Chapter Text
Chapter 48 — Crescendo
.
.
.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Izuku couldn’t move.
His bones were frozen to the marrow as the winter winds cut into him. Yet somehow the cold couldn’t compare to the frigidness of Tomura’s stare. His brother’s eyes were icier than any storm. And the longer Tomura glared, the more Izuku’s skin iced over as if it was frostbitten.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Katsuki’s grip tightened protectively.
Tomura shifted. He swung his bloody machete over his shoulder and tilted his chin up calmly. But his composure was broken. His lip was curled. His cheek twitched. And his eyes were bloodshot, with red veins spiderwebbing across every inch.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The clock progressed steadily, every second counting down to doom.
Izuku’s breath stuttered in his chest, shattering the silence. “H-How did you—”
“Before the wedding,” Tomura coldly explained. “I slipped it out of your pocket when I hugged you. And then I just followed the trail of hundreds of poisoned corpses and your blood all the way here.” He tapped the spot on his arm that mirrored Izuku’s gunshot wound. “You really should’ve wrapped that up.”
Izuku’s gaze dropped, and there it was—his own betrayal written in red.
Bright droplets of crimson littered the floor, trickling like breadcrumbs. His hand flew to his arm, gripping uselessly over the wound. He suddenly felt small.
Tomura stepped forward.
Katsuki pulled them back.
Tomura dryly scoffed, lips contorting into a cruel sneer.
“You know,” he taunted. “I mistook this vial for venom. I thought you were going to shoot this up and kill yourself after the ceremony. Because, did you really think, as the one in charge of looking after you, I wouldn’t check your room when I noticed how off you were acting?”
Izuku cautiously eyed the vial. “Tomura—”
“—I saw that goddamn snake,” Tomura spat, talking straight over Izuku.
He pushed forward menacingly, and malice eclipsed his eyes with every step he took.
Katsuki and Izuku backed up steadily.
“I thought for certain you had hit rock bottom and that this—” He lifted the vial. “—Was mamushi venom. I saw it in your hand in the hallway. I figured I was stopping you from doing something stupid—like always. I even prepared for you to use this on yourself and talked to the Chisakis about putting you on suicide watch. But I see I had it all wrong.”
He studied Izuku with disdain.
“I would’ve never guessed you were plotting to take everyone down with you—” Tomura dug into Izuku, the bitter winds howling with his words. “But you did it. They’re all dead, you know. The Chisakis. The Governor. Half of the Yakuza and all the Vipers. One died in my fucking arms.”
He gestured to his clothes, which were drenched in blood.
“If I had known you poisoned him with mamushi venom, I could have saved him with the antidote. But instead, I was left confused at what the fuck was happening. He coughed up so much damn fluid I don’t think he had any left when he finally went.”
Izuku’s stomach knotted, twisting tighter with every breath.
“No response?” Tomura huffed a dry, unsettling laugh. “Of course not. You don’t care. You only care about him. And because of your sickly infatuation, you have, in one fell swoop, destroyed our entire lives—and betrayed me more than I could have ever imagined.”
“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Izuku countered, finding his voice. “If you had just let me go, none of this would have happened.”
“You’re so fucking stupid, Izuku,” Tomura exasperated as if he was talking to a child. “As long as you were attached to someone who slaughtered five members of the goddamn Chisaki family, you would’ve never gotten far.”
Izuku opened his mouth to retort—but instead he coughed. A small bit of blood came up, making both his and Katsuki’s eyes widen.
Tomura tilted his head, eyes narrowing in on the red drip coming from Izuku’s lips.
He held up the vial. “You need this soon, don’t you?”
“Just give him the fucking antidote,” Katsuki snapped. “I know you don’t want to see him die.”
“You have no idea what I want,” Tomura venomously whispered. His wintry gaze sliced to Katsuki, filled with a terrifying amount of hostility. “Especially now that I know my own brother tried to kill me.”
Izuku stiffened.
Tomura’s eyes darkened with unfiltered animosity.
“It was the cake, right?” Tomura asked. “Because I was the only Viper who didn’t eat it.” Another dry laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? To think, simply not liking matcha is what spared me from your goddamn treachery. All I’ve done to keep you alive—and that is how you were ready to repay me.”
Tomura stepped forward into the stain glass’ glow. Shards of red and violet littered across his pale skin, painting him like some desecrated saint.
Izuku and Katsuki edged back.
But Izuku’s legs rattled. His adrenaline was flooding what strength he had left. Something was building. He could feel the intense pressure weighing down, and he knew when it broke loose it would be nothing short of monstrous.
Tomura’s face distorted, snapping under the weight of his indignation. His features folded as hurt tore through, only to be carved over a heartbeat later by contempt.
“You have taken everything I have worked for,” Tomura accused, voice fraying. “Just to be with him.”
“No,” Izuku said, tone steadier than he felt. “I did what I did because this has to stop, Tomura. The children, the poison, the endless killings—the cycle had to be broken.”
“Broken?” Tomura parroted unkindly. “I would gladly kill a hundred children again if that’s what it took, Izuku. I clawed my way up that ladder of corpses so we wouldn’t be devoured at the bottom of it. And I will never apologize for that.”
“But now it’s gone,” Izuku shot back. “M-Maybe now…you don’t have to do that. You can live your life without all the death.”
“You still don’t get it. I think the cycle is good. Humans are not kind creatures made of fucking love or whatever else you have convinced yourself. Humans deserve death. Every single person. I put myself at the top for two reasons: survival, but the other was because I enjoy killing. I was only envious of Nine because he got to determine who to kill.”
Izuku stared in horror.
Tomura truly believed everything they were taught.
“And if I get the chance, I will rebuild that cycle,” Tomura promised viciously. “Do you think I was assisting One for the hell of it? No. I wanted to help him perfect it.”
Izuku’s eyes flicked back and forth between Tomura, the clock and the vial.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“And now, I realize my mistakes,” Tomura continued. “Every time I let you keep a shred of naivety—I should have crushed it. But my worst mistake was not killing this mutt the moment I found he had his claws in you.”
