ii.

At the Point of Ignition

"In our day that holds no other, what are we; the fuel or the flame?" -Dark Tranquility

You could say a lot of things about Midoriya Izuku. Kind to a fault, perhaps even somewhat of a pushover when it comes to his friends. He's always looking out for the little guy, despite being one himself; but when push came to shove Midoriya-kun's determination could move mountains.

It was one of the many traits that Ochako found so appealing about him. His quirk was something else, a power-up not unlike the retired All Might's abilities. A double edged sword that he worked hard to hone into something of value; something not only he could be proud of, but a quirk worthy of a true pro-hero.

Ochako knew these things were a work in progress, but as the towering skeleton of concrete began to tip with a great moaning sound that shook the ground beneath her feet, she couldn't help but think perhaps his training was missing something important. Namely: awareness of his comrades on the field.

Dust rose from the sky scrapers bottom floors where Midoriya-kun battled an unseen foe, the ground shaking with earthquakes and flashes of green lighting up its depths. A body exploded out of the far side, trailing dust and glass, another body in hot pursuit. This last nuisance was only registered dimly as she gaped wide-eyed at the crumbling, monolithically heavy structure.

Ochako knew herself well enough to know that the scope of weight that was quickly bearing down on her was well beyond anything she was capable of. Her quirk would not hold sixty plus stories worth of an abandoned office building.

Her left was blocked, debris piled high and fire burning anything consumable in its path. She turned, the right also blocked. Beyond the far side of a burning school bus she could see a tower of ice rising beyond cloying smoke into the night sky, Todoroki-kun's handiwork as he was similarly occupied far beyond her line of sight.

Ochako's hair swished around her cheeks as she turned a full one-eighty. The only path left to her in the wreckage was straight back the way she had come, and she seriously doubted being able to outrun the length of the building.

Her eyes sought out Iida as soon as she realized, but of course he was nowhere to be found. The small group of Class-A students that had rushed after Midoriya-kun had been split up faster than Bakugo's temper snapping. That is, almost immediately upon their arrival.

You could say a lot of things about Ochako herself- but as her thoughts raced in the previously elapsed six seconds and she readied to activate her quirk on her own body in hopes of propelling herself beyond the trajectory of the very top floor- at least no one would say that she laid down to die.

No, she wouldn't give up- but she knew what she was capable of.

Her heart sank even as the ever familiar nausea roiling in her belly rose. Her boots left the ground with a scraping sensation that traveled up her legs; oddly poignant in the moment.

Uraraka Ochako wasn't going to make it.

It was in the moment between second seven and eight that sound momentarily rushed back to her awareness. Someone was screaming, the fire hissed and popped and the whoosh-bang of Bakugo's quirk was loud in her ears somewhere far behind her.

A thick, impenetrable shadow fell across her back, racing across the ground before her; faster than she could ever hope to propel her body with all the detritus and obstacles in the way.

The moonlight blotted out.

She wasn't going to make it.

Her lips parted, a gasping sob wrenched from her chest and her cheeks suspiciously wet. She hadn't even realized she'd started crying.

The toe of her boot caught on the bent edge of a downed street sign and between seconds nine and ten Ochako hit the ground, precious time lost.

The devastating sound of thousands of tons of concrete meeting the ground rushed at her, deafening and final.

Ochako lifted an arm, and between seconds ten and eleven what had previously been empty sky was suddenly filled a towering figure; lightly tanned skin that curled smoke into the air, wild ash blond hair and furiously angry red eyes.

She noticed his pupils were blown wide, the red of his iris a sliver compared to the void of black. Hard not to notice with the way his features filled her view, but at the same time it was a weird thing to fixate on right before the moment of one's death.

Bakugo Katsuki's breath came in muted heaves, combat boot sliding across dust caked ground inch by agonizing inch.

Idiot. She thought somewhere between stunned surprise and desperate frustration. Now we're both going to die.

His mouth moved, all jagged white teeth with too much gum and curled, snarling lips. If any sound came out she couldn't hear it.

She distinctly felt the slap of skin when his hand grasped her reaching one, his gloves and grenadier bracers missing. The world continued to move in slow motion as his fingers curled over hers, yanking with purposeful confidence. His skin burned unnaturally hot against hers, calluses rough and grating.

It wasn't hard for him to pull her up, her quirk still active and moving a weightless girl was literally nothing to him. Muscles rippled up his arm and across his bare shoulder as he moved, bringing her bulk into his. In quick succession, Ochako's hands landed on his shoulders, her momentum slammed into his chest, and her jaw bounced off a protruding metal collar guard. His arm was like a steel bar pressed into her lower back, wrist and fingers digging unforgivingly hard into her hip. She wondered somewhere distantly if he'd faced her away from the falling building on purpose.

Ochako would later remember the smell of him overwhelming almost all of her other senses the moment he tucked her securely into him; his skin sticky with sweat and grit.

He smelled like smoke and kerosene.

He smelled like rage and fire and hatred and defiance, and forever Ochako would remember that this boy smelled like the will to live. Burning bright, consuming everything in his path without compunction- the complete opposite of the gaping maw of death that held wide around her being; ready to snap shut like an airtight seal and snuff her own flame into oblivion.

But not Bakugo, she thought hysterically. Nothing could ever possibly swallow the fire that was his existence in the world. It was the weirdest moment for her to come to the realization that Bakugo Katsuki never did anything in half measures. He fought, he yelled, he burned fierce with power and emotion and he lived.

Bakugo's free hand rose, palm igniting with light that cut through the dark to meet the falling surface of a window as their death fell upon them.

Someone was screaming.

She wasn't sure if it was her or Bakugo. Maybe it was both of them.

His palm exploded, glass shattered, and the world crumbled to nothing; darkness swallowing them whole.

AN: Hey y'all, just real quick here- this is my first foray into BNHA, and it has some Kacchako themes to it because that's pretty much all I've been reading lately. It's actually super short first chapter, sorry about that. I hope y'all enjoyed, leave me a review if you're feeling it!

This story was not Beta-ed.

TBC