Izuku sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of his room, the dim light from the cloudy afternoon filtering through the window casting ghostly shadows across his face. His heart felt like lead, weighed down by an unbearable sorrow that had wrapped itself around him for weeks like a suffocating fog. The air was thick with the loss, palpable in every corner of his existence. Onyx was gone—dead—and with her passing, it was as though the vibrant colors of the world had faded to a dull, lifeless gray.

He rubbed his hands over his face, his calloused fingers trembling with the weight of grief he couldn't put into words. For the Queen of Shadows, as she was known, had been more than just a comrade. She was a force of nature, a relentless protector, and a friend. Without her, the halls of U.A. seemed empty, devoid of the sharp wit and powerful presence she had commanded. Even Katsuki Bakugo, ever brash and biting, had fallen into an uncharacteristic silence. It was as if the world itself mourned her loss.

The weight of her death loomed heaviest over All Might. Her claws, imbued with venom, had left marks deeper than physical wounds. Now he lay in a hospital bed, suspended in a coma, caught in the precarious balance between life and death. The great Symbol of Peace, brought low by her fury, was a haunting reminder of the battle that had taken everything from them.

A soft knock at the door broke the oppressive silence. Izuku didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the floorboards beneath him as though they held the answers he sought. The door creaked open, and his mother, Inko, entered with a plate of steaming food in her hands. She hesitated, her own sorrow evident in her soft, weary eyes.

"My baby," she said, her voice tinged with worry as she knelt beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. "You need to eat. Please."

Izuku lifted his head slightly, his emerald-green eyes dull with exhaustion. "I can't, Mom," he whispered, his voice cracking like brittle glass. "It feels... wrong. How can I eat when Onyx is gone, and All Might might never wake up?"

Inko's lips trembled as she held back tears of her own. "I know it hurts," she said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "But you're still here. You're alive, Izuku. And she wouldn't want you to waste away like this. You have to keep fighting—for her, for yourself."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and aching, as Izuku looked away. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as the weight of her plea settled over him. Inko gently set the plate on the low table nearby and stood, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment longer.

"Take your time," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But promise me, you'll try."

As she left the room, the door closing with a quiet click, Izuku let his head fall into his hands again. The food sat untouched, the steam curling into the air like a ghostly reminder of life moving on.

But for Izuku, the world felt frozen—suspended in a painful limbo where grief reigned supreme.

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I stood on the very spot where my life had been snuffed out, the memory as vivid as the first sting of death. The old training grounds stretched out before me, eerily silent, the air still and heavy with unease. Gravel dug into my gleaming scales, a discomfort I couldn't ignore, and I let out a low hiss. Rising to my full height, I stretched, my wings unfurling in a cascade of midnight hues, their sheer span blotting out the weak sunlight that tried to pierce the gloom.

Turning my gaze toward U.A., I froze. The once-vibrant heart of heroism and hope now lay under a suffocating blanket of dark clouds, their ominous mass clinging to the spires and walls like mourning shrouds. My frown deepened, the weight of my actions pressing against me. Had my death truly cast such a shadow over this place? Had my absence turned this beacon of light into something so bleak?

I lashed my tail in frustration, the motion sending a small shower of loose stones skittering across the ground. My claws flexed, biting into the earth as a surge of determination gripped me. Enough of this lingering in death's memory. If my passing had brought the world to its knees, it was time to rise and reclaim what I had left behind.

Without hesitation, I bounded forward, wings slicing through the air as I leapt into the skies. Shadows rippled beneath me, flowing like ink across the ground as my massive form blotted out the light. The wind roared in my ears, carrying with it the faint echoes of U.A.'s past vitality—a distant hum of students' laughter and the unyielding resolve of heroes in training.

But that was gone now.

I descended in a rush of wings and power, my landing shaking the very earth beneath me. The ground trembled and split, cracks snaking out in jagged patterns as the impact reverberated through the training grounds. Dust rose in swirling clouds around me, the remnants of my arrival settling like an omen.

Standing amidst the upheaval, I surveyed the desolation, my chest rising and falling as a strange mix of grief and determination settled in my core. U.A. would know my return—not as a savior or a queen, but as something new entirely.

I folded my massive wings against my back, the sharp edges catching glimmers of the flames beginning to lick at the world around me. Lowering my head, my jaw opened, and a burst of fire erupted from my throat—a searing, molten roar that ignited the very earth beneath me. The fire spread hungrily, devouring the dry gravel and curling up toward the sky in spiraling waves of heat. Above, the heavens mirrored the inferno below, ablaze with hues of crimson and gold.

U.A.'s grand façade didn't stand untouched for long. Flames crept along its walls, curling around windows and columns, and thick smoke poured into the skies, darkening the day further. The chaos spilled outward as heroes and trainees alike fled from the burning stronghold, their cries of panic filling the air like a cacophony of despair.

But then they saw me.

Among the raging fires, my silhouette stood unyielding. The light from the inferno cast flickering shadows across my scales, my emerald-green eyes cutting through the haze like twin lanterns. Slowly, the noise died down, replaced by the crackling of fire and the heavy thuds of retreating footsteps.

Aizawa was there, his bandaged arms limp at his sides, his usually sharp gaze frozen in shock. Beside him, Present Mic gaped, his usual booming voice caught somewhere in his throat. The younger heroes—Izuku, Ochaco, Iida—emerged from the throng, their expressions a blend of disbelief and fear.

And then, Bakugo stepped forward.

"Onyx," he grunted, his voice rough, unsteady. His usual defiance faltered, his pupils jittering as his fiery gaze locked onto mine. His words carried more weight than I had expected, slicing through the silence like the crack of a whip.

I stood motionless for a moment, my tail flicking through the smoke, scattering embers. The flames reflected in my eyes as I tilted my head, watching Bakugo as if measuring his worth, his resolve.

The air hung heavy, the heat pressing down on all of us, as if the world itself held its breath.