Chapter 26

₊˚⊹✷ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎
⤷ so the man-child has a boss-daddy after all.

KATSUKI BAKUGO’S MUSCLES coiled under his skin, every instinct screaming at him to move, to strike, to turn the room into rubble and smoke. If he could just take a few of them down fast, if he could just create an opening, grab Edogawa and bolt for the door before Kurogiri could react, then maybe—maybe—they would have a chance. 

His eyes tracked distances, exits, blind spots, memorizing where Que stood, where Dabi leaned, where Shigaraki was on the ground.

“We may not be at camp, but we’re still allowed to fight,” Katsuki announced.

The villain with the sunglasses tilted their head slightly, lips curling as if amused. “He must have figured out they’re important to us,” they said calmly. “What a clever boy.”

“No. He’s a fool,” Dabi decided flatly, not even looking impressed, his burned skin tightening as he shifted his weight.

“Let me stab ’em,” the schoolgirl said cheerfully.

Edogawa shifted beside him, forcing himself upright even though his body clearly protested the movement, shoulders shaking under the weight of exhaustion and whatever that glowing purple crap still did to his system. “Be careful,” he warned Katsuki, his voice rough but steady, eyes fixed on the villains.

“A clever performer would’ve acted like we were winning him over,” the magician said, voice smooth and cutting. “Now that he’s broken character, he’s finished.”

“I only do whatever I want to and I won’t even pretend otherwise,” Katsuki snapped back, heat flaring in his chest. “And I’m tired of being surrounded by a bunch of lame-ass wannabes.”

For a moment, the room seemed to tense, like a held breath.

“Father,” Shigaraki let out softly, still staring at the hand on the floor as if it were the most important thing in the world. He raised one of his own hands, glare snapping onto Katsuki so suddenly it sent a chill straight down his spine.

“No, Tomura Shigaraki. Be calm,” Kurogiri warned, his voice echoing oddly, layered and distorted.

Shigaraki paused, fingers twitching, then slowly lowered his hand. “Don’t lay a finger on him. Any of you.” He bent down, picked the hand up off the floor with almost reverent care, and returned it to his face, pressing it back into place. “These ‘heroes’… are still valuable pieces. I wish you would have listened to what I had to say. I thought you and I could come to an understanding.”

“What, you think we’re the same?” Katsuki snapped, teeth bared. “Not a chance.”

“Then I have no choice,” Shigaraki said, voice dropping into something colder, more resolved. “The heroes said they’d continue their investigation of our group, so we don’t have time to stand here and talk. Master.” He turned toward the darkened television behind him. “Lend me your power.”

“That is a wise decision, Tomura Shigaraki,” a voice replied from the screen, low and measured, carrying an authority that made Katsuki’s skin crawl.

“A master?” Katsuki scoffed, even as his heart hammered. “I thought you were the boss around here. But you’re a sidekick.”

“Kurogiri. Compress.” Shigaraki ignored him completely, his voice sharp and decisive as the hand tightened against his face. “It’s time to put them back to sleep.”

Compress let out a theatrical sigh, “I can’t believe they’re such bad audience members,” he said, disappointment dripping from every word. “It’s almost impressive.”

“If you want me to listen then get on your knees and beg,” Katsuki shot back, teeth clenched hard enough that his jaw ached. Every muscle in his body was screaming to explode, to burn the room down to ash and rubble, but his mind was racing faster.

The warp guy was too fast. One wrong blast and Kurogiri would swallow the space itself. One stray spark near Que and he’d lose his own head before he even realized it, his thoughts hijacked and turned against him.

He needed space. A lot of it. Enough room to move, enough room to grab Edogawa and bolt for the back door before anyone could react.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it. Edogawa barely looked like he could stand, slumped forward, breathing shallow, uncharacteristically quiet. That silence meant every ounce of strength Edogawa had left was being spent just staying conscious.

And then, impossibly, there was a knock on the back door.

The sound echoed through the bar, dull and ordinary, so completely out of place that for a split second Katsuki wondered if he’d finally cracked.