His glare plunged subzero, colder than the lowest circle of hell. All the grief and fury he was feeling tangled together in his expression, as if hating Katsuki was the only way he could keep from breaking apart.
With a sharp inhale, Tomura fortified himself. His composure snapped back into place like a lock sealing shut.
“Izuku. If you want this anti-venom—he’s going to have to die,” Tomura declared with finality. “Because there’s not a goddamn chance in hell I’m letting you go with him after what you’ve done.”
“And then what, Tomura?” Izuku hissed, readying himself.
“And then I figure it out, like I always do. I’ll hand his head over to the Yakuza for murdering Chisaki as penance, and then you—maybe I’ll carve up that face of yours now that it’s no use to me anymore. Or maybe—maybe I’ll sell you again to the highest fucking bidder so we can get enough leverage to start over.”
Katsuki gritted his teeth and yanked Izuku behind him. “None of those things are going to happen you sick bastard.”
“Make your choice Izuku,” Tomura said, ignoring Katsuki. “The antidote or him.”
“You know I’m not going to make that decision,” Izuku replied.
Tomura pocketed the anti-venom into his pants. With a deadly, steady hand, he reached back and grabbed his second machete from its holster. It gleamed under the moonlight, and all of Izuku’s instincts snapped into place.
Katsuki straightened and grabbed his gun.
“If this is the way you want it, then fine,” Tomura spat. “I’ll make the right choice for you. Like I always do.”
Tomura struck—so fast he was invisible until impact.
Izuku barely registered the blur before he was hurled sideways, ribs screaming as he hit the ground. Katsuki tried to swiftly backslide—but was too slow. Tomura swung his machetes down in two lethal arcs, slicing straight into Katsuki’s arm.
“Shit!” Katsuki screamed, blood streaming hot down his sleeve.
He stepped back and quickly drew his gun. But Tomura was on him, far faster than Katsuki ever could be.
Izuku choked, stomach cramping as the poison stirred. When his focus re-stabilized, his heart sank. Tomura and Katsuki were clashing in a vicious struggle—and Tomura was going all out. He was aiming to kill Katsuki for real this time.
Izuku forced himself upright and sprinted forward. He tried to go low, and aim for Tomura’s legs—but Tomura’s reflexes were sharp. His brother pivoted, and his knee drove into Izuku’s ribs like a battering ram, the crack audible. Air left Izuku in a broken gasp, blood splattering from his lips as he skidded across the ground.
Katsuki raised his gun and took the shot—but Tomura bent sharply. The bullet grazed past his shoulder, and in an instant he swung at Katsuki again. But Katsuki was ready this time and dodged by a thin hair.
“Come on, bastard,” Katsuki growled, teeth showing. “Try me!”
Tomura didn’t respond. Instead, he devoured the distance, machetes glowing like two streaks of moonlight.
The two titans collided head-on, matched in strength. Katsuki caught each strike with crossed pistols, every clash sent a numbing jolt up his arms, but Tomura’s speed didn’t break—it built. In response, Katsuki fired point-blank, trying to blow Tomura’s head straight off. The recoil cracked like thunder between them as they stormed around each other in a blizzard of steel and bullets.
In the midst, Izuku was struggling to stand up. Every time he did, he fell. The poison was gripping his ankles, dragging him further into the grave with every second that slipped away. He watched with terror twisting inside him as the two kept going.
For a breath, Katsuki held the advantage. He whipped the pistol across Tomura’s jaw, once, twice and then thrice. The sickening crunch reverberated through the room.
“Die already!” Katsuki yelled, each blow punctuated with unbridled rage.
But Tomura absorbed it, his head snapped back only to return with that terrible, unflinching snarl—as if pain didn’t affect him at all.
Blood ran from his split lip and he sneered, “Is that all?”
Tomura’s elbow whipped up into Katsuki’s jaw, rattling his skull. A blink later, a brutal head butt split the space between them. The sound of bone smashing against bone cracked loudly, and Katsuki violently stumbled.
Tomura jeered, “Just as weak as your addict of a mother.”
Izuku saw Katsuki stagger, dazed and open. And then his brother took a stance—to kill.
Adrenaline bolted past the poison inside of Izuku. He forced his battered body to move, wooden shoes pounding across the floor. He stopped the next machete swing in time by slamming his shoulder into Tomura’s side.
For the first time, Tomura faltered. Izuku had matched his speed.
But speed alone wasn’t enough. His brother recouped in record time and dropped his elbow straight into Izuku’s gut. But this round, Izuku steeled himself. He braced his body and absorbed the hit—exactly how Tomura taught him too.
In those seconds, Katsuki came back to himself, teeth bared.
The tides turned, and it was two against one.
Izuku barreled into the storm, forcing his body to comply even as his lungs disagreed. He spun in with a flurry of aerial kicks. Each one was sharp and merciless.
Tomura met him with ease. He ducked low, letting each strike whistle past by the breadth of a hair. And his arms flowed up to block while his face remained entirely unfazed. He shifted with ghostlike precision, all while managing to hit Katsuki with relentless blows even as he warded off Izuku.
Katsuki did his best to block and returned fire. With every opening Izuku could give him, he landed a thunderclap like blow behind Izuku’s lightning speed.
In perfect unison, they matched Tomura’s inhuman strength and speed. But Izuku could see it in Katsuki’s face, he’d never seen anyone fight like this before. Tomura was the top Viper for a reason—and Izuku knew they weren’t going to be enough to take him down.
For a moment, his eyes slid to the side. His heart crashed against his ribs as he looked at the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Quickly, desperation took a hold of him. They needed to knock Tomura out. Now. He feinted low, pivoted high, and finally landed a clean blow—a kick that cracked against Tomura’s jaw with a snap like breaking wood. Tomura faltered a single step, teeth clenched.
For a heartbeat, Izuku’s chest filled with hope.
Then Tomura’s hand shot out with bone-snapping speed. He seized Izuku’s next kick mid-spin, stealing the momentum from him in an instant. With one brutal twist, Tomura hurled him across the room. Izuku’s body slammed into a wooden pew with a nauseating crack. The bench split apart under the force, and he crumpled into the wreckage, gasping as fire ripped through his body.
