The van crashed straight through, smashing the ice to shards and deflecting the flames. Water followed in the vehicle's wake, rain ripped from its original trajectory. Wind from the projectile vehicle tore at them, their clothes, father and son struggled to remain standing through the rush of air. Larger size afforded Endeavor enough stay with gravity to keep his footing. Shoto was not so lucky.

He spun and rolled across the street, scraping up his face and arms as he went. Seeing his advantage, Endeavor raised his hand and unleashed an inferno upon his son. It was by the skin of his teeth that Shoto managed to throw an ice barrier between himself and the flame. An ice barrier that was melting faster than he could keep it standing.

This- this was actually happening. His own father was trying kill him. He always knew the man was a monster, known measures he'd taken to create him in later years. Why was this surprising him? Maybe it was the fact that Shoto had been his goal from the beginning, living vicariously though him in his twilight years was a pathetic goal, but Endeavor's pride was a demanding thing. That it had been so rattled, cast aside far enough for this? What kind of retribution was Endeavor expecting?

The ice in front of him started to crack, Shoto felt his fear getting the better of him and then part of it shattered. The flame burst through and ran up the length of his right arm, making the poor boy scream. In some last desperate effort to protect himself, Shoto covered his body directly, coating himself entirely and hoping he wouldn't just boil alive.

With a roll of his eyes, Endeavor stomped over to him. "You're just prolonging the inevitable." As he strode over to shaking lad, he saw him preparing to throw another glacier at him. Not something he'd allow. "Just... stop." He raised a hand, and another wave of hellfire washed over the street.

It stuck with such intensity that Shoto was knocked off his feet, back slamming against the street shattering the ice around him.

"See? Pointless." As the world spun in his son's eyes, he just raised both his hands. "What a waste it was, letting you use my quirk like that."

What happened next, nearly no one saw coming.

A near deafening boom erupted behind Endeavor, rocketing him forward and sending his face to the street. Tasting blood, feeling a few loose teeth in his mouth, Endeavor snarled as he got back to his feet. "Like cockroaches, I swear." Turning around, he saw Bakugo staring him down with anger blazing in hie eyes, palms bleeding but still raised toward him. "Everyone and everything around your class burns and dies while you refuse to submit to death. What stars were you all born under?"

"Shut up." Endeavor actually balked. Who did this whelp think he was? "You're so full of shit the sewers have gotta smell like a damned flower garden in comparison!" Bakugo's twitching lips bared his teeth, eyes bulging and veins visible. "Killing your fucking kids, your own fucking kids!" Bracing his arms, he fired off another monstrous explosion at Endeavor, sending him flying.

A situation the 'hero' was not in often enough to handle with grace. Skidding across the road, back slamming into a nearby car he had to vigorously shake his head to stave off the disorientation. Still it wasn't long before he was standing, staring down the upstart and growling.

Bakugo had placed himself between father and son, his palms dripping with blood and aimed still at Endeavor. "I have done some shitty things... outright unforgivable if I'm being honest." Behind him, a boy with a scar over his left eye, a terrible burn that served as a permanent reminder of his father's cruelty, regained his senses. "but you? Even as you're about to kill you spout garbage about his quirk being yours!? What is he allowed to call his own, you... FUCK!?"

Shoto's jaw dropped, eyes fluttering as he stared at Katsuki's back. Endeavor finally retaliated, and Bakugo split the air with another explosion, sending the fire away. Endeavor snarled again, and chose not to use so relenting a tactic and filled the air in front of him with fire in a continuous stream. "He only has that quirk because of me! I created him! Gave him the powers of both his parents! He had no right to be so rebellious! He only has what he has because of ME!"

His palms split, spurting blood with every explosion, but Bakugo held his ground, ignoring the pain as he stood his ground. Explosion after explosion and by sheer force of will he continued to protect Shoto. "That doesn't make it yours!"

With one hand, he cut loose and devestated the street, the buildings and all that was in front of him. Endeavor was toppled through the car, Bakugo's left side was scorched, hand, arm and face burned to a blistering crisp while his hair and clothes smouldered.

He hadn't flinched, dared to move, for if he had then the one he was protecting would have felt the touch of that searing flame. "It stopped being yours the moment he inherited it! IT'S HIS! JUST LIKE HIS LIFE, YOU BASTARD!"

Despite the pain, despite the weakness of his flesh, Bakugo threw his hands behind him and launched himself forward with his quirk. Spinning through the air, propelled by his explosions, he brought his boots down on Endeavor's head. Hands thrust down, he blasted him into the ground, forcing him to kneel, backflipping to secure footing before rocketing himself forward and driving a knee into his face.

Endeavor raised a hand to scorch Bakugo to dust, but the blond blasted it away, wrenching something in the murderer's wrist. "You refuse to see your own kids as anything but tools to get what you want!" Another blast, another splitting of his own skin -practically down to the muscle- and Endeavor was smashed into a brick wall. "And now that they don't work they way you want you just FUCKING KILL THEM!?"

