𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝟐𝟎𝐗𝐗

    

    

      

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                                      𝐈. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐖𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥

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             words                               5,629

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#HalloweenEvent2024

this is for day 7 of herotober which

is dystopia! this was originally an

rp idea so basically you will get the pov

and responses as such of each character

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♱

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            If Bakugou Katsuki had to compare Japan to any animal, it’d be a street rat. Grimy, drenched in darkness and dampness, with the weight of something suffocating always hanging overhead. Hell, he couldn’t even the last time the sun broke through the permanent gloom that clung to Musutafu, let alone the rest of the country.

            The nation had been handed over to a “reformed” government, one that preached its loyalty to the citizens but, in the end, only ever served the rich. The corporate elite got fatter while the middle class and everything below it burned away, like the trash fires Bakugou saw in the night—fires people set just to stay warm. It didn’t take a genius to realize the gap between the wealthy and the poor was widening, and the lower you were, the faster you got left behind.

            For decades now, Japan had become a free-for-all dystopia, where the rich lived like gods and the rest of them scurried like roaches beneath their gilded towers and sprawling estates.

            He hadn’t always been part of this underground world of desperation and filth. His parents had been well-off once, and Bakugou, a genius, had excelled in school, making it seem like he and his family might escape the city’s decay. But the system was never meant to be fair. The moment the authorities caught wind that the scholar prodigy was hanging out with the so-called street trash, everything his parents had built was taken away in an instant.

            It left him bitter. Angry. Angry at the system, at the people pulling the strings, at everyone who got to live comfortably while the world crumbled around them. They didn’t care about the crime, the murders, the poverty. As long as they were safe, the rest of the world could rot.

            Well, if they wanted to see him as trash, he’d give them a reason to. At nineteen, Katsuki Bakugou was a name that carried weight—whether you feared it or cheered for it depended on which side of the tracks you lived on. His shit-eating grin, the one he flashed every time he and his crew hit one of those armored trucks stuffed with money for the rich, was infamous. So was the spark of rebellion he ignited in people. There had been resistance fighters before him, sure, but Bakugou? He was relentless. He didn’t just fight the system; he made sure it hurt.

            The government, of course, had tried to clamp down. Too many people had gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Too many bodies were never found. Population control, they called it. But Bakugou and his crew weren’t backing down.

            Even on his “days off,” his mind never rested. The injustice was everywhere in Musutafu, the forgotten wasteland of a city. It was late, and the only light came from a single flickering streetlamp as Bakugou finished spray-painting a black circle on the side of an abandoned market. A message, silent but understood by the people. The area was clear of government guards, at least for now.

            He was dressed for it—black techwear, padded at the chest and gloves, a hood pulled low over his spiky blonde hair. His sharp red eyes gleamed from the shadows, the only part of him visible beneath the tactical clothing. A black backpack hung from his shoulders, and his heavy boots splashed through the puddles littering the alley as the distant screech of tires echoed through the night. Probably just a street race. But in this world, you never knew.

            On the flip side, Sero wasn’t a revolutionary. He wasn’t a hero either. He was simply rich, comfortable, and utterly indifferent to the world around him—until the day he wasn’t.

            For as long as he could , his family thrived under the government’s iron-fisted control. His life was a series of galas, private estates, and whispered secrets, none of which ever seemed to concern him. The totalitarian regime didn’t bother him—why would it? He’d never been hurt by it. So, he did what was expected of him: smiled, nodded, and enjoyed the perks of privilege. He barely paid attention to the stories of rebellion, the whispers of those who disappeared without a trace.

            But then Bakugou happened.

            Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t a name he’d ever been close to. But he knew it. Everyone knew Bakugou—the rebel’s son, the defiant one. When the news hit that his parents had stripped him of everything, left him on the streets as an example of what happens when you oppose the system, something cracked inside Hanta. For the first time, he saw the spliced in the system, the lies that fueled their world.

            It felt wrong. He felt wrong.

