Chapter Three: Rekindling the Fire

The rain had finally slowed to a steady drizzle, casting a soft mist over the city streets. In the distance, neon lights flickered weakly, like the heart of the city was slowly dying, too tired to keep beating in the darkness. I was seated at my desk, staring at the cigarette slowly burning itself out in the ashtray. The smoke curled lazily into the air, twisting in patterns I didn't bother to follow. My thoughts were elsewhere, spinning just as chaotically but with far less grace.

Naomasa stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the muted glow of the city. He'd been quiet for a while now, letting me gather my thoughts after that phone call. But we both knew what was coming next. The moment I'd been trying to avoid since everything fell apart.

Bakugo.

When I reached out to him earlier, I knew what it meant. I knew what it would drag back to the surface. Not just for me, but for him. The years of silence, the distance, the bitterness—all of it would come crashing down the second he walked through that door.

And yet, as I heard the familiar sound of boots stomping up the stairs, a part of me felt… relief. Relief because as much as everything had changed, some things remained the same. Bakugo had always been reliable when it mattered. And this, whether we liked it or not, was one of those times.

The door to my office opened, and there he was. Katsuki Bakugo, standing in the doorway like a storm ready to break. His expression was as fierce as ever, but I caught something else in his eyes. A flicker of concern. Not that he'd ever say it out loud, of course. That wasn't Bakugo's style.

"Took you long enough," I muttered, flicking the cigarette into the ashtray.

He shut the door behind him, his movements sharp and deliberate. "Shut up, Deku. You're lucky I'm here at all."

Naomasa glanced over from the window, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room thickened as Bakugo walked further in, his eyes scanning the place like he was assessing the damage. It wasn't much—just my office, cluttered with files and a faint haze of cigarette smoke. But I knew what he was really looking at.

Me.

He was taking stock of what was left of the old friend he used to know.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you like this," Bakugo muttered, stopping just short of my desk. He crossed his arms, his usual defiance softened by that flicker of concern still hiding in the corners of his eyes. "You look like hell."

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a low chuckle that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Yeah, well, life has a way of doing that to you."

His jaw clenched, the unspoken tension filling the room. We both knew what had broken me. The deaths of All Might and my mom. It wasn't Bakugo's marriage to Ochaco—that had been the final straw, sure, but it wasn't the thing that broke me. Losing the two people I cared about most in this world had done that. It was the kind of pain that sinks its claws into you and never lets go. Bakugo knew that, even if we hadn't talked about it.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Bakugo said, his voice low. "So what's this all about, Deku? You wouldn't have called me if it wasn't serious."

Naomasa stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor hiding the urgency of the situation. "There's more going on here than you realize, Bakugo. Someone's been targeting Eri. They've been watching her, leaving messages for Midoriya. This is organized. Precise."

Bakugo's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Eri? They're going after her?"

"They're playing a game," I added, my voice tight. "And they've been waiting for the right moment to pull us in."

Bakugo stayed silent for a moment, processing everything. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the same fire I'd always known flickering behind his eyes. He was angry. And he had every right to be. Eri was important to all of us, not just me. We'd fought for her, bled for her. And now, someone was threatening to tear that all apart.

"So what's the plan, Deku?" Bakugo asked, his tone sharp as ever. "You wouldn't have dragged me into this if you didn't have one."

I stood, moving to the window where Naomasa had been moments ago. The rain had slowed, but the clouds still hung heavy, like the storm wasn't quite done with us yet. I watched the city for a moment before answering.

"We need to keep our distance," I said, turning back to face them. "They're expecting me to do the obvious, to rely on you and Mirio, to bring everyone together. But we can't play their game. Not by their rules."

Bakugo's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt.

"I'll do the groundwork, follow the leads, keep Eri out of sight with Mirio. But when the time comes, when we're ready to strike, that's where you come in." I locked eyes with him, the weight of the plan sinking in. "I'll call you in when we need the firepower. When we're ready to end this."

Bakugo crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "You really think that's going to work? Keeping me on the sidelines until it's time to blow something up?"

"It's not about keeping you on the sidelines," Naomasa said, stepping in. "It's about being unpredictable. They know how Midoriya operates. They know how you operate. If we show our hand too early, they'll slip away before we even get close."

