Izuku rose over the Underground like a brilliant green sun, casting light-however faint and flickering-across the steely dark stone.

He could hear cries below him as he soared past, shouts of terror and joy, shock and rage and a thousand other emotions. He ignored all of them; here and now, he could only afford to focus on one thing: his enemy.

There was no more time for regret, no chance for second thoughts. He didn't want to be here-but he knew the rules, knew them as well as any denizen of the Depths.

When the chips were down and you had no other choice, you fought to kill-because you could be damn sure the other guy would be, too.

A horrifying screech filled the air as Izuku shot towards his target. He'd been seen.

In even the faintest light, rather than the utter blackness he'd cast the city into, Tokoyami's form was even more horrifying. A hundred feet long, with an immense, jagged head and a sleek, sinuous body that didn't seem to end so much as it simply…faded at the edges. He had immense arms, with talons the size of buildings, but he still seemed to almost be floating, as if he didn't need limbs.

As Izuku watched, he turned with a shriek, hatred plain on his monstrous face. Whatever he'd become, whatever demon he'd unleashed-it loathed the light, wanted to tear it apart.

Perhaps it might have fled-but not tonight, of all nights. Tokoyami attacked.

Quick as lightning, the monster was shooting across the city, leaving shattered buildings in its wake as it flowed towards him. Claws like city blocks reached out for Izuku as their momentum brought them clashing together.

A shockwave rippled across the entire city as Izuku's fist slammed into the seething black mass. 100% right off the bat this time-no playing around, no holding back. Not anymore.

Tokoyami coiled around the blow, twisting in impossible ways as he swiped at Izuku, forcing him back. He flipped over an outstretched talon, only to find another slamming down from above. With no other option, he caught the blow.

For a brief moment, the two brought all their unimaginable strength to bear against each other, before Izuku leaped away again, letting Tokoyami fall as his counterweight suddenly vanished. His talons slammed into the street below, flattening buildings and carving deep gouges into the stone.

Izuku could have followed up on the momentary opening that afforded him, but instead, he shouted, "Stop this, Tokoyami!"

Tokoyami whirled as he rose once again, but instead of attacking immediately, his immense form shuddered with what might have been laughter.

"I'm not surprised you're still alive," he rumbled. "You're damned hard to kill, Atlas. But I am surprised that you still think you can talk your way out of this."

So, Mina was wrong. Tokoyami was still in there. Whatever deal he'd made with his quirk, whatever chains he'd let loose-he was still in control, at least partially. Maybe this could end without Izuku becoming a killer again.

Without warning, Tokoyami swiped again, but Izuku blurred, moving too fast for the eye to catch. A split second after Tokoyami's claws rent empty air, he struck the mutant in the flank like a battering ram with a flying kick, sending him reeling into another row of townhouses. The buildings crumpled like toys as he slammed into them, but even tons of falling stone and brick couldn't slow him down for long; he clawed his way free quickly.

Izuku floated overhead for a moment as he did so. He was already too deep; might as well try and keep talking to Tokoyami. Maybe it would distract him-or maybe the mutant was wrong, and this could end peacefully, even now. It was a foolish dream, and Izuku knew it; but protecting dreams, however foolish, was what he did.

"What you want is right, Tokoyami!" Izuku called out. "It always has been."

Tokoyami growled as he rose to his feet. "Then get out of my way," he replied.

Izuku shook his head. "I can't do that," he said. "But if you stop, maybe we can-"

It was foolish even as it left his mouth, and he never got to finish the thought anyway. Tokoyami lunged for Izuku again, claws flashing, but once more Izuku was too fast for him. This time, though, Izuku's counterattack, too, only found empty air-Tokoyami was just as fast.

There was no time for words, then, as Izuku let himself get lost in the adrenaline, the howling monster tearing at the sky in an effort to rip him to pieces. He flowed under a swipe, punching up and into the creature's jaw, sending it reeling; Tokoyami recovered in an instant, coming after him again.

It was a terrible dance, a push and pull of light and shadow. It was the first time Izuku had gone all-out for so long in nearly a decade-Fumikage was the greatest opponent he had faced since Shigaraki's death, he could tell that already. He'd spent so long at 100% now, he was less a man and more of a living lightning bolt, a whirling storm of electricity nipping at Fumikage's heels.

A massive claw blindsided him with a shriek, and Izuku was just barely too slow to catch it. He was slammed into a stone wall with enough force to shatter city blocks, the whole dark mass of Fumikage's quirk hurled against him in an effort to crush him from existence.

Izuku spat blood from his mouth, feeling more trickling from a cut on his forehead. This…this was exhilarating, as awful an admission as it was.

Fumikage drew back, his form as vast as a mountain, eyes the size of buildings glowing with hate. "I'm going to kill you, Atlas," he hissed, voice shaking the very stone. "I won't let you keep us from the light any longer."

Izuku laughed as he rose to his feet once more, feeling boulders fall and shatter around him. His eyes were glowing, his expression feral. He would have been horrified by it…but he wasn't Izuku right now. He was Atlas, in all his terrible glory, the greatest killer Japan had ever seen, the monster they had made to protect themselves from their own cruelties. And he would not suffer a challenger.

"We'll see about that," he chuckled, brightening until he was painful to look at. Then, he charged forwards, barreling into Fumikage once more.

He would not fail. Not again.

Mina didn't even have time to think about how ridiculous it was to trust her with keeping Takao safe as she led him out of the building.