“Hello? I got a pizza delivery here,” a voice called out, casual and confused.

The entire room froze.

Every villain went still, eyes snapping toward the door. No one had ordered pizza. No one even lived here. The absurdity of it hung in the air, fragile and unreal.

And then the wall behind the lizard villain exploded inward.

Concrete and dust blasted across the room as a massive fist smashed through, and All Might came crashing in with it, larger than life, framed by moonlight. It was only then that Katsuki realized it was night, that time had passed while they’d been trapped down here, listening to speeches and threats.

“Kurogiri! Gate!” Shigaraki shouted instantly, panic finally cracking through his composure.

But before the warp could open, Kamui Woods swung in behind All Might, his wooden body erupting outward. “Pre-emptive Binding Lacquered Chain Prison!” The hero’s arm split and spread, roots and branches lashing out in every direction, wrapping around limbs, torsos, weapons, pinning villains to walls and floors in an instant.

“Heh. That’s it?” Blue flames flared around Dabi as he prepared to retaliate, but Gran Torino blasted into the bar, his kick landing squarely and hard enough to drop Dabi unconscious before the fire could fully form.

“Don’t try anything foolish,” the elder hero said calmly as Dabi collapsed. “It’s in your best interest to cooperate with us.”

“Just what I’d expect from a competent new hero and a veteran pro who moves faster than the eye can see,” All Might declared, his grin wide and unshakable as he stepped fully into the room. “You can’t run anymore, League of Villains. Understand? Because we are here now!”

“Right after the press conference?” Compress gawked, eyes wide with disbelief. “They had this ruse planned the whole time!”

“Tree man, you’re hugging me too tight. Harder! Harder!” Twice shouted, already half-panicked, half-delighted as Kamui Woods’ bindings tightened.

“One tends to neglect defense when they’re on the offense,” a calm voice said from behind the back door. Edgeshot slipped through the narrow opening, his body flattening before reforming and unlocking the door fully. “But we didn’t come alone. Take a look.”

The door swung open to reveal armored police officers packed tight, weapons raised, faces covered and ready.

“You’re surrounded by the police,” Edgeshot continued evenly. “Not to mention powerful heroes like Endeavor.”

Once they were certain the last of the villains had been secured, wooden bindings creaking and police moving in with practiced precision, All Might finally turned away from the chaos of the bar and toward the two UA students who were still rooted to the spot. 

Katsuki stood tense, shoulders squared, smoke faintly curling from his palms, while Edogawa sat slumped against the chair he’d been restrained to only moments earlier, breathing shallowly, eyes unfocused but alert.

“Ah,” All Might said gently, his voice dropping into something far warmer than the booming declaration from moments before. “You two must have been scared. But you stayed strong. I’m sorry.” He smiled, broad and sincere, as he gestured between them. “But you’re safe now.”

“What?” Katsuki snapped instantly, bristling as if he’d been insulted. “I wasn’t scared! Not even close!”

“Heh!” All Might chuckled, unfazed, and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, the gesture so utterly All Might that it almost hurt to look at.

Behind them, Shigaraki let out a low, bitter laugh, the sound scraping and humorless as it cut through the moment. 

“After I went through all the trouble of preparing this,” he sneered, struggling against the wooden restraints wrapped around his body, “the final boss goes and shows up on my doorstep. Everyone’s been restrained. There’s no easy way to escape. It can’t be helped.” His eyes flicked wildly around the room. “So, they’ve got backup. Well, we do too. Kurogiri! Warp over as many as you can!”

“The Nomu?” All Might countered immediately, his tone sharp now, eyes narrowing as he turned just enough to keep Shigaraki in view.

There was a pause.

A long one.

Nothing happened.

Shigaraki’s expression twisted, irritation and disbelief bleeding together as he snapped his gaze toward Kurogiri. “What are you waiting for, damnit?”