As he screamed, Bakugo's own life flashed behind his eyes. The moment he'd found out Izuku was quirkless, casting him aside. All those years spent tormenting him, punishing him for daring to dream above his station, burning off half his face when he actually became a challenge. Hating him, wanting to kill him for finally growing a spine and fighting back. Only changing when he saw the monster he was becoming, hearing Aizawa announce that he was almost a murderer. Only changing when he saw the monster he could have been, right in front of him, hurting his own son; Hurting another 'Deku'.

A monster he was now trying to blast through a brick wall, explosion after explosion tearing at his costume, breaking his bones. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"

He lashed out, both palms forward to send him across the planet, and Endeavor grabbed the left side of his face. In a split second Bakugo hesitated, realizing what was about to happen, then they both used their quirks. Endeavor was sent through the building in its entirety, Bakugo fell screaming to the street, his bloodied, charred hands clutching at his eye and skin. Vocal chord tearing from his wailing anguish, the warhead fell, fingers trembling over the smoldering, steaming mess his face had turned into. Blood drenched his cheek, neck and shoulder.

Tried though he did to open his eye, to see through the pain, he couldn't. It had either been seared shut or burned to some gelatinous fluid that had drained onto his body. Either way, he was too scared to find out which. As he lay there, trembling and groaning in all his agony, Endeavor climbed out of the building. "All that..." he laughed, "just a few broken ribs." He cackled, stomping his way over to Bakugo, stepping through flames and smoke. "I've battled on without use of either arm. With a fractured vertebra and shattered collarbones. You honestly you could afford to pull your punches in this fight?"

Bakugo couldn't answer, he could barely even see with everything so blurry. He just lay there, desperately trying to come up with some plan when his hand hit something. It was little more than a pebble, a metallic pebble. He gulped, and hid the pebble in his palm, placing himself on his back and staring Endeavor down with his one good eye.

"It's almost a pity you have to die now," Endeavor mused, "more of a waste than that failure of a son of mine." His hand outstretched, palm facing Bakugo, and he readied his quirk.

Then the flames around him started swirling. Throughout his battles with his sons and Bakugo, fire had accumulated on the ground, burning whatever flamable matter was littered about. Now it was slowly spiraling, moving along some unseen path, all toward one spot. The rain was doing it too, turning to ice in a spiraling pattern like some kind of freak snow storm and Endeavor knew exactly what that meant. Slowly turning around, he saw Shoto, standing at the center of it all, an ocean of flame dancing slowly in the air to his left and the beginnings of an ice storm at his right.

Shoto's eyes were blazing with rage, tears flowing from them and his jaw was trembling as a memory echoed in his skull.

A memory of him and his mother, sitting on the couch together.

"yes, that's right," All Might's voice said, calmly as he adressed the interviewer, "children often do inherit quirks from their parents, or develop similar power sets!"

Shoto was leaning forward, smile wide on his face and his mother hummed with light laughter, putting her arm around him.

"But the most important thing to remember is that a quirk is what you make of it, regardless of your history!" All Might pointed right at the camera, right at him. "You decide how you use it!"

It was during one of the most strenuous weeks of his life. His father was pushing him so hard, making him train so much his nails had all fallen out. This was one of the few breaks he'd been allowed to have, even then it was only because his mother had begged for the four year old to have some peace, lest he die of exhaustion.

Endeavor had only agreed when he saw that he might lose to All Might by accidentally killing his own son.

"honey..." his mom had said softly, "Do you really still want to be a hero?"

He remembered nodding.

She stroked his head, fingers weaving through his hair. "Just remember... be true to yourself." In all this time... he hadn't realized how much he'd forgotten. "You are not a prisoner of your lineage. It's okay to use your power, to become who you want to be."

Just as soon as it had started, it faded and Shoto's quirks flared along with his rising feelings. Anger, regret, mourning, determination and hatred. Hatred for his father, but stronger than that was the hatred he felt for himself. By rebelling, refusing to use half of his own quirk, he'd just given his father control over him in another way. The influence he'd been trying to escape had trapped him even further, pushed him down and squandered his identity to such a degree that helping Uraraka had left him to shocked to move. He'd buried his trauma instead of facing it head on, and when he needed to be strong he'd let his own brother die.

A brother who had protected him every chance he could, until Endeavor had driven him away. So with blazing eyes and flaring quirks, his voice seethed with tempered fury. "You..." Endeavor felt something shiver in his chest, and he took an involuntary step away. "Attack my friends, hurt my mom... killed my brother." In an instant, the flames stilled, drawing back as the ice tensed. "No more."

Ice and flame struck like lightning, elements crashing down on a mere mortal. Some primal force unlike anything Shoto had ever unleashed struck like a hammer of the gods, and Endeavor was brought to his knees. Ice under his feet, Shoto raced forward and threw himself into the air. Right arm coated with ice, he made a hammer out of the densest ice he could lift and smashed it against his father's shoulder.

