"Then why don't you go and take a swan dive off the roof?"

He never meant that. Did he?

No, he didn't, obviously. Not at that time, at least. But now?

Pro Hero (was even useful to use that title anymore?) Dynamight doesn't know why the horrifying, hand-crawling sound of fire, destruction and pain that reaches his ears in spite of his protection gear made he think about that.

Does he?

The hero sits on the rumble and dirt, result of the last villain attack, force depleted, will tattered and shoulders heavy, but his chest flares with pure, white-hot, relentless rage.

The man thinks that if this devastation unfurled in front of his eyes had to be the result of the nerd surviving the flight, than it would have been better for him to be dead, so that the hero would have carried the weight of that blood on his own damn shoulders with his head held high, atoning for that sin every damn day of his damn fucking life, instead of living years of relief mixed with guilt passed next to his bed, his broken body, having heartfelt conversations about forgiveness and dreams and physical therapy and forgiveness again and heroes and…

Thinking about it, it was as clear as the blue sky. Thinking about it, if his judgement wouldn't have been clouded by the longing, he could have seen it. The shadow growing besides green eyes, the mumbling becoming analysis and analysis becoming obsession. He wrote those journals for him. All of them. So eager to be forgiven, to see that excited light bloom in his eyes again. He fell for it so hard. If only…

A gurgling sound shatters his delusion. Red Riot was relieving his stomach a couple of cement ruins behind him. He gets up and helps his friend, massaging his back and offering water, tears diving cleaner streaks on his dirtied face.

" -t's a goddamn bloody massacre. " He just replies after drinking heavy gulps.

"Civilians?" Dynamight manages to breathe out. Red Riot shakes his head. "Minimum. As previous attacks, we are the target. Eight down this time. Lemillion… he… oh, fuck. FUCK! - the sound of shattered concrete fills his ears again, mixed with his friend's sobs - I can't—how the fuck do they do this? Feels like they're in our goddamn head! Who's gonna be the next one!? God-" he says, spitting on the ground to clean his mouth, a hand to cover his eyes.

Dynamight shivers.

He perfectly knows how. He forces his guts to stop screaming for relief back in place and clenches his fists.

Maybe it was too late. Catastrophe was too far to be stopped. The hero society has fallen like a castle of sand in any case. Touya Todoroki's revelations were only the first step of a far better, even perfect plan.

The poor, innocent, weak, fragile quirkless kid, body ravaged with scars for everyone to see, told to every hearing ear the story of how All Might robbed him of his dream, the last straw that pushed him over that edge, the last of an apparently never-ending streak of lives crushed by the heel of the hero society.

Dyamight's name never left his lips once.

And the kid was good. Amazing, one would say, preaching words of peace and freedom from the destructiveness and dangerousness of quirks that were taking tolls greater and greater on every new generation, heroes painted like mindless exploiters, raising the government's dogs, sending them to die, "what if your child's body cannot stand his quirk? Would you prefer for them to be an hero and end like this?- pointing at Touya at his side, flesh still sizzling from the heat, his face contracting in the effort of not laughing at the cameras,- or safe? At home, under the covers, and kiss them good night?".

After that, the petty cash crimes and money heists made finally sense in the form of a new quirk cancelling drug, free, and somehow legally distributed and available in all of Japan.

After that, they were fucked. Deeply and thoroughly. Some extra was bound to use that in the wrong way, and the restrictive order that followed was all it took for everything to crumble.

Perfectly fucking executed, uh? Yea, he knew. Took him long enough to figure out that only that damn nerd could have come with that. Shigaraki was only his very powerful, very attention-grabbing bait. And when he was killed by an action engaged by an already hanging on a thread Endeavour, all hell broke loose.

And deep, deep, very fucking deep down Dynamight knows that this disaster was possible because bastard Deku is at least half right. He knows 'cause he was part of the problem. And now, everybody knew.

All according to plan.

As soon as he could, Dynamight visited the safehouse where Auntie Inko lived with his parents. His mother shoots him a serious look, but he wants to try anyway.

