They’re everywhere, you think to yourself as you peer through the scope of your gun. And you were right - the small strip mall that you are supposed to be scavenging today is surrounded by walkers.
Lowering your gun, you look towards Daryl. He’s in charge of the run today, and he chose to bring you, Tara, and Glenn. Which you appreciate, since you are all still a little uneasy around the original Alexandrians after all the issues with Nicholas and Aiden. You all feel much safer traveling with your own people, since you can actually trust each other to have your back.
Daryl’s scanning the area, taking in all the walkers. You, Tara, and Glenn all wait for his decision on whether or not he thought you should risk it or return to Alexandria empty-handed, which none of you really wanted to do. With your group joining the community, the pantry empties out a lot quicker, so everyone was counting on your crew to bring back some food and supplies.
You wait, watching Daryl. He squints into the sun, looking across the lot. Then, he nods. You nod back, then to Tara and Glenn. No one needs to speak, since you all agreed on a plan before arriving: you and Daryl go one way, Tara and Glenn go the other, then meet in the middle. So you follow the archer to the lefthand side of the strip, while the others head towards the right.
Daryl looks to you, and nods again. Then you both raise your guns and begin firing into the crowd of the dead. You’ve become a pretty good shot since they found you outside the prison - and Daryl’s great at literally everything he does - so between the two of you, walkers start going down left and right. Distant gunfire tells you that Tara and Glenn are doing the same on their end of the mall.
When all the walkers in front of you are taken out, Daryl heads towards the first storefront, which looks to be a small pharmacy. You were asked to find some medical supplies to help restock the infirmary, since your group has a tendency to get injured often. Daryl peers in the window, and, when he doesn’t see any movement, opens the door. You follow him inside.
The pharmacy is pretty simple: just a couple of aisles, separated by tall shelves, with a counter in the back. Daryl nods towards it, and you nod in return before heading towards it. He typically sends you to raid the shelves, since you have a semi-decent understanding of first aid and can grab the most useful bottles. You carefully climb over the counter, then start reading the labels left on the shelves. It’s a mess back here, having been picked through at least a handful of times, so you have your work cut out for you.
In the front of the store, you hear Daryl walking around, checking the front shelves for anything useful. He finds some basic supplies, like bandaids, antibacterial ointment, and ace bandages, He shoves them all into his satchel before moving on.
As he walks around, Daryl finds another door. He peers back at you, and sees you still scanning the shelves for medicine. Turning back, he reaches for the door, opening it slowly. Glancing around, Daryl walks into the storeroom and finds more shelves, stocked full of medical supplies.
You hear him call your name. You look up from behind the counter just in time to see a walker lunge for him in the small room.
“Daryl!” you scream his name out, dropping your bag and rushing to climb over the pharmacy counter. Through the doorway, you see the walker knock Daryl to the ground. He wrestles with it, knocking over one of the shelves behind him. It tumbles down, landing on Daryl and the walker.
Glass shattering from the front of the store draws your attention. You whip around, and see five or six more walkers climbing into the pharmacy through the now broken storefront window. Another smash from the storeroom causes you to turn back, and you spot a second walker leaning on top of the shelves that fell on Daryl, trying to reach through.
“Run!” you hear his gruff voice yell. “Out the back! Get outta here!”
You freeze in place, paralyzed by fear. Do you listen to Daryl and run, getting the medicine to the community but potentially lose your best friend? Or do you ignore his direction and try to save him, potentially losing the medicine, yourself, and him in the process?
What would Daryl do? you ask yourself. Now that answer is easy.
You roll off the counter, barreling into the storeroom. Knife in hand, you grab the walker on top of the shelves by the back of its disgusting shirt, yanking it towards you and driving your blade into its skull. It stops struggling, and you push it to the side.
Putting the knife between your teeth, you try to pull them off of Daryl and the walker he’s wrestling, but they’re too heavy for you to lift alone. Letting go, you peek down through the shelves. Daryl is busy leaning away from the walker’s face as it snaps at him, both of their arms pinned underneath the unit, unable to grab or fight each other. Taking your knife again, you slide your arm through the shelves. You’re barely able to reach, but you lean forward, feet leaving the ground, and push your knife into the walkers head. Its jaw goes slack, and its head falls onto Daryl’s shoulder, almost like it was trying to cuddle him.