His shoulder blade fractured and Endeavor growled in pain. He raised a hand to retaliate, quirk at the ready, but Shoto just snared control of the flame away from him and cast it aside. Then, with his icy right hand, he reached out and coated his father in ice, all but is head. Fists curled, roaring with every swing, Shoto vented a lifetime of rage, fear and grief into his father's head, punch after punch after punch. Blood flew his father's lips, nose and skin, teeth knocked free and clattering away as Shoto screamed, beating the man who'd hurt him and those he loved for far too long.

Until Endeavor's entire body ignited, shattering the ice and sending Shoto off his feet.

Staggering back, shaking his spinning head, Endeavor clutched at what remained of his icy prison to keep his balance. With another roar, Shoto lurched back to his feet, right hand flying toward his father's face. Quirk at full tilt, Endeavor first blocked the ice then swatted the hand away before it could grab him. Still gripping the remnants of his icy cage, his kicked back with one foot and split a shard of ice from it.

His wrist twisted, fingers grabbing his son's much smaller wrist, and he brought the icy blade forward; through his son's abdomen. While Shoto gasped, shocked from the pain, staring down at his wound and staggered backward, he made some sort of surprised vocalization before Endeavor shoved him. Falling back, Shoto landed on what was left of that car his father and Bakugo had destroyed. His hand clawed at it, barely finding purchase and holding balance as he gagged on his own blood, now dripping from his lips.

Seeing all of this, Bakugo braced himself and tried to use his quirk again. Nothing happened. In disbelief, he looked at his palms. Too burned, too wounded to sweat, either that or there was too much blood and water mixed in with it. Refusing to relent he dragged one palm across his forehead and forced his aching form to stand again.

"Finally..." Endeavor smiled, looking almost proud of his son as he reached for the right side of his face. "You finally did it, in the end..."

A roar called his attention away, and Bakugo's quirk launched him forward like a missile. Palm torn open down to the muscle, he forced his useless hand to curl into a fist and he gave Endeavor the meanest right hook of either of their lives. Then, with his other hand, he drove his palm forward and smashed something against the murderer's throat with a final use of his quirk. The object shattered, and Bakugo felt it cut into his skin, his entire palm stinging as Endeavor grunted, surprised and in pain.

With a roar, Endeavor elbowed the warhead's wounded face and sent him falling back to the street. His hand massaged at the little cut, a snarl baring his teeth as he turned toward Bakugo. "I think that's enough from you, little fool." He raised his palm and went to incinerate him.

Nothing happened.

He tired it again, then with his other hand. Then he tried to cover any other part of his body with fire and still, nothing happened.

"What's the matter, you bastard?" Bakugo said weakly, grinning up Endeavor. "Can't get it up?"

Quivering on the edge of insanity, Endeavor spoke with a eerily quiet voice. "What. Did you. Do?!"

Snickering, Bakugo held up something that looked like a bullet. "Few weeks ago... Kirishima said something about a criminal shoot these at him. Cost him his quirk for a while, but from what my friends tell me? You just got a permanent dose of it, you waste of skin." Endeavor's hands twitched, raising and slowly reaching toward Bakugo. "Don't worry, happens to lots of guys. One out of five, or twenty percent if you-"

"SHUT UP!" Endeavor lurched forward, hands gripping the former warhead's throat and aiming to snap his neck. Bakugo gagged, his feeble attempts to resist amount to nothing in his weakened state; nevermind against someone more than twice his size. "DIE! DIE! DIE!"

Something the size of a soccer ball shattered against the back of Endeavor's skull. Stars danced in his eyes as ice clattered to the ground around him, his hands releasing Bakugo. He fell, then was shoved by a pillar of it so hard he felt a rib impale his lung. As he lay on his back, rolling about for any kind of weapon, he grabbed a pipe as he forced himself to stand.

Before he could even swing fire engulfed his entire body, then Endeavor screamed in pain.

Standing on his own two feet, staggering forward, Shoto just watched as his father screamed. He'd seared his own wounds shut, enough to get himself moving again, but he still tasted the blood coming up his throat. While Endeavor thrashed about, Shoto felt years worth of anger just rolling away. How pointless it all felt now... He raised both hands, used his quirks together, and water spouted from his hands to douse the flames.

Shaking, too shocked to feel or think very well, Endeavor smiled and took a shaky step toward his son. "Th-thank y-"

Then his son punched him and the lights went out.

Endeavor fell to the street, Shoto to one knee and clutching at his wound, trying not to black out. "B-" he managed to speak, but it nearly knocked him out. "Bakugo?"

The former warhead forced his eye to open. "Yeah?"

Shoto gave up on standing, falling back and staring up at the sky as it rained. "Just checking..."