The withered shadow of the woman who once was Midorya Inko is sitting lifelessly on the bed, legs covered by the sheets even in the scorching summer, eyes blankly staring at the wall. Dyamight feel his stomach churning, but he still sits besides her and takes his hand.

He tells the woman the latest news of her son: he's well, seems to be in good health. He still mumbles a lot, and he keeps asking for katsudon every other night… shit like that.

He knows he shouldn't feed her such delusions. He feels his tongue stiffen in spitting such blatant lies, but even after three years that's the only way he knew to make her produce a single reaction out of her shocked stupor.

He expects the usual nod, o the rare faint smile.

Instead, she squeezes her hand and looks at him. Conscious, for the first time since her son died and came back as… that.

Midorya Inko stares right into his eyes, and Dynami—no, Bakugou Katsuki has to fight to hold down a sob.

"Stop him. Please." She breathes. And with that, she fades.

With that, Dynamight is out again, flying higher and higher and higher, propelling explosions ringing in his ears, screaming bloody murder at the silent stars.

He didn't have a fucking clue on how it happens.

But Dynamight succeeds where everybody else failed: he finds him. He finds Deku. He has to shred some motherfuckers to actually get to him, but that's not a problem as he advances like a man possessed.

Even if Earphone Jack's quirk hadn't disabled every kind of audio-video communication device for miles, he wouldn't have given a single fuck about how it looked.

He's just standing there, supported by the hexoskeleton that moves for him as he turns to face him. There's expectance in his deep green eyes.

Dynamight jumps at Deku's bones screaming so hard he tastes blood, as the other opens his arms at him like a long-lost lover, in a whirl of chaos and fire.

And then time stops. It could have been as second as well as a goddamn eternity, who knows.

Dynamight stands in front of Deku, slumped on the floor, blood pooling under him, body broken once again.

And Katsuki can't for the love of God not remember his own scream at a same view, six years prior, feel it ringing in his ears and shaking his chest.

But Katsuki isn't there at the moment; Dynamight is. Or at least that's what he wants to believe.

Deku lets a ragged breath and chuckes. Blood is pouring from his mouth, ears, nose, eyes.

And with unknown strength, Deku looks at him. "Always… so strong… Kacchan…"

Dynamight meets his gaze with a plain face.

"Di- did you ever…- Deku breathes with a bitter smile on his face, blood foaming as he speaks – Did you ever… think of me… as your friend?"

Dynamight stays silent, letting just anger pour from his eyes while his heart screams.

"A… true… friend…- Izuku rasps, his head plopping on the wall behind him – someone… you actually… cared… about?"

"We were never friends." Dyamight spits from his teeth. "You are a criminal. You are a means to an end." he growls, trembling with tension, nails digging in his palms in a desperate attempt to—

Izuku chuckes again, lowering his eyes, and coughs blood. "Guess… I was pretty… far off … the mark there… huh?"

"That's alright… — he breathes – I learned… from my mis…takes."

When he finds the strength again to look into crimson, horror-filled blood shot eyes, he knows that's Katsuki staring back at him.

"Ene… mies it… is, the…n" he splutters, trying to give the Deku's façade a last blazing performance.

The look in Katsuki's eyes destroys whatever there's left of that.

No, no, hate me, please hate me, hate me, hate me, hate… me… ha..te m

And then there was silence. After the silence came the ringing, and after the ringing, the roaring pain in his chest, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Dynamight knows they'd lost when he registers people into his line of view, a faraway murmur of shock and mourning. It's not for him; people come in what is left of the building collapsed at ground zero for everyone to see, crying and lamenting, cleaning Deku's body of the dirt and blood and carrying away from him, not even bothering about his existence.

He knows they'd lost when Deku's lifeless body is carried away, passing from hand to hand, everyone trying to touch or get a glance of the martyr he made out of himself, when some tries to attack him and some other stops him, whispering "He wouldn't want more violence".

It was over. For good, now. Deku had his perfect victory, bringing Dynamight with him. Izuku gave up everything, living Katsuki behind.

"Dek… Izuku—

Katsuki screams.