Chapter 1: 𝙰𝚗 𝙰𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜
Chapter Text
Katsuki’s many things — a fucking awesome hero being one of them — but he’s no idiot. Sure, he knows idiots, but like hell have their tendencies rubbed off on him, even from severe overexposure. He’s earned his place at the top, dammit, and whenever he’s in a room, all brain cells are rightfully relinquished to him by decree he’s just that good. Which is why, using his powers of deduction to his advantage, as soon as Katsuki registers his mutilated arms, bruised purplish blue from exertion, he knows exactly where he’s seen a familiar pair.
Deku’s no stranger to using his own quirk to the limits and beyond, snapping his own bones like he thinks he’s the human equivalent of a glow stick so often to the point they completely recolour, and bruised black and blue becomes an idiom made solely for describing Deku, sure tells of a wielder of the quirk, forever marked by the price of its sheer power. So yeah, the sight is too similar to be a mere coincidence like the nerd’s content enough leading him to believe, unable to put a stop to his ceaseless muttering, but he’s zip closed his mouth for this one.
Memories or not, Katsuki’s — somewhere along the way — acquired one for all only to go ahead and return the gift right back from where it came from, receipt and all, almost as if it never happened. Except it did, and Deku, that smug know it all, is perfectly well aware of it. As is All Might, he’s willing to bet.
But him? For some unfathomable reason, Katsuki’s memory continues to elude him, the stubborn bastard that it is, always so far out of reach.
Fuck that.
These are his memories he’s talking about here, his peak moment of badassery. They belong to him, and him alone. Not some dead one for all spirits so high up on their horses they think they can take from him of all people. Katsuki doesn’t care how important those echoes of people are, they’ve got some nerve, thinking they can take something that belongs to him, damn it.
And Deku’s not even doing him the courtesy of filling him in with how . Mr always-looking-out-for-others-to-an-irritating-degree-of-borderline-nosiness. Deku’s keeping him in the dark like he’s not even a part of this ‘in the know’ squad he’s gradually got going.
It’s infuriating. To remain so out of the loop, none the wiser to his own decisions. And maybe Deku’s silence too. He’s so clearly holding his tongue around him, like he wants to say something more, but stops himself at the last second.
What’s stopping him, Katsuki’s unsure. So, looks to him like he’s going to have to do the dirty work himself to get the ball rolling. See if Deku can skirt around the subject then . He’s had his chance but, as always, he’s going to have to take the first shot, by force if he has to. He’ll shake the truth from the nerd, no sweat.
Well, maybe a bit. Can’t help it when it’s practically his quirk.
“Oi, Deku.” Said aforementioned person whips his head around from where he sits on the dorm couch, like a meerkat always on alert for any sign of danger, eyes wide as he braces for impact, sitting, staring. “Cut the crap. It’s starting to piss me off.”
“Kacchan?” Deku says, alongside this confused head tilt, and now he’s gone from meerkat to a lost, forlorn puppy. Katsuki doesn’t know who he thinks he’s fooling. It’s not cute.
“Nabu island, last week. I still have a gap in my memory.”
One blink, two. Deku starts slowly, cautiously, standing up to draw near eye level with him, if a few inches under, “Well there was a lot going on. I’m not sure I’ve been able to process it all, either.”
Really? If he beats around the bush anymore, he’s going to be left with nothing left to beat. He’s hacking at it.
“You know what I mean, dammit. It’s unnatural, all of it.” Katsuki scowls, the twinge of phantom pain haunting his limbs. He presses on, “I’m not like you; I usually have a way better handle of my quirk than that. So why the hell were my arms all busted up like that?”
Guilt flounders on his face enough to charge him as the most incriminated suspect right here and now. It’s his eyes, just like Deku’s mouth, they speak too much. Katsuki can’t believe he ever thought Deku could pull off hiding a quirk from him.
“Oh… that… ah, well…”
“Set it to me straight, Deku,” Katsuki snaps, having had it just up to here with this. He’s involved now, and he’s staying that way. Deku made that decision the second he let go of his secret. “Did you pass one for all onto me during the fight?”
“…You said you didn’t remember.”
“And I still don’t. But shit’s obvious.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, because duh. He thinks even their classmates with half a brain could’ve started batting eyelids at the similarities if not for being inundated with injuries of their own. Hide a tree in a forest and all that. “Now what I want to know is why you didn’t tell me.”
“Kacchan, I…” And Deku falters, wincing. Like he’s only planned as far ahead as that cutesy name of his, and is stuck for words on everything else. “I didn’t think you would believe me, honestly. So I left it at that. But we worked together, you and I, side by side, both with one for all.” There’s this brightness growing beneath his eyes, spritzing them with an emerald sheen like he gets when he’s all rambly, analysing quirks for an inch of their lives, or talking about All Might like he doesn’t have tea parties with the hero on the regular. It’s the nerdiest part of the nerd talking, all broad smiles, gazing out at a wide open plane of dreams.
“And Kacchan, with you using not one, but two quirks, Nine never stood a chance. You were amazing! And it felt… incredible. To be hero partners.”
And Katsuki, he’s not one to back down, but he can’t meet his gaze when Deku looks at him like that. He doubts he even notices, too caught up in a dream, a memory that Katsuki can’t for the life of him fathom into reality.
“ Tch. Don’t get used to it, nerd. Being hero partners requires an equal footing. And we’re simply not there.”
“Oh, heh. You’re right. Guess we’re not.” Deku steps back, his whole body sullen with a crushing weight, all downcast with the insult. And Katsuki knows, instantly, that Deku’s misunderstood where he’s coming from entirely, to the point that Deku sets his jaw, fierce determination rinsing as he raises his head. “ Not yet. But I’ll catch up to you someday, that’s a promise!”
(Like he needs to.)
There’s a dream, dreamt by two four year olds, bright eyed and bushy tailed for a future in heroics, where they’d run an agency smack dab at the top of the rankings. Both of them. Side by side.
It’s shattered, once, when Deku’s diagnosed as quirkless, and cracks begin to rupture in a friendship tearing itself at the seams.
And again, in UA, when he finally sees Deku for what he is. How fast Deku can run, without letting anything hold him back.
And Katsuki’s still running in his dust.
“As if I’d ever let you race ahead, Deku.” And Katsuki turns, walking off, never once looking back. Because if he looks behind him, now, Deku won’t be there. Not like before. In the way Katsuki has always taken for granted. “We’ll see how well you’ll do.”
(He’s not one to give up.)
(Neither of them.)
Chapter 2: 𝙰𝚗 𝙰𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎
Chapter Text
He’s left wondering, ruminating, because what else. When the quirk had given and taken something incredible, and Katsuki soars over the memory of nothing, riding out to put all of his bait into a sea devoid of fish. There’s never a catch.
“So,” he starts, oddly contemplative. The telltale marks of spitfire rage are startlingly absent from his face, but give it a minute. He’s sure an extra will cross his path sooner or later. “How the hell did I give you back your quirk, then?”
“I was unconscious at the time, so I’m not sure I understand it all myself, really.” Deku pauses. “The quirk… not even All