Seriously, Izuku thought she was a good option to protect him?

Or maybe she was just the only option. That thought removed any levity from her expression as they plunged into the pitch-black streets.

There was a great plaza out in front of the venue, full of wispy trees and absolutely zero cover. Mina started scanning the rooftops, half-expecting to see an ambush coming. Before she could, though, Takao came to a stop behind her, puffing hard; political mastermind he may have been, but he was also an out-of-shape middle-aged man. He'd be mincemeat for any Outcast who got to him.

"Where the hell are we going?" he demanded, his face red. Behind him, his bodyguards-a group of eight men in bespoke suits and earpieces that Mina had sized up as more or less useless the moment she'd laid eyes on them-finally caught up.

Mina snorted, not even turning her head to acknowledge the mayor. "Somewhere where he can't follow," she replied, raising an arm.

Takao followed her finger to the monster in front of them, peering through the haze and the tiny pools of red light from emergency lamps in an attempt to make out the impossibly massive shape that flickered in and out of view, backlit by streaks of green lightning that wound around and around the smoky form. His eyes went wide. He hadn't gotten a good look at it inside the building, robbed of his night vision by the ballroom lights. Now, he saw what he had wrought in all its monstrous glory.

"My God," he breathed. "What is that?"

"People I care about tearing each other apart," Mina thought bitterly. "The first person I ever trusted, and the man I love, and they're both in danger. From each other."

She kept her mouth shut, though; she had bigger issues.

How the hell was she supposed to figure out where to stash Takao to keep him from getting in trouble? She didn't know the level well enough to even start to consider it, let alone how she was going to protect him all by herself.

She was disturbed from her dark thoughts by Takao's bodyguards shouldered past her, running down the stairs and into the plaza. They raised their guns, pointing them down one of the streets that fed into the round plaza.

Mina squinted at what they were so worked up about. Had they seen something? If they had, they were idiots; no gun on earth would be able to stop the Outcasts, let alone a couple of dinky handguns.

Luckily, though, it turned out to not be the assault Mina feared. Instead, a squad of costumed heroes soon emerged from the gloom, brushing past the bodyguards with ease and disdainful looks on their faces. At their head was a woman Mina recognized.

Mina turned to grin at Momo as the tall woman came sprinting up, face pale. That grin didn't reach her golden eyes.

Momo's own eyes brushed over her without realizing who she was; understandable, considering the fact that Mina had put her hood back up. It was a stupid gesture, and she knew it, considering what she'd just done-but sue her for not wanting to think about the fact that the whole world knew her face, now.

Instead of lingering on her, Momo turned to the mayor. Formally, she said, "Greetings, Mayor Takao. It's good to see you unharmed."

Takao snorted. "Likewise, Creati," he said humorlessly, beady eyes gleaming in the dark. "Although the circumstances could be better."

Momo chuckled darkly; it was a sound Mina had never expected to hear from the posh, slightly sheltered woman she'd met aboveground what felt like a lifetime ago. It was the sound of a veteran, of a jaded soldier in a situation that they knew was fucked beyond all hope of recovery.

"Who is this?" she asked, turning back to Mina.

Takao's eyes gleamed, and Mina realized that maybe letting the weasel talk wasn't a great idea. "This… mutant is threatening me," Takao hissed darkly. "I think she's working with the villains who are destroying the city. I would suggest you arrest her, Creati."

It was such a boneheadedly cynical play, Mina genuinely couldn't believe it. But then, Takao had no shame-and no idea that Mina and Momo knew each other.

Momo snorted dismissively, clearly just as inured to Takao's bullshit as Mina was. But still, just to be sure, Mina simply responded by throwing back her hood, and giving Momo a casual wave.

"Hey, Momo," she said, grinning. "Been a while. How've you been?"

Momo blinked, clearly caught a little off guard. She gave Mina a "Where the hell have you been?" look, dry and just casual enough to make it clear she didn't believe Takao for a single second. Mina just shrugged back.

Then, as if they were just catching up over drinks, Momo waved back, and casually asked, "Hey, Mina. How's the boyfriend?"

Mina wasn't looking at the mayor, but she heard his choked, confused inhalation as she snickered to herself. "Oh, you know, fighting a giant shadow monster," she snarked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. At that moment, the lightning flared again, outlining the avian head of Tokoyami's shadow as it roared, recoiling from a blow that packed enough force to shatter mountains.

Momo chuckled, even though she was perfectly aware of just how dire the situation was. "Typical of him," she joked. "Run off to go hog all the glory while we get stuck with the grunt work."

"Hey, don't lump me into this," Mina shot back. "It's not my job to handle bastards like this one."

She gestured over her shoulder again, this time at Takao, whose eyes were practically bugging out of his head. "Y-you know this mutant?" he spluttered, as if the concept of people interacting was utterly alien to him.

Momo crossed his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "She has a name," she informed the mayor. "And of course I know her, she's dating my best friend."

Takao looked as if he was about to protest, or maybe have a nervous breakdown, but at that moment, all hell broke loose.

Out in the blackness, one of Takao's bodyguards suddenly went down with a scream, twisting as a bloody gash was carved across his shoulder and chest by what seemed like an invisible blur. Already jumpy, his comrades responded by whirling towards his slumped figure and opening fire, shattering the stillness of the plaza with the sound of gunfire and blinding muzzle flashes.