Blood spattered from his lips and his stomach heaved. He gasped with one arm clutching himself as though he could hold his insides together.
Katsuki’s jaw clenched at the sight, but there was no time to breathe. The pressure on him thickened, and Tomura’s darkness blotted out the world. A fist came in like a sledgehammer, striking Katsuki square in the chest. The impact pushed him back. His boots skidded against the floor and air ripped from his lungs.
“The longer you fight me, the faster he dies,” Tomura said coldly. “You might as well let me cut your goddamn throat now.”
“Shut up!” Katsuki screamed. “Just shut the hell up already!”
He met Tomura head-on with no hesitation. The world narrowed to the brutal rhythm of gunfire yet again as Izuku struggled to lift himself back into battle. He wheezed and a wave of nausea brought him down.
More red spilled from his lips—more than before.
From the wooden wreckage, Izuku watched yet again as the church rang with the deafening thunder of countless gunshots.
Bullets tore everywhere. They splintered the wood as they tore through walls and shattered pews. Muzzle flashes lit the hollow sanctuary in quick, violent bursts. Katsuki burned through all his magazines in seconds, and when the final click echoed, silence pressed in like a suffocating hand.
Neither waited.
Katsuki ran forward, knife flashing into his grip as he drove in. He fought like a tsunami unleashed, raw strength and sharpened brutality colliding with Tomura’s frightening ruthlessness.
An opening flared—small, fleeting, but enough. Katsuki seized it. His knife tore across Tomura’s ribs, the edge sliced deep, and his fists followed with bone-cracking force. The sound of Tomura’s ribs snapping echoed, a thunderous crack that filled Katsuki’s chest with savage satisfaction.
But Tomura didn’t flinch—he struck back.
A machete swung up in a merciless swing, the blade hissing past Katsuki’s guard. It carved across his temple, shallow but searing, and blood sprayed warm down Katsuki’s face.
Snarling, Katsuki shifted. His eyes cut sharp to Tomura’s pocket—and Izuku followed the line of vision.
There, the vial glinted faintly beneath the moonlight.
Izuku’s heart stopped. Katsuki’s face contorted, and he sprung with a new purpose.
He wove past Tomura’s strikes, but only barely. He took hit after hit until his body was covered in gashes. Soon, his movements turned deliberate, each strike barreling towards Tomura’s body but angled as if he was circling him. Tomura kept up, but his face twisted in confusion when it became clear Katsuki was no longer aiming to kill.
When he realized what Katsuki was doing, it was a split second late. Katsuki rounded him—and got a full opening for Tomura’s pocket.
Quickly, Katsuki’s hand shot out. His fingers closed around the vial and snatched it.
Izuku’s chest surged with wild hope.
Katsuki tore away, sprinting toward him, blood streaking his face but eyes locked on Izuku. The vial was in his hand, and for the first time Izuku felt the weight lifting. He told his body to move and suddenly he was on his feet, running towards Katsuki.
But then Tomura was there.
He appeared in Katsuki’s path like smoke solidifying into flesh, faster than sight and crueler than gravity. He unleashed a cruel, precise kick, and his boot slammed into Katsuki’s chest, sending him flying backwards.
The vial flew.
It spun in the air, slow and helpless. The entire world narrowed to that fragile fall of glass.
Izuku ran and reached for it. His hand clawed out though he was too far. Katsuki rebalanced quickly. He sprinted and reached out, bloodied fingers stretching. But Tomura moved like he owned the moment. His hand snapped up with inhuman grace.
The vial fell into his fist, as if inevitable.
Izuku’s stomach dropped into a pit of ice.
Katsuki, with blood running into his eye, ran back for the vial with a roar. Izuku did as well. They met gazes, and understanding passed between them without words: get the vial.
They began a full scale assault.
Where Izuku hit quickly and precisely, Katsuki was all brute force, each blow they landed inched Tomura step by step towards the altar. Izuku became Katsuki’s shadow, darting in and out. His kicks landed with error-free precision as he blocked the blows Katsuki couldn’t. And Katsuki became his echo, landing strikes of strength Izuku wasn’t able to. Together, they pressured Tomura. Fully in sync, like two sides of the same coin.
But between them, the vial was chaos.
It slipped from Tomura’s fist in the hurricane, glass glinting under the pale light.
Izuku dove, hitting Tomura back as his free hand closed around it. But then Tomura’s boot smashed into his stomach. The vial was torn from his grasp before he could retreat. Then Katsuki threw himself recklessly. He grappled the vial from Tomura’s hand as their blades locked. But Tomura twisted, elbow breaking against Katsuki’s jaw, snatching it back.
It became a pendulum of fate, swaying between them.
To Katsuki. Then to Izuku. Then to Tomura.
The glass flashed in the rapid exchange of fists, blades, and kicks. Izuku struck, Katsuki sliced, and Tomura moved like the epitome of death itself.
The vial slipped, caught, slipped again—until Katsuki finally ripped it free with a savage punch that sent Tomura backwards.
But Tomura countered. In a blur, his machetes raised to carve straight through Katsuki.
But Izuku matched his speed.
He threw himself forward, body screaming in protest. He twisted in mid-air with every ounce of strength left in him. His shoe smashed into Tomura’s wrist at the perfect angle—and one of the machetes flew free. It spun and it buried itself deep into the wall with a splintering crack.
Izuku hit the ground hard. He rolled, pain lancing through his ribs, but he didn’t stop. He scrambled up and his fingers seized the hilt of the machete. He ripped it free in a shower of dust and plaster.
With the weapon in his hands, he surged back in.
The church rang with the clash of blades as Izuku countered Tomura in a flurry. His strikes were too fast to follow, each slash darting like electricity.
However, his brother guessed his every move. He countered Izuku with sheer strength, every counterblow heavier than the one before it, but Izuku absorbed it. He clenched his blood soaked teeth as he pushed himself through it, using his nimbleness to keep him alive.
Katsuki darted forward, fist raised to cover him. But Izuku’s head whipped around. His eyes locked onto Katsuki’s—wild, desperate, and burning.
