his left was still strapped to his arm. Heavy. Full. A reservoir of potential power that mocked him with its uselessness at a distance. He could feel the condensed sweat sloshing inside it, a tantalizing promise of destruction if only he could get close enough, dry enough. But here, in this watery hell, it was just dead weight.
"Bakugo! Behind you!" Kirishima's voice, strained and uncharacteristically tight, cut through his fury like a knife. There was a hitch in it, a subtle tremor that betrayed the redhead's exhaustion; minutes of non-stop fighting wearing down even his unbreakable spirit.
Katsuki spun on his heel, dropping into a low crouch that made his thighs burn. A villain with webbed hands and sharpened teeth launched himself from the churning water below the railing, his eyes gleaming with predatory glee. He hefted a harpoon gun, aimed point-blank at Katsuki's chest, the tip glistening with some kind of oily venom. Katsuki's instincts screamed to blast the man into the stratosphere, to feel the satisfying recoil of his quirk propelling him backward while the explosion lit up the dome. But his quirk answered with nothing but a damp sputter, a weak spark that fizzled out before it could build.
Thwip!
A glob of sticky purple spheres shot past Katsuki's ear, close enough that he felt the whoosh of air. They splattered across the villain's face and chest with a wet smack, gumming up his eyes and mouth. The man yelped, a gurgling, muffled sound, stumbling back on webbed feet. His weapon fired wild, the harpoon screeching as it embedded itself in the ferry's mast with a thunk, the line quivering like a taut bowstring.
"Hah! Got him!" Mineta squeaked from behind a rusted barrel, his voice a mixture of triumph and sheer terror. He peeked out, his small frame shaking, purple hair plastered to his forehead in wet clumps. "My quirk works! It actually works!" There was a note of disbelief in his words, as if even he couldn't quite process that his often-mocked ability had just turned the tide, even if only for a moment.
"Stop celebratin' and keep firing, you damn grape!" Katsuki roared, his voice hoarse from shouting over the crash of waves and the villains' jeers. He yanked a loose metal pipe from the deck with a grunt, the rusted end scraping against the wood like nails on a chalkboard. He swung it like a club, meeting the charge of another aquatic thug, a woman with gill slits on her neck and fins along her arms. The impact jarred his arms all the way to his shoulders, a brutal, unsatisfying sensation that made his teeth rattle. This wasn't fighting. This was brawling. It was primitive, raw, and humiliating. No explosions, no aerial maneuvers; just sweat, blood, and the sting of saltwater in every cut.
Kirishima was a blur of red motion nearby, his hardening quirk flickering like a bad lightbulb under the fluorescent lights of the USJ dome. Every time a wave splashed over him, crashing against the deck with a foamy roar, his rock-like skin would be heavy prematurely, leaving him vulnerable for precious seconds. A villain with a squid-like tentacle arm lashed out, the slimy appendage wrapping around Kirishima's ankle with a squelch and yanking him off-balance. Kirishima's eyes widened, a flash of genuine fear crossing his usually optimistic face.
"Not… manly…" Kirishima grunted through gritted teeth, slamming onto the deck hard enough to dent the wood. Pain bloomed in his ribs, but he pushed through, driving a hardened elbow down onto the tentacle. It shattered with a crack like breaking bone, inky fluid spraying across the deck. But two more villains were already climbing over the railing, nets dripping with water and crude blades glinting in the dim light. Their laughter echoed, mocking, as if this was just a game to them.
They were being overwhelmed. Slowly, methodically, like piranhas nibbling at a much larger animal. The villains' quirks; water manipulation, enhanced swimming, amphibious adaptations; gave them every fucking advantage in this zone. Katsuki could feel the frustration boiling in his chest, a pressure building without release. His breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum.
The three of them fell back, panting, forming a shaky triangle against the ferry's central cabin. Water lapped at their heels, cold and insistent, seeping into their boots and numbing their toes. They were cornered, the vast expanse of the flood zone stretching out around them like an endless, mocking ocean.
"This is bad… This is really, really bad," Mineta whimpered, tears mixing with the seawater on his cheeks, streaking down in salty rivulets. He was frantically plucking new spheres from his head, his small hands shaking so badly that one slipped and stuck to his own shoe.
