He would hear Paul's voice whether he muttered or shouted. Midoriya's ears have by now attuned themselves to the voices of his beloveds and bring them to the fore. His arm is warm with lambent power, but the wrist parts of his gauntlet remain still. Paul's fingers have a gentleness that feels foreign in the midst of all this. Midoriya doesn't shoot the corpse.

He doesn't look at it.

His legs shake as he rises within the curve of Paul. The flesh sapped strength from him in fighting it, and the vision like a memory was so real... That fear of death in the midst of battle closed him in a stiff grip, but it's not his own death he fears.

Blackwhip sprouts from his back and spreads its arcs defensively around them both like a many-tailed scorpion. He starts stumbling along. Danger Sense needles him every time "Duncan" tries to communicate, and it's muddled with pings from the other threats on the beach. His head hurts.

"I saw... It made me remember stuff. Not my memories. I was on the beach, and they were fighting, and then they weren't... Someone I loved died."

His voice breaks, and if he weren't trying to protect them both and stay upright, he'd have breath to sob.