They didn't hit anything, of course, but they did make a great signal that the time for talking was over. Momo and Mina both whirled towards the threat, Mina's hands filling with acid, Momo pulling a terrifying-looking cannon from beneath her cloak with a deadly, practiced familiarity.

For a heartbeat, all was still as the remaining bodyguards stopped firing; everyone waited with bated breath for whatever had attacked to strike again.

Then it obliged; one of the heroes, his hands glowing with a faint light, shouted in pain as a knife was suddenly rammed into his upper arm seemingly from nowhere, and a booted foot swung through the air and slammed into the side of his head.

Once more, there was gunfire, but this time the shadowy blur didn't simply melt away-or if it did, it returned half a second later with a vengeance. It carved through the heroes and bodyguards, headed straight for-

"Well, duh," Mina realized. "Of course they're going for the fucking mayor."

As Momo opened fire, Mina simply…closed her eyes.

She wasn't like these heroes. She hadn't spent her life in the sun and the rain, hadn't learned to see in a world with more light than she could even imagine. Her eyes-the eyes Izuku loved so much-were used to being secondary. She was used to darkness, true darkness, where the only guides were sound and touch-and she'd spent a lifetime learning that in a fight in that blackness, the slightest movement of the air could be the difference between life and death.

That was why, instead of plunging into her neck, the blade that erupted from the wall behind her passed through only empty air, as Mina twisted like a gymnast and threw a ball of full-strength acid directly into the face of the silver-haired, inky-skinned man holding it.

Sadly, not all of it hit; instead, the man ducked back into the wall the second he missed. The acid didn't miss entirely, though-the man's shoulder and arm were still drawing back into the wall, and they got splashed heavily with burning liquid.

There was an abrupt, cut-off cry of pain, and Mina found herself under attack again from her blindspot-only for Momo to pull a gleaming, semi-translucent staff of some kind of crystal directly from her shoulder and slam it into the man's face like a bat.

The two women, acting on instincts from a hundred battles, put their backs to each other as the man flipped end-over-end and landed on the hard stone with a grunt.

"Nice try, asshole," Mina couldn't help but call out.

Kuroiro growled as he lunged to his feet. "You," he hissed, low and dangerous. "The traitor."

Mina bared her teeth-calling it a smile felt like a lie, as the only emotions in the expression were menace and savage delight. "Me," she agreed humorlessly.

Kuroiro scanned the plaza, full of bleeding, downed men he'd carved through with less effort than a normal man would have taken to squish a bug, before his eyes landed again on Takao, who was now huddling in the alleyway behind Mina and Momo. Several men-more bodyguards, apparently-were coming up behind them, starting to bundle the mayor off back down the alleyway. One glance, and Mina and Momo knew the plan; Kuroiro would have to get through them to make it to Takao.

The Outcast raised his knife."I had come for the mayor," he said, voice dark and dulcet. "But I think I'll start with you."

Mina snorted. "Try me," she retorted.

In response, Kuroiro disappeared, blurring into the ground like a shadow made of ink.

In those stretched-out seconds, waiting for him to reemerge, Momo leaned over, her voice quiet but deceptively casual.

"So, were you actually threatening the mayor?" she asked casually. Mina got the distinct impression that Momo was more curious than upset.

She simply snorted in response. "The asshole was standing in a half-ruined building waiting for Fumi to come step on him like a bug," she replied. "You bet your ass I told him that if he didn't get moving, I'd burn his tiny fucking balls off."

Out of the corner of her eye, Momo gave Mina a look that might have been respect, or might have been disbelief. "You threatened to castrate the mayor," she repeated dryly.

Mina just nodded. "It worked, didn't it?" she pointed out.

Momo sighed. "You know what? I guess it did," she agreed. "If we all survive this, I'll have to learn that trick. Threatening civilians isn't exactly heroic, though."

Mina couldn't help it. She laughed out loud.

"Then it's a good thing I'm no hero," she drawled with a wide, toothy grin.

Then, Kuroiro popped into existence again, knife already slashing, and the time for talk was over. Mina rolled under the abrupt attack, acid already flowing.

She was in for the fight of her life, but for the first time in a long time, she had backup.

It was time to teach this fucker a lesson.

The only signs of the ferocious battle being waged in front of Aegis Heroics were sparks and the horrific sound of clashing metal and stone.

Every time Kamakiri attacked, his blades met Ejiro's forearms or chest, scraping as they were deflected with steady, precise movements. Showers of sparks heralded every blow, tiny fragments of blade and skin alike shattering and flickering in the pitch-black.

Ejiro found himself sweating, just a little. Kamakiri's attacks were largely useless, yes-but the mutant wasn't stupid, or weak. He was fast as hell, so fast that Ejiro had only survived this long because Kamakiri was only aiming for a tiny handful of weak points, and Ejiro knew every one of them far too well to be surprised. It was like fighting a swarm of bees-impossible to hit, impossible to dodge, every blade aimed towards Ejiro's eyes or mouth; Kamakiri had him pretty damn well figured out, it seemed. This fight was demanding more of Ejiro than any fight had in years-enough to make him worry a bit.

Not that it mattered too much. Ejiro only needed one opportunity to end this-he could stretch fights out for hours if he needed to, simply weathering the storm, utterly impenetrable in his skin.

Hopefully, though, he wouldn't need to wait hours. Just until Kamakiri made a mistake. That was growing more likely by the second, he judged-Kamakiri was clearly getting frustrated.

