#we stan a man who's actually encountered 5 out of 9 ofa holders

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 8 | PANIC | wc: 752

a/n: tw for... well, nonconsensual transfer of OfA from Banjo to En. there had to be precedent for what All Might mentioned, right? tw for nondescript gore and canonical character death scene too, tbh

//

“Lariat?” En rasps. His head is ringing, and his vision’s going, and he is collapsed on the ground surrounded by rubble and settling dust clouds. He still smells smoke in the air, but it’s a hard guess as to whether it’s from him or the number of buildings All for One exploded to prevent Banjo from gaining the high ground.

“Smokestack,” says Banjo through a wet hacking cough. There’s a raggedness to his voice, like it’s going threadbare with weakness, and that doesn’t make sense because Banjo is one of the most solid figures in En’s life. “Smokestack, get up.”

He obeys. With shivering limbs, En gets to his hands and knees, and he lifts his heavy head up only to bite back a cry.

“Not the time, En.”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, trying frantically to reel back Smokescreen from flooding the area. His heartbeat flutters, skips, runs at a pace that has En’s hindbrain falling back on prey instinct. Hide. Hide now, before All for One sees you too. He struggles to breathe past the heavy copper scent of blood, but considering the fact that he’s practically kneeling in front of Banjo, it’s a lost cause.

“Focus!” Banjo barks at him.

En squeezes his eyes shut, clamps down on Smokescreen and visualizes compressing it into a compact ball, and peeks at Banjo again. The injuries are too numerous to patch on the field, and there’s the issue of him being half-buried in crumbled concrete (quite possibly pierced through with rebar) too. Nausea builds.

“What did I tell ya?!” his senior scolds. “Focus, and get up!”

“I will throw up on your corpse,” En says to the ground.

“You’re gonna join me as another dead body if you don’t do what I tell you right now. Up, soot sprite.” En’s ankle twinges at the telltale sharp lash of Blackwhip, and it’s too ingrained in En to not follow the unspoken message. He snarls wordlessly but lifts his head to stare into Banjo’s pale face, to read into the grim expression.

“I’m not built for One for All.”

“Well, I don’t see your boyfriend anywhere near here,” says Banjo, “so tough it out.” He swings his fist out, fingers clenched tight to encourage the output of fresh blood. En flinches back. “Don’t waste time. Eat this.”

“No,” he spits. “No, I won’t! Banjo-senpai, if All for One could get to you, then I’ll be dead within the year! I’m not strong enough!”

“Not if you’re smart, which I know you are! En, there’s no one else. You’ve been with me this whole investigation into All for One, which means you know the stakes. So take my blood, damn you, and get out of here!”

“No!” En repeats, blindly, staggering to his feet. The ringing in his ears is getting louder, and the thickly insulated clothes he commissioned for comfort now feel too constricting, too tight. Banjo glares at him with ice-chip blue eyes, teeth bared and tinged pink with more blood.

He’ll--he’ll distract All for One. He’ll bluff his way out, pretend (only pretend!) to have taken the stockpile Quirk, use Smokescreen in periodic bursts all the way to the cavalry, and En will rely on Lariat’s furious spite to carry him through to the hospital. Easy. Simple.

“Just wait,” he pleads, “just wait, wait until I get back--”

Banjo lets out a wordless howl then, and Blackwhip tears into being, powered by a rage En has never had to bear the brunt of before. The tendrils of energy move faster than he can dodge, and he is dragged down to Banjo’s level again. En’s heart is in his throat, or it’s in the pit of his stomach, or maybe it’s slamming frantically against his sternum like a cornered animal.

“I don’t want it!” En cries. “One for All is meant for those who can fight, Banjo-senpai. I’ll do nothing with it but run.”

“Then run,” Banjo grinds out, and he presses his bloodied fist to En’s closed mouth, insistent on painting pale flesh red. Blackwhip crackles unpleasantly; En gasps, chokes on the sudden presence of Banjo’s knuckles crammed against his teeth, and gags when he tastes blood on his tongue.

It still takes several convulsive swallows for Banjo to be persuaded that One for All has passed on, though confirmation isn’t instantaneous. He releases En from Blackwhip, and En lurches away. His eyes sting.

“Run,” says Lariat. He’s no longer looking at En.

And En obeys without question, without even saying goodbye.