It wasn’t supposed to be his last kiss, the first time he reached out and took Tatara’s face in his hand, studying the way it made his eyes widen slightly and his mouth fall open, and the first time he’d ever kissed the only person that ever made him feel like everything was somehow worth it.

It wasn’t supposed to be Mikoto’s last kiss.

He opened his eyes from memory and breathed out smoke from his cigarette, something hard and angry burning in his gut.

This power is to protect.

Whoever killed Tatara was still out there. Not for long.