You push yourself off the shelving unit, then instruct Daryl. “I need you to push up,” you tell him. “I can’t lift it myself.” Then you grip the shelves again, and pull as hard as you can. You can hear Daryl cursing from the floor as he pushes, and slowly but surely, you’re able to move the shelves. The two of you push them to the side as well. Daryl scrambles up from the floor, grabs you by the arm, and pulls you back into the main room of the pharmacy.
The walkers from the front window have gotten closer, almost reaching the back of the store. Daryl picks you up and tosses you over the counter, barking at you to stay down. You hit the ground hard, the pain in your knee stinging as you peer over the counter. You watch Daryl lunge at the closest walker with his knife, his crossbow forgotten on the ground of the storeroom.
Despite his order, you climb on top of the counter, standing to your full height. You pull the handgun from your waistband and take aim. You exhale, then take your first shot. The walker closest to Daryl goes down. He looks over his shoulder at you, then drops to the floor, clearing the way for you to shoot.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
With each shot, you take down the remaining walkers. Even after they hit the ground, you and Daryl don’t move for a minute. You stay still, listening, in case you’ve attracted any more of the dead. When you don’t hear any groaning, you exhale a sigh of relief.
Daryl stands back up, stalking past you to the storeroom to get his fallen supplies. You drop down from the counter to do the same. You each take a minute to shove even more stuff into your bags before you leave. As you climb back over the counter, Daryl storms past you and out the front door, leaving you behind. You have to jog to catch up to him.
“Daryl,” you call but he keeps walking. “Daryl!”
He stops, turning on you, face red. “I told you to run!” he yells, stepping towards you. “Why can’t you ever listen?”
His words hit you like a punch to the chest. Did he really expect you to abandon him? After everything that you both have gone through together? After all of the losses you have already experienced?
“I - I - “ you stutter out, unable to form words.
“You what?” Daryl snaps, glaring down at you.
“I couldn’t lose you too!” you shriek. Your cheeks feel warm and wet. When did you start crying? You have no idea. But when your words register with your heart, the tears start pouring out like someone turned on the faucet.
You couldn’t lose Daryl. You’ve already lost so many people. Your entire family. So much of your new family at the prison. Hershel. Beth. Bob. Tyreese. You couldn’t handle losing anyone else. Sobs shake your shoulders, causing your bag to slide from your grip and onto the ground. You feel like you’re falling apart.
When your words register with Daryl, he immediately feels ashamed for snapping at you. You were right - you all had already lost so much. And he knows exactly how you feel. He lives in almost constant fear of closing you too, just like that day back in Terminus. He was willing then, just like he’s willing now, to do anything and everything to keep you safe. He couldn’t handle losing you either.
“Hey,” he says softly, dropping his crossbow. He opens his arms to you, and you throw yourself into them. He pulls you in close, pressing his lips into your hair. “‘m sorry I yelled,” he murmurs between your sobs. “I didn’t mean it.”
You nod into his chest, choking on your own tears. Then you pull back, pressing your forehead into his. “You’re not allowed to die on me, Daryl Dixon.”
He pulls back, placing a kiss to your forehead before whispering back, “I won’t. I promise.”
Febuwhump 2024 | Day 29 | Prompt 29: Not Allowed to Die || Bad Things Happen Bingo: Hallucinations
Rated: G | Words: 516 | Summary: Echo is sick with a fever.
“Echo, I’m going to help you sit up.”
Everything hurts, even the soft weight of the blanket over his body. “Ugh, what’s wrong with me?” Echo groans.
An arm wraps around his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, and he is guided upright. “You're sick.”
“How? Clones don’t get sick.”
“Most clones don’t get sick. Clones with compromised immune systems on the other hand…” The arm and hand leave him, and something presses to his lips. “Here, drink this.”
The cool water feels like swallowing glass, but Echo dutifully takes several gulps before pushing the canteen away. “I don’t have a compromised immune system,” Echo protests, leaning back against the headboard of his bunk. He finally opens his eyes and glances at his brother sitting next to him.
Fives shrugs. “I’m not a medic, that’s just what I was told. Either way, you’re sick. You’ve got a fever.”
“I feel like I got hit by a speeder and then trampled by a rancor,” Echo grumbles.
“Hey now,” Fives says, giving Echo a small shake. “No falling asleep yet. Tech still needs to run diagnostics. He wanted to wait until you were awake.”
Echo’s eyes snap open and he looks at his brother. “Who?”
Confusion and concern battle for dominance across Fives’ expression. “Tech,” he says, slowly. “You know who Tech is.”
Echo shakes his head, not because he doesn’t but because…Fives doesn’t. Fives can’t know who Tech is because they’ve never met.