"We're gonna die out here! My quirk is useless! All it does is stick people! I can't fight like this!" His voice cracked on the last word, a sob bubbling up from his chest. He wasn't wrong in all honesty.
"SHUT UP!" Katsuki's voice was a whip-crack, but the usual heat was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp edge that betrayed his own creeping desperation. He wiped sweat; or was it water? from his brow, his blond spikes still matted and dripping. "Your shitty quirk just saved my ass, so stop your damn crying and use it!" Deep down, a part of him; a part he'd never admit; empathized with the grape-headed kid. Helplessness sucked. It clawed at your insides; made you question everything.
Are we really going to survive this ordeal?
"But it's not an explosion! It's not unbreakable!" Mineta shot back, his fear morphing into a rare flash of defiance, his eyes wide and glistening. "We're in the middle of an ocean and the two powerhouses can't use their quirks! We're fish in a barrel!" He gestured wildly at the water, where more villains bobbed like sharks, waiting for their moment.
"He's… not entirely wrong, man," Kirishima said, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wiped a trickle of blood from his lip where a punch had landed during his quirk's lapse, the metallic taste lingering on his tongue. His red hair was plastered to his forehead, and there was a bruise blooming on his cheek, purple against his tanned skin.
"This is their playing field, not ours. We're fighting with one arm tied behind our backs. We need a plan. A real one." Kirishima's voice held a steadiness, but his eyes darted nervously to the waves, where shadows moved just beneath the surface.
Katsuki's jaw clenched so hard it ached, muscles bunching under his skin. He hated it. He hated every second of this. The helplessness was a physical pain, worse than any punch, twisting in his gut like a knife. He was Bakugo Katsuki. He was going to be the number one hero, the one who never backed down, who blasted through every obstacle. And here he was, trapped on a rotting boat, being hunted by bottom-feeding scum, utterly and completely neutered. His mind raced, memories flashing; his mom's tough love, All Might's distant shadow, the drive that pushed him through every training session. Giving up wasn't an option. It never was.
His eyes scanned their surroundings, the strategist's mind he always denied having whirring under the panic and rage. The ferry was a tomb, half-submerged, its corridors echoing with the drip-drip of leaking water. The villains were everywhere, in the water, on the decks, in the shadows of the superstructure. They were outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and out-quirked for this environment. But strategy wasn't about power; it was about turning weakness into a weapon.
His gaze fell on his left gauntlet, the massive, grenade-like device still sealed, its surface beaded with water. Still full. A thought, dangerous and insane, began to form, piecing together like fragments of a shattered mirror. He could feel the weight of it, the potential humming beneath the metal.
"Tch. So what?" Katsuki finally spat, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the tension. He wasn't looking at them; he was staring at the waterline lapping at a cracked porthole below deck, the glass spiderwebbed from years of neglect. "You gonna give up? Sit here and wait for All Might to come save your sorry asses?" The words were harsh, but there was an undercurrent of challenge, a spark meant to ignite their resolve.
"No! But what can we do?!" Kirishima yelled, his hardening flaring up just in time to block a thrown knife that whistled through the air. It clattered off his skin with a ping, embedding in the cabin wall. "We can't fight them all head-on!" His voice held frustration, but also trust…trust in Bakugo's unyielding drive.
"Then we don't fight them!" Katsuki snapped, the plan crystallizing with terrifying clarity in his mind. He pointed a trembling, water-wrinkled finger first toward the stern, at a lone, rusted lifeboat hanging precariously from davits, its paint peeling like old skin. Then, he pointed down. At the flooded hull of the ship, where water gurgled ominously through breaches. "We're gonna sink this piece of shit."
Silence fell, heavy and stunned. Even the villains seemed to pause for a second, their laughter dying in the wind. The waves crashed against the hull, a rhythmic reminder of their peril.
"...You wanna do WHAT?!" Mineta shrieked, his voice hitting an octave only dogs could hear, his eyes bulging in disbelief. "We're already sinking!" He clutched his head, spheres jolting involuntarily from the stress.
"Not like this," Katsuki growled, his eyes alight with a feral, desperate fire that made him look almost unhinged. He tapped his gauntlet with a metallic clink. "This is packed with enough juice to blow a hole in a building. We set it off in the hull, below the waterline. This rustbucket will capsize faster than you can piss your pants." He could picture it; the explosion ripping through the weakened structure, water rushing in like a vengeful flood.