Bakugo chuckled weakly, trying to look at him. "Afraid I kicked the bucket?"

The heterochrome gave a mirthless, single chuckle of his own. "I wouldn't surprised if we all just died right here." He turned over, looking toward the others. "Ashido?"

Mooney's body fell aside, finally freeing herself and gasping for air. Propping herself up against whatever was handy, she gave the shakiest thumbs up of her life. "H-here."

Bakugo rolled onto his front, dragging himself toward the others. "Uraraka."

"m'okay..."she waved, "really loopy, n'groggy too... was in a lotta pain bu'now I jus... everything is all swirly..."

Somewhere else, near the ruins of the newscrew van, Kaminari grunted as he pulled Izuku out of the wall he'd been stuck in. "Probably in so much pain her brain flooded her system with dopamine and serotonin... lucky." Shoving Izuku onto one side, he saw there was a hunk of metal embedded into his skull. "Alright, bud... one sec." Grabbing it, wiggling it a little, he yanked it free. "Holy-" Kaminari looked at what might as well have been a dagger, dripping with blood. "No no no! Hey, hey!"

Hands on Izuku's shoulders, putting him on his back, Kaminari put his bleeding left hand against Izuku's lips.

"Come on! Come on, you self sacrificing lunatic! DRINK!" He didn't have to wait long.

Mere moments after the blood trickled into his mouth, Izuku's jaw clamped down on Kaminari's hand.

While initially the blond yelped in pain, he soon smiled. "Oh thank god... there ya go, pal." Slowly, very slowly, Izuku's wound closed and his eyes fluttered open. "That's it, buddy." Kaminari let himself relax, feeling ever so slightly more light headed than he should with his injuries.

As he fell over, Izuku caught him, forcing his mouth away from Kaminari's hand. "Den!" He shrieked. "What the hell happened to you!?" In his arms was a bleeding, very wounded Kaminari, and he didn't look like he would be going anywhere any time soon. In fact, everyone looked awful. "Holy fuck..." he breathed, scooping up his friend in his arms. "What-?"

His jaw dropped at the sight of them all. The corpses, his wounded friends, the toppled skyscraper.

He didn't know where to start. "I'm so sorry..." he almost started crying. "I- I- I should've-"

"Wasn't yer faul' er nuthin," A very, very loopy Uraraka waved a flip-flopping hand back and forth, "we totally had it handled... bad guy'z taken care'uv..."

Izuku didn't listen. He brought Kaminari over to the others, then dived toward what remained of that checkpoint they'd gone through minutes ago. He was digging around in the rubble for a phone that hadn't been smashed to bits. The only one that wasn't metallic mulch was Ochako's.

Running to and kneeling at her side, he placed the phone in her hands. "I need to call for help, can you enter your code?" Nodding and giggling, Ochako did exactly that. "I have six wounded at Philantropy's headquarters!" He managed to keep his voice level. "Possibly in critical condition, send help immediately!" Wait, only six? Where- where was Kyoka?

His head lurched about, searching frantically for her but she was nowhere in sight. No... no she couldn't have still been upstairs when the building fell, she just couldn't be! Not-

Ochako put a hand on Izuku's, trying to get his attention. "Sev'n. There's sev'n!"

Blinking, as the other end hung up to take more calls, he stared helplessly at Ochako who seemed very worried all of a sudden. "W-wha...?"

She pointed toward the Shroud, flames still climbing up it, toward the top. "Sssten..." she mumbled, "Saw 'im go runnin in.. he prolly needs 'elp."

Mina's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, she's right." Izuku turned toward her, seeing her fear clearly. "Midorya... before the fight started, I saw him go inside that tower! With all that smoke he can't be doing very well! He's probably worse off than us!"

With a shaky laugh, Kaminari held up one hand. "Kinda doubt it..."

"I'm serious!" Mina insisted. "He's been coughing up a storm lately! I... I think something's really wrong with him. All that smoke can't be doing him any good."

Ochako bit her lip, not saying anything. She knew full well that Mina was right, but didn't think it was her place to say. She just looked up at Izuku and hoped he believed Mina.

Of course, the vampire already knew she was right. "...Okay." he put Ochako's phone in her hands. "I'll-" he really didn't want to leave them. "I'll be back!"

"We're not going anywhere..." Mina groaned, trying to make herself more comfortable, tearing at her leggings to try and bandage herself up.

Taking in a deep breath, Izuku braced himself. It had only been two days since he'd seen him last, when he'd killed Overhaul. Not much time at all for things to have changed, emotions to have shifted or healed or to even begin processing them. All the same, there was no one else available to even try and go in after him. An action that would leave his wounded friends alone, without help until someone else hopefully arrived.

Fists clenched, stuffing down his guilt, he stood up. "I'll hurry." Then he leapt into the air, fingers sticking to the wall of the Shroud. Wasting no time searching for an entrance, he smashed a window in and threw himself inside.

