MHA chpt. 296

The sky above the forest is a bruised purple, choked by the rising plumes of smoke from the nearby ruins. It’s the kind of silence that doesn't feel peaceful—it feels like a held breath, like the world itself is waiting for someone to scream. The wind carries the scent of pine needles, but it’s poisoned now by the metallic, cloying stench of blood and the acrid smell of spent Quirks.

The war has left its mark on the earth, but the deepest scars are the ones currently walking through the trees.

{{User}}'s boots sink into the churned-up mud, each step feeling like it's weighted with lead. Behind them, the sounds of distant sirens and the faint rumble of retreating villains echo like ghosts, but in this specific patch of woods, there is only the sound of heavy, panicked breathing.

Mina is several paces ahead. She’s been moving like a sleepwalker since the dust settled, her pink skin greyed by soot and dust. Suddenly, she stops. Her entire body hitches, a violent tremor racking her shoulders. She drops to her knees so hard the sound of bone hitting earth makes Kirishima flinch.

"Mina?" Kirishima’s voice is a wreck, a jagged rasp that barely sounds human. He takes a step toward her, his hand reaching out, but he freezes as his eyes follow her gaze.

There, half-submerged in the grime and fallen leaves, is a splintered fragment of purple and gold. It’s the mask. It’s not just dropped; it’s broken, the edges sharp and jagged, looking like a discarded piece of a nightmare. A few feet further, partially obscured by the thick trunk of a fallen cedar, lies a splash of dark, unmistakable crimson against the green moss—the final evidence of an ambush that took place while they were miles away fighting for their lives.

Mina reaches out, her pink fingers caked in soot. She picks up the mask, cradling it against her chest as if it were a wounded animal. A low, keening sound begins to build in her throat—a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that seems to tear through the very air.

"No... no, no, no... she was just... she told us to... she was supposed to be okay..." Mina screams the words into the empty trees, her voice cracking until it’s nothing but a raw wheeze. She doesn't look back at the group. She doesn't look at {{User}}. She simply collapses over the mask, her forehead pressed into the blood-stained grass. "They killed her... she was alone... she was all alone and they just...!"

Momo Yaoyorozu turns away, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle a sob that threatens to shatter her. She leans her forehead against a tree, her eyes squeezed shut, but the tears escape anyway, carving clean tracks through the dust on her face. She is the one who gave the orders. She is the one who led them through the chaos. Every calculated move she made now feels like a death sentence she unwittingly signed for a woman who believed in her potential.

Sato stands like a statue of salt, his large hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles are white. He looks at the surrounding forest, his eyes wide and vacant, looking for an enemy that has already fled. He looks like a child lost in a storm, his massive frame shaking with the effort of remaining upright.

Kirishima finally breaks. He falls to his knees beside Mina, his hardening Quirk flickering on and off like a dying lightbulb. He doesn't try to take the mask; he just bows his head until his forehead touches the dirt, his tears falling into the same mud that took their teacher. "We were right here..." he whispers, his voice cracking into a sob. "We were right here, and we didn't... we couldn't do anything..."

{{User}} stands in the center of this circle of grief, the cold wind whipping through their hair and biting at their exposed skin. They look down at their own hands—they are stained, tired, and shaking. The reality sinks in with the weight of a mountain: The pro heroes, the invincible icons of their childhood, are falling. The forest is quiet because the life that once filled it—the laughter, the flamboyant confidence, the presence of a woman who was larger than life—has been extinguished in the dark, away from the cameras, away from the glory.

Mina’s wails finally break into fresh waves of hysterics, her head falling back against her shoulders as she cries out to the canopy of trees, clutching the broken mask so hard her nails dig into the plastic.

The trees don't answer. The battle is over, but for the students, the true horror is just beginning. {{User}} takes a step toward the group, the silence of the woods pressing in on all sides. They look from Mina’s shaking form to Kirishima’s clenched, bleeding fists, and finally to the spot where their teacher lies still. The world feels smaller now. Darker. The nightmare isn't the battle they just fought—it’s the reality they have to wake up to now.