"Just die already," the mutant hissed as Ejiro caught another slash, fingers like jagged shards of rock closing around Kamakiri's blade and forcing him to pull back or risk getting dragged right into a punch.

Ejiro chuckled as Kamakiri leaped away, returning to the same prodding search for weakness he'd settled into once he'd failed to assassinate Ejiro with the element of surprise. "Now why would I do that?" he asked casually. "This is just getting good!"

Kamakiri snarled with rage, then struck again, once more moving too fast for Ejiro to track. He brought his hands up, ready to protect his face from-

With a sound like a thousand nails on chalkboard, Ejiro caught a blade as it whistled straight towards his eye, his grip tightening casually around the razor-sharp metal. Kamakiri came to a screeching halt, off balance and spitting as he tried to shove through Ejiro's guard.

Ejiro grinned, about to say something else to rile the mutant up and make him sloppier, but just before he could, he noticed the gleam in Kamakiri's eye.

Then, the blade he'd been gripping suddenly shot towards his eye, nearly doubling in length in a flash. Ejiro reeled in shock, clutching at the shallow groove less than half an inch above his eye-only the slightest twitch had saved him.

Before he could react, Kamakiri lunged again, and this time, stumbling backwards and off balance, Ejiro found himself toppling backwards under the force of Kamakiri's attack, the mutant leaping onto him and trying to drive a blade through his eye.

Ejiro managed to just barely keep the blades growing from Kamakiri's shoulders and arms away from his weak points, but pinned to the ground as he was, he couldn't get the leverage to throw Kamakiri off. The mutant grinned as he pressed down, manic light filling his eyes. Ejiro grit his jagged teeth as he tried desperately to get out of the pickle.

As it turned out, the answer presented itself to him, instead. Suddenly, Kamakiri looked at something behind Ejiro's head, eyes shooting open in shock.

"What the-" he began, a sentence he never got the chance to finish. Without warning, he was grabbed by some sort of writhing tentacle, which wasted no time in twisting around and hurling him forcefully into the glass window of a nearby storefront.

Ejiro, not one to question divine intervention, quickly sprang to his feet, hardened body groaning and grinding as he turned to scan for his savior. What he saw made him take a step back in shock.

The man that strode from the shadows was a mutant unlike anything Ejiro had ever seen. He was immense, his seven-foot profile only enhanced by the horde of arms waving on either side of his torso like a thousand writhing snakes, morphing and growing with terrifying speed. His mouth was a horrific gash across his lower face, with a jaw so long and broad and grinding teeth so inhuman, it looked like it belonged to some deep sea abomination rather than a human being. He was shirtless, and with his countless arms and impossible figure, he looked like something out of mythology-a Hindu god come to earth, an avatar of destruction in the glowing dark of a burning city.

The man looked down at Ejiro with an expression somewhere between amusement and disdain. "You Red Riot?" he asked in a voice like low thunder, a grinding rumble that Ejiro almost felt rather than heard.

Ejiro nodded. "That's me," he said, keeping one eye on the shattered window Kamakiri had yet to emerge from. "Forgive me for being rude, but….who are you? Thanks for the assist, by the way."

The man snorted. "The name's Mezou," he said, his words short and clipped. "Mina sent me. Said you were the one to talk to about dealing with this shitshow."

With one of his many hands, the mutant gestured to, well…everything, really. The utterly dark city, the giant kaiju on a rampage, the murderous army trying to burn everything down.

Ejiro's eyes widened in recognition. "You're the reinforcements, then?" he said. "Well, nice to meet you. Couldn't have had better timing, if you ask me."

Mezou grunted. "Do me a favor," he requested. "Please stop talking."

Ejiro paused-for exactly half a second. Then, he said, "Y'know, I think I see why you and Mina are friends. Neither of you are fans of talking, are you?"

Mezou heaved a long, heavy sigh. "She wasn't lying, was she?" he muttered to himself-though unfortunately Ejiro could still hear him.

"Hold on, what did she say about me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as Mezou shouldered past him, further down the empty, darkened street.

"That you're a bit of a loud idiot," he said, not even deigning to look at Ejiro. "But that you're trustworthy."

Ejiro chuckled. "A bit of a loud idiot?" he asked rhetorically. "Damn, she's underselling me."

Mezou's body language was hard to read, but Ejiro thought he could detect a hint of a grin on his face as the man agreed, "Yeah, I'm starting to see that."

Sadly, before Ejiro could say anything else, there was a sudden cry from the shattered storefront Mezou had thrown Kamakiri into. Instantly, both men whirled, prepared for an attack.

Instead, all they heard was laughter, the slow, deranged chuckle of a man coming apart at the seams.

Kamakiri slowly hauled himself upright, laughing under his breath as he staggered under the pain. His whole body was littered with cuts from shattered glass, and discolored bruises that crept across his body. Even so, rows of blades erupted from his skin, jagged and brutal as blood trickled down his tusks.

"I shouldn't be surprised," he spat. "And yet I am. You betrayed us, Shoji? For what?"

Mezou's eyes hardened. "I swore no oaths to you, or to the Outcasts," he replied evenly.

Kamakiri snorted. "You didn't betray the Outcasts," he scoffed. "You're betraying your people. Or do you think that acting like a hero makes you any less of a monster than us?"