“Run!” he yelled. His voice cracked, but the command boomed. “Take the vial and run! I’ll catch up with you!”
Katsuki froze for the span of an inhale, and Izuku knew every instinct of his was screaming not to leave. But then he saw the plan click in Katsuki’s face. They needed to outrun and confuse Tomura. If they could find each other before Tomura did, then Izuku had a chance to drink the antidote. Even if only for a second—it would be the small chance they needed.
Katsuki clenched his teeth and bolted.
Tomura tried to follow, but Izuku was on him. He leveraged his speed, getting up every time Tomura knocked him down. He tackled his brother to the ground, and together they went skidding across the floor, streaking it red with blood.
Tomura shoved him off and they began to clash again, machete against machete. Izuku met Tomura’s charge head-on. Every strike hurt his bones, but he refused to yield.
“This is foolish,” Tomura snarled, his blade caught Izuku’s mid-swing and twisted it aside. He shoved Izuku back, voice low and venomous. “Why are you choosing him, when everything I did, I did for you—”
“—No,” Izuku hissed, forcing himself upright again, blood slicking his face. He swung again, fast and sharp, forcing Tomura to parry. “Everything you did was what was best for you! Your interests were the top priority, every time. I was an afterthought!”
Tomura slammed a kick into Izuku’s chest, sending him stumbling. “You have no idea what you’re talking about—”
“—Yes I do!” Izuku screamed, voice breaking as he slashed upward, grazing Tomura’s jaw. “Everything you’ve ever done has been with you in mind first! It was all for you! You’ve deluded yourself into thinking you could make me happy too. But you’ve never put me first. Your thirst for power always came before me—”
Tomura’s fist crashed into his cheek, snapping his head sideways.
“You only think that because you have no idea everything I’ve done for you,” Tomura growled, following with a relentless kick that threw Izuku into another pew. He stalked forward, machete raised. “I’ve always made sure to take into account your best interest alongside mine.”
Izuku stubbornly got back on his feet, blade trembling in his hands.
“You think this is my best interest?” His voice cracked. “You thought making me watch someone I love die was for my own good? And then selling me off to the Yakuza?!”
“Yes,” Tomura replied coldly. “Because we lived in a world where pain wasn’t an option, Izuku. We could only control where we were in the food chain, and I spent our entire lives making decisions so we didn’t have to be the ones getting punched down on.”
He pivoted and slashed low. Izuku barely twisted clear. The blade zinged past his ribs, a strand of his green hair severed in the moonlight. Tomura’s sneer widened.
“You punch down on me all the time, Tomura,” Izuku hissed.
Tomura’s eyes flashed. “It’s different when I do it.”
“So it’s okay that I’m getting hurt as long as you’re the one to do it?!” Izuku screamed.
“Yes!” Tomura yelled. “Because I know where my limits are. I would never kill you, Izuku. But I can’t guarantee that with others!”
He began a relentless charge. Izuku tried to block, but it was nearly hopeless. His brother was moving faster than him now, landing a fury of punches and kicks that knocked Izuku off balance.
“Like most children, you do not know what is best for you,” Tomura said, anger growing. He began pummeling Izuku backwards with every punch. “And that’s the paradox, isn’t it? Children always think they know better than the people raising them. But the truth is—we shelter you from so fucking much.”
The blunt end of Tomura’s machete cracked into Izuku’s temple, making stars explode across his vision. He reeled, and Tomura’s other fist crashed into his stomach, folding him in half.
“And given our situation,” Tomura hissed, driving his knee into Izuku’s jaw. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the soft brother you daydreamed about—but I still did a damn good job. I sheltered you from so goddamn much.”
Izuku crashed to the floor, coughing blood. But Tomura wasn’t finished. He grabbed Izuku by the collar, yanking him up.
“You have no idea the type of torture that went on in that basement your whole goddamn life—and you still don’t. And that’s because of me.”
His fist slammed into Izuku’s gut again.
Izuku gagged, blood spilling from his lips, eyes wide in shock.
“You have no idea why my goddamn face looks the way it does,” Tomura snarled, roundhouse kicking him so hard Izuku smashed against the wall, the crack of bone echoing. “Instead, you got to live in the fucking penthouse because of me. You got the lightest punishments in our books, because of me. And you were allowed to live in your romantic fantasy world because I decapitated the person who would’ve killed you for such a thing!”
Izuku slid down the wall, leaving a smear of blood, clutching his ribs as he wheezed.
Tomura yanked him up again, one-handed, by the collar into the air.
Izuku choked as his feet dangled.
“And if you didn’t ruin it—you would have married into the most powerful family on this half of the globe, and you would have never lifted a gun to kill ever again if you didn’t want to!” Tomura bellowed. “All because of me!”
“Tomura…” Izuku croaked. His body dangled like a broken marionette and his eyes brimmed with tears. “Why can’t you see that everything you did, hurt me?”
“Because even though it hurt,” Tomura answered flatly. “It doesn’t mean it wasn’t for the best.”
With a yell, he hurled Izuku across the church. Izuku’s body hit the wall so hard the stained glass above him shattered, raining shards of crimson and blue across his broken frame.
“Now stay down,” Tomura threatened, icy glare digging into him. “If you pass out, you’re not going to be able to drink the damn antidote.”
He dragged the flat of his blade across his sleeve, refreshing it for new blood. Without another look, he turned and stalked deeper into the church in search of Katsuki.
Izuku’s cheek pressed against the cold floor, jagged shards of stained glass biting into his skin. His whole body quaked as he watched Tomura disappear into the shadows. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. Every breath that spilled out of him was ragged and wet—exactly like the other poisoned individuals.
He pushed against the floor, arms shaking violently, but they gave out under him. The poison was sinking deeper into his flesh, and stealing his strength piece by piece.
His vision swarmed with black blotches, and the edges of his world shrank inward. Flickers of fractured light smeared into the glow of the blood moon, and the building around him collapsed into a blur.
But through that blur, he caught movement. He saw Tomura circle back, pacing the church like an apex predator who had no equal.
“No—” Izuku rasped, the word tearing out of him. “Y-You’re not going to take him from me again.”