            All those years, living under his parents’ rules, following their vision for a “perfect” society—it felt like he’d been complicit in something monstrous. Was it ever good at all? Or had he just been too blind to see?

            That was when the world shifted for him. It wasn’t just the injustice of what happened to Katsuki; it was personal now. Sero couldn’t ignore it anymore. He wouldn’t. And he made a decision—he was going to find Bakugou, help him, maybe even shelter him. It wasn’t about making up for his family’s sins. Not entirely. It was about setting things right, about giving a giant middle finger to everything his parents stood for.

            If he could help Bakugou, he could help the rebellion, and that was all that mattered.

            But it wasn’t easy. Tracking Bakugou down wasn’t like flipping through the channels on a luxury TV. The boy was elusive, and every lead Sero found seemed to vanish just as quickly as it appeared. But he refused to give up. The harder it became, the more he wanted it—like it was his way of paying back some debt he didn’t even know he owed.

            For days, he listened in on hushed conversations, eavesdropped on the elite he once called friends, hoping to catch a whisper of Bakugou’s location. It was tedious, frustrating. His patience was tested in ways it had never been before. But eventually, he caught a lead—a rumor that Bakugou had been spotted in a rundown part of the city. That was enough for him.

            That night, under the cover of darkness, Sero set out. He wasn’t trained for this, wasn’t built for rebellion, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the flicker of hope that he was finally on the right path. He crept through the shadows until he found it—a symbol, drawn crudely on the wall: a black circle.

            It was Bakugou’s mark.

            Sero’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at it. It was the first time he’d seen the rebellion’s signs up close, and something about it felt real in a way that nothing had before. He’d only heard stories about the resistance—now, it was right in front of him.

            But the moment didn’t last. Footsteps echoed behind him, and instinct kicked in. He spun around, heart racing, only to catch a glimpse of a black blur. Someone was there—no, someone was running. Without thinking, Sero bolted after the figure, his mind screaming one name: Bakugou.

            It had to be him.

            His feet pounded against the pavement as he chased the blur, barely able to keep up, but refusing to let it slip away. If it was Katsuki, if this was his chance to him, to help him—he couldn’t lose it. This was his chance to prove that he wasn’t just another spoiled kid living off the backs of the oppressed.

            This was his chance to change everything.

            And he wouldn’t let it slip away.

            Bakugou knew someone was coming the second he heard footsteps echoing through the sidewalk before they even entered the alley, clearly a learned attentiveness from his years on the harsh streets. His hand gripped the spray can for only a moment longer before he tossed it aside, disappearing into the shadows like he belonged there. He pressed his back to the cold, brick wall, eyes sharp and focused as he peered around the corner. He wasn’t sure what he expected— a guard, maybe, or some officer looking to lock him up— but instead, he saw a kid.

            Not just any kid, either. This one was his age, maybe a little taller, standing there inspecting the symbol Bakugou had just painted. Just from the side profile alone and the build, he could expect he could be right on the money of his assumption— just some kid, but what was he doing here scoping out his business? Red eyes narrowed in confusion, but his muscles stayed taut, ready. When Bakugou’s foot slipped against the slick pavement, he cursed silently. His eyes went wide as the kid reacted instantly, whipping around to lock eyes with him before taking off after him without a second’s hesitation.

            Bakugou didn’t run for long. That wasn’t his style. He darted left at the next turn, the kid surely still on his heels, and smirked to himself. The stranger had no idea what he was in for. Timing it perfectly, Bakugou ducked behind a dumpster, crouched low and silent. When the dark-haired boy rounded the corner, Bakugou sprang, leg kicking out to trip the kid before he even saw it coming.

            The guy was sure to go down hard, an aim for him to hit the wet pavement in consequence to careless chasing of a prolific antagonist. Bakugou was on him in an instant, boot pressing firmly into his torso, the baton he’d stolen from some hapless officer flicking open with a sharp click. He stared down at the fallen figure, piercing eyes burning with the thrill of the chase but just as equal angry strain.