Mezou kept his arms crossed as he answered, "You don't understand the choices I've made. I chose family over everything else. I am not ashamed of that."

Kamakiri's answer was a lightning-quick assault, blades flashing as he leaped towards Mezou in a blur.

Mezou barely even flinched, arms snapping up to grab Kamakiri's blades, ignoring the deep wounds they scored across his multiplying arms. Kamakiri's eyes went wide as Mezou summarily yanked him down out of the air, ducked under a wild slash, then broke Kamakiri's arm with matter-of-fact brutality, yanking his forearm straight back away from the elbow.

Kamakiri howled in pain as the bone snapped, but the sound was cut off by Mezou hurling him back down the street, where he landed in a limp pile of cloth and flesh, trembling in agony.

"Stop this, Kamakiri," Mezou called. "You're not going to beat us."

Stepping forwards, Ejiro added, "This isn't manly, Outcast. You've lost."

Kamakiri's eyes flashed with hatred as he started to rise once more, only for his legs to give out under him. He collapsed onto one knee, his broken arm hanging uselessly by his side, eyes still glowing with fanatic rage.

He began to chuckle again, a dark, quiet sound like distant, ominous thunder. In the distance, a monster screeched, shrill and metallic like a dying god.

"I keep fucking doing it," he whispered. "I keep thinking that I'm more than what I am. I…I keep pretending that I'm like you."

Ejiro and Mezou exchanged a wordless glance. Then, Mezou stepped forwards.

"You are like me," he rumbled softly. "All you've ever wanted is to be treated like a human. Stop this madness, Kamakiri. Just give up."

"This madness is what I am!" Kamakiri half-shouted. "All I ever wanted-all I ever tried to do-was to be the kind of honorable man you claim to be, Red Riot. I wanted to be enough to beat you on my own. But I'm not. I'm from the Depths-there isn't honor there. We fight to win, and if that means fighting dirty…then I'll fight fucking dirty."

With superhuman effort, Kamakiri stood, and snapped his fingers. Mezou and Ejiro started towards him, only for an unearthly screech to fill the air. Wordlessly, they put their backs to each other as the ground began to rumble; monstrous shadows began to appear, slipping from back alleys, dropping from above, appearing as if from nowhere. They brandished weapons and talons, growled like demons out of a nightmare. They were misshapen, brutal killers, flanking a man with nothing left to lose. None of them had anything left to lose.

A hiss of focused, intense agony drew Mezou's eyes back to Kamakiri. When he saw the cause, his eyes went wide.

Kamakiri's horribly twisted broken arm had been forced into a straight position by gleaming metal blades that shot out across his skin, sinking deep into his own flesh to set the bone and make the limb usable-at the cost of unimaginable agony, presumably. Even as Mezou watched, more blades sprang from the outside of Kamakiri's arm as he held his own flesh together with his quirk. No regeneration, no healing, no durability-enhancing quirk; just a man too far gone to care, too willing to set himself alight to burn his enemies to feel the sting of the fire. What was pain compared to the rage of being lesser, or the mad freedom of taking what should have always been yours?

With eyes burning with insane, fanatic fire, Kamakiri spat, "I'm going to kill you. Both of you. And then I'm going to help Fumikage burn your precious fucking world to the ground. Attack!"

The second Kamakiri gave the order, his forces surged forwards, towards the mutant and the hero who stood back-to-back, jaws set.

The Outcasts were on them in seconds, and the world once more descended into violent madness.

Long after the battle-until the day he died-Izuku would remember almost none of it.

That happened sometimes, with One For All; he became something both less and more than human, a raging storm of power with no thoughts beyond victory. The last time had been against Shigaraki.
And of course, he knew how that had ended. But he didn't have time to care.

He would forever recall the fight against Fumikage Tokoyami not in memories, not in moments, but in heartbeats-frozen images that somehow wormed their way through the lightning in his blood and stuck themselves in his mind.

Fumikage's claws stretched out for him, rending buildings to pieces as he tried to tear Izuku apart. They were fast, but not fast enough. He sailed between them, a bolt in the dark stone sky.

The shadows Fumikage wore hissed and fizzled as he struck them, seeming to burn away as lightning seared through his fist. Izuku bared his teeth in a vicious grin. It was just as he'd thought; under normal light, and especially in the dark, those shadows were tough. But Izuku was brighter than the sun these rocks had never seen, lighting the Underground with eerie green flashes; under that sort of power, nothing could stand up forever.

Fumikage screeched, trying to swat Izuku like a fly, but once more Izuku evaded. He was too slow, too unfamiliar with his new form; he moved just a bit too slow to keep up. Izuku hit him again, his fist landing like a meteor on the side of Fumikage's head.

His vast form went flying, leveling buildings and sending shrapnel showering through the city. Izuku heard screams from below, watched fleeing forms duck and cover or flee desperately from the path of destruction. A small part of him felt sick, seeing the damage; but he had fought at Deika, and watched cities burn because of men he was too weak to stop. He knew that, one way or the other, the only way to save the Underground was to win.

And so, win he would.

Hundreds of meters away, Fumikage was struggling to his feet; his momentum had only been stopped by, of all things, the statue of Craton and Faultline that stood at the center of the Underground. Izuku covered the distance in the blink of an eye, and kicked Fumikage dead in the chest.

The force of the blow went through him, and into the vast bronze statues; Izuku felt them crack beneath his boots, metal rending and twisting. He didn't stick around to watch the statues fall, their endless dance broken; his momentum carried him and Fumikage through the statues, and into the buildings on the far side of the vast plaza.