Izuku clawed at the ground, smearing blood across the broken glass as he willed his body to move. His chest convulsed with coughs, each one spattering crimson onto the floor, but still he dragged himself on his feet. His knees buckled and his lungs screamed—yet he dashed forward anyway. Because if he stopped now, Katsuki would be gone.
And Izuku couldn’t lose him again.
When Tomura vanished towards the basement stairs, Izuku felt another burst of energy. He gritted his teeth, and forced his spine straight. With every ounce of will left in him, he grabbed the forgotten machete and tumbled into a sprint.
The steps to the basement opened before him. He stumbled down, breathing hard as the darkness swallowed him whole. As he descended, the basement reeked of damp earth and old mildew. The space was nearly pitch black and lined with thick pillars that jutted up.
Shadows bled across the walls, swelling until they seemed alive. Izuku’s vision swam. The poison began to warp everything, like some twisted house of mirrors. Shapes coalesced in the dark, and the shadows transmuted into the outlines of people long gone. They all whispered and reached for him.
“Come out, Bakugou,” Tomura’s voice slithered around, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. “You might as well surrender. Drawing this out is pointless.”
The darkness twisted under Izuku’s eyes, outlines of figures flickered between the pillars. Faces from the grave birthed out the blackness. One leaned close, and its hand, long and skeletal, pointed.
It was Hiryu, trying to lead him.
“You think you can protect him?” Tomura hissed, voice sinking in like noxious gas. “You couldn’t even protect your own damn mother.”
Izuku tripped, and his world tilted. Mitsuki’s ghost stood among the shadows now. She raised her arm and pointed further along the way. He followed, half-blinded and chasing after illusions as the world twisted around him.
Tomura’s voice sharpened, closer now. “If this continues, he’ll die choking on his blood. And all that strength of yours won’t be able to help.”
Suddenly, a hand seized his shoulder.
Izuku flinched and braced himself—until he turned and saw Katsuki. Relief poured through Izuku’s chest, burning hotter than the venom. He was real, alive, and had his finger pressed to his lips in a soft hush. The antidote gleamed faintly in his other hand.
Quickly, Katsuki moved to uncap the vial—
—and the shadows attacked.
Tomura erupted from the dark, sheering through the air like a blade through silk. He slammed Izuku back against a pillar while his other arm swung for Katsuki.
Izuku reeled sideways, hitting the floor, and in the blur he caught a burst of motion—two bodies colliding at a velocity that cracked the air like whips. Steel flashed, fists broke against flesh, and in the darkness Katsuki and Tomura clashed yet again.
Katsuki was holding his own. More than that—he was winning. He adapted to be quicker than Izuku had ever seen him, weaving between Tomura’s machete slashes, forcing him to overreach. Every strike Katsuki threw landed heavier and surer. His strength forced Tomura to go on the defensive.
Izuku’s heart seized with pride and fear in equal measure.
Then Tomura caught his footing again.
He landed four brutal punches into Katsuki’s body, making him topple over.
Izuku’s legs moved before his mind did. He hurled himself forward, tackling Tomura by the legs. The collision ripped through his ribs and made his vision burst with white spots. But he held on, dragging Tomura down onto the stone floor. The impact made agony scream into his bones, but he didn’t let go.
“Go!” Izuku roared, blood spraying with the shout. “G-Get to the second floor!”
Katsuki took the opening. He bolted up the stairs two at a time, already yelling back, “Head for the nook! He won’t know where it is!”
Izuku’s pulse surged at the word. His eyes widened when he realized that was their advantage. He stumbled upright, forcing his leaden legs to follow. Pushing through the haze of pain, he sprinted up the stairs.
He dashed up them three at a time, nearly reaching the top—
But before he could clear the last step, cold fingers clamped around his ankle. Izuku slipped, chin hitting the stairs with a brutal thud. He whipped his head, and there Tomura was. He was covered in blood and more hair had fallen out of his bun. His face twisted in a callous sneer.
“You never fucking listen,” Tomura hissed.
Izuku screamed out as he was flung down the stairs with unbridled strength. He went flying, the world spinning as he tumbled. When he hit the bottom, his chest hit hard against the cold concrete.
He gasped, breathing becoming ragged as his vision went in and out.
Tomura darted up into the darkness after Katsuki, leaving Izuku sprawled on the ground below, gasping and broken.
He turned on his side and coughed up more blood. He hated how he could hear Katsuki’s and Tomura’s feet above. But worse, he hated that he could hear a clock down here.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He heaved himself up, gripping the machete with his twitching fingers. With another push, he clawed his way back up the stairs, each step wearing his muscles down.
Izuku emerged into the chapel again, lungs pulling sharply with every breath. He turned his head, and there they were—Katsuki and Tomura. They were at the altar, locked in depraved combat beneath the serpent-and-apple stained glass window. Its colors washed over them in a distorted kaleidoscope, bathing their blood covered bodies in red and green.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you, properly this time,” Tomura spat as his machete crashed against Katsuki’s knife. “You have been nothing but a goddamn pest. Everything that has gone wrong with my brother always ties back to you.”
Izuku’s eyes widened as Tomura hauled his machete back, readying the next, brutal swing.
He took the same stance he had with Nine.
“Kacchan!” Izuku rasped, his voice cracked.
But before Katsuki could hear his warning, Tomura struck.
A merciless blur of punches and kicks hit Katsuki’s core. One, three, five, then finally a blow so inhumanly strong crashed into Katsuki’s chest. The sound was awful, like all his bones shattered on impact. Katsuki flew backwards and slammed into a row of tall iron candlesticks. The metal shrieked as they toppled and scattered across the floor right as Katsuki’s skull hit against the stone wall.
Blood trickled down. His eyes rolled back and then his head lulled. And in a horrible moment, his whole body went slack, dropping into a cold heap.
“No!” Izuku screamed. He stumbled forward, heart tripling in speed.
The small glass vial slipped from Katsuki’s hand and rolled across the floor. Tomura’s eyes followed it. He picked it up and curled his pale fingers around the antidote. Then he turned back. And raised the machete.