Minutes ago...

Stain hated himself with every leap. Propelling through the air, and hoping the others wouldn't need his help he dove inside the burning structure. Holding what little breath he could, he dashed through the flames and smoke. Inside the tower was a single room, divided by catwalks, ladders and terminals and all manner of controls. The objects he sought were at the top level, according to the map burning before his eyes.

Naturally...

Grabbing hold of a ladder, he started his frantic ascent. Time was working against him now in more ways than one. His lungs wouldn't last long in this place, and if the Shroud collapsed before he could complete his task then it was all for nothing anyways.

Up the ladders he went, forgoing them completely and jumping where he could. He hit his face on a railing, crying out in pain as he clutched at it, already feeling himself entering freefall. Panting from adrenaline, he hauled himself onto the catwalk, then ran for the final ladder.

Once he'd arrived at his destination, he found that construction wasn't quite complete. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed at the various cables, control panels and tubes, trying to make sense of it all. Instructions left behind by the fleeing crews helped a little, but he didn't have time to really read them. So he gleamed what he could and prayed that he'd get the rest of it right. Sparks flew, metal creaked and groaned below him, the Shroud's central mechanism started protesting against the heat.

Stain ran to the main control unit and activated it, hearing the Shroud struggle to come alive. Through all the creaking, groaning metal and hissing of faulty valves, it started. Now all he had to do was assemble the main injection unit for the interior filter. Once that was done... it would be okay for him to die.

Somewhere below, glass shattered. "Sten!" Stain gulped, frozen for a moment with fear hearing that voice. "Where are you?"

He didn't answer, just kept working furiously to complete his mission.

Then Guren's tone changed, "Sten!" he sounded relieved, happy even, then he jumped and climbed his way to him in mere moments. "Thank goodness, you're okay!" That smile... it was enough to twist up his stomach. "Come on, we have to go."

Stain ignored him, turning back and continuing to assemble the machine.

"Sten, it's over." Guren spoke softly, taking a few steps closer, and Stain sighed. "Endeavor's down. We won, you and... the others are heroes." His hand placed itself on Stain's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "Philanthropy wont recover from this one. We won."

Slowly, task completed Stain turned around, his expression utterly devoid of joy. "It would be you..." he said, gently taking Guren's hand and removing it from his shoulder. "Of all the people, all the heroes who could come to try and stop me... it just had to be you."

Guren lost his smile, looking at him with quiet worry. "Sten, what are you talking about? Endeavor's down, out. The others are really hurt, we need to get them help, now!"

"I can't leave yet." Stain patted Overhaul's utility belt. "This isn't over until I make sure this pustule of a society is cleansed."

Eyes shifting to the belt, Guren's face shifted. One realization after another, until he finally realized what Stain was planning. "...You're not."

"I am..."

Sounds of the crumbling facility reigned over their conversation for a few moments longer, neither having the will to speak. "Sten... do you have any idea what this will do?"

He nodded, backing away from Guren. "The world will be made quirkless again. No More society of heroes, no more abuse of this power!" He clenched his fist, holding it up before him with his signature, wild grin. "A fresh start where this kind of thing won't be possible anymore! Think about it! Weapons technology has practically disappeared in the last two centuries!" Guren backed away from him now too, wearing a look of total disbelief. "The playing field will be completely leveled, no one will stand above anyone else in terms of power anymore! We all really will be equal then!"

Jaw dropped, Guren shook his head vigorously. "That's- no! That's not what will happen!" His face twisted, pleading with his surrogate brother. "Do you have any idea what the world was like back then? Two hundred years ago, when quirks first arrived, the world was in chaos! It took over seventy-five years for civilization to claw its way back up!"

Stain scoffed. "A civilization where the most affluent control everything!" His smile had vanished, replaced with his righteous fury. "This facade, this 'war' between heroes and villains is nothing but a masquerade! A show with flashing lights and shiny outfits, for everyone to stare at while the people funding the war -giving troops to both sides no less- profit off it like it's some big show!"

Guren closed his mouth, unable to say anything just yet. So far, word for word, Stain was absolutely right. That was all this had ever been, right from the beginning.

"The toy lines, posters, costume replicas..." Stain shook his head, fists clenched. "Its obscene! Profiteering off of literal loss of life. Heroes and villains kill each other on a daily basis, and we just treat it like some serialized tv show. Hyping up the next big hero, dreading the rise of the next villain." He looked out the window toward the city. "Overhaul was right about one thing... the world is sick, but its not quirks that are to blame. It's what we've done to them."

Stepping forward, Guren spoke softly. "We've taken down Philanthropy already. They were the cause of it all, them and The Nameless Ones! There's no need to do this! All we need to do now is find The Prophet System and destroy it, then all this ends!"