Those didn't stop them, either; stone and brick splintered beneath their bodies as their fight devolved into a desperate wrestling match. Blows rained down, both of them clawing, kicking, doing anything to win. All around them, they shattered the Underground, destroying everything in their path. Every blow was an earthquake in miniature, sending stalactites plummeting from the ceiling to pierce buildings like spears. Such was Izuku and Fumikage's might that the Underground itself shook with the force of their battle.

Izuku had to end this fast, or there might not be an Underground to save, after it was all over.

Fumikage's claws raked across Izuku's chest, reopening the wounds he'd caused not a few days before; his strength was so great, Izuku felt something pop in his shoulder, followed by a wave of agonizing pain. But he didn't stop. Punch after punch landed, making Fumikage's shadows fizzle and evaporate-he was definitely getting smaller. Each blow burned away a little more of his quirk's strength.

At last, Izuku broke free of Fumikage's grip, immediately twisting around to land another blow. Fumikage snarled, meeting the strike and countering as he had before.

There was no more talking, no more pleas for peace. There was something exhilarating about that-about dropping the pretense, about having nothing between them but drawn knives and bloody fangs.

Izuku's blows rained down, over and over again. Each one sent Fumikage reeling, burning him up. He moved too fast to see, too fast to stop. From afar, it might have been beautiful-green auroras flickering in and out of existence, weaving a complex dance around the dark beast. Up close, there was no such beauty-only pure, sustained violence, smashing bones and burning skin. Every punch was like a thunderclap in the still, dry air.

Bit by bit, Fumikage was weakened, shadows shrinking, his attacks growing weaker and more panicked. Finally, when his form had shrunk by more than half, to merely the size of a building rather than a city block, his legs gave out from beneath him, and he crashed to earth.

Izuku came to a halt, slowly descending with Float, hovering above the street Fumikage was struggling to rise on.

"Surrender, Tokoyami," he said at last, breathing hard, blood trickling down his face, costume shredded-but still smiling. Always smiling. Cape flying behind him, body Herculean-every inch the hero he had always been.

Fumikage rose; he was no longer a vaguely four-legged beast of shadow and smoke, but a man-a man with a raging monster circling him like a serpent, yes, but just a man.

Just a man. As if that had ever stopped anyone from changing the world.

"Go fuck yourself," Fumikage snarled. He struck again, melding into his quirk with practiced ease as they lunged-a multitude, two minds in perfect harmony.

It was the opening Izuku had been waiting for. All he needed was one chance-one punch to end it all.

He was done reacting to what his enemies did. He was taking control now.

(Was Fumikage his enemy? He didn't know. But it was too late to wonder.)

When Izuku moved, he was not a man, but a streak of lightning, sheer force given flesh. One For All sang in his blood, a thousand points of light connecting in a flash. His feet touched the stone for half a fraction of a second-he skimmed along the surface, everything fading into the black but him and his target.

There was a crack as he struck Fumikage; his fist plowed deep into the other man's gut, so hard he spat blood. Not that he had a chance even for so automatic a reaction-Izuku was moving so fast, and hitting so hard, he carried Fumikage up with him, a shockwave shredding everything in their path as bones shattered and darkness burned away to nothing and Izuku carried them up, up, up. They were a streak of light, a flash in the darkness so bright that it turned to day for a single, heart-stopping moment.

At last, they reached the far edge of the Underground, and Izuku and Fumikage slammed into the stone so violently that they left a massive crater in the wall.

They ended on a tiny ledge, high above the city-Izuku, and the limp, broken form of his enemy, utterly beaten.

In Ochako's educated opinion, this was some fucking bullshit.

The whole market district had descended into chaos. The Outcasts were swarming over the city, spreading terror in their wake. The rest of her squad, unable to keep up, were falling back, trying to protect civilians-not that Atlas's fight with the giant fucking kaiju was helping, leveling whole districts as they pummeled each other.

The heroes would be okay-they were getting out of the monsters' path. But that meant Ochako had to cover them. Which in turn meant that she, equipped with nothing but the ability to make things float and some martial arts, had to fight a goddamn vine demon.

No sooner had she had the thought than another barrage of writhing thorns shot up from the stone in front of her, lashing out too fast to see. Only her reaction speed saved Ochako from being completely ensnared.

A quick glance back over her shoulder revealed the source-the strongest mutant Ochako had ever seen. The woman was standing serenely on a twisted pillar of vines, surrounded by writhing tendrils that wove across her arms and down into the earth, bursting out wherever she wanted. Her eyes were dark and hateful, full of deadly intent as Ochako weaved through her attacks with frantic speed.

This wasn't sustainable, and Ochako knew it. She had to figure out some way to end this, and quick.

Panting, she called out, "You know this doesn't end well for you, right?"

The woman responded with another attack; once Ochako dodged it again, though, she snorted, "Don't be so sure of yourself, hero."

Knowing that keeping her talking was her best shot, Ochako pressed, "But seriously what's the goal here? You're not hurting civilians, not looting-what do you want?"

The woman laughed darkly. "You really do have a dim view of us, don't you?" she snapped. "What we want isn't something we can take from these merchants. It's something much bigger. Not that you care."