            “Got any reason why you’re after me?” he growled, the baton held steady and ready. “You’ve got about five seconds to make it a good one before I use this.” He pressed harder with his boot, lips curling in irritation. “Who the hell are you? Talk, damn it!”

            Bakugou wasn’t here to play games— and he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait long for answers.

            Hanta had never been the best at running, and chasing Bakugou down a grimy, rain-soaked alley was no exception. His breath came in harsh gasps, heart pounding in his chest as he pushed himself to keep up with the blur of movement ahead. And then, suddenly—Katsuki disappeared.

            Hanta didn’t even have time to react before his foot caught on something solid. His body pitched forward, and the next thing he knew, he was slamming against the cold, wet pavement. The impact sent pain shooting through his hands and knees, the sharp gravel biting into his palms. He grunted in pain, a low hiss escaping his lips as he tried to push himself up, his hands stinging more than he wanted to it.

            He barely had a second to gather his bearings before he felt it—a boot slamming into his ribs. Air whooshed out of his lungs in a sharp gasp, his hand instinctively flying up to shield himself as he collapsed back onto the ground. His body froze, heart hammering, as he looked up.

            Katsuki Bakugou.

            Shit. This was him—the infamous rebel. And Hanta? He was flat on his back, helpless.

            Panic clawed at his throat as he stared up at the boy, eyes wide, words stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Say something, anything, he screamed at himself, but all that came out was a choked sound, his mouth dry. He blinked, trying to make sense of the situation—trying to make sense of himself.

            He’d had this whole thing planned out in his head. He was supposed to approach Bakugou, maybe help him, offer him refuge, gain his trust. But this? This was not part of the plan.

            Katsuki was standing over him, glaring down with eyes that burned with barely-contained fury, and Hanta could feel the weight of that silence pressing on him, suffocating him. He was quick to realize that the longer he stayed quiet, the worse this was going to get. Katsuki wasn’t exactly known for his patience.

            “Help here… I’m helping…” Hanta sputtered, but the words were a garbled mess, half-formed and incoherent. He winced at how pathetic he sounded, dropping his head back to the pavement in frustration. Of course, he’d forget how to talk in the most important moment of his life.

            The sting of humiliation was worse than the pain radiating through his body.

            He swallowed hard, forcing himself to try again. His chest felt tight, his heart pounding so hard it drowned out his thoughts. He couldn’t tell if it was the thrill of finally being here, face-to-face with Bakugou, or the crushing weight of panic threatening to overwhelm him.

            “I… I want to help you,” he stammered, his voice shaky but clearer this time. “Fight… against this.” His words came out rushed, desperate, as he stared up at Katsuki, hoping—praying—that it was enough to stop the next attack. His chest was heaving, the adrenaline making his whole body tremble.

            Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move. Not yet.

            That gave Hanta just enough courage to try one more time. He lifted his head slightly, trying to muster any shred of confidence he had left.

            “I just came to help you out, man!” he blurted, his voice louder this time, more assured, though still tinged with desperation. “That’s all!”

            The words hung in the air between them, thick with tension, as Hanta held his breath, waiting for Katsuki to make the next move.

            Bakugou glared down at Sero, eyes glinting with something that looked like harsh judgment, maybe even amusement. It was like he wanted to laugh at Sero’s pathetic attempts to piece together a response. The silence stretched, Bakugou taking his time, letting the weight of Sero’s awkward, halting words hang in the air. Help him? As if.

            “If you’re looking to a resistance, there’s plenty of idiots holed up in shelters who’d take you. What the hell does that have to do with me?” Bakugou scoffed, disbelief lacing his voice. The audacity of this guy, chasing him down for something as vague as wanting to tag along. “Not like you’d be useful anyway. Look at how fast you went down.” His voice was a sneer, but the sharp gaze in his eye said he wasn’t too worried. Sero wasn’t about to try anything, not with the way Bakugou stood, radiating danger and barely contained violence.