For a moment, Stain lowered his head, shoulders shaking. Guren thought he might have been crying, but then he reared his head back, laughing. "REALLY!?" He thrust arms to either side, face somewhere between a grin and something vicious. "Tell me this one then: how has Philanthropy kept this war going for over two centuries using that Prophet System when it was only made a decade ago!"

Guren's eyes fluttered, taking a step back. "Ah- I-"

Stain scoffed again, hissing as he did. "Didn't think that far ahead? Allow me to explain." He walked to the window, looking out toward the city. "Simple, honest prejudice." He spun back around, hand slamming into his own sternum. "People with unseemly quirks, quirks that 'appear villainous' are outcast! People like Shigaraki, people like Twist who was more of a hero than some of our classmates will ever be!"

He had no words, no way to say he was wrong. But... "Sten... that's- people aren't so quick to judge as you think! I mean... sure, sometimes quirks scare people but on the whole people aren't so closed minded as all that."

Stain laughed. "Right. So long as the mutant-type quirk still leaves them fuckable, I suppose?"

Guren blinked. "I- What? Where the hell is that coming from?"

"It's no secret that the most popular heroes all have a few things in common." Stain raised fingers, one after the other. "Powerful quirks, decent PR agents and looks." Another round of blinking for the vampire. "Just look at the top ten! Not one, one of them bears so much as a blemish! It's so holywood it makes me wanna gag..."

Scratching the back of his neck, Guren looked a little awkward. "I don't think that's as big a thing as you make it sound."

Stain gave him a very, very impatient look. "No? Tell me one thing more: what happened a good, lets say, two thirds of our class?" Guren blinked, expression sinking. "When was the last time we spoke to any of them? Tokoyami? Sato? Shoji? Hagakure? Ojiro?" Slowly, but surely, Guren felt his heart sink and it left him nauseous. "We know they decided to transfer out for their last year, but does anyone know why? Does anyone care?"

A point Guren painfully conceded. "I don't know..."

Shaking his head, Stain returned to the injector. "It's simple prejudice. Not looking at things we don't want to care about. People that seem less 'human' than others thanks to their quirks or other differences being ignored or neglected until they have no choice but to become what society sees them as just to survive!"

"Just like you?"

Stain faltered, not replying for a moment. "...Who told you?"

Guren frowned. "Overheard some of it at the diner, when you were talking to... Knuckles?" Stain looked away. "In any case... all this will do is make things worse."

Stain glared at him. "You can't possibly know that."

"Nighteye said as much..." Guren's expression was serious, but still gentle. "I thought he was talking about what would happen if we exposed the truth about The Prophet System, but now I think this is what he really saw."

Stain blinked, skeptical as ever. "Meaning?"

"If you make the world quirkless... I think another war like we had two hundred years ago will happen." Guren warned, looking very, very scared. "Only this time it wont be fought with quirks. It'll be fought with weapons, as terrible as we can make them. You remember how scary things could be back then? Nuclear weapons and whatnot? What if it all descends back to that? What if all you accomplish by doing this, is just making everything worse?"

Stain hesitated, thinking this through for a moment more, looking out toward the city. "People wouldn't have any reason to hate each other...our prejudices would-"

"Would just find other sources," Guren pleaded, "Before quirks it was... skin color, religion, gender roles, politics. Okay, people still hate each other for the last two, but that's the point!" He stepped forward, putting a hand on Stain's shoulder. "If you go through with this, nothing you want to change will." Stain, despite everything, despite his convictions and hatred, seemed to grow smaller. "Please... lets just go before we make things worse."

He felt his little brother's fingers tightening on his shoulder, desperately, as though he might run away again. It was enough to pull at his heart, put water in his eyes. Stain- ... someone, looked up, into Guren's eyes. "Brother, I- ..." he looked away again. "I- I don't know what else to do."

His other hand was on the other shoulder now. "Me neither." Guren was smiling again. "But we can figure it out, right? We're gonna be heroes soon, for real. Then we can change this stupid system, make people aware of problems like this." He winced, guilt clouding his smile. "You know... you're not wrong about any of it, but... that doesn't make turning everyone quirkless the right choice. It's possible to be right about everything and still mess it all up."

Guren sniffed, holding back tears of his own.

"Or you could be like me," he said, "just make stupid decisions that hurt the people you love, being wrong about... everything." The half human blinked, not sure what he meant. "I did it again. Just ran from the problem instead of... doing anything." His grip on his big brother's shoulders tightened. "I should've- ...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about your family and Aizawa. I kept making excuses to myself, thinking it- that I-"

He pulled Guren into a hug. "I forgive you." He heard the startled little breath he made, on the verge of tears."Can... can you forgive me?"

Guren's arms wrapped tightly around him. "Of course!"

It broke his heart to hear that kid so happy. Taking a step back, arms leaving each other, he thought about it. About all of it. Then, reaching behind himself, he unlsung the sword from around his shoulder, and drew it. Guren blinked, his happiness vanishing. The involuntary step he took back... it made Stain want to cry. Instead he smiled and said, "the hero you're going to be..." then he threw the sword away. "It's going to put all of them to shame."