“I’m sorry, Tomura Shigaraki,” Kurogiri replied, his voice as composed as ever despite the bindings holding him fast. “The Nomus were supposed to be in a fixed location but…” He hesitated, something like surprise edging into his tone. “They’re gone.”

“Huh?” Shigaraki froze, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

“It seems you have a lot to learn, Shigaraki,” All Might said, stepping forward and placing a steady, grounding hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. The simple contact made Katsuki stiff, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re still green. Your league underestimated all of us.” His gaze swept the room, the heroes, the police, the captured villains. “The souls of these young heroes. The police’s diligent investigations. And… our righteous fury! Enough is enough. Your game has come to an end, Tomura Shigaraki!”

“You think it’s over?” Shigaraki scoffed, forcing himself upright even as the wood dug painfully into his body. His laughter was thin, frayed at the edges. “Don’t be stupid. I’ve only just begun to play. Justice. Peace.” 

His eyes burned as they locked onto All Might. “You created a garbage society by lifting up such ridiculous ideals. That’s why I targeted you, All Might. It’s why I started gathering people to my cause. You think this is the end? Then you’ve lost. Kurogiri!”

But before the warp villain could respond, Edgeshot moved.

He slipped forward faster than the eye could follow, his body flattening and threading through space itself, sliding into Kurogiri’s form with terrifying precision. A split second later, Kurogiri’s knees buckled, his head slumping as consciousness left him entirely.

Edgeshot reappeared, only his head visible as the rest of his body remained impossibly thin. “He was such a nuisance,” he said calmly. “He had to sleep.”

“Weren’t you listening earlier?” Gran Torino snapped. He hovered near the restrained villains like an angry hornet. “You’ll all be better off if you take us seriously. Though they had little time and information, the police worked through the night to discover your true identities. Do you understand? There’s nowhere left for any of you to run. So, Shigaraki. One question. Where is your boss hiding?”

Shigaraki’s shoulders trembled, whether from rage or something else it was hard to tell, “No.” His voice was low, venomous, every syllable scraped raw. “This is… not over. Kust you wait. The game is still mine.”

“You’ll tell us where he is right now,” All Might demanded.

“Go away,” Shigaraki hissed, eyes flashing as if he could burn the heroes from existence with nothing but spite. “Disappear.”

“Shigaraki!” 

“This is your fault! I hate you!” Shigaraki screamed, the words tearing out of him.

And then the room warped.

Two grayish portals tore open in the air on either side of Shigaraki, the space itself folding and bending in a way that made Katsuki’s skin crawl. The smell of decay and something chemical flooded the bar as grotesque, familiar shapes forced their way through.

Nomu.

Their distorted faces pushed through the gates, eyes vacant, mouths twisted into unnatural shapes.

“Nomu! How’d they get here?” Kamui Woods demanded, his wooden restraints tightening instinctively as he braced. “What is this?”

“Damnit, Edgeshot! Stop Kurogiri!” Gran Torino shouted, already moving.

“He’s still out. This isn’t his doing,” Edgeshot called back, tension sharp in his voice as he scanned the gates.

Katsuki didn’t even have time to process that before something went horribly wrong.

Without warning, his throat constricted violently, a foreign pressure clawing its way up from his chest. He gagged, eyes widening as a cold, nauseating sensation forced its way out of his mouth. The gray warp gate spilled from his throat unnaturally, like something being pulled inside out, expanding as it emerged until it swallowed the space around his head and shoulders.

“What the—?!” Katsuki tried to shout, but the sound was swallowed.

The warp wrapped around his entire body in an instant, the world distorting, stretching, pulling him apart in every direction at once. For a split second, he was weightless.

For a split second, he was falling.

And then he wasn’t.

The floor, the bar, the heroes, the villains, all of it vanished.

And Katsuki Bakugo was no longer in that goddamn bar anymore either.

The moment his feet hit solid ground, it was like his body rejected the very idea of having arrived there intact. Katsuki doubled over immediately, coughing hard enough that it burned his throat and chest, hacking up whatever foul, viscous residue had dragged him through space. 