Izuku’s heart stopped. Tomura’s shadow fell across Katsuki’s unconscious form as he lifted the blade high, its edge aimed clean for the neck.
Something inside Izuku tore open.
His body exploded. With one last, impossible surge, he threw himself forward. Every ounce of strength, fury, and love drove him into Tomura’s path.
The machete swung down—
And Izuku was there.
His blade caught Tomura’s in midair, steel shrieking on steel as sparks spat out between them. The collision rang through the church like a bell.
Tomura staggered half a step off balance. Izuku hit the ground moving, fist driving deep into Tomura’s ribs. A sharp crack split the air. Tomura doubled over with a gasp.
Izuku didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
Bone crunched under his knuckles as he slapped another punch into Tomura’s jaw, popping his head to the side. Izuku struck again and again, driving him backwards away from Katsuki and towards the altar stairs.
His vision blurred with tears. He poured everything he had into every strike to keep Katsuki safe.
But Tomura rebounded. His head whipped back, eyes blazing, and he blocked the next blows with frightening precision. He dodged, sidestepped, countered and moved like a mirror of Izuku—beat for beat.
Izuku matched him back. Every pivot, every slash, every strike was the same brutal rhythm Tomura had drilled into him for years. He heard his brother’s voice inside his skull, whispering old commands—faster, harder, cleaner—and he obeyed without thinking.
In that instant they were equals: two forces perfectly opposed, their blades like lines drawn across a battlefield.
And balanced on that thin, trembling line between them was Katsuki’s life.
Izuku felt Tomura’s frustration grow into rage. With each blocked strike, with each dodged punch, the resentment inside Tomura grew. It became a black mass rearing like a second head from his body. Its eyes glowed a sickly, deathlike red, searing through Izuku.
“The longer you fight me, the closer to death you get,” Tomura hissed. His eyes flicked to the clock, and for a moment his anxiety showed through. “Are you really willing to put your life at risk for him? Is he really worth all this?!”
“Yes!” Izuku’s voice cracked. “I’ll fight for him every single time—and that will never change!”
He swung high, aiming for Tomura’s temple to knock him out. But the blade missed by a hair. Tomura ducked low, and the machete caught something else. With a sharp snap, it cut the red string holding Tomura’s hair.
It floated to the ground between them, severed.
His brother’s long, bone white hair spilled loose over his shoulders. And in that moment something shifted. His nostrils flared, his eyes darkened, and his body adjusted. Every strike now came sharper, and far more lethal. Izuku felt it instantly. The air changed. It turned cold enough to raise goosebumps along his arms.
A swing carved too close to his neck for the first time, forcing him to stagger back, and the truth sank in.
Tomura was going for the kill.
His brother’s machete lashed again and again, each strike more vicious than the last. It beat Izuku back as he made terrible, desperate blocks.
For the first time in his life, Izuku recognized he was on the other end of Tomura’s lethality—the razor sharp edge his brother had always kept sheathed for him. Now it cut straight for his throat, his chest, and his vital organs. Every near-miss whispered how close he was to being cut open.
“You love him so damn much?” Tomura spat, eyes wild and composure gone. “Then die for him! Hand in fucking hand!”
He blurred forward, faster than Izuku could track. By the time Izuku caught the movement, it was already too late to block.
The machete angled straight for his heart.
Time slowed under his adrenaline. Izuku’s pulse thundered in his ears, and reflex took over. He lunged and did the only thing he could do. The only thing that promised at the end of all this, Katsuki would be safe. With his face covered in blood and tears, he aimed for Tomura’s heart too.
For a single heartbeat, they were mirrors. Two brothers forged in the same pit of vipers.
Izuku screamed and drove forward.
And then—Tomura shifted. At the very last instant, his blade veered, not for Izuku’s heart but for his wrist—a move to disarm, not to kill.
Izuku’s eyes widened in shock. He tried to pull back, but the momentum was already spent.
It carried through.
His machete sank into Tomura’s chest with a bloody, final sound.
Tomura jerked, a breath escaping from him in a broken choke. They locked eyes, frozen in shock, staring at the irreversible truth of what happened. Suddenly, Tomura’s body stuttered, and the next step he took changed the whole mood—and paralyzed Izuku. The world shifted into hues of red as Tomura weakly swayed on his feet, something he’s never done.
His brows furrowed. Confusion flashed first in his eyes. Then betrayal. Then finally—hurt.
His gaze dropped slowly, dragging down to the blade buried deep in his chest.
“You—” he rasped. A cough tore through him and spilled crimson across his chin. “You actually…”
Izuku’s eyes flew wide.
Reality struck him, and he let go of the hilt of the blade. He stared at Tomura’s heart, already bleeding through the shirt. One inhale at a time, his breath broke down into sharp, panicked bursts.
“No…” Izuku’s voice cracked apart. “I-I didn’t—”
Dark blood welled fast, spilling down Tomura’s chest. His brother stumbled backwards with one trembling hand clawing helplessly at the hilt and the other reaching for balance that wasn’t there. When he began to fall, Izuku tried to catch him—but his poisoned body betrayed him. His knees finally collapsed.
They collided together, momentum dragging them both down the altar stairs.
The world blurred.
In the fall, the vial slipped from Tomura’s hand. It fell with them, pulled down by the inescapable force of gravity. It arced in the colored light before shattering across the floor at the same time both Izuku and Tomura hit the ground.
The liquid spilled next to them, stretching across the floor.
They laid side by side at the bottom of the altar steps, blood winding together like twin vipers coiling into one. Izuku’s chest heaved in shallow gasps, his trembling body racked with sobs as tears burned down his face.
Beside him, Tomura convulsed. He choked as he spat another mouthful of blood across the floor. The whole time, their eyes remained locked—both wide and stunned.
Izuku shook his head, coughing crimson down his chin. “I…I thought,” he wheezed, face crumbling down. “I thought you were going for the kill.”
For the first time in his life, Tomura laughed. It was sad, and almost human.
“I told you,” he whispered, blood flecking his lips, “I’d never kill you.”