            With a sharp snap, Bakugou collapsed his baton, the sound cutting through the tension. He yanked down his hood, lowering the collar mask that had been covering most of his face. His scowl deepened as his features were revealed—sharp, almost handsome if not for the perpetual anger etched across them. It was almost surprising that someone living on the streets like him could maintain such a clear complexion, but the darkness in his expression overrode any hint of softness.

            Without asking, Bakugou knelt beside Sero, fishing through his pockets like it was the most natural thing in the world. His gloved fingers brushed against a card, and he pulled it out, inspecting it with a critical eye. “Sero Hanta... and Yuuei, huh?” he muttered, sounding almost unimpressed. But his lip curled into a sneer when he realized what he was holding. “You’re from the above? Are you out of your damn mind coming down here?” His voice dripped with disbelief, eyes narrowing as if suspecting some sort of trick.

But no—one look at Sero’s wide, terrified eyes told him this guy wasn’t trying to pull anything.

            Bakugou let the ID fall to the ground, flicking it aside carelessly. “Seriously, stop wasting my time and tell me what you’re really after. I don’t have all night to babysit some rich brat who thinks he can slum it down here.” His hand shot out, grabbing the front of Sero’s shirt and yanking him up, face-to-face. The weight of Bakugou’s glare was suffocating, filled with resentment, daring Sero to make the wrong move. There was no escape from it now.

            Hanta lay on the cold, wet pavement, his clothes clinging to him uncomfortably as the rain seeped through his button-down shirt and jeans though thankfully the large rain coat protected him some. His skin prickled with the chill, but the sensory discomfort was the least of his worries right now. He was staring up at Bakugou—who was glaring back down at him with eyes like burning embers, filled with a fury that could burn the whole world down if given the chance.

            Hanta shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. It was from the way Katsuki’s gaze pinned him to the ground like a predator sizing up its prey.

            “You don’t get it,” Hanta breathed, shaking his head slowly. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but he fought to keep his voice steady. “I know there are other people—other rebels—who do what you do. But none of their names have ever made it to the capital like yours has. You’re different. You’re not just a nuisance to them. You’re a threat.”

            The words felt heavy as they left his lips, the reality of the situation sinking in even deeper. He didn’t know what he was doing here—lying in the muddled water at the mercy of someone who could kill him without a second thought. But he knew he was right. Bakugou wasn’t just another rebel, and that’s exactly why Hanta needed to find him.

            Katsuki didn’t move, and Hanta’s own patience was wearing thin. He rolled his eyes at the boy’s stubbornness, frustration bubbling up despite the circumstances. “I’m better at fighting when I get the chance ya know,” Hanta snapped, voice tight with irritation. “Not that you’d know since the last thing I wanna do is pick on you.”

            It was true. Hanta had been trained his whole life—self-defense, strategy, manipulation. All the things his rich parents thought would make him a perfect heir to their legacy of power. They just didn’t anticipate how deeply their own system would break him.

            “If you give me a chance, I can prove it,” he added, voice softer now. “I’m more useful than you think. I’m not just some ignorant rich kid.”

            Katsuki’s expression didn’t shift even as he spoke, but Hanta saw him tense slightly, the baton in his hand raising just a fraction. That was when Hanta flinched. Hard. His shoulders scraped against the rough pavement, sending another sharp sting through his back, but when nothing else came—no baton swinging down to hit him, instead it was put away—he opened his eyes.

            Katsuki was just standing there, staring at him with those same sharp, angry eyes, but now Hanta could see more of him. His face, his jawline, the way his blond hair stuck up in spikes despite the damp air. He’s my age, Hanta realized with a jolt. We’re the same age. He hadn’t known that before.

            And for a split second, Hanta thought—crap, stop staring.

            The thought was gone almost as soon as it came, knocked out of his head when Katsuki shoved his hands into Sero’s pockets, the shift in body language startling Hanta.

            “Wha—?” Hanta stammered, confusion written across his face.