It tasted metallic and rotten, like oil and bile mixed together, and it clung stubbornly to the back of his tongue no matter how many times he spat. His eyes watered as his lungs fought to pull in clean air.

“Damn it,” he coughed out, voice raw and furious, one hand braced against his knee as the other wiped uselessly at his mouth. “The hell?”

He forced himself upright, heart pounding, and that was when he saw him.

A man stood a short distance away, tall enough that Katsuki instinctively associated the silhouette with All Might before his brain caught up and recoiled. This wasn’t All Might. Not even close. The shape was similar, broad and imposing, but everything else was wrong. 

The man wore a dark, perfectly tailored suit that seemed untouched by dust or decay, its clean lines stark against the ruined surroundings. His head was completely bald, smooth to the point of being unnatural, with no eyebrows, no lashes, and no visible eyes at all. Where eyes should have been there was only featureless skin. His nose was barely there, more suggestion than structure, and around his neck sat an ominous life support device.

“My apologies, Bakugo,” the villain said calmly, his voice smooth and measured, like he was offering a polite greeting.

“Huh?” Katsuki snapped, every instinct screaming at him to move, to attack, to do something.

Before he could act, the air around them rippled again, gray warp portals tearing open with wet, sickening sounds. One by one, bodies spilled out and hit the ground in splashes of that same reeking substance. 

Members of the League of Villains landed hard, coughing, gagging, swearing, and laughing all at once.

Edogawa hit the ground beside Katsuki with a dull thud. He stumbled forward on landing, boots scraping uselessly against cracked concrete, before dropping down to one knee and planting a hand to the floor just to keep himself upright. His shoulders heaved as he sucked in air, his whole body trembling with the effort of staying conscious.

The lizard villain retched violently, dropping to all fours as he gagged.

“That was so gross,” the schoolgirl groaned, hand clamped over her mouth as she staggered away.

“This black stuff reeks! I love it,” Twice announced gleefully, voice splitting over itself as he flailed dramatically.

“Master,” Shigaraki drawled, already crouched low to the ground, his posture reverent and unsteady all at once.

“So,” the boss villain continued, unbothered by the chaos unfolding around him, his attention fixed on Shigaraki as he stepped closer. “You’ve failed once more, Tomura.” He stopped directly in front of him, looming. 

“But you must not be discouraged. You’ll try again. That’s why I brought your associates back with you.” His head tilted slightly as if considering the scene, the faint mechanical hiss of his life support filling the silence. “Even these children, because you judged that they were important pieces on your game board.”

He extended a hand toward Shigaraki, palm open in a gesture that was almost tender. “Start over as many times as it takes. I am here to provide you with help. All of this is for you.”

Katsuki’s stomach dropped.

This wasn’t bluster. This wasn’t posturing. This was control, absolute and unquestioned, and it made his skin crawl. His eyes darted around wildly as his mind raced, cataloging exits, distances, threats. They were surrounded by the broken skeletons of buildings, collapsed walls and twisted beams telling the story of what used to be a warehouse. There was nowhere obvious to run, no clean line of escape, and far too many enemies between him and freedom.

He needed to get away. No. He needed to get himself and Edogawa away.

“So the man-child has a boss-daddy after all,” a voice cut in beside him.

Katsuki whipped his head around just in time to see Edogawa forcing himself fully upright. The other boy’s body shook visibly, exhaustion and pain rippling through him as he straightened, but he still planted his feet and squared his shoulders. His glare was sharp and defiant, even as his breathing came ragged and uneven.

Katsuki nearly cursed out loud. Why the hell couldn’t this idiot just keep his goddamn mouth shut?

The boss villain turned slowly, attention shifting from Shigaraki to the two of them. He stalked back toward them with unnerving calm, each step deliberate, the faint mechanical rhythm of his life support growing louder in Katsuki’s ears. 

He stopped directly in front of Edogawa, head tilting as if he were studying him, evaluating him piece by piece. Katsuki assumed that was what he was doing, anyway. With no eyes, it was impossible to tell where that focus truly lay.