The words crushed Izuku. Tears came heavy and fast, and the weight of what he’d done slammed down until it felt like his heart was the one split open. He sobbed, powerless and unable to move.
Tomura’s gaze softened. In that moment, a complicated warmth flickered in his fading eyes. He lifted a trembling hand, and with the last inch of tenderness he had, he brushed a matted curl behind Izuku’s ear.
Izuku’s chest caved with a sob, tears spilling rampantly. “I’m—I’m sorry, Big Brother.”
Tomura’s hand slipped away, thudding limply against the floor. His breath shuddered once, then ebbed out. Steadily, his body slackened and collapsed into stillness. And then his gaze drifted into the unfocused quiet of death.
Izuku screamed soundlessly, throat too raw for anything more. His vision blinked in and out, but through it he saw the faint shimmer of the shattered anti-venom. He craned his neck, feeling as if he was fighting against the weight of the world.
He looked at Katsuki, his Kacchan, still laying unconscious at the top of the altar. Izuku’s heart clenched.
He looked towards the spilled antidote and with his arms, he dragged himself forward.
But his body didn’t cooperate. Instead, the poison fought him every step of the way. He clawed across the floor, leaving smears of blood in his wake, trying so desperately hard to go to the puddle that was inches away.
However, it was too late. All his energy was spent and his body was gone.
He collapsed with his trembling hand outstretched towards the vial’s remains. His eyes found Katsuki’s figure through the haze one last time, and tears spilled over his cheeks as his lips parted in a broken cry.
“Kacchan…” Izuku’s voice cracked, tears falling with the syllables. “I’m sorry…”
His body gave out and the darkness on the edges of his world seeped in from all sides. He stayed focused on Katsuki, appreciating one last time the view of the man he loved. Then slowly, the shadows finally held his hand and took him along, blackening his vision until there was nothing left but darkness.
Darkness.
Pure, airless darkness swelled all around.
Katsuki drifted in it, weightless, like he was buried alive all over again. The atmosphere was thick and pressed hard against his ribs. In the dream, he couldn’t tell if his chest was still rising and falling. There was no ground beneath him and no ceiling above. Only an endless, suffocating black.
And then, through the void, a voice.
It was fragile, but unmistakable.
“Kacchan…”
The word whispered through the shadows. It was thin, but it pulled him. It tugged him along by his heart, urging him to come forward. His pulse thudded and his fingers twitched.
“I’m sorry…”
Izuku.
The name ignited his mind like fire catching tinder. The shadows pressed tighter trying to keep him, but Katsuki struggled against them. His body screamed to stay down, but his need to get back to Izuku burned hotter and hotter until a bright light cracked through the black.
And with a frantic gasp, Katsuki’s eyes snapped open.
A splitting, skull-deep pain throbbed in his head, as if a brick had been broken against the back of it. His trembling hand rose, gripping his scalp. And when he pulled it away, it came back full of blood. His vision swam, frantic. His eyes clawed through the haze until the scene around him snapped into focus.
The first thing he saw was blood.
It was all over. It was on him, the windows, the floor and the walls.
And then his eyes landed at the bottom of the altar—and his whole world broke.
“Izuku!” Katsuki screamed, voice splintering in two.
Ignoring the skull splitting migraine, he scrambled forward. Every breath he took burned as he dropped to his knees beside Izuku’s limp body. Desperately, he checked his pulse. But when he did, his worst nightmare became a reality. Izuku was going cold, and barely breathing.
For one split second, his gaze cut to Tomura beside him. The man’s white hair was soaked in scarlet and his own machete jutted from his chest. His face was slack too—and a wave of nausea hit Katsuki so hard he nearly doubled over.
“Izuku,” Katsuki cried, as he gathered him in his arms.
His eyes whirled around, searching for the bottle of anti venom, and then his heart sunk all the way to the bottom of his being when he saw it next to them, broken. The vial was shattered completely, and the liquid was all over across the floor.
With one single look, Katsuki gazed at Izuku’s lips and knew what to do.
He bent down, cradling Izuku tighter. With no hesitation, he pressed his mouth to the filthy floor, dragging the acrid taste of chemicals, dirt, and glass bits into his mouth. He spat the shards out, then turned back. As gentle as possible, Katsuki cupped Izuku’s jaw and pressed their lips together, transferring the anti venom through a kiss.
He pulled back, and his eyes darted all over for signs of life.
Izuku gagged. He choked reflexively and some of it spilled back, dripping down his chin.
A curse slipped between Katsuki’s teeth. “C’mon, Izuku. Swallow. Fucking please.”
But it wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it fucking working? With only one idea in mind, he clamped a hand around Izuku’s throat. He tried to stop his fingers from shaking as he kneaded the muscles. Tears blurred his eyes as he tried his best to coax Izuku’s reflexes to work. And then—he felt the swallow catch.
Katsuki’s eyes widened.
It was weak, but it was enough.
He dove back down to the puddle of anti-venom, and pulled up as much as he could.
He did this again and again. He painfully repeated the process of kissing life back into the person who had put it back into him. His lips burned with glass cuts—but he pushed forward, begging Izuku to stay with him.
“Please, Izuku. Wake up, damnit.”
By the end, Katsuki’s tongue burned with the anti venom, but he had picked up every drop he could scavenge. He held Izuku in his arms, trembling and panting fully ragged. He continued to shake him, tears progressively falling as he feared for Izuku’s weak pulse.
“My…blazer,” a weak rasp whispered, barely audible.
Katsuki’s head snapped toward the voice. There, barely clinging to life, was Tomura.
His pale eyes flickered, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. Every breath sounded like it was hurting him to take.
“I…I got…a dose…” Tomura gasped, voice thin as paper, trembling with the last of his strength. “When I thought…he was going to…poison himself.”
Katsuki’s heart skipped.
He sprung for the blazer, fingers fumbling for the inner pocket.
At that same instant, Tomura’s head lolled back. His eyes went half-lidded, and the fight inside them unraveled thread by thread. His breathing slowed into fragile, fractured gasps. Then ebbed into silence.