            Katsuki didn’t seem phased, though. Sero raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with sarcasm as he spoke. “If you wanted to know who I was, you could’ve just asked, dude.”

            The tension in Hanta’s chest didn’t disappear—Katsuki’s snark was still terrifying under the circumstances—but something about the moment shifted. It wasn’t just life-or-death anymore. It was something more human, something that made Hanta’s pulse race for entirely different reasons.

            Hanta huffed a nervous laugh, shrugging awkwardly as he lay there. “Maybe that would’ve made more sense,” he itted, trying to keep his tone light, despite the adrenaline still flooding his system. “But can you just listen to me for a second?”

            Before he could say anything else, Katsuki hauled him to sit up, his hand fisted on his shirt and their eyes locking, one with surprise and the other with warning.

            “I know the ins and outs of the capital,” Hanta said, his voice more certain now, more insistent. “I know how these people think, what makes them tick. I know everything about the ones in power—every name, every secret. I have my own vendetta against them. And I want to help. Let me help you.”

            He was breathless by the end, the adrenaline making his hands shake. But he meant every word. He wasn’t just some privileged kid trying to play rebel. He knew what he was offering, knew the risks.

            This was dangerous. Katsuki was dangerous. The entire world he’d been raised in was dangerous. And now, Hanta was standing right on the edge of it all, balancing between the people he was supposed to call allies and the ones he was trying to .

            Katsuki didn’t respond right away, his eyes still boring into Hanta’s as if trying to decide if he was worth the trouble.

            Hanta just hoped he wouldn’t have to prove it the hard way.

            Bakugou snorted, half a laugh slipping out at Sero’s bold claim about knowing how to fight. It wasn’t hard to see he didn’t believe it—didn’t even take it seriously. His mouth opened to shoot back some sharp retort, but Sero’s next words stopped him. He made a solid case—one Bakugou couldn’t ignore. His knowledge of the system’s upper terrains was actually valuable, and despite Bakugou’s usual reluctance to let just anyone in, this wasn’t information he could afford to dismiss. Not even he could argue that.

            “What’s your—” Bakugou began, eyeing Sero like he was trying to crack him open in this impromptu interrogation. Anything to further dig his teeth in and really make sure he was safe to even be talking to this guy. But before he could get another word out, Bakugou’s head snapped to the side, senses sharp as the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps and the crackle of radios hit his ears. The guards.

            Without hesitation, Bakugou yanked Sero up to his feet. The force of it was surprising, especially considering Sero was a few inches taller and weighed more than him despite his wiry frame. But Bakugou didn’t have time to manhandle him all the way. The second the guards rounded the corner, he had Sero by the wrist, pulling him along as they bolted out of the alley and scrambled up the fire escape as it was a dead end lot.

            “We’re going up!” Bakugou barked over his shoulder. It’d be easier to leave Sero behind—hell, let the guards take him back home where he belonged. But something about Sero’s quiet determination, the way he didn’t back down, had Bakugou acting purely on instinct. If the kid wanted to prove himself, this was as good a trial as any in the wasteland’s street life.

            The guards were already hot on their trail, flashlights darting across the metal steps as they clanged under Bakugou and Sero’s feet. Shouts of “Stop!” and “Halt!” echoed behind them, but Bakugou barely spared a thought. Listening to authority? That was the first rule you broke out here.

            By the time they reached the rooftop, Bakugou was panting, but a wild grin had split across his face. This—this was what he lived for. He led them to the edge, gaze cutting across the gap between the rooftops, and jerked his thumb toward the next building. No hesitation, no second-guessing, no fear.

            “First lesson. Always jump.” Bakugou’s tone was steady, like they had all the time in the world, even with the guards closing in. He stood there, waiting for Sero to make his move.

            Hanta had to it, it wasn’t surprising that Katsuki didn’t believe him when he said he wasn’t much of a fighter. To someone like Bakugou, it probably sounded ridiculous. After all, Hanta wasn’t just some clueless, but explaining that to Katsuki was easier said than done. It wasn’t like the blonde would be impressed with his long list of forced extracurriculars. Money came with its own kind of baggage, and for Hanta, that baggage looked like years of piano lessons, soccer games, archery practice, fencing, self-defense, and more karate than anyone should have to endure.