“Echo, do you know who I am?” Fives asks, leaning forward.
“Of course I know who you are, Fives.” Echo tries to laugh, but it comes out strangled of any humor.
Fives’ face falls. “Oh, Echo,” he breathes. “I think…I think the fever is messing with your head.”
“No it’s not. I can see you. You’re right here.” Echo reaches out to grab Fives’ arm, but Fives pulls back, narrowly escaping being struck by Echo’s scomp.
That’s not right.
Echo’s takes a shuddering breath.
“Easy, Echo,” Fives soothes, moving closer again, hands up in a pacifying way. “I need you to stay calm.”
“No,” Echo cries, “You’re not dead! Fives, you’re here. You’re not dead.”
Fives looks heartbroken. “Echo…Fives has been dead for a long time.”
Tech steps up behind Fives, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Maybe it would be best if we sedate him…just until his fever is under control.”
Fives stands and steps to the side, letting Tech take his place at Echo’s bedside. “Tech,” Echo pleads, “Tell Fives he’s not dead. He’s right there. You see him, don’t you?”
Tech shakes his head. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Echo.”
Echo tries to pull away when Tech lifts the hypo to his neck, but it is like his energy has evaporated, and he can do nothing but weakly protest as the needle pricks his skin. “No…He can’t be dead.”
Before the world around him melts into darkness, Echo thinks he hears Fives whisper, “I am so sorry, brother.”
END
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Prompts: DAY 29 - not allowed to die @febuwhump
Characters: Kakucho x reader
Fandom: Tokyo Revengers
A/n for prompts: Hello guys! This was my first time trying a prompt challenge. I hope you enjoyed the short fics I wrote.This one was the last one 🥺 I love you 💜
Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...
Thank you and love you 🥰
Warnings: mention of blood and death, angst
Has time ever slowed down this much? Or has fear ever been such a heavy emotion? Kakucho knew neither. The only thing he knew was his "friend" lying on the ground covered in blood when he entered the empty warehouse.
“Y/n!”
Frightened, he entered the door of the warehouse and put the young girl on his knees. Her face was covered in blood and she was unconscious. Was she breathing? He wasn't sure.
This was the first time Y/n's skin felt this cold.
He cupped her face in fear and begged
“Please, open your eyes! The ambulance is coming, you'll be okay! Y/n! Do you hear me?!"
There was no response, y/n wasn't waking up. She wasn't moving, she wasn't breathing.
“Y/n! Do you hear me?! You're not allowed to die! Not before I tell you that I love you!”
Y/n would love to hear those words from him. Maybe she had waited a lifetime for Kakucho to tell her that he loved her.
But it was too late now. Y/n was gone and all Kakucho had left was regret…
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Febuwhump day 29: not allowed to die
Whumpees: the Chain
Whump Rating: 10/10
TWs: major character death (of sorts. it's complicated), blood & injury
Time seemed to slow down as Hyrule glanced over at his teammates.
Time and Warriors were holding their ground, as were Sky and Twilight. Wild was in the trees somewhere, picking off monsters with his bow, and Legend was blasting monsters with his fire rod.
Wind was down for the count. He would be fine, but he couldn’t fight in his current state, so he was sitting on the sidelines woozily. Wild was close enough to keep an eye on him, at least.
Which left Four. He had been fighting alongside Wind, but now with the sailor out of commission, monsters were beginning to gang up on the smithy. He slashed furiously at Bokoblins and Moblins as they surrounded him, finding their smallest member to be an easy target. Four was strong and a capable fighter for sure, but there were only so many monsters that one person could reasonably manage at one time, and the smith was reaching that limit.
Hyrule watched with horror as a Moblin raised a spiked club, swinging it with incredible speed and dexterity for a beast of that size.
“Four!” Hyrule called, alarmed.
It was too late.
The traveler watched with horror as Four turned to look, eyes widening for a split second before the club made contact with his chest, creating the most terrible cracking sound. The smithy flew backward into a sturdy tree, crumpling into a pile on the ground.
“FOUR!” Hyrule screamed, sending a sword beam through a Lizalfos’ throat before running to his friend. The monsters had dispersed already, assuming the smithy to be dead.
Hyrule desperately hoped they were wrong. They had to be wrong.
Legend, who had also seen the events, came running as well. Hyrule skidded to his knees next to Four, frantically searching for a pulse or breathing or something. He couldn’t be dead. He had to be alive. He had to be.
“I’ll guard you!” The Veteran yelled, falling into a defensive stance as more monsters approached the fallen smithy.