Bakugo let out a low growl, clearly not liking the idea of waiting in the wings. He never was one for sitting around and waiting. But he wasn't stupid. He knew this was bigger than just his pride.

"So you want me to hang back until you give the signal?" he asked, his tone biting. "Fine. But you better call me when it's time. Because if you screw this up, Deku, I'm not going to be happy."

I met his gaze, the tension between us still thick, but there was something else there now. Something more than rivalry. Something like respect.

"I will," I said, my voice steady. "When the time comes, you'll be the first person I call."

There was a moment of silence, the weight of the plan settling over all of us. I knew this wasn't what Bakugo wanted, but it was the only way we stood a chance of catching them off guard.

Bakugo uncrossed his arms, letting out a sharp breath. "Alright, Deku. I'll play your game. But you better not screw this up. For Eri's sake."

With that, he turned and headed for the door, but not before casting one last look in my direction. A look that told me, despite everything that had happened between us, despite the distance, the years of silence, he was still with me. And that, maybe, just maybe, the bond we had wasn't completely broken.

As the door closed behind him, Naomasa stepped forward, his eyes on me. "You sure about this, Midoriya? Using Bakugo this way?"

I nodded, my mind already working through the next steps. "He's the only one who can make the impact we need when the time comes. And right now, impact is what we need."

Naomasa sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's just hope we're ready when that time comes."

I lit another cigarette, watching the smoke rise as I stared out into the city. The rain had started up again, heavier this time. A storm was brewing, and it wasn't going to stop until everything was torn apart.

And when the storm finally broke, we'd be ready.

Or we'd burn trying.

Bakugo's Perspective

The rain was coming down harder now, hitting my shoulders as I stepped out of Deku's office. The door slammed shut behind me with a hollow thud, the sound barely cutting through the noise in my head. My hands were shoved deep into my pockets, knuckles already turning white as I clenched my fists. Typical Deku. Always with the plans, always thinking a dozen steps ahead, even when everything around him was falling apart.

And damn it, he was falling apart.

I hadn't seen him like this since… well, since everything went to shit. Since All Might's death. Since his mom died. Those were the days that changed everything for him—and for me, too, though I'd never admit it out loud. I used to think Deku could handle anything, that he'd just keep bouncing back like he always did, stubborn as hell and too damn heroic for his own good.

But this was different. When All Might died, part of Deku went with him. And when his mom… No. That wasn't something you just bounce back from. That kind of loss breaks something inside you, something that never really heals.

I knew it. I saw it. And I'd been watching from the sidelines ever since, trying to figure out if I should do something—anything—to reach out. But then, just when things couldn't get worse, I married Ochaco.

And yeah, I knew that stung him. It wasn't the thing that broke him, but it was the final nail in the coffin of whatever friendship we had left. He never said anything, never even brought it up. But I knew. We all did.

I shook the rain out of my hair, muttering a curse under my breath as I walked down the street. My mind was spinning, trying to process what had just happened in that cramped, smoky office. Eri was in danger. That much was clear. But this whole thing with Deku reaching out to me? That was a damn curveball if I'd ever seen one.

I wasn't supposed to be the guy he called. Not after everything that had happened. But here I was, pulled right back into the thick of it, because when Deku's world goes to hell, he still calls the people he trusts.

And that stung, too.

Even after all this time, after everything that had gone down between us, he still trusted me. Not that he'd say it out loud—hell, neither of us would. But I could see it in his eyes. He wouldn't have called me if he didn't think I'd come through. And I would. I always did. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much shit we put each other through, we'd fought side by side for too long to just let that go.

But that didn't mean it was easy.

I stopped at a crosswalk, the red light glaring down at me through the rain. Cars passed by, their headlights cutting through the mist, but I barely noticed. My mind was still in that office, still stuck on the look in Deku's eyes. I'd never seen him like that. Not even during our worst fights back at U.A.

This wasn't the Deku I used to know. This was someone who had been through hell and back, someone who had lost everything and was still standing—barely. And that shook me more than I wanted to admit.