More vines burst from the ground, shattering the stone as Ochako rolled once more. Thrown off balance, one of the tendrils made contact, sending her spiraling into the ruins of a building. She landed with a grunt, twisting to avoid the follow-up attack-and trying to suppress a grin.

"Why shouldn't I care?" Ochako asked, stress making her accent stronger. "You're human too, aintcha?"

The woman nearly paused; at any rate, Ochako gained a few seconds of breathing room as her vines slowed and parted, just for a moment. It seemed her question had rattled the Outcast.

Ochako landed, breathing hard, on a clear spot surrounded by what felt like an ocean of thorns. She realized the mutant was looking at her.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, eyes narrowed.

Ochako raised an eyebrow. "I could ask the same thing," she replied. "Tryin' to kill someone without askin' their name is awfully rude."

The woman sighed, then, oddly, seemed to consider her words. "My name's Ibara," she said, finally.

Ochako finally let her mask slip, her lips curling up into a grin. "Well, Ibara," she replied. "Thanks for not lookin' up."

Ibara's eyes went wide, flinching back as, without warning, Ochako tapped herself with all five fingers, leaped upwards, slammed her boots against a towering pillar of vines, twisted, leaped again-

And rose up above half a dozen floating boulders, all pulled upwards by her quirk from where they had lain among the twisted rubble.

As Ibara's vines lunged for her, Ochako brought down her boot on the largest boulder, and simultaneously tapped her fingers together.

Over the years, she'd discovered something: funny things happened when she set an object in motion just before releasing her quirk's hold over it. More specifically, the act of suddenly returning mass to an object that was moving at high speed didn't seem to slow it down-it kept moving at the same speed it had started at when it was weightless, a speed much higher than it should have ever been able to achieve.

In other words, Ochako punted a very large rock at the approximate speed of a soccer ball, directly at Ibara's face.

The rock plowed into her like a bullet, and the tight-knit web of vines supporting her collapsed like a house of cards. More vines shot upwards, but the falling rocks deflected or pinned them, letting Ochako tuck and roll as she hit the ground.

"That was close," she thought. "Another few minutes, and I wouldn't have been able to beat her."

Before she could complete the thought, the rock she'd hurled at Ibara exploded, as did the ground beneath her. Before Ochako could react, a thorny vine had wrapped tight around her torso, utterly trapping her.

Ochako's heart sank as vines erupted around the boulder, filling the dark air until it was impossible to tell thorns from shadow. Slowly, the boulder rose, revealing that Ibara had, impossibly, caught it. There was a thick net of vines, wrapped tight around each other and straining like muscles, between her body and the boulder, her hands up in a futile attempt to protect herself-but her quirk had saved her.

With a grunt of effort, the vines wrapped around the boulder entirely, raising it into the air. With a contemptuous flick of her hand, she threw it aside, sending it crashing into a building. Then, she turned her eyes to her captured prey.

"Heroes," she spat, the earlier hesitation burned away. "Even when I start thinking you're not quite as awful as you show you are, even when I want to believe you understand…you never will. You'll keep lying and pretending, keep trying to kill us, won't you?"

Ochako opened her mouth to answer, but a vine wrapped around her throat and started to draw tight, choking her. She tried to struggle, tried to break free, but the sharp barbs on the vines tore at her, sending blood coursing down her body.

Ibara stepped closer to her, so close that Ochako could see the sorrow behind the burning hatred in her eyes. It was distant-so distant, there was no way she could reach it. The world started to go dark.

And then, something long, wet, and sticky wrapped around her, snaking between the vines, and yanked.

Ibara turned, shocked, as Ochako felt herself get pulled free of the vines' grasp-just in time for an earth-shattering kick to land directly on her face. She went flying one way as Ochako was pulled the other, landing in the arms of a short, green-haired woman with a wide, froggy face.

Gasping for breath, Ochako looked up at her savior-and reeled in shock. She was a mutant-the posture, the long tongue still pulling back into her mouth, it was clear. And yet, she looked down at Ochako with relief and kindness in her eyes.

"Are you alright, ribbit?" she asked.

Ochako nodded. "Yeah," she said. "And, uh…thanks. Also, who are you?"

The woman snorted. "A friend of Mina's, ribbit," she said. "Call me Tsu. Everyone does."

"Sounds good to me," Ochako agreed. She had better things to do than be confused, right now-things like trying to stay alive.

She started to say something else, but before she could, Ibara burst from the wreckage, vines curled to strike like serpents.

Then, she saw Tsu. Their eyes met. Ibara froze.

For a single horrible moment, there was nothing in the world but the two mutant women, who had spoken so kindly and trusted so readily, finding that trust abused-finding it broken and twisted on the floor.

There was no sound, save for something precious shattering forever.

"I trusted you," Ibara whispered, trembling a little; if she had not been gripped by rage, she looked as if she might cry. "I told you-told you everything."

Tsu, always calm, always gentle, always kind, did not argue. She simply nodded sadly, and said, "I know."

Ibara wasn't satisfied. How could she ever be, confronted with such a betrayal? "Why?" she demanded, her voice growing angrier. "Why are you doing this? What did they promise you?"

Tsu shook her head. "It's not like that," she replied.

Ibara's fists clenched. "Then why?" she repeated.

"To protect my family," Tsu said, thinking of Mina, falling like a shooting star into the endless void of the Chasm.

Ibara flinched at the word "family." As if without thinking, her hand flew to her neck-to the simple bronze crucifix Tsu knew sat there, nestled against her skin.

