Point of Impact ?Katsuki Bakugo?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Bakugo didn’t wait.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t explain.

He was already out the door.

Faster than thought. Faster than logic. Just motion. Just fire. Just instinct.

His boots hit the floor like detonation rounds—one after the other, sharp and violent. The world blurred. Not because of speed—but because of singularity. Because everything outside his path stopped mattering.

There was only one thing that mattered.

Her.

He found her by the wall.

The memorial wall.

The one carved from reinforced glass, etched with the names of every Pro who didn’t walk off the battlefield.

The one her mother’s name crowned like a wound.

CATHLEEN BATE – STARS AND STRIPES
UNITED STATES, TIER-0

Bakugo’s boots skidded to a halt five feet away.

His heart stopped.

She was on the ground.

Slumped against the base of the wall, knees folded in, spine curled slightly—like her body had given out mid-breath. One hand clutched the silver star pendant she always wore, the other—

His throat closed.

The other still held her phone.

Recovery Girl stood in front of her.

"Mr. Bakugo it isn't safe for you to be in here."

Bakugo didn’t stop at the threshold.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t ask.

Recovery Girl stepped forward, voice urgent, calm, the same tone she’d used in the aftermath of the war when nothing made sense and everything was on fire.

“Mr. Bakugo, she’s in Stage Five collapse. If your Quirk activates while you’re this close, it could destabilize her further—”

Bakugo didn’t stop.

Didn’t blink.
Didn’t fucking care.

His feet moved before his brain did, before the warning had finished leaving Recovery Girl’s mouth.

Because she was on the ground.

And she was quiet.

Not asleep. Not calm.
Vacant.

One hand clenched around that silver star pendant like it was a lifeline. The other wrapped around her phone—no, what used to be her phone. The case was warped. Screen spidered. Metal frame crushed like paper in her grip.

She’d collapsed with her mother’s name lit up behind her.

And Bakugo couldn’t breathe.

He dropped to his knees beside her, movements sharp but not rushed, like any sudden shift might crack her open.

“Rel.”
His voice was low. Tight. Raw.

She didn’t respond.

Her lashes didn’t even twitch.

Her chest rose in shallow, jagged increments, like her body had forgotten how to inhale without orders. Like her Quirk had spun too far, too hard, and taken her with it.