Trigger Warning:

- blood

- gore

- burning alive

Since this battle has started, I have noticed two things.

The first, our enemies have taunted and goaded everyone by name besides me.

The second, those who dare to insult me call me by crude, vulgar names that I care not repeat.

All of this helps me make one realization: the Liberation Army does not recognize who I am. My mask hides the upper half of my face. I would think that the rest of my ensemble - the black roses amongst devil-horned black hair, the white gloves, trenchcoat, waistcoat, breeches, and choker - would be a giveaway to my identity. After all, my hero costume is identical with an inverse color scheme. Or perhaps, my cane. Custom-made canes are rare. The Army had one hour to research who I was. How in ten bleeding hells did they not figure out who I was?

This is something to be asked for later, however. If my opponents cannot identify me, all the better. This lack of connection makes it infinitely easier to swing my cane around and shatter skulls. There are no rules. No restraint. Just screams and blood. I refrain from using any quirk when simply this is getting the job done.

When the last of the unfortunate souls lies in a mess of tissue and sinew, I take a deep breath. I catch Shigaraki's eye. He nods in approval at my lack of hesitancy. Kill or be killed. I am passing this examination with flying colors. But then he says something uncanny.

"Don't wait for push to come to shove. There will come a moment when you have to use your abilities. Go full out. So start warming up now."

His comment strikes me as scary because for as long as I can remember, he has always encouraged me to use my arsenal of quirks in limit. I agreed with him because of the toll it would take on me. He even witnessed what became of me when I tried to use One for All.

"Why?" I ask him. "Why are you saying that I should utilize my absorption now?"

He doesn't get the chance to answer. Because all of a sudden, the next batch of suicidal maniacs arrives with their ringleader. The politician and his lackeys. My eyebrows rise at the ostentatious minibus the politician arrives in. Are those Valentine hearts painted on? "Ms. Curious has been defeated!" he announces into the mike. The loudness hurts my eardrums. "She offered up her body and soul to our liberation!" By process of elimination, I figure out that that is the woman Toga was trapped with. I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, you made it out alive! Of course, the lackeys do not share the same sentiment. So when the politician so sadly and so wistfully says, "Do not let her sacrifice be in vain," their distraughtness turns into retribution.

Mr. Compress remarks how this organization is less of an army and more a religion, and I could not agree with him more. The way that these minions rush at us … it is like a flood of human bodies. Not caring who gets crushed or who dies, they are steadfast in their crusade to kill us. We are in a one-lane street. Not nearly enough space to engage in combat. All of us run forward to increase the distance between us and the horde. But not Shigaraki.

He pauses in his tracks.

He turns around.

I shout his name.

My plea goes unheard.

No. Not you. I will not risk the possibility of losing you after Toga.

Ignoring Spinner's and Twice's orders to follow them, I start to chase after Shigaraki.

I don't even cross a whole meter when Mr. Compress comes up from behind and restrains me. I know that he is doing it for my own benefit. He will capture me into one of his marbles if I try to resist. All I can do is fall to my knees and watch the scene unfold.

Shigaraki dashes toward the enemy. He leaps onto the edge of the two-meter wall lining the street. Positioned just parallel to the tsunami of human bodies, he extends his right hand out. The face of a man gets caught in his grip. He is the first to decay into dust. From thereon, the scene resembles the domino effect. The rest follow suit as Shigaraki covers the distance on the narrow ledge. It's as though his decay is an infection being passed. He does not even touch more than a quarter of his enemies for the effect to spread. Within seconds, the flood is nothing more than a pile of earth. Expressions of horror, shock, and rage are the last memories of the dead.

Mr. Compress's grip on me lightens. I slump out of his arms to brace myself on my hands and knees. No one has anything to stay. I am marvelled into silence by the sight before me. I heard that sleep-deprivation could drive one into madness. The proof is right in front of my eyes. Drool dripping from the corner of his mouth; maniacal, diabolical grin tugging at his lips; half-lidded eyes that carry no trace of fear.

For the first time, I am not scared for him. I am scared of him.

Shigaraki's quirk evolved just now.

I cannot even begin to process what that means.

Dabi is the first to regain his senses. "Well, if the leader's killing all these guys, I guess that means I can, too." A rumbling in the distance echoes and reverberates in my ears. "I never was cut out for sparing people …" The smell of fire, smoke, and burnt flesh tickles my nostrils. "Ice …" is the last thing I hear when a blockade of white ice separates us from him. Then a wall of fire puts up a fight against the barricade of ice. The impact blows everyone leagues away. It is the last thing I see before my head meets concrete ground.

I don't know much time has passed when I regain consciousness.

The sun shines as bright as stadium lights when I open my eyes.

Who the bloody hell thought that sunny days meant joy? They give me a migraine.

Speaking of migraines, recollecting the events before I passed out hurt my head. I can feel my heartbeat pulsating in my temples, beating rhythmically like a drum. I can only imagine how high my blood pressure is right now. My breaths come out in pants. My muscles and bones ache. Waves of drowsiness crash over me, making it difficult to keep my eyes open. I try to rest a hand above my heart, but I cannot. Something cold and hard restrains both of them above my head. I look up. Manacles bound my wrists to a tall wooden spire. Manacles that suppress quirks. Then I look down. Similar shackles restrain my feet. My feet stand atop a pile of firewood. It does not take a genius to figure out my current predicament: I am held captive to be burnt at the stake.

The fire has not been lit yet. Meaning that there is something my captor wants from me.

I amend my phrasing: captors.

Because an entire crowd has come for the show. It is not everyday one gets to witness an execution in person. There is such a thing called morbid curiosity, after all. The people shout and jeer at me. Curse at me, encourage my death. Threaten to toss their alight torches onto the wood and set me ablaze. They want blood. So do I. We just want it from different sources.

All of a sudden, they quiet down considerably.

I know it immediately. My main captor has arrived. Their ringleader.

The black tendrils of smoke from the torches make it tiring to discern the ringleader's face. All I can see is a vague silhouette of someone taller than me. The figure moves closer and closer. It ascends the steps leading to the pyre. Five meters away now. Now two. One meter away.

I prepare my introduction to compromise with them when my breath catches in my throat.

How is this possible? This cannot be. No. No. No. No. This was never supposed to happen. I took so many painstaking measures to ensure this never happened. So how? Why?

Because in front of me stands the love of my life.

"Shouto …" I whisper in terror.

Note: I have copied some dialogue from one of the English-translated versions of the manga. The link to the chapter is here: .online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-227/