And then, Ibara laughed. It was only a chuckle-but it was so full of bitterness, so dripping with hatred and grief, that it chilled Tsu and Ochako to the bone. "Family," she spat. "You…you don't know how good you've had it, Tsu. You're going to pay for this."

Ochako had heard enough; she dropped into a fighting stance, ignoring her injuries. But Tsu, kind, loving, the last and loudest voice for peace, could not have lived with herself if she didn't try one last time.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Ibara," she said softly, just shy of pleading. "We don't have to do this."

Ibara looked her in the eye. "You know, I used to think so, too," she said, voice going cold and deadly calm. "But I don't anymore. You say you did this for your family? Fine. But you just betrayed mine. And I'm going to kill you for that."

There were no more words; there was nothing left to say. Vines bunched and swelled like a tidal wave, racing over the ruins, grasping for Tsu and Ochako like hateful hands.

As one, they moved; this fight wasn't over yet.

Izuku took slow, deep breaths as Float lowered him onto the stone.

That had been…the fight of his life. Fumikage had given as good as he got-Izuku's whole body was littered with wounds. One of his arms wasn't working right, and he could barely see out of one eye because of all the blood pouring down his face.

But he'd done it. Right? Turning to see where Fumikage had landed, he slowly made his way towards the man.

Fumikage watched Izuku as he approached, eyes unflinching even as his broken, battered body lay helpless.

"Well?" he asked when Izuku got close, squinting into the wild lightning storm that surrounded him, even now. "You ready to get it over with?"

Izuku frowned. The battle was over-they both knew it. Fumikage couldn't even stand, and his quirk was fuzzing, barely corporeal. He looked like death.

Izuku turned to look behind him, at the Underground. It was burning, clouds of choking black smoke lying like a shroud over the city. He could still hear the screams, the cries of pain and fear, the shouts of a war. A city turned to rubble-was it this city? Or was it another one, another villain, another war? They blurred together, overlapping in Izuku's mind.

He knew how he'd ended that war. He knew this one might well end the same way.

And yet…he hesitated.

There was a rustle behind him. Freezing, Izuku turned, eyes going wide as he watched an impossibility.

Bleeding and broken, tears streaming down his face from the effort, Fumikage had hauled himself to his feet. He trembled and cringed; Izuku could see the way his bones were twisted and snapped, even through the shadows that still covered him. He couldn't even imagine the strength it must have taken for Fumikage to stand.

Fumikage smiled, baring bloody, chipped teeth. "If I die…I die like this, on my feet," he spat. "Against you, against this city, against all of it."

"You don't have to die," Izuku told him, lowering his fists. "This doesn't have to end this way."

Fumikage looked him in the eye, and Izuku saw a thousand things go through his mind-terror, regret, desperation, rage. Then, the mutant threw his head back, and laughed. It was a broken, angry sound, but it had a strange joy to it, too-it was the laugh of a man letting go. Of anger, of fear, of regret. When he lowered his gaze to meet Izuku's again, there was only grim defiance on his face.

"Of course it has to end this way," Fumikage answered, low like a whisper. "From the day I was born, it was always going to end this way. That's how it goes for people like me."

Izuku said nothing as dark arms cupped Fumikage's body tightly, the last of his strength draining into his quirk. Even in the presence of the burning green light of One For All, the shadows grew, menacing in their depths, sharp talons still gleaming. Izuku imagined that they still dripped blood from their tips.

Fumikage met his eyes one last time. "Well?" he growled. "I don't plan on surrendering. What do you say, Atlas? Ready to end it?"

Izuku set his jaw. He didn't speak, he simply raised his fists, firming his resolve, ignoring the part of him that screamed desperately for this madness to stop.

Fumikage lunged. An enormous arm of pure shadow surged forwards, deadly claws outstretched, one last desperate roll of the dice.

Izuku swatted it aside with a lazy wave of his hand. Fumikage screamed as the force of the motion whipped him back into the broken, rocky wall.

He rose again, somehow, pushing beyond what his body could do, fueled by the fury of his people, their belief, something.

He charged once more. Izuku hit him again, and Fumikage's blood painted the stones.

He got back up anyway, staggering backwards, trying to fight, trying to live.

Izuku followed, endlessly patient, advancing, his fist striking home like a battering ram.

This time, when Fumikage struggled to rise again, he couldn't. Eyes blazing, the shadows on his skin boiled, reaching out for Izuku, no longer shaped like anything, just formless rage, desperation given flesh.

Izuku, moving faster than the eye could see, rushed forwards, a blazing blur of lightning and ozone, springing into the air and coming down towards Fumikage with a fist full of thunder.

As he brought down that blow, Izuku saw awe written on Fumikage's face. Awe, and fear, and helpless, hopeless fury. Even now, the man refused to break. He had given everything for his people, raged against a world that kept them broken, and even now that his death was at hand, he kept fighting for them.

Izuku understood, then, that Tartarus could not hold a man like this. No prison on Earth could stop that heart, could keep the ideas and the faith that Fumikage had given mutants from spreading.

There was only one way for this to end. There had only ever been one way for this to end-he'd been lying to himself if he thought otherwise.

Fumikage's eyes turned a brilliant green from reflected lightning as Izuku made his choice, and shook the Underground with the force of his blow striking home.

Down below, Mina looked up as the light flickered out, and finally let herself mourn the boy who had saved her life.