"But—but we're ON it!" Kirishima said, though a spark of understanding was dawning in his eyes, mixing with awe and terror. His mind raced ahead, seeing the risks: drowning, debris, the villains turning on them mid-plan.
"The lifeboat, shitty hair!" Katsuki jabbed his finger toward it again, impatience sharpening his tone. "That's phase one. We secure our way out. Phase two…" His grin was all teeth, no joy, a predator backed into a corner, baring fangs. "...We give these fish-faced freaks a shipwreck of their own."
He looked at Mineta, locking eyes with the smaller boy. "That's where you come in, Grape Juice. You're not just making a path. You're making a trap. You cover this side of the ship's hull, right at the waterline, with as many of your sticky balls as you can. Make it a giant goddamn flytrap." His words were direct, almost complimentary in their necessity, acknowledging Mineta's role without fluff.
Understanding dawned on Kirishima's face, followed by a wave of awe and terror that made his stomach twist. "When the ship rolls over… it'll fall on them… and they'll be stuck to it. Trapped underwater." He imagined the scene—the massive hull slamming down, villains glued like insects on flypaper, struggling futilely.
"They'll be too busy trying to get unstuck to come after us," Katsuki finished, his voice grim, laced with the cold calculation of survival. "It's a ditch plan. A distraction big enough to let us get the hell out of here." He knew the risks, timing it wrong could drown them all, or the explosion could backfire. But inaction meant death.
"It's… it's crazy," Mineta whispered, his voice trembling, but there was a flicker of something new in his eyes. Pride? Resolve? He isn't too sure.
"It's the only shot we've got," Kirishima said, his own determination hardening like his quirk. The plan was insanely dangerous. It relied on perfect timing, on the villains being stupid enough to stay close, on the ship capsizing in just the right way. But it was a plan. It was action. And in that moment, it was just three kids, scared out of their minds, banding together against impossible odds. "I'm in. What's my part?"
"You're the damn shield," Katsuki said, mapping it out with quick gestures. "You get Grape to the waterline so he can glue up the hull. You cover us while I plant the bomb. And you get that lifeboat ready to launch."
He looked at both of them, his red eyes burning with intensity, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill. "This only works if we do it together. No fuck-ups. You got that?" It was as close to a pep talk as Bakugo got, a raw admission that he needed them.
Mineta looked like he was going to be sick, his face paling, but he nodded frantically, swallowing hard. Kirishima slammed a hardened fist into his palm with a crack. "Let's do it. We make it out of this, it'll be the manliest story ever." His grin was forced, but genuine, a beacon in the storm.
"On my mark," Katsuki growled, his body coiling like a spring, muscles tense and ready. "Grape, Hardhead, you first. Get to the side and start gluing. I'll draw their fire."
"Bakugo, wait—" Kirishima started, concern flashing across his face, but it was too late.
With a wordless roar of pure, undiluted fury that tore from his chest like a battle cry, Katsuki Bakugo launched himself away from the lifeboat, directly into the largest group of villains clustered on the port side.
He wasn't using his quirk (Can't even use it properly in the first place). He was a whirlwind of pure, savage brawling, every movement fueled by rage and adrenaline. The pipe became an extension of his fury, cracking against jaws and knees with bone-jarring thuds. He fought dirty, using elbows that connected with soft throats, knees that drove into groins (Ouch), headbutts that split skin and drew blood; his own and theirs. He kicked men into the water with splashes, screaming insults to draw every ounce of attention onto himself, his voice echoing like thunder.
"IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?! YOU THINK THIS IS ENOUGH TO TAKE ME DOWN?! COME ON! I'M RIGHT HERE, YOU WEAK-ASSED PIECES OF TRASH!" Spittle flew from his lips, his eyes wild, heart hammering. Pain lanced through his side from a glancing blow, but he ignored it, channeling it into fuel.
It was a symphony of chaos. And it worked. The villains, enraged and overconfident, swarmed the explosive, shrieking blonde, taking the bait completely. Their focus shifted, leaving the starboard side vulnerable.
As the horde descended on Katsuki, Kirishima grabbed a terrified Mineta by the collar, his grip firm but reassuring. "NOW!"
