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Drops of something sticky fell onto his palms. It was unpleasant. A metallic stench seeped through his nostrils and into his brain. His head was spinning. His stomach was churning. He turned his head to the side but saw nothing. The darkness was thick. Occasionally, flashes of red and yellow appeared, signalling that a fierce battle was raging not far from him.
He couldn’t join in. He couldn’t fight. His body wouldn’t cooperate. He knelt on the ground, that repulsive sticky sensation on his hands. His knees were dug into the side of a corpse on the ground. He turned his head toward the ground and stared into the empty eyes that had glowed red just a moment ago. Now they were only a deathly brown. His skin began to pale, and blue veins stood out against his otherwise perfect and still childishly chubby face.
His stomach churned. He began to gag dryly. He was oblivious to everything happening around him. His ears felt as if they were underwater; he couldn’t focus on a single sound. Maybe someone was yelling at him. He wasn’t sure. Nothing around him made sense.
He had to look away, but wherever his gaze fell, he saw a patch of black, orange, or green that only served to remind him that he had failed. He was supposed to protect him. He was his mentor. But instead, he had sent him to his death along with the other adults.
His chest tightened. His heart barely beat at all. Would it stop right beside him?
His vision sharpened. Finally, he could look at his palms. If he’d felt sick before, now he nearly fainted on the spot.
What he held in his palms looked like a piece of living flesh. It pulsed, it moved, but it was clear that these were merely the last remnants of a life slipping away. In just a few more minutes, all that would remain of the man who had been fighting evil just moments ago would be a piece of flesh he could crush under his boot. He brought his palms together, as if trying to shield him from the world, to hold onto his soul for just a moment longer and pull it back into a body that had long since been nothing more than a shell, unable to live without outside help. He brought it close to his face. “S-Shinya…,” he whispered quietly, lost. He shuddered. The air from his mouth hurt him. It was so feeble. “Shinya, just a little longer…” For what? They both knew it was hopeless. Shinya might still have heard him faintly, but his soul had long since slipped away. “Shinya,” he whispered, exhausted. He could feel the heroes running around him, using their quirks, screaming, bleeding—none of it mattered to him. Only that pulsing piece of bloody flesh in his hands, which he was trying to save—the boy who was almost like a son to him.
He had let himself down. He had let them down. He had let everyone down. Because of his mistake, two heroes were gone. One who had his whole life ahead of him, and the other who was supposed to spend the rest of his days with him. “Shinya,” he whispered again, “Shin—”
“Tsunagu.” The blond man opened his eyes, his whole body jerking. He was breathing heavily. Someone touched his chest. He turned sharply onto his side. “I’m here, love,” Shinya whispered, quickly taking his free hands in his own and pulling them against his body. He placed one on his face, where unkempt, gray stubble was already sprouting again. “Can you feel it? Warm.” He placed the other on his chest, where his strong, heroic heart was pounding. “Can you hear it? I’m here.”
“Oh God,” Tsunagu whispered. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat. “My God,” he whispered again as tears began to well up in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” Shinya whispered, letting go of his hands and leaning toward him. He wrapped his arms around Tsunagu’s shoulders and kissed his hair. Tsunagu held him so tightly he almost broke his ribs. The gray-haired man said nothing. He knew this was what his partner needed. He kissed him again. “Everything’s okay. I’m okay. Bakugou is okay. We made it. We won.” Tsunagu was trembling. Shinya gently stroked his body, pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, and kissed his hair.
It took a few more quiet, heavy minutes before Tsunagu exhaled, exhausted. He moved one hand back to his chest and began listening to his heart. “You’re alive,” Tsunagu whispered, “you’re both alive,” he said joyfully and exhaled again.
“I wouldn’t leave you,” he promised him. This time he kissed his forehead. “I’ll hold you all night so you know I mean it.” He leaned down to his lips and kissed him gently. Briefly. He knew he didn’t need his kisses right now. “You need to get some sleep. We have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow. Bakugou is coming to lunch with us.”
“Y-yes,” Tsunagu stammered. Shinya was right. He closed his eyes tightly. He rested his head on Shinya’s chest and let his heartbeat lull him back to sleep. Shinya kept his promise. He held him in his arms all night, and in the morning, when the sun’s rays tickled their faces, he kissed him for so long that he erased the last remnants of doubt and pain from his entire being.