            All of it had felt pointless back then, just another way for his parents to shape him into something useful to their world. But now, standing on the edge of a revolution, Hanta was starting to realize just how valuable those skills could be. Fighting against the system his family had thrived in required more than just rebellion—it required everything he’d been forced to learn.

            Still, explaining that to Bakugou? Not exactly the easiest thing to do.

            Before Hanta could get his thoughts together, Katsuki yanked him to his feet by the collar of his shirt, his commands cutting through the chaos like a knife. Without hesitation, Hanta obeyed, falling into step behind him as they scaled the fire escape, his heart racing as they climbed higher and higher. The sound of guards shouting below only made his adrenaline spike, but he kept moving, pulling his hoodie up over his head and keeping his focus locked on Bakugou’s back.

            There was no stopping now. He knew that much. Katsuki wasn’t the type to slow down for anyone, and Hanta wasn’t about to be the one to fall behind. He had to prove himself—and not just once. Katsuki was going to make him earn his place every step of the way.

            When they finally reached the top of the building, Hanta followed closely, his breath coming in ragged gasps as they reached the edge. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked at the gap between the buildings, the drop below them dizzying. Katsuki moved with the same determined intensity, not even bothering to hesitate as he prepared to jump.

            Hanta blinked, staring at him for a moment, before blurting out, “Uh, okay…” He didn’t want to sound like a total coward, but the sheer insanity of the situation was starting to hit him. “And what if we die? Or, y’know, break a limb?” he asked, his voice only half-joking as he glanced back at the fire escape they’d just climbed.

            But he wasn’t about to back down. He tightened the laces on his shoes, making sure everything was secure before stepping up to the very edge. He looked back at Katsuki, who was already sizing up the jump with that same fierce confidence.

            “Oh, you’re crazy!” Hanta exclaimed, voice stern but tinged with reluctant iration. There was no doubt in his mind now—Katsuki was as reckless as they came, but Hanta was already committed to the madness.

            With a deep breath, he braced himself, getting ready to leap after him.

            Bakugou’s signature smirk stretched across his face, sharp and dismissive, clearly unconcerned with Sero’s anxieties or the frustration practically radiating off of him from a language spoken he didn’t know a lick about.

            “If we die or break something, who gives a damn? We’ll deal with it later,” Bakugou barked, his voice brimming with confidence as he slammed his boot against the ledge and propelled himself over the gap of the two buildings with a reckless, practiced ease. He hit the rooftop of the next structure over with a smooth roll, barely pausing before lifting his head, eyes trained on Sero. It was as if he knew—no, expected—Sero to make it, like failure wasn’t even on the table. Even without much familiarity between them, that burning, unspoken encouragement was unmistakable.

            The guards had reached the roof, shouting commands at Sero, desperate to stop them, or at least get a hold of one of them.

Bakugou barely spared them a glance as he sprinted to the edge, holding out his hand with that infectious energy that thrived on the rush of danger.

            “Come on, rich boy!” he yelled, voice booming, effortlessly drowning out the guards. There was no denying it—Bakugou was far more intimidating than any of them.

            Hanta let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head at himself. Deal with dying or breaking something later… Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. He couldn’t believe he was actually going through with this. Then again, he was dealing with Katsuki Bakugou. And Bakugou didn’t exactly leave much room for hesitation.

            Hanta turned just in time to hear the sharp thud of Bakugou’s boots hitting the ledge as he made the jump, landing with the kind of precision Hanta could only be impressed by. Of course he nailed it. It’s Bakugou, after all, he thought, rolling his eyes with a mix of iration and exasperation. This guy was fearless—or insane. Probably both.

            But then came the guards, their footsteps pounding closer. Hanta shot a glance over his shoulder, catching sight of them closing in. His heart rate spiked. It was now or never. He had to jump, or he’d be caught. Or worse.

