The screen flickered to life, casting a pallid glow over the dim living rooms, hospital waiting areas, and makeshift shelters of Tokyo. The logo of the news pulsed once before dissolving into the face of Amina Shiraishi, her moth-like antennae drooping under the weight of the words she had to deliver. Her irises, wide, glassy, and flecked with silver, reflected the studio's harsh lights like fractured mirrors.
"Good evening, Japan,"
Her voice was a frayed thread, taut with the effort of holding back tears. Behind her, a muted collage played, smoke-chocked skies, the skeletal remains of Tokyo's business district, a child's shoe half-burned in rubble.
"The death toll from the Hero's Eve attack has been finalized." A pause. Her mandibles twitched. "In Tokyo, civilian casualties were minimized to 47 confirmed fatalities."
The screen cut to an image of Kyoto. A collapsed subway tunnel, its entrance sealed by a landslide of concrete. A row of body bags lined the street, zipped tight against the drizzle.
"In Kyoto, where the multitude of Nomu were attacking and breaching evacuation routes... 36 civilians were confirmed dead."
Amina's knuckles whitened around her notecards. The camera zoomed in, just enough to catch the tremor in her hands.
"But there was another great loss..."
The screen dissolved again. This time, into him.
All Might.
Not the grinning titan from posters or the booming saviour of press conferences. It was him in his final moments, the footage of the number 1 hero being stepped on by a man of many quirks. The footage was blurred at the edges, whether by censorship or the heat distortion of All For One's final attack, no one could say, but the horror was unmistakable.
Amina's voice cracked. "The Symbol of Peace was murdered on Hero's Eve by the villain named All For One." She swallowed. The camera feed didn't get everything, it didn't get his death, the cameras were destroyed by the heat of the oncoming attack before then.
"This marks the third nationwide attack within the year. First the attack with the fake Hosu. Then, Proxy's war on the nation. And now... this." Her wings shuddered. "We have been brought to ruin. Again. And all we can do... is suffer. And hope the worst of it will be over soon."
A beat of silence. The studio's air conditioning hummed like a funeral dirge.
"The government has declared tomorrow a national day of silence. Flags will fly at half-mast. Schools and offices will be closed. We ask that at noon, you step outside, face the sun, and remember..." Her breath cracked. "...remember what we've lost."
The silence that followed was physical. A weight pressing down on every chest, every throat.
Then, as if remembering protocol, Amina straightened. She folded her hands, a practiced, professional motion, and met the cameras lens with wet, shining eyes.
"This has been the evening report. On behalf of the crew..." A whisper. "Happy New Year."
The screen went black.
Somewhere, in a thousand different homes, televisions muted. Candles were lit and with the recent memory of the horrors that happened nights before and the death of the number 1 hero has killed many dreams of the future of the nation.
***
The dorm felt smaller than usual.
The screen had gone dark minutes ago, but it's afterimage still burned in Bakugou's eyes. That final frame of the news anchor's shaking voice whispering. "Happy New Year," into a silence that didn't feel real.
All Might is dead!
All Might, the number one hero. The man who had inspired him to be everything that he is, is now dead. He had been alive and dominating the charts for so long that Bakugou couldn't even imagine a world where he was killed.
Death from old age, sure. But being killed...?
Another name added to the death toll.
Bakugou was feeling it again. Like when he had first heard the news. He couldn't breathe for several seconds. Like when he had his first conversation with Hound Dog. His jaws was locked so tightly that his molars ached.
The world outside the dorm's reinforced windows was slate-gray, winter-choked and sullen. The grounds of U.A. were quiet. Too quiet. Like the earth itself had nothing left to say now that its most blessed servant was gone.
His room was dim, light from the hallway bleeding in under the crack in the door. Everyone else was still gathered in the common area or the hospital after they were sent back in a rush, or in their rooms, trying not to cry loud enough for others to hear.
Bakugou left as soon as the news had finished. He didn't want anyone to see him or speak to him. He wasn't looking for comfort. He wanted air. And blood.
He stepped towards the window.
Outside, beneath one of the skeletal trees by the courtyard, he saw a group of students from Class B. Kendo and Pony. A few others, all clustered around the stone bench that faced the training fields. They weren't talking. Just sitting there, another was there too that he didn't notice, a small chubby looking boy with his head facing the ground.
His shoulder's were shaking.
The whole country had seen it.
Bakugou had pressed his palm flat against the glass. It was cold. It bit at his skin like ice, grounding him just enough to stop his lungs from giving out entirely. His reflection in the window stared back, wild-eyed, jaw tight, teeth clenched like he was chewing on his pain.
He felt like exploding. Sweat was dripping from his palms, he wiped his hands on his joggers and dug them in his pockets.
His heart thudded too fast. Not out of any fear or even grief. It was shame.
He wasn't there. He wasn't even on the same battlefield as all his classmates were. Instead he was stuck in his dorm room due to his previous capture. Likely making him a target. He hated that, it wasn't only because of that, but more so because of his continuous loss of control in his quirk and some.
He was struggling with his own power and the hero who had saved him, the one who had shaped his entire path, whose very presence had lit a fire in Katsuki's chest from the day he was old enough to say the word "hero", was killed.
And he was in a position to be there yet he didn't live up to his potential.
He had fallen behind.
He hadn't even argued it. He knew they were right. He hadn't recovered fully. His reflexes were off. His stamina cracked. The nerves in his arms hadn't healed from his last endeavours, the torture. But knowing all of that didn't soften the blow.
It made it worse.
He slammed his fist into the window. Not hard enough to shatter it, but hard enough to make the impact vibrate through his bones.
From the courtyard, one of the students looked up. Kendo, her eyes were red. She saw Bakugou's silhouette and looked away quickly.
Good. He didn't want to be seen right now.
Bakugou turned from the window and leaned forward, bracing himself against the desk. His back heaved once. There was a burn behind his eyes, sharp and unwelcome, and he blinked hard.
He crushed his foot on the ground in anger.
He swallowed and his breath tasted like glass. He'd been stuck remembering the person he had seen in admiration and awe. The raw, star-crushing intensity of a man who made you believe nothing could touch him.
And now?
All For One.
That name seared through his mind like napalm.
He could feel the shape of it in his chest, like a hot coal lodged behind his sternum. All For One. The bastard, he was the one in control of the League, the people that had kidnapped and tortured him.
He growled. A low, rumbling thing that started in his throat and rattled out of him like a beast dragging its chains.
"I'm going to kill that bastard."
Another villain on his kill list. Whether it would actually happen or not, he didn't know. But he couldn't hold back the violence that was creeping up.
He would train until his bones screamed. Until his body was nothing but a machine built to win. If there was ever another battle, another frontline, he would be the first person they called, not the one left behind in a dorm like some broken lego piece that didn't fit the rest of the ship.
"I'll be so strong that they can't keep me out ever again."
He dropped to the floor, pushed the bed aside, and began doing push-ups. Slow, painful ones. The muscles in his arms still ached from recovery, but he didn't care. He needed to move.
His arms shook and his breath burned. But he wasn't going to stop. Not until he was back in top form.
**********
Sorry for the long update.
I have been working on something else. A completely separate and original story that I had planned. And honestly I just kind of lost interest in this one.
For now I just thought I would post this since it it the last chapter that I have of this story. There's always the chance that I'll come back to this, but for now I think I will stop this here and focus on my other story.
I hope you have enjoyed everything I have given this story. And if you liked it or just want to check out my story, it is called Crossing Bar under the same author name on Webnovel.
Bye, and thank you for reading.