The air was thick, the silence overwhelming. Blood stained the ground, still fresh and glistening under the faint light of the moon. Kaito's body lay motionless, his sword broken beside him. Yuna knelt by his side, trembling, clutching Kaito’s lifeless hand as if she could somehow bring him back. Tears streaked down her face, blurring her vision, but no matter how hard she cried, her voice remained stuck in her throat. Her grief was beyond words.
Shigaraki stood a few feet away, his dark eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction, though there was a flicker of impatience in his gaze. He had enjoyed this game long enough—now he was just waiting for the next moment of bloodshed.
Suddenly, the air shifted. A new presence filled the space, a force so overwhelming that even Shigaraki stiffened. His mocking grin faltered for a moment as Shin Saito, the White Captain, stepped out of the shadows. His expression was calm but clouded by something much deeper—an undercurrent of sorrow that seemed to darken the very atmosphere around him.
----------------------------------------
Shin’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, as he approached Kaito’s body. The weight of his failure hung heavy on his shoulders, suffocating him. The air seemed to grow colder with every step he took, as if the ground itself was struggling to hold up under the pressure of his presence.
He knelt beside Kaito, his face an unreadable mask of composure, but behind it was a storm of grief and guilt. His fingers hovered over Kaito’s shoulder, trembling slightly. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the cold, lifeless body of his comrade.
Yuna’s sobs broke the silence. Her voice was hoarse, shaking with pain.
Yuna (broken, tearful): “Captain... I... I couldn’t... save him...”
Shin closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. He wanted to speak, to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come. He had no right to comfort anyone. He had failed them both.
As Shin finally reached out to touch Kaito, Shigaraki could no longer stand being ignored. His grin twisted with confusion, anger, and a hint of fear. This man—this Captain—was completely dismissing him, as if he wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
Shigaraki (thinking, furious): He’s not even looking at me... does he think I’m beneath him?
Shigaraki’s blood boiled. Without thinking, he lunged forward, his blade flashing under the moonlight, aimed directly at Shin’s back.
Shigaraki (furious): “Don’t ignore me!”
But just as his blade was about to make contact, Shin disappeared. One moment, he was there—kneeling beside Kaito—and the next, he was gone, like a ghost melting into the darkness.
Shigaraki stumbled forward, his blade slashing through nothing but air. His eyes widened in shock as he spun around, desperately searching for Shin.
Shigaraki (panicked, thinking): Where did he go? How did he...
His heart pounded in his chest as he finally spotted Shin, standing several feet away, his back still turned toward him. Completely unphased.
Shigaraki’s mind raced. For the first time in years, he felt a wave of something he hadn’t known in a long time—fear.
Shigaraki (trembling, voice cracking): “Why... why is he ignoring me? Does he... not see me as a threat?”
He gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling up inside him. His usual sadistic grin was gone, replaced with something that looked far more like desperation. Shigaraki, the one who reveled in fear, was now small in the face of this Captain.
But Shin didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, his gaze turned back to Kaito’s body. He knelt once more beside his fallen comrade, his breath trembling. For a moment, the entire world seemed to pause, holding its breath as Shin finally spoke.
Shin (softly, filled with regret): “I’m a failure as a captain, Kaito. I couldn’t save you.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Yuna, still sobbing, looked up at him in shock. She had never seen Shin like this—so vulnerable, so human. Her heart twisted painfully at the sight of him, at the raw grief in his voice.
Shin (voice shaking, bowing his head): “If I had been faster... No, if I hadn’t let you go in the first place, your fire would still be burning. I’m sorry, Kaito. I failed you.”
Shin bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the ground, showing his respect to Kaito’s lifeless form. Yuna’s breath hitched in her throat, tears falling even faster now. She had always seen Shin as unshakable, an unmovable pillar of strength. But now, seeing him like this—so broken—it made everything hurt so much more.
Yuna (whispering, barely audible): “Captain...”
----------------------------------------
Shin stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, as if every action was weighed down by the immense guilt he carried. His eyes, hidden behind his glasses, were unreadable, but there was a heaviness in his voice that made Yuna’s heart ache even more.
Shin (firmly, quiet but commanding): “Yuna, go back to the base. I will bring Kaito’s body after I finish my work here.”