But if he thought I was going to sit back and wait until it was time to blow something up, he had another thing coming. Distance, my ass. Yeah, I'd play along, follow his plan—for now. But I wasn't the kind of guy to sit on the sidelines while things went to hell. If I saw a chance to end this, I'd take it, whether Deku liked it or not.

The light turned green, and I crossed the street, my boots splashing through the puddles. The rain was still pouring, but it barely registered. My head was full of too many thoughts, too many memories. It was weird—Deku and I had always been like this, locked in this stupid rivalry, pushing each other to the brink. But somehow, through all of it, there had always been this… respect. I hated admitting it, but I respected the hell out of him. And the fact that he still saw me as someone he could rely on, even after everything—yeah, that hit harder than I wanted to admit.

Then there was Ochaco.

I hadn't planned on falling for her. Hell, I didn't even realize I had until it was too late. And yeah, I knew she and Deku were close. I knew there was something there—something unsaid but heavy between them. But that didn't stop her from falling for me. And when it happened, I wasn't about to back down. I never did. Not for anyone. Not even for Deku.

But marrying her? That was the icing on the cake. That was the thing that broke whatever was left between me and him. And I hated it. Hated that I was part of the reason he shut down, part of the reason he was standing there in that smoke-filled office looking like he'd already given up on the world. I wasn't good at talking about feelings—never had been. But I knew how to spot when someone was drowning. And Deku? He was barely keeping his head above water.

I made it to my car, unlocking the door and sliding inside. The rain pattered against the windshield, but I didn't start the engine right away. Instead, I just sat there, staring out into the storm.

Deku had a plan. Of course, he did. He always did. But plans were just that—plans. And in this world, especially now, they didn't mean shit if you couldn't execute them. He wanted me to hang back, to wait until it was time to bring the firepower. Fine. I could do that. But the second I saw an opening, the second I thought I could end this, I wasn't waiting for his signal. I wasn't going to sit on my hands while some psycho was out there hunting Eri.

I'd learned a long time ago that heroes don't wait for permission. They act. And I wasn't just a hero. I was Katsuki Bakugo. And I wasn't about to let Deku or anyone else forget that.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out, half expecting it to be Ochaco asking me when I'd be home. Instead, it was a message from Naomasa.

"Call me when you've cooled off. We've got work to do."

I let out a short, bitter laugh. Cooled off? That wasn't in my nature. I was always running hot, and Naomasa knew that. But I respected the man. He was one of the few who could keep up with me and Deku, who understood the weight of what we did.

I texted him back. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Because I was. Ready for whatever this was going to turn into. Ready to fight, to burn down whoever was coming after Eri. Ready to face Deku again, even if it meant opening up old wounds.

I wasn't done with this. Not by a long shot.

And neither was Deku.

Because no matter how much shit we put each other through, there was one thing I'd never stop believing.

Deku might be broken, but he was still the most heroic person I knew.

And this time, we were going to face the storm together.

Naomasa's Perspective

The rain was coming down in sheets now, the city blurred behind the streaks of water running down the windows of Deku's office. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, my mind running through everything we'd just discussed. Bakugo had left, his usual fire and frustration still hanging in the air. He didn't like the plan. Of course, he didn't. He never was one for sitting back and waiting for the right moment. But even so, I could see that he was concerned. Not just for Eri. For Deku, too.

And that worried me.

I'd known Izuku Midoriya for years. I'd watched him grow, watched him evolve into the hero the world had needed. But what stood before me now wasn't the Deku I'd first met. It wasn't even the Deku who had taken on All for One and won. This was someone else entirely—someone who had been stripped down to the bone by loss, by grief, by everything he'd been forced to endure. The deaths of All Might and his mother had taken more from him than anyone truly understood, and the worst part? He'd never given himself time to heal. Not really.

Now, Eri was at risk, and that old fire had been stoked again. But was it enough? Was it enough to get him through what was coming?

I glanced over at Deku, who was standing by the window, his back turned to me as he watched the rain. He hadn't spoken since Bakugo left, but I could see the weight of it all pressing down on him. His shoulders were tense, his body still, like he was holding something back.

I didn't like it.

"You think this is going to work?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Deku didn't turn around. His voice was low, almost distant. "It has to."

