Katsuki

The sky had been wrong all day. Heavy. Burning. Alive in a way that made the air feel thick in Izuku’s lungs as he moved through the ruined valley, wings tucked tight to his back. The land below him was scarred—cracked earth glowing faintly with residual heat, as if something beneath the surface was breathing. Waiting. He could feel it. A pulse. Slow. Immense. Ancient. Izuku hesitated at the edge of the wasteland, heart pounding. He had been drawn here by instinct—something older than memory, older than thought. A call he didn’t understand, but couldn’t ignore. And then the ground split. Not cracked—split. A violent rupture tore through the earth, molten light spilling from the fissure as something massive forced its way upward. The shockwave knocked Izuku back, wind ripped from his chest as ash and heat flooded the air. For a moment, there was only fire. Then—him. A figure emerged from the glowing crater, steam rolling off his body, skin like darkened armor, veins lit faintly beneath the surface like molten rock. His eyes burned—sharp, furious, alive with something feral and untamed. Katsuki. Even standing still, he radiated destruction. The air warped around him, energy snapping and crackling at his fingertips as if the world itself struggled to contain him. His gaze snapped upward. Locked onto Izuku instantly. Hostile. Alert. Ready. “…Tch.” The sound was low, irritated—but dangerous. Like a warning before a detonation. Izuku’s wings twitched instinctively, light flickering faintly along their edges in response. Where Katsuki burned, Izuku glowed—soft, luminous, out of place in the devastation. For a single, suspended moment, neither of them moved. Destruction… and restoration. Fire… and light. Then Katsuki’s hand flexed— And the air exploded. Izuku barely dodged, the blast tearing through where he’d hovered seconds before. Heat scorched his skin as he stumbled back, breath catching.