Mineta began hurling handfuls of his sticky spheres onto the deck between them and the starboard railing. They landed with wet plops, creating a glistening path that shimmered under the lights. Kirishima, with a hardened arm, swept aside a confused villain who stumbled into the sticky trap, yelping as he was glued fast to the deck, struggling futilely.
They moved, a desperate, scrambling caravan through the fray. Mineta laid down the path, spheres popping off his head in rapid succession, his scalp aching from the overuse. Kirishima cleared the way, his quirk flickering like a strobe light with every wave that crashed over the deck, soaking them anew. Water stung their eyes, salt burning cuts. They reached the railing, the cold metal biting into their palms. The water below was teeming with villains treading water, their faces twisted in confusion and malice, waiting for their chance to climb up.
"This is as close as we get!" Kirishima yelled over the din of shouts and crashing waves. "Do it!"
Mineta leaned over the railing, his face pale, stomach churning from the height and fear. With a series of frantic throws, he began pelting the ship's hull just above the waterline with his purple spheres. They stuck fast with satisfying thuds, creating a growing, grotesque patch of sticky fruit that bobbed in the water, expanding like a cancerous growth. Villains in the water shouted in bewilderment, some swimming closer to investigate.
Meanwhile, Katsuki fought like a demon, but he was being pushed back, overwhelmed. A gaff hook grazed his arm, tearing his costume and drawing a line of red that burned like fire. Blood mixed with water, dripping down his elbow. He barely felt it, his mind focused on buying time. "HARDHEAD! STATUS!" he bellowed, ducking under a swing from a brutish villain with coral-like skin, the air whistling past his ear.
"ALMOST DONE!" Kirishima shouted back, using his full strength to hold two villains at bay while Mineta finished his work, his arms straining, sweat pouring.
"THE BOAT! GET THE DAMN BOAT READY!" The ash blonde yelled.
Kirishima disengaged with a grunt, leaving Mineta to add a few final spheres, and scrambled toward the stern davits. His boots slipped on the wet deck, but he caught himself, starting to crank the old mechanism. It screamed in protest, rust flaking off like dandruff, the lifeboat creaking as it swung out over the water.
Katsuki saw his opening amid the melee. He disengaged from the main group, a feint that made them think he was fleeing toward his friends. Instead, he veered sharply, heading for a half-open hatch that led down into the ship's interior. His lungs burned, legs heavy from fatigue.
"He's running!" a villain shouted, voice triumphant believing the kid is scared out of his bravado.
"Get him!"
They followed, just as he'd hoped, their footsteps thundering behind him. He plunged into the darkness below deck, the shouts of his pursuers echoing in the confined space. The lower level was a nightmare of knee-deep, oily water that sloshed around his calves, twisted metal scraping his legs, and an eerie silence broken only by the groaning of the dying ship and the distant drip of leaks. The air was thicker here, stale and heavy with the scent of mildew and fuel. Perfect for what he had in mind.
He sloshed forward, finding a central bulkhead that looked structurally weak, rusted through in spots, buckling under pressure. This was it. He unclasped the heavy gauntlet from his arm with trembling fingers, the straps sticking from the dampness. For a moment, he just held it, feeling the weight of the condensed power within, the sweat he'd poured into it during training. His entire fighting style was in this thing, mobility, power, dominance. And he was about to use it as a buried bomb, sacrificing it for survival.
He wedged it deep into a crevice in the metal, angling it toward the ship's outer hull. He took a deep breath, the cold water rising to his thighs now. This was it. No going back. Doubt flickered; would it work? Would he make it out?
CRASH.
The coral-skinned villain and two others burst into the corridor behind him, water splashing in their wake.
"Nowhere to run now, little hero!" the leader sneered, his voice echoing off the walls, fins flaring.
Katsuki didn't even turn. Instead a feral grin split his face, adrenaline surging within his blood. "Who's running?" He let a spark fly from his palm. Not a big one. Just enough—a tiny, defiant pop in the gloom.
The spark hit the gauntlet's ignition mechanism. Then a deafening, world-ending BOOM tore through the ship, the explosion reverberating through the hull like a thunderclap. The force lifted Katsuki off his feet and threw him backward into the pursuing villains, his ears ringing, vision blurring from the shockwave. The entire place seemed to shudder, metal screaming as it tore. The gauntlet vaporized in a flash of heat and light, and freezing cold water erupted into the corridor like a tidal wave from a breached dam, roaring in with unstoppable force. The shockwave ripped through the lower decks, and with a groan of tortured metal that vibrated through their bones, the ship began to list violently to starboard.