I frowned, pushing myself off the wall and walking over to him. "That's not an answer, Midoriya."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes still on the rain-slicked streets below. "What else am I supposed to say, Naomasa? We've been backed into a corner. Eri's in danger. The game's already in motion. We can't afford to lose this one."

"And what about you?" I asked, my voice softer now. "You're not the same person you were, Deku. I know you've been through hell, and I know you're carrying more than you should. But this isn't something you can just brute force your way through. You need to let us help you."

He finally turned to look at me, his green eyes clouded with exhaustion and something else—something darker. "I am letting you help. That's why Bakugo's involved. That's why Mirio's protecting Eri. But I can't let you all take the fall for me. Not this time."

I let out a slow breath, understanding more than I cared to admit. Deku had always been the type to shoulder everything himself, to bear the weight of the world even when it was too much. It was what made him a hero. But it was also what broke him.

"You don't have to do this alone," I said quietly. "You don't always have to be the one who sacrifices everything."

He looked away, back out the window. "I don't know how to be anything else."

We stood there in silence for a few moments, the rain tapping against the window like a bad habit that wouldn't quit. I could see the gears turning in Deku's head, already planning, already moving pieces into place. But there was something different about it now. Something more desperate.

Before I could say anything else, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, already knowing who it was.

Bakugo.

I glanced at Deku, who gave a small nod, his eyes still on the window. I stepped toward the door, answering the call as I left the office. I didn't want Deku hearing this conversation—at least, not yet.

"Bakugo," I said, my voice steady.

"What's the status?" he asked, cutting straight to the point. That was Bakugo for you. No time for small talk.

"Deku's got a plan," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "We're going to play their game, but on our terms. You'll stay on standby for now, but when things heat up, we'll need you in full force."

There was a pause on the other end. I could practically hear the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "And you think that's a good idea? Keeping me on the sidelines until Deku decides it's time?"

"I don't think you're going to stay on the sidelines for long," I said, my voice low. "You and I both know how this is going to play out. This isn't just some game of cat and mouse. Whoever's behind this, they're gunning for Deku—and they're using Eri to do it."

Bakugo let out a low growl, his voice sharp. "And you're okay with him going in like this? He's not… he's not what he used to be."

"I know," I admitted, my eyes drifting back to the closed door of Deku's office. "But we don't have a choice. He won't sit this one out, and we can't force him to. But we'll be ready when the time comes."

There was another pause, the sound of Bakugo breathing hard on the other end. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, more serious. "You think he's gonna make it through this?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, heavy with the weight of everything we weren't saying. Finally, I spoke, my voice firm.

"If anyone can, it's him."

Bakugo didn't respond right away, but when he did, his tone was grim. "Then I'll be ready. Call me when you need me."

The line went dead.

I stood there for a moment, the phone still in my hand, before slipping it back into my pocket. I knew Bakugo would be ready. He always was. But that wasn't what worried me.

It was Deku. The man who had always carried the world on his shoulders. The man who had already lost so much.

I just hoped this time, the weight didn't crush him for good.

Bakugo's Perspective

The rain pelted against the windshield as I drove, the rhythmic thudding matching the heavy pulse in my head. The conversation with Naomasa echoed in my mind, the tension between his words and the unspoken fears creeping up on me. Deku wasn't who he used to be, and the idea of keeping my distance while he walked into hell didn't sit right with me. But Naomasa was right—Deku wouldn't sit this out, and he wouldn't let us shoulder the burden for him.

That was the problem with him. Always thinking he had to carry the whole damn world on his back.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. If things went wrong, if he fell deeper into the darkness he'd been sinking into since… No. I couldn't let myself think that way. Deku had been through worse and come out swinging. But this time, something felt different. This time, he wasn't just fighting villains. He was fighting himself.

And that scared the hell out of me.

The streets blurred by as I drove through the city, my thoughts circling back to everything that had happened over the years. The deaths of All Might and Deku's mom had shattered something inside him, leaving him hollow in a way that no one could fix. I tried to reach out once or twice, but after I married Ochaco, things changed. Not that the marriage was what broke us—that had already been set in motion long before. But marrying her had been the final crack in whatever fragile connection we had left.

Not that I regretted it. Ochaco was my rock, and our life together had given me something I didn't know I needed. But that didn't mean I didn't feel the weight of everything I'd lost with Deku.