Guren couldn't help the grin that followed, as Stain removed Overhaul's belt.

"Take it." He said, hands and voice trembling. "Before I change my mind, just take it!"

Leaping forward, Guren did just that. "Okay, I've got it!" he put it on, securing it around his waist. "It's alright. It's not your problem anymore, it's mine. Okay, Sten?"

Sten... yes. Yes that sounded right, and it had him smiling in relief. Maybe- maybe it would all really could work like this. Maybe with what little time he had left, Stendhal could come back. He and his little brother could be a team again, cleaning up the street, making the world a better place. Maybe his last bit of time alive could be something brighter than these last few weeks. There was still a chance to- to...

What was that sound?

Something below them exploded, shaking the building to its very foundations. Sten lost his footing as the structure lurched about, then Guren fell over too. The entire Shroud was tilting, smoke billowing up and swallowing them. They tried to stand, another explosion rocked the structure and their catwalk fell. They crashed into one, then another in a a cascade until then Shroud tilted to one side, then toppled like a tree.

Walls sundered, turned to dust and shards of metal as they flew, crashing through surface after surface. Stendhal finally felt the world fall still, the fire from the Shroud swallowing up whatever building they were in now and he tasted smoke. "No! Not n-" He tasted the blood before he felt his chest heave, his lungs forcing him to cough out the smoke and all the rest.

Then he heard a small voice whimpering in pain.

"Guren! Where a-" He fell to his knees, gagging on blood, pus and what he hoped was saliva.

No! No, he needs me!

Stendhal curled his fist and hit his rebellious lungs through his own bones, as hard as he could.

Work! WORK DAMN YOU! I AM NOT GOING TO LET HIM DIE HERE!

Enough of it worked its way clear, for him to force his body to stand. "GUREN!"

No reply.

"IZUKU!"

...

No.

NO NO NO!

He ran, eyes scanning everywhere, ignoring the protests of his own body as he searched. Time seemed to lose meaning as he tore through the rubble, eyes refusing to cut through the smoke, watering in protests he ignored. Blood poured from his lips, breath hissing through his teeth as his lungs burned, the smoke tearing more holes, aggravating the silica that had embedded itself into the organs. He ignored it all, his heartrate climbing exponentially with each passing moment. Guren... GUREN!

"Nnnng..."

Stendhal spun around, toward the source of that little groan. "Guren!" No reply. "Little brother, where are you!?" he ran forward, back toward the Shroud where the smoke was thickest.

Then he saw him, pinned beneath a still girder that was still very attached to the structure it was a part of. Guren's legs were pinned, crushed beneath it as the fire reached ever toward them both.

"Izuku!" he kneeled by his side, slapping his cheeks a few times. "Wake up! We need to-"

Another lurch of both buildings, and Stendhal dropped over the ledge, barely catching it in time to avoid falling into the fire. It felt like smoke had filled his entire chest cavity, his fingers refused to function. All the same, screaming with every iota of movement, he forced his arms to drag him back up. Then, coughing and gagging for air, his fingers gripped under the girder and started hauling.

I know...

The buildings groaned, shaking again, threatening to collapse under their own weight but Stendhal ignored it.

I know you'd want me to run. To leave you here. You're just like that... a hero through and through, it's what you've always been in your heart.

Smoke surrounded him, crowding into his mouth, and he kept on screaming, kept on lifting as hard as he could.

That's exactly why I can't do that. All my life... I've seen things through the stained eyes of a killer. A murderer through and through, it's what I am in my heart. It's what led me here. Led me to becoming Stain.

The floor beneath him cracked, more of it behind him creaking and cracking as it started to crumble,

It's what led me to getting so much of my own life so wrong... why I isolated myself and took to the streets... if I can do one thing right before I die, let it be this. Let me save him.

Then, summoning the last of his strength, Stendhal did the imossible. "HE'S MY LITTLE BROTHER, GOD DAMMIT! HE'S MY FAMILY! NOW MOVE!" With one, final haul, he shifted it off of Izuku.

Grabbing his little brother, as his legs started to slowly heal, Stendhal dragged him toward the closest window. So little of his strength remained, but he kept on pushing, pulling. He felt his limbs giving out, then a hand grasped his. "Sten!?"

It was Guren. "Come on!" He pulled him to his feet, nearly falling in the process, then they carried each other toward the window and jumped.

"You die drowning in your own lungs... regretting every decision you've ever made, holding your own heart in your hand..."

The shroud collapsed into the building as it crumbled into the flame, their bodies shattered the glass and fell to the street. Landing with a clatter, both were stunned and couldn't really move for a few moments. Looking back where they'd been, Izuku shuddered in relief. They'd made it. Both of them had made it out!

"Holy hell... Thank you, Sten." Smiling he turned toward him. "You saved m-"

His heart sunk.