Up on deck, all hell broke loose. The deck tilted at a sickening angle, gravity shifting as if the world had gone mad. Villains screamed, losing their footing and sliding across the now-vertical deck toward the churning water, limbs flailing. The ones already in the water, who had been watching Mineta's strange actions with confusion, now looked up in horror as the massive, multi-ton hull of the ferry began to roll directly onto them, casting a shadow like an eclipse.
"IT'S WORKING! IT'S ACTUALLY WORKING!" Mineta screamed, clinging to the railing for dear life as the ship tilted, his knuckles white, heart in his throat.
Kirishima, his feet planted firmly in a hardened stance that cracked the deck beneath him, finished cranking the lifeboat. It swung out over the water, bobbing wildly. "BAKUGO! NOW! NOW!" His voice cracked with urgency, fear for his friend gripping him.
Below, in the flooding corridor, Katsuki fought his way to the surface, gasping for air amidst the pouring water and oil that burned his eyes. The villains who had been chasing him were gone, washed away or stunned, their cries drowned out. He swam for the hatch, muscles screaming, pulling himself up onto the now steeply angled deck just as the ship reached its tipping point. His fingers slipped on the wet metal, but he dug in, hauling himself over the edge.
The sight was surreal, a nightmare come to life. The starboard side of the ship was rising out of the water, covered in Mineta's purple spheres that glistened like deadly jewels. And as it rolled, it came down like the hand of God on the villains in the water. They had seconds to react, faces contorting in panic. Some tried to dive, bubbles erupting, but it was too late. The sticky hull smacked down onto the surface with a colossal splash, waves radiating out. When the water surged back, a dozen villains were trapped, glued to the side of the capsizing ship, their upper bodies above water but their legs and torsos pinned by the immense weight and unbreakable stickiness. They screamed and flailed, arms thrashing, faces red with effort and terror; completely neutralized, their quirks useless in their predicament.
The distraction was total, chaos reigning as the remaining villains scrambled, shouts of confusion filling the air.
"BAKUGO! JUMP!" Kirishima roared from the lifeboat, which was now bouncing on the waves created by the sinking ship, oars at the ready.
Katsuki didn't need telling twice. He took a running start down the steep deck, feet pounding, and launched himself into the air, the wind whipping past him. He cleared the churning water where the remaining, free-swimming villains were too stunned to intervene, their eyes wide at the spectacle. He landed hard in the lifeboat with a thud that rocked it violently, pain shooting through his knees.
Kirishima immediately began pulling at the oars with powerful strokes, putting distance between them and the dying ferry. The wood creaked under his grip, water splashing with each pull.
The three of them sat there, panting, soaked, and bleeding, watching as the USS Disaster; Kirishima's nickname for the ferry in his mind; finished its roll onto its side, settling in the water with a final, mournful groan that echoed across the zone. The trapped villains were still screaming, stuck fast to the exposed hull, their struggles growing weaker as fatigue set in.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing, the lap of waves against their small boat, and the distant hum of the USJ's systems. Adrenaline ebbed, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Katsuki's arm throbbed where the hook had grazed him, blood seeping through the tear. Kirishima's hands shook on the oars, bruises forming. Mineta huddled in the bow, knees drawn up, staring wide-eyed.
Mineta was the first to break the silence. He stared at the scene of catastrophic chaos they had just engineered, the ship listing like a beached whale. Then he looked at his own hands, still sticky from overuse. "My… my quirk…" His voice was soft, wondrous, a far cry from his earlier panic. For the first time, he saw it not as a joke, but as a tool…a lifesaver.
Katsuki slumped against the side of the boat, exhaustion finally claiming him, his body heavy as lead. He looked at the ruined ship, at their handiwork. It wasn't a clean victory. It was messy, destructive, and desperate; scars on the water, villains neutralized but not defeated. But it was a victory, born of necessity and teamwork he'd never asked for but couldn't deny. He glanced at Mineta, then at Kirishima, who was grinning like a madman despite the circumstances, teeth flashing white.