Yuna froze, her heart shattering all over again. She wanted to scream, to refuse, to stay and fight. But the weight of Shin’s presence was overwhelming. His calm authority left no room for argument, no space for rebellion.
Yuna (shaking, whispering through her tears): “But... Captain...”
Shin turned his head slightly, his expression softening for just a brief moment, enough for Yuna to see the sorrow etched on his face.
Shin (softly, but with finality): “Go, Yuna. You’ve done enough.”
Yuna’s heart twisted painfully. She knew what he meant. She knew she was helpless here—nothing she could do would change what had happened. But leaving Kaito behind, leaving her Captain alone in this darkness, felt like a betrayal. Yet she couldn’t disobey him.
Yuna (sobbing): “I... I’m sorry...”
She stood slowly, her legs trembling beneath her, and took one last look at Kaito, her tears falling freely. She wanted to stay, to fight beside her Captain, but she knew deep down that she couldn’t. All she could do was trust him.
As she turned and walked away, her steps heavy and unsteady, she bit her lip to keep from screaming. Her tears fell silently, but her heart cried out for Kaito, for Shin, for the failure she couldn’t escape.
----------------------------------------
Shigaraki’s grin slowly returned as he watched Yuna leave. There was a cruel satisfaction in seeing her broken spirit, in watching her retreat in tears. He stepped forward, eager to finish the game, but before he could even take a full step, Shin’s voice—cold and sharp—cut through the air.
Shin (commanding): “Halt where you are, you animal.”
Shigaraki froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. The air around them grew heavy, almost suffocating, as Shin’s presence intensified. Even the ground seemed to shudder beneath them, cracks forming in the earth as Shin’s power radiated outward.
Shigaraki (thinking, panicked): This... this pressure... What the hell is he?
Shin’s hand moved to the hilt of his blade, but he didn’t draw it yet. His stance remained calm, controlled, but the threat in his posture was undeniable. Shigaraki could feel it—the gap between them. This wasn’t just a Captain. This was a force he couldn’t understand.
----------------------------------------
For the first time in his life, Shigaraki hesitated. The cocky grin that had once stretched across his face faltered, replaced by something much more fragile. As he met Shin’s cold, unwavering gaze, his heart pounded with an unfamiliar sensation—dread.
Shigaraki (nervous, trying to hide it): “So... you came all this way to die alongside that weakling, Captain?”
Shin said nothing. His gaze remained locked on Shigaraki, unblinking, unmoving. The silence stretched, and with every second that passed, Shigaraki’s confidence cracked further. He took a cautious step back, his grip on his blade tightening, but his usual bravado had all but disappeared.
Shigaraki (thinking, terrified): What is this? Why am I... scared?
----------------------------------------
With one fluid motion, Shin finally drew his sword, the gleaming steel cutting through the air with a deadly hiss. The sound sent a shiver down Shigaraki’s spine. Shin’s eyes, hidden behind his glasses, seemed to pierce straight through him, stripping away all his defenses.
Shin (calm, deadly): “You don’t understand the difference between us, do you?”
Shigaraki gritted his teeth, his hands shaking as he tried to regain control of the situation. He forced a grin, but it was weak, a shadow of his usual confidence.
Shigaraki (mocking, but less certain): “Difference? You think your rank makes you special? You’re just like the others—”
Shin’s voice cut through the air, quiet but filled with power.
Shin (cutting him off): “You will learn soon enough. But for now, you will stay where you are.”
The intensity in Shin’s voice sent another wave of dread through Shigaraki’s body. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Not yet.
----------------------------------------
As Yuna walked farther and farther from the scene, the sound of Shin’s voice grew distant behind her. She didn’t look back, but her heart was heavy, her body weighed down with grief. Her tears fell silently, but inside, she screamed—for Kaito, for the failure she couldn’t fix, and for the Captain she had to leave behind.
Yuna (thinking, torn apart): Kaito... I’m so sorry...
The episode ends with a final shot of Shin, his sword gleaming under the moonlight as he stands between Shigaraki and Kaito’s body. The tension is palpable, the air heavy with the unspoken threat. Shin’s expression is cold, but inside, his sorrow burns like a fire.
End of Episode