Edogawa didn’t back down at first. He glared up at the villain, blue-gray eyes simmering in the dim light, jaw set tight. As the villain took his final step closer, something in Edogawa snapped into place, and his quirk flared instinctively. The air around him turned red as he lifted his chin.

Like a threat.

Katsuki gawked.

There was no way. There was absolutely no way this little punk was threatening the final boss of whatever hell they’d been dropped into.

“Oh… I see,” the villain chuckled suddenly, the sound low and unsettling. Katsuki’s attention snapped back to him instantly. “You’re one of his.”

Edogawa’s expression collapsed in real time. The confidence drained from his face as if it had been yanked out of him, his eyes widening, breath hitching sharply. Panic surged across his features as he took a shaky step backward, the faint glow of his quirk sputtering and faltering.

Katsuki felt a cold knot form in his gut.

Just what the hell did the villain mean?

“Don’t,” Katsuki warned, voice sharp and urgent, because whatever spiral Edogawa had just been shoved into looked dangerous, and not just for him.

The boss villain suddenly stepped backward, the movement unhurried, almost casual, as if whatever tension had been coiling through the ruined warehouse no longer concerned him. 

The faint mechanical hiss of the device around his neck grew louder as he tilted his head, attention shifting away from Edogawa and Katsuki and toward something only he seemed to sense.

“Ah. There you are,” he let out, the words carrying a strange note of satisfaction, as though a long-anticipated piece had finally arrived on the board.

The sky above them split with a violent rush of air.

A figure came screaming down out of the darkness wrapped in white and gold, the sheer force of his descent bending the air around him. All Might hit the ground running and launched forward in the same breath, flying straight at the boss villain with a speed that rattled the shattered buildings nearby. 

The impact never came. Instead, the villain’s hands snapped up and caught All Might mid-air, their collision detonating the space between them in a deafening shockwave. Air currents tore outward, flattening debris and hurling everyone else across the ruined warehouse like discarded toys.

“I’ll have you return my students, All For One!” All Might demanded, voice thunderous even over the roar of displaced air.

“Have you come to kill me a second time, All Might?” All For One shot back smoothly, his grip unwavering.

The two titans tore apart from each other, the force of it ripping the ground open and blasting dust and rubble skyward. When the debris finally began to settle, the destruction was staggering, entire walls pulverized, steel beams twisted like wire, the battlefield reshaped in seconds.

“It took you long enough to find us,” All For One let out as the dust cleared, his tone almost conversational. “It’s only five kilometers from the bar to here, and yet it was at least thirty seconds after I sent the Nomus that you arrived. You’ve gotten weaker, All Might.”

“You’re one to talk,” All Might fired back without missing a beat, planting his feet amidst the wreckage. “It’s kinda difficult to ignore that fancy life-support mask you’ve got on. Aren’t you overexerting yourself?”

Katsuki could only stare from where he had been thrown, sprawled on his side against broken concrete. His ears rang and his vision swam, but none of that mattered compared to what he had just seen. This man—this monster—had stopped All Might cold with his bare hands. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

He turned his head shakily to the right, heart lurching when he saw Edogawa lying there beside him. The other boy was completely still again, eyes closed, body slack.

“I won’t repeat the same mistake I made five years ago,” All Might told the monster, voice hardening as he stepped forward. “You hear me? I will take my pupils back. And I will make certain you’re locked up for the rest of your sad life, right along with your despicable League of Villains!” 

He surged forward, muscles coiling for a devastating punch.

“Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” All For One replied calmly, lifting one hand. His entire arm swelled grotesquely, muscles and power bulging outward as red electricity crackled and danced along his skin. “This will be hard for us both.”

A massive wave of compressed air exploded from his palm the instant All Might struck.

The force stopped All Might mid-charge and hurled him backward, smashing him through one building after another in a violent chain of destruction that carved a straight path through the city. Concrete disintegrated, metal screamed, and the night shook with the impact.

“All Might!”