Chapter Text
The end of the world crept up on them by inches, the retreating tide a sign they had refused to heed until the tsunami crashed over them with terrible, shattering force.
Poetic bullshit, but there was something about the visual that Shouta couldn't shake. Hubris, maybe. In the face of the sea, in the face of the enemy, in the face of the end. Could also just be the sleep deprivation and the adrenaline making him fucking loopy. He slapped the C4 against the wall, checking the detonator. Or maybe he was feeling philosophical because they were about to blow themselves to kingdom come.
If everything went well, at least.
Shouta clenched a fist against his tremors as he went to set the next explosive. Another upshot to their imminent demise was not having to worry about starvation anymore. It was a shit-miserable way to die, and Izuku's quirk burned through calories like a spark through dry paper. Another explosive, and Shouta paused, listening to the sound of combat outside. It was soothing, in a morbid way. Izuku's job was to buy him time to plant the explosives, and as long as Shouta could hear the fighting, that meant he was okay.
Fear for Izuku's welfare seemed almost silly, under the circumstances. Die now, or die later—what did it matter? But they'd agreed to see the end through together, and if Shouta was being honest with himself, he didn't want to die alone. All they had left was each other. Everyone else—friends, allies, Eri—had been lost to the tide. He and Izuku had bulled through because they were both too stubborn to give in, but death was coming for them no matter what they chose. Either the slow, icy fingers of starvation and illness as food and medicine became impossible to find, or a sudden bloody end at the hands of their enemies.
Better to go out on their own terms. Better to die with purpose, than to let survival grind them away. They didn't have the strength to take down All For One directly, but they could blow the bastard sky fucking high. All For One, the facility, the Nomu, and themselves. An end, and, if the world was lucky, a beginning.
Shouta didn't know if the survivors would be able to drag themselves from the wreckage. He hoped so. Humans were resilient, tenacious bastards. It was their job to give them the chance.
He hoped that Eri was alive, somewhere. That she was alive, and that whatever world emerged from the ashes was worthy of her.
Shouta affixed the last explosive as the world around him went eerily silent. His gaze cut toward the door, grip tightening on the detonator and heart in his throat. Had the Nomu overwhelmed Izuku? They'd known it was possible—likely, even. Was this it, then?
The door slammed open, and Shouta relaxed when it wasn't a Nomu, but Izuku who stumbled through. His relief was short-lived when Shouta saw the state of him. Izuku was barely upright, bleeding from a ragged wound in his gut, and Shouta rushed to his side in time to catch him before he pitched over. "There's more coming," Izuku said, voice weak and wet, lips flecked with blood. "We don't have much time."
"It's ready," Shouta assured him, half carrying Izuku to the central pillar and lowering him gently to the ground. Shouta slid down beside him, eyeing the wound. Fatal, in their circumstances, and it was irrational how much it upset him. They had come here to die, what did it matter?
It mattered because he didn't want Izuku to die in pain, but the universe seemed disinclined to spare them even that one, small grace.
Shouta took a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the pillar, the cold of the concrete floor seeping into his legs. He wasn't afraid. He was sad, angry. Sad that it had come to this, sad that Izuku's short adulthood had been nothing but death and pain. Angry at their failures, angry that this was the best that they could do, that the people they had lost had died for so little.
It wasn't all bad. There was comfort in knowing his death would mean something, comfort in dying shoulder to shoulder with Izuku. Not the end he'd have anticipated for either of them when he'd first met his problem child, but there they were. All that remained was the finale and the curtain fall. "Ready?" he asked, throat sticky around the word.
Izuku shook his head. "Let me rest a little, first," he said, voice raspy and edged with pain.
"Okay.” They had a little time before the reinforcements would arrive—who was he to deny Izuku a few extra minutes?
He took Izuku by the shoulders and carefully laid him down, head pillowed on Shouta's thigh. Izuku's eyes fluttered closed and he sighed, breathing shallow and ragged. Shouta laid a hand on his hair, stroking gently, doing his best to offer what comfort he could. "I'm proud of you, you know."
It was easy to say, now. What was the point of holding back? What good was reticence minutes from death? If ever there was a time for honesty, it was now. Especially if Izuku might find some comfort in it. "If I had to share the end of the world with anyone, I'm glad it was you."
A soft sniffle met his words, and Shouta was surprised to see tears leaking from the corner of Izuku's eyes, wending a path through the grime on his face. It had been a long time since he'd last seen Izuku cry, years of hardship and loss making him numb in a way that hurt to witness.
There was something about his tears that made what they were about to do feel suddenly, sharply real, and Shouta found himself fighting his own telltale burn. "You've done so well," he said, smoothing a hand over tangled green curls, grasping for something to blunt the pain for both of them. "We've done exactly what we came here to do. We’ll be able to rest soon."
The silence was shattered by the distant thunder of approaching Nomu. They were out of time.
Izuku's eyes opened, glazed with pain, and he reached up to take Shouta's hand in a grasp so tight it hurt. It felt like he should have something to say, here at the end. Something poignant. Something that mattered. Instead, Shouta raised their clasped hands to his lips, flipped the cover on the detonator, and pressed the button.
The end of the world crept up on them by inches, but the end of Izuku and Shouta came hot and fast and loud. Then the tide drew them down into the deep, into the dark, and into the quiet.