The house was quiet when I pulled into the driveway. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the cold air still bit at me as I stepped out of the car and made my way inside. I kicked off my boots and hung up my jacket, the familiar scent of home washing over me—Ochaco had probably just finished cleaning. The soft glow of the kitchen light spilled into the hallway, and I could hear her humming quietly as she tidied up.

But I wasn't ready to face her just yet. I needed a moment.

I made my way down the hall to the nursery, the door slightly ajar. I peeked inside, the soft sound of my son's breathing filling the room. There he was, curled up under the blankets, his tiny hand clutching the edge of his favorite stuffed animal. His hair was wild, messy, just like mine used to be at that age. But his face—his face looked so much like Deku's when we were kids. It was eerie sometimes, how much of the old Deku I saw in him.

We named him Izuku because, as much as I'd never admit it to anyone else, Deku was the most heroic person I'd ever known. Even after everything, even after our rivalry, after the distance and the silence, he was still the guy I respected more than anyone. And I wanted our son to grow up with that name, to carry the legacy of the best damn hero I'd ever seen.

But looking at him now, all I could see was the shadow of who Deku used to be. The bright-eyed, hopeful kid who thought he could save everyone. Who thought he could save the world. That kid was gone, buried under years of pain and loss. And I hated that the world had taken that from him.

I reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Izuku's forehead. He stirred for a moment but didn't wake up, his tiny fist tightening around the blanket. I stood there for a long time, just watching him, trying to make sense of everything.

Would he grow up to be like Deku? Would he have that same fire, that same determination? And if he did, would the world break him too?

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with the weight of the thought. I wouldn't let that happen. I couldn't. Not to my son.

But Deku… he was already broken. And I didn't know if I could put him back together.

I stepped out of the nursery and closed the door quietly behind me. Ochaco was waiting for me in the kitchen, her back turned as she poured herself a cup of tea. She didn't say anything at first, just let me stand there in the doorway, lost in my own thoughts.

She turned around after a moment, her eyes soft but knowing. "Rough night?"

I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah. You could say that."

She walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head against my chest. Her warmth cut through the cold that had settled inside me, but it didn't do much to ease the worry gnawing at me.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" she asked softly, looking up at me with those eyes that always seemed to see right through me.

I let out a breath, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. "He's not… he's not the same. I'm not sure he can do this. Not alone."

Ochaco stepped back, her hands still resting on my chest as she studied me. "He's been through a lot. More than anyone should. But you know Deku. He doesn't give up. He'll fight until he has nothing left."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I muttered, my hands dropping to my sides. "I don't know if there's anything left of him to fight with."

She was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing as she thought. "Maybe he doesn't need to fight this alone. Maybe he needs someone to remind him who he is."

I frowned, not quite understanding. "Who could do that? He won't listen to me, and I'm not sure anyone else could reach him."

"Toru," Ochaco said softly, her voice steady. "She's the only one who can reach him now. She always had a way of grounding him, of seeing him when no one else could."

I blinked, the name catching me off guard. Toru Hagakure. The invisible girl. She and Deku had always had a strange connection, something I never really understood. But Ochaco was right—if there was anyone who could pull him back from the edge, it was her.

"I don't know if that's enough," I said, my voice heavy with doubt. "Deku's lost so much. I'm not sure even she can bring him back."

Ochaco squeezed my hand, her eyes full of quiet determination. "It's not about bringing him back, Katsuki. It's about reminding him that he's not alone."

I stared at her for a moment, the weight of her words settling over me. She was right. Of course, she was right. But that didn't make it any easier.

I sighed, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll talk to Naomasa. Maybe we can get her involved."

Ochaco smiled softly, her hand slipping from mine as she stepped back. "I think that's a good idea."

I turned to leave the kitchen, my mind already racing with the next steps. Deku had a plan, and I would follow it. But if things went wrong, if he started to slip, we'd need Toru. And I wasn't going to let him fall any deeper into the darkness than he already had.

Not this time.

As I made my way back down the hall, I stopped at the door to the nursery, peeking in at my son one last time. He was still fast asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Don't worry, kid," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'm not gonna let this world break you like it broke him."

And with that, I closed the door, the storm still raging outside.