Lying on the street, chest barely moving, Stendhal's face was more blue than not. Blood trickled down from his lips, and his every attempt at breath was a short, rasping squeak. "G-Gur-ren..."

Izuku crawled over to him as quickly as he could. "Sten!" He pulled him upright, helping him sit up. "Hold on! There- there's gotta be-"

He almost forgot what he had to say, when Stendhal grabbed his shoulder. His fingers weren't gripping very hard, but it was all the strength he had left. "Sor..." he gasped, barely air at all as blood spurted from his mouth, the weakest of coughs forcing more free. "I... sor...ry..."

"Save your strength, okay? Where's your inhaler?"

Weakly, Stendhal raised a hand, reaching toward a pocket and Izuku tore it free.

"Here!" He pressed the lever but nothing happened. Empty. "OH COME ON!" He wanted to smash it, wanted to throw it, but saw that Stendhal was crying.

Actual tears ran from his eyes, as he smiled at him. "Th-" Izuku felt his heart breaking. Not again. Not again, he couldn't lose someone he loved! Not like this, not again! "Thank...you..." his grip on Izuku's shoulder tightened, as his eyes started to close. "not...a...vil...lain...cuza...you..." he took one last breath, haggared and rasping and forced out the last that he could say. "thanks... Izu...ku..."

No.

No he refused to let it end like this. "Trust me, okay?" Stendhal couldn't answer, his hand was still on Izuku's shoulder, but his eyes were closing. Izuku leaned forward and bit Stendhal's throat, taking as little blood as he thought that he could get away with. Once that was done, he used a claw to open his wrist and placed it to his brother's mouth. "Come on... come on, drink!"

Stendhal's hand fell from, Izuku's shoulder, the open wound pouring into his mouth and went limp.

"Sten?"

He heard sirens, the ambulances arrived for his friends and someone landed nearby but he didn't look to see who it was. He just heard a feminine, heartbroken gasp as someone fell to her knees and Aizawa's voice. "No... No..."

Izuku gave him a little shake, making sure his wrist was still bleeding. "Sten, come on!"

He didn't see it, but Vanessa was... devastated. All her strength and will to do anything just slipped away as Aizawa, fell against a nearby wall, hand on his face.

"Sten!"

No reply was given. Just a limp, motionless body in his arms. First his lips started quivering, then his vision got foggy and Izuku broke. He started sobbing, in loud, ugly cries of misery as he clutched at Stendhal- at Chizome's body, hugging him as tight as he could. He just cried, wailing at the top of his lungs cradling his brother in his arms as he rocked back and forth.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!"

He just kept right on shaking, the tears indistinguishable from the rain, and holding him. He couldn't let him go. They'd just take him away, burn him, bury him. Not him, not his big brother, god dammit! Not one of his best friends!

Not this again...

Not this empty hollow void again... he barely survived it the last time...

Give him back. Give mom back. Give any of them back! Take him if you had to, but put them back!

The world wasn't how it was supposed to be without them.

They were the ones who made it what it was...

What was the point of being a hero, if you couldn't save the most important people there were?

Izuku sniffled, petting Stendhals messy hair and felt the wind tickling his ear. Damn it... DAMN IT!

The wind tickled his ear again, brushing past his hair and he smelled... blood. He smelled blood on the wind.

Confused, Izuku looked around. Where had that come from? There- there wasn't anyone nearby who-

He heard a rasp, a cough and felt stirring in his arms. In disbelief, Izuku lowered his brother's body and saw him gagging, coughing. He was breathing! "Stendhal!"

He rolled away from him, trying to breathe, but his lungs were too full of blood. He tried to reach behind himself, his arm batting uselessly at his back. Rasping, chest heaving, he was drowning again! Izuku leapt forward and clapped on his back. Again and again until the fluids pooled out onto the street. Then, breathing clear for the first time in weeks, Stendhal fell onto his side and grabbed Izuku's hand.

"I love you..." Hearing his big brother say those words, Izuku thought he might start crying all over again. "Little brother..." he breathed in long, heavy gasps. "I love you, Izuku."

No longer caring to fight back the tears, Izuku closed the distance and pulled him in for a hug."I love you too, Chizome..." in between happy sobs, as Vanessa started getting up, he whispered, "please... don't ever do that again..."

Crying himself, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Izuku, he looked at his aunt. "...I promise." Then she knelt, and wrapped both her boys in the tightest embrace she could get away with.

Aizawa just sighed in utter relief and let himself drop to the street.

Crisis averted.

It was all over, and the heroes had won.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night...
Take these broken wings and learn to fly...

All your life...
You were only waiting for this moment to arise...

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life...
You were only waiting for this moment to be free...

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly...
Into the light of a dark black night."

Stain just said 'I love you'. The one thing Stain should never say.

Stain is dead.

Long live Chizome Akaguro.