"Tch," Katsuki said, a single, tired sound that held a universe of meaning; grudging respect, relief, a hint of camaraderie. "Don't get a big head about it." But as he turned to look at the vast USJ dome stretching above them, his expression sobered, the weight of the larger invasion pressing down. The real fight was still going on, classmates scattered, their two teachers battling. And they were adrift in the middle of it, three survivors in a tiny boat, bound by the ordeal they'd just endured. But they were alive. And that, was a start. It can't get any worse from here….
…Right?
_________________
Elsewhere…
Silence. Not a peaceful silence, but the absolute, suffocating void of it. There was no light, no sound, no sensation of up or down. Yuga Aoyama floated, or perhaps he was falling; it was impossible to tell, in an endless, starless midnight.
This was Kurogiri's "mercy." A pocket dimension within his warping gates, a timeless cell designed to keep the traitor out of the way, to ensure he wasn't accidentally caught in the chaos he had helped unleash. The irony was a bitter pill that choked him. He had provided the key to this invasion, and his reward was to be locked in a drawer until the cost was clear…Or be disposed of.
Each second; if seconds even existed here; stretched into an eternity of dread. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, the only sound in the infinite quiet. His mind, his cruelest tormentor, replayed his failures on a loop.
All Might was supposed to be here.
The plan was perfect. The intel was flawless. He had done everything right, everything he had demanded. So why had the Symbol of Peace not appeared? The cold, glowing eyes of Void flashed in his memory, that silent, accusatory glance in the plaza. It hadn't been a question. It had been a promise of retribution.
A sob hitched in his chest, but it made no sound in the vacuum. Would they kill him? Would they make it quick? Or would that man decide his quirk was still too valuable to waste and subject him to something far worse than death? A punishment that would make his current stomach aches feel like a gentle massage. He hugged himself, his costume's belt digging into his ribs, a mockery of its intended sparkle.
He was a prisoner of his own making, trapped in a gilded cage of his own design, and the door was about to be opened by his worst nightmare.
A pinprick of wrongness tore through the void.
It wasn't light. It was a distortion, a tear in the fabric of his nothingness. Before Aoyama could even process it, a gloved hand shot through the rift, fingers like iron vices clamping around his forearm.
He had no time to scream.
He was yanked.
The world dissolved into a nauseating vortex of swirling grays and purples. There was a sensation of being pulled apart and mashed back together, all in the span of a single, terrifying heartbeat. Then, the world slammed back into existence with brutal force.
He was thrown. His body crumpled against a crumbling brick wall, the impact knocking the air from his lungs in a pained gasp. Dust and debris rained down around him. He sputtered, pushing himself up on trembling arms, his vision swimming.
He was in a city street, but one that had been shattered to rubbles. Broken buildings reached for a fake sky like skeletal fingers. The Ruins Zone.
And standing over him, blotting out the light, was Void.
The villain's green eyes burned with a cold, contained fury that was infinitely more terrifying than any shouted threat. His presence sucked the warmth from the air. He didn't move, didn't speak for a long, agonizing moment, simply letting the weight of his gaze press down on Aoyama, crushing him more effectively than any physical blow.
Aoyama's breath hitched. This was it. This was his punishment.
When Void finally spoke, his voice was a low, mechanized hum, devoid of its usual flat calm. It was laced with something darker, something impatient and deadly.
"The information," Void hissed, the words slicing through the dusty air. "It was specific. It was guaranteed."
He took one step forward. Aoyama flinched back, his spine pressed subconsciously into the rough brick.
"Why. Isn't. He. Here?"
The question wasn't a request. It was a demand for an answer Aoyama didn't have, delivered with the implicit threat of unimaginable consequences for failure. The fear was paralyzing, a cold wave that turned his limbs to lead and his blood to ice. He had never felt so small, so utterly helpless.
Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the monstrous figure before him. His voice, when he found it, was a shattered, pathetic whisper.
"I… I do not know… I swear… I gave you everything…"
"Oh really?" Void's glowing green eyes narrowed, his fist clenched as a familiar red and black stripes of power surged in his right hand. Dread poured into Aoyama's very soul, recognizing the quirk Void was subtly releasing.
"Then I hope you have a good explanation for all this… before you end up like the rubble we're standing on."
Chapter 17-18 + Off screen Fight scene between Void and Aizawa already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.