Izuku's Perspective

The rain had finally settled into a soft, steady rhythm against the windows, the kind that lulls most people into a kind of peaceful, dreamless sleep. But I wasn't like most people. Sleep didn't come easy for me anymore. Not with the weight of the world constantly pressing down on my chest.

I stood in the middle of the dimly lit office, the air thick with the lingering smell of cigarettes and old memories. Bakugo had been here. Naomasa, too. And they were both worried about me, though neither of them said it outright. I could feel it in their words, in the way they watched me, like I was some fragile thing about to shatter at any moment.

They were always thinking of me as fragile. As broken.

And maybe they weren't wrong.

But I wasn't fragile in the way they thought. I wasn't the kid they used to know, the one who cried his way through every challenge, holding on to the dream that everything would turn out okay. That kid had died a long time ago—along with All Might, and then my mom.

The deaths that broke me, but didn't finish the job.

Now, all that was left was someone who had nothing to lose, someone who had been stripped of everything that ever mattered. And maybe that made me broken. But if they thought that meant I was giving up, they were wrong. So wrong.

Because I wasn't giving up.

No one—no one—threatened Eri. She was the closest thing I had left to family, the only one who reminded me that maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth fighting for.

And if it came down to it, if protecting her meant dying? Then I'd do it. I'd die for her without hesitation. Because that's what heroes do. And that's what I had to be for her, no matter how broken I was. I wouldn't let her go through what I went through. I wouldn't let her become another casualty in this twisted game.

My fists clenched, and I felt the familiar burn of frustration rise in my chest. The world was different now. There were no more guarantees, no more safety nets. We were all living on borrowed time, and it was about to run out.

I glanced over at the far side of the room, where the safe sat, tucked into the shadows like some forgotten relic of the past. I hadn't opened it in months. Maybe even years. But tonight… tonight felt different.

I walked over, my footsteps slow and deliberate, the air growing heavier with each step. My hand hovered over the combination lock for a moment, memories flooding back, memories I tried to push away. But they were always there, just beneath the surface, waiting for moments like this to remind me who I was.

What I had done.

The lock clicked open, and the door swung wide, revealing the small steel box inside. It was simple, almost unremarkable—if you didn't know what it contained. I pulled the box out, setting it on the desk in front of me, and opened it with the same steady hands that had once held onto hope.

Inside, neatly tucked into small foam casings, were the remaining quirk-destroying bullets. The same ones Overhaul had made from Eri's DNA. The same ones I had shot into All For One-possessed Tomura Shigaraki with—when I finally snapped after losing my mom.

The moment that made me both a hero and a villain at the same time.

I could still see it. Shigaraki standing there, smug and untouchable, the twisted grin of All For One bleeding through his face. I could hear the world cracking around me, the weight of my mother's death pushing me past the edge of what I thought was possible.

I hadn't just wanted to stop him. I'd wanted to destroy him. To rip him apart, piece by piece, the way he had ripped my life apart.

And so I did.

I fired those bullets, one after another, into the monster wearing Shigaraki's face. Quirk-destroying bullets that Overhaul had created—using Eri's blood, her very essence. It was poetic, in a way. The same little girl who had been broken by this world had, unknowingly, helped me tear down the greatest evil it had ever known.

But there was a price for what I did. There always was.

I had destroyed Shigaraki. But I had destroyed myself in the process, too. I had crossed a line that no hero was supposed to cross. And even though the world hailed me as the one who finally stopped All For One, I couldn't shake the truth of what I had become.

A hero. And a villain.

I stared down at the bullets in the box, the same cold weight pressing against my chest. They were the last remnants of that day. The last pieces of the man I had been.

And now, they were my reminder of what I had to do.

If it came to it, if the world demanded it again, I would fire these bullets. I would tear down anything and anyone who threatened the people I cared about. Even if it meant losing the last pieces of myself.

Because that's all I had left now—my duty to protect Eri. My duty to protect the last of my family.

I closed the box, the decision already made. The rain still drummed against the windows, but the noise faded into the background as I focused on what was coming. I was broken. That much was true.

But broken things still have sharp edges.

And I was ready to cut through anyone who got in my way.

No one was going to take Eri from me.

No one.