            Bakugou’s voice snapped him back into focus, the urgency in his tone cutting through the noise of his own racing thoughts. Hanta took a deep breath, backing up a few steps. From the outside, it probably looked like he was already chickening out, but he just needed a running start. His legs tensed, and without a second thought, he sprinted forward, launching himself off the edge of the building.

            The rush of wind hit him first, followed by a wave of sheer panic as the ground below yawned open like a dark abyss. Oh god, this is a death wish, he thought, every nerve in his body screaming at him to brace for impact. He almost squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch himself fall, but something inside forced him to focus.

            Then—bam. His body slammed against the side of the building, knocking the air out of his lungs. His fingers barely managed to latch onto the edge of the roof, the rough concrete digging into his palms. His heart pounded in his ears, panic flooding his veins as he dangled there, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

            This is it, he thought, the panic morphing into something dangerously close to a full-blown attack. I’m not gonna make it—

            But then Katsuki’s hand appeared in front of him. Hanta blinked up, panting as he saw Bakugou reaching out, his expression fierce but steady. Without thinking, Hanta grabbed on, clutching his hand like a lifeline. He used his free hand to push himself up, doing his best not to drag Katsuki down with him. The last thing he wanted was to send them both over the edge.

            With a final push, Hanta managed to haul himself onto the roof, collapsing onto his back with a loud thud. His chest was still heaving, adrenaline coursing through him, but he couldn’t help the wild grin spreading across his face.

            “Okay, I get it now,” he laughed breathlessly, still sprawled out on the ground. His body felt like jelly, but the rush—it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He looked up at Bakugou, grinning wide. “I see why you do this crazy shit.”

            He let out another breathless laugh, staring up at the sky. This was insane. Katsuki was insane. And yet, Hanta couldn’t deny it—it was thrilling.

            Bakugou didn’t waste any time dragging Sero to safety from the ledge, his breath coming out in short, controlled bursts as they made it to cover. Instead of throwing back one of his usual sharp retorts to Sero’s comment, he glanced towards the rooftop edge, a fiery glare aimed at the guardsmen above them on the higher ledge. Their flashlights cut through the dark, beams sweeping over the building like vultures searching for prey.

            “You can’t keep running! It’s just a matter of time!” one of the guards shouted, his voice dripping with frustration.

            Bakugou’s response came before he could even think about holding it back.

            “Maybe if you were 20 years younger, you’d have a chance of catching us, you wrinkly bastard!” he yelled, hoisting Sero to his feet with a swift yank under his arm. He knew it was only a matter of time before his taunting would send the guards into a frenzy—and, right on cue, the gunshots followed. The sharp cracks of bullets whizzed past them, ricocheting off metal and asphalt, missing by just inches.

            Bakugou didn’t need to check if Sero was keeping up as they bolted down the stairwell. He was already leaping steps two at a time, ensuring they stayed ahead of the guardsmen. The narrow space echoed with the pounding of their footsteps and the distant clamor of their pursuers on the other side even with the closed in space.

            “If you thought that was fun, there’s more where that came from,” Bakugou huffed as they hit the bottom of the stairwell, kicking open the ground-level door. “Guardsmen are a joke, but the special forces? That’s where it gets interesting. We’ll be fine, long as we don’t get sloppy.”

            His voice reverberated through the alley as they dashed down the deserted street, cutting across the shadows of looming buildings. He barely gave enough time for Sero to catch his breath before Bakugou shot him another comment.

            “Home free from here, rich boy,” Bakugou called over his shoulder, still not sparing a glance back. His pace never faltered, like the adrenaline of the chase was just the warm-up for him. “Nothing beats the first rush when you’ve got a threat on your heels.”

            And if his wild grin was anything to go by, Bakugou wasn’t anywhere close to slowing down.

            “I hope I didn’t make a mistake…”

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——— art: byeolmu on zerochan

—— temp credit: cheeky