Hyrule didn’t bother replying, too focused on finding a pulse. Four’s body– so small, so vulnerable like this– was mangled, especially in the chest area. But there was a faint movement there, a strained breath. Four was alive, but only just. He would have to heal this quickly if the smith was going to continue to live.
Focusing, Hyrule shut his eyes, puffing out his cheeks. Magic pooled in his hands, and he slammed a ton of it into Four all at once, crying out. Green tendrils poured from the traveler, sinking into the smithy’s broken body. Four shuddered and choked, quickly going silent. Tears leaked from the corners of Hyrule’s closed eyes as he continued pressing everything he had into Four in hopes of healing him.
“Oh…” Twilight murmured breathlessly. Hyrule didn’t dare turn around as more presences made themselves known around him. One got close, grabbing Four’s wrist, then pressing fingers against his neck.
“Four…” Sky whispered, voice breaking.
A gentle hand laid itself on the traveler’s shoulder. “Hyrule…” It was Twilight. “Hyrule, stop.”
Stop? Why would he stop? Four needed to be healed, and that’s what he was doing! If he stopped, then…
“Hyrule,” Twilight repeated, firmer this time. “Link. You need to stop. You can’t do anything.”
Hyrule froze. What? No, no, he could do something… the only way his magic wouldn’t help was if Four was already dead, and that couldn’t… no. He couldn’t be. Four wasn’t allowed to die, he wasn’t allowed to die! Nobody could die, no, none of them could die…
Heart pounding, Hyrule peeked his eyes open. Warriors was sitting on the smith’s other side, eyes solemn as he shook his head. Four was lying perfectly still, partially healed but not quite enough. It hadn’t been enough. He couldn’t save Four. Four was dead.
Hyrule screamed.
He screamed, sobbing as he collapsed onto the smithy’s still– too still – body. No, not body– Four’s corpse. Because Four was dead and Hyrule couldn’t save him and it just wasn’t enough no matter what he did. Maybe if he hadn’t wasted time searching for a pulse, maybe if his magic was stronger, maybe if Four hadn’t been cornered in the first place-
“Hyrule.” Twilight’s strong arms wrapped around him, holding him in a tight hug. “You did everything you could. It’s okay.”
It’s okay? It’s okay?! How could anything be okay?! One of them was dead on the ground and it was okay? Nothing was okay! How were they supposed to move on from this?
All that came out was a choked sob as Hyrule crumpled against Twilight’s chest, shaking with each pained cry. The rancher held him gently, rubbing the traveler’s back.
Time, Warriors, and Sky carefully wrapped up Four’s body, treating him with the utmost care and respect. Sky cried softly as he helped, and Time and Warriors’ eyes were misty as well. Wild and Legend had both disappeared somewhere, and Wind was just coming to.
“Here, Hyrule,” Twilight murmured, petting the brunette’s hair comfortingly. “Why don’t you help the sailor? Do you have enough magic left?”
Hyrule nodded miserably, hands glowing as he sobbed brokenly. Wind’s dazed expression dissipated as the magic flowed, healing his head injury with ease. At least he could do that… but it was too late for Four. The smithy was dead, wrapped up in his favorite blanket with all those colors on it. Almost like his tunic, Hyrule thought, sobbing weakly.
“Ughhh,” Wind groaned, holding a hand to his head. “What happened?”
Twilight stood up, leaving Hyrule to usher their youngest away. “Let’s talk,” the rancher said to Wind, dragging him away from the scene.
Now it was only Hyrule, Sky, Time, and Warriors. Well, and Four. But Four was-
“‘Rulie,” Sky sniffled, wrapping the traveler in a hug. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could’ve been here to help. You did your best… I’m so sorry!” The Skyloftian knight held Hyrule close as they cried together, wrapped up in each other’s arms.
“I…” Warriors sighed, clearly upset despite his attempts to conceal it. “I guess I’ll go look for Champ and Vet.”
“Someone should stay here with…” Time grimaced, gesturing to the blanket wrap that held the smithy’s corpse. “You go on ahead, try to find them. We’ll search for a gravesite when all of us are together.”
“...Right.” Warriors ran off without another word, but his sobs were loud enough to hear anyway. Sky and Hyrule remained on the ground, clutching each other like their life depended on it. Time stood over Four’s body, closing his eye as he hung his head. It was clear the loss was taking a toll on all eight of them, but Hyrule was easily the most upset. He blamed himself, after all.
“You did your best…” Sky repeated, sniffling. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not any of our faults,” Time agreed. Sky and Hyrule glanced up at him with teary eyes. “We couldn’t have known. We… there was nothing we could do to stop it.” The Old Man sighed, shaking his head. “I never wanted to bury one of our own.”
“None of us do,” Twilight replied, expression solemn. Wind followed behind him, sniffling as he laid eyes on the small wrapped body.
“Four,” he whispered, jaw dropping as he stared, wide-eyed. “No, I- no.”
Sky opened his arm, scooting so there was more space. “C’mere.”
Wind fell to his knees, sobbing as he leaned into Sky and Hyrule. The three of them cried together while Twilight joined Time’s vigil over Four’s body. Warriors returned soon after with Wild and Legend, bringing their number back up to nine eight. Wild took one look at the blanket wrap before breaking down, sobbing into Twilight’s arms. Legend just stared numbly, expression unreadable.
“We should find somewhere to bury him,” Time murmured after a few minutes.
Warriors nodded. “We’ll have ourselves a little funeral. A… proper sendoff.”
“He wouldn’t’ve wanted anything fancy,” Wild added, voice breaking as he tried not to cry.
“I found a place.” Everyone turned to look at Legend, save for the three on the ground. The Vet’s expression remained emotionless as he stared at the body of his friend. “South from here. Bunch’a mushrooms and shit around.”
He would've liked it there went unsaid.
Time nodded, for once not bothering to correct the language. “We’ll check it out.”
They gathered their things, and Time carefully lifted Four’s body, draping him over his shoulder. Twilight carried Wild, and Warriors carried Wind. Sky helped Hyrule to his feet, offering a ride to the traveler as well. The kid was small enough to carry without much difficulty anyway, and he was extremely distraught by the day’s events (as the rest of them were).
So Time, Twilight, Warriors, Sky, and Legend walked south until they found a nice spot, setting their stuff up for the night. Hyrule and Wind were sent to bed (neither of them could sleep, but some rest would do them some good), Legend sat and stared at the campfire, and Wild made a spot for himself up in a tree. Sky sat near Legend, carving something, and Time, Warriors, and Twilight dug a hole.
As dusk approached, all eight of them gathered around the hole in the ground, around six feet deep but around four feet in length. No words passed between the eight remaining Links as Four’s body was lowered into the ground, buried with dirt until a small lump of raised ground was the only sign of their fallen comrade’s grave.
Wild approached silently, jamming a row of tied sticks in the dirt over Four’s head. He bowed his head, pressing a hand into the dirt sadly. When Wild retreated, Sky took his place, kneeling to the side of the grave to lay a small, wooden sword, carved by his own hand. It resembled Four’s weapon but with a small feather carved in the handle, nearly identical to the one the smithy had worn as an earring.
“We’ll miss you,” Sky whispered, closing his eyes as he lifted his face to the darkened sky. “Rest in peace, Link.”
Hyrule and Wind both wore miserable expressions, faces stained with tear tracks matching their red, puffy eyes. The pair clung to each other, doing their best to stifle any sobs. Legend’s facade had finally cracked, and his eyes were rimmed red as tears slipped silently down his cheeks. Warriors had shed a few tears as well, and Twilight was sniffling as he hugged Wild close. Time’s head was bowed, but a stray tear or two dripped off into the dirt below.
None of them could believe Four was really gone. They buried him, they mourned him, but it hadn’t actually set in yet. Denial hit hard among the remaining Heroes of Courage as they said their final goodbyes to one of their own.
They say it gets worse before it gets better, but it was hard to imagine things getting worse than this. Maybe they would never fully recover from losing Four. They would be forced to move on nevertheless. Fate was cruel in that way.
None of them slept a wink that night. Those who tried were quickly awoken by nightmares, forced to relive the death of their friend. The death of their brother. And, once sunrise was upon them, a portal appeared, forcing them to move on against their will. And once the last Link passed through, it closed, sealing Four away from them forever. The smithy was really, truly gone, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.
Wind and Hyrule both blamed themselves. If Wind hadn’t gotten knocked out, if Hyrule had been faster, if someone had just been there to look out for Four-
There was no use dwelling on the past, no matter how painful it was. You can’t change the past. Nobody could change the past. Whatever happens happens and there’s nothing anyone can do to fix it.
Time pulled out his ocarina, smoothing his hand over it.
He covered the holes with his fingers, preparing for that first note.
Whumpee is a small homunculus sculpted from wax. When the sun sets, the creator ignites its body and spirit to illumine their workplace. It can walk to every spot it is commanded to, silent and dutifully giving its life force for them, as wax drips down its body.
Throughout its short life, the homunculus is always careful not to mark any scattered manuscripts on the table with its spilled self.
At the end of the night, the creator will blow out their flame of life as swift as they gave it and mold its successor anew out of cold remains and fresh wax. A part of it is forced to live on forever, yet that's all it is good for: fulfilling an unending purpose.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Art ↓
So yesterday I used a gif with my prompt that I got from a public source, but thanks to a comment I was told it was actually stolen from the artist kirokaze. If you liked the gif, check them out! Guess l´ll use less gifs in the future.
To make amends, you have to put up with my own sketches for now. Here is the little wax dude from above:
a/n: speculative ficlet on the end of bnha. manga spoilers.
//
His whole body ached. This was nothing new to Tomura, who had been plagued with an awareness of bodily discomfort since he was conscious enough to register it, but unlike before, there was no way he could relieve himself of the pain.
He could not lift a limb; he could barely turn his head.
Beside him on the torn-up battlefield, Midoriya wheezed and wept dry, rasping sobs. He looked even more of a mess than Tomura, and the insides of Tomura were still churning with the stupid, indigestible truth that deep down, he was a pitiful child wanting to be saved. The ghosts had been ruthless in their excavation.
“Shut up,” Tomura managed, and his lips curled weakly to bare his teeth. “Just--would you shut the hell up and kill me already?”
Midoriya twitched. Unlike Tomura, Midoriya was laid-out flat on his back, face turned to the sky and all four limbs stretched out like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard. The kid didn’t even bother twisting his neck. He just side-eyed Tomura with unwarranted incredulity.
“A hero wouldn’t hesitate. Not after all I’ve done.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do,” Midoriya said, unsteadily, “for the past hour?”
“You’re trying to be the good guy. ‘There’s always someone to save.’ Ugh.”
The doctor had subjected him to intense electric shocks, conditioning his body before the transfer of All for One, and the Quirk still hadn’t integrated peacefully. Star and Stripes tried to smother him in the ocean and obliterate him altogether. In neither of these cases did Tomura cry.
Tears were beading up now, threatening to spill over and soak the ground. Tomura crooked his fingers against the dirt, seeking Decay in the fiery ruins of his veins, and tasting blood when all he turned up was more pain.
“I can’t do this,” he gasped. “I can’t look at--at all their stupid faces--and listen to them tell me that I was wrong--”
Unbelievably, Midoriya wrenched himself to the side and reached over to grab a fistful of Tomura’s hair. He said, “You don’t get to die.” He sounded like a hero; he sounded like a maniac who would see Tomura thrown into some asylum for ‘recovery’ when all it would really be was an indefinite term of drugged incarceration. “One for All didn’t go away so you could die. I told them I’d save you, and I will.”
“You and what Quirk?! You think you count for anything now? Even All Might’s word doesn’t mean shit!”
“You’re Quirkless too, now!” Midoriya fired back.
Tomura clenched his jaw. Maybe if he ate enough dirt, he’d throw up, choke on his own vomit, and die before any medical assistance reached them. Like being unable to use a Quirk mattered to the terrified, paranoid judicial system. He’d dusted both of Overhaul’s arms up to the elbows and they booked him in Tartarus anyway.
“I won’t let you disappear,” the boy swore.
“Moron,” Tomura spat. “I’m telling you over and over again, it doesn’t matter what the hell you want. You’re gonna stand against the heroes when they drag me to prison? You’re gonna ask them to go easy on me with the sentencing? It’d be more merciful to just kill me!”
Midoriya yanked on Tomura’s hair, and Tomura wailed a long, despairing cry into the dirt. Would anyone else help him? Dabi--useless. Toga--useless. Spinner--gone. Mr. Compress--imprisoned. All Tomura had left was Midoriya, and he hated Midoriya, but not enough to suppress Tenko’s needy want for a friend.
“If they take you, I’ll find you. I’ll ask All Might to find a safehouse in the country. I’ll make sure you have dogs to take care of.” Midoriya released Tomura and rolled himself completely to his stomach. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Exhaustion weighed on him as heavily as the hurt did on Tomura. “Don’t you want to live?”
This was the final straw, amidst the many final straws that had edged their fight further and further in Midoriya’s favor. Tomura had no desire to voice Tenko’s want, so he scrunched his wet eyes shut and screamed into the shattered earth.