For a moment, the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
It felt unreal that someone who had clawed his way through life from the bottom would succumb to his mortality. But really, Tomura hadn’t surrendered to death. No, he’d been thwarted by the one weakness he could never purge from himself.
His gaze drifted to where Izuku lay. And for the first time in years, perhaps the only time in his life, his face softened. No rage. No bitterness. No resentment. His eyes clouded over, fixed on the brother he lost long before this moment.
True serenity passed through him as he took his final breath.
His chest went completely still.
An identical vial slipped into Katsuki’s hands, almost too perfectly intact. With shaking fingers, he tore the lid off with his teeth and poured it desperately into Izuku’s mouth. He guided the liquid down by massaging Izuku’s throat, forcing him to swallow every last drop.
And then—footsteps.
A cluster of people came running towards the front door. Unfamiliar voices echoed beyond, and all of Katsuki’s panic shot through the roof.
“Tomura’s signal came from in here!” Someone shouted. “Quickly, search the parameter!”
Katsuki rapidly gathered Izuku in his arms and bolted for the hallway. He stumbled as his feet flew, cradling Izuku’s head against his chest. Right as the door was slammed open, Katsuki turned and saw the one place he knew no one would look.
He fumbled for the small door under the stairs as the footsteps grew closer.
With a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees. He hurriedly shuffled both him and Izuku inside the small space. They were too big now, and their limbs tangled together in the compact room, but still Katsuki made it work. He rested Izuku’s head against the dusty pillow beneath the old posters and closed them in tightly.
He cupped Izuku’s head, shielding his face against his chest, and buried his own trembling breaths into Izuku’s hair.
Outside, muted gasps of shock cut through the night.
“Oh my god,” whispered one voice, dripping with disbelief. “I think he’s…dead.”
Footsteps echoed, drawing closer, slow and uncertain.
“Search everywhere! They couldn’t have gotten far!”
Then, a pause. A groan, faint at first, began to grow.
“Hey…” Another trembling voice whispered. “I feel really sick suddenly…”
Katsuki froze, every nerve screaming. Then came the wrenching sounds. They were horrid, grating, and probably bloody no doubt. Panic erupted in muffled screams and confusion. Directly after came the sick symphony of bodies collapsing one by one. Shoes clattered helplessly against the floor as people tried to scramble but it was useless.
They couldn’t outrun poison.
Each groan made Katsuki squeeze Izuku tighter. He buried Izuku’s face in the crook of his neck. Outside, the terrible sounds continued on. A horrifying cadence of bodies hitting the ground and cries came as everyone seemed confused by the poison taking them.
And finally, silence.
Katsuki tightened his arms. He shuddered out a terrified breath, and screwed his eyes shut. He tried to wake up. This had to be a dream. It had to be. This was one of his horrible, twisted goddamn nightmares. Because this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all.
Then, a faint cough brushed against his neck.
Katsuki nearly lost his breath. He jerked back in relief and saw Izuku’s lashes flutter. The other man’s eyes pulled open with agonizing slowness. Quickly, Katsuki’s hands flew to his face, cradling the fevered skin. His thumb pressed desperately over Izuku’s pulse—only to find it thinning.
He was slipping away.
“Izuku, just hang in there, okay?” Katsuki begged. “Stay with me.”
Izuku’s lips pulled into a faint, sorrowful curve. He hated that he knew what type of smile that was. It was the kind of smile that already held a goodbye. Izuku was gazing up at him as if it were the last time he’d ever see him—and it destroyed him.
“You found your way back to me,” Izuku whispered, voice so thin it nearly disappeared in the dark.
Katsuki’s face broke apart. His grip tightened as if he could hold Izuku here by force.
“Of course I did,” he whispered. “Again and again, remember?”
“I missed you…so much,” Izuku murmured. His eyes blinked slowly and unevenly. “I’m…I’m going to miss you.”
“Don’t say that, you can’t die on me, Izuku,” Katsuki rasped, tears streaking down his cheeks. He shook Izuku lightly, desperate to keep him tethered. “C’mon, darling, keep your eyes open. J-Just talk to me. Aizawa will be here soon. I’m sure of it. You just have to hold on a little longer, and we’ll get you help, I swear it.”
But Izuku’s gaze was unfocused, pupils drifting. Fear crept onto his face, as if he could already see the end approaching.
“I…I don’t think I’m going to make it, Kacchan.” A single tear slipped down Izuku’s freckled cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you fucking say that,” Katsuki snapped. His chest heaved, and something inside him fell apart. He realized there was only one thing left to cling to. It was the one thing he’d spent his whole life spitting on, denying, mocking—until this moment. “You’re going to make it. Because it’s—”
He swallowed hard and let the word burn its way out.
“—It’s fate.”
Light sparked in Izuku’s eyes, surprised. His lips curved into the softest, most fragile smile Katsuki had ever seen. With what little strength he had left, his eyes refocused, he looked up, and he reached out for Katsuki’s hand. They gazed at each other, full of love.
“I thought you didn’t believe in fate?” Izuku asked.
Katsuki cradled his lover’s cheek, thumb brushing away the tears. He smiled back.
“For you, I do.”
Izuku’s face lit up, and for a moment, it seemed like he was holding on. But then slowly his light faded again. It went out gently, like a vanishing, blinking star in the night sky. His perfect green eyes stared up at Katsuki, scared but tranquil, and then his hand went slack. He lost his grip as his eyes slipped shut.
Katsuki’s face crumbled in heartbreak.
“No—no, no, no,” he whispered in denial. “Izuku. Please—”
Katsuki shook him. He begged Izuku to open his eyes again and to come back. He promised him everything. The sun, the moon, the stars and anything he could think of. But Izuku didn’t wake back up. His body remained limp, and his pulse progressively slowed.
He looked at his watch. It was 22:22.
His chest split with a grief so vast it shattered soul.
Behind his eyes, he could see a transparent figure of the boy with pretty green eyes. His friend smiled brightly and sweetly called him ‘Kacchan.’ One last time, the boy tucked him in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He looked back once, then exited the nook with a wistful smile.
“Don’t go,” Katsuki sobbed, cradling Izuku closer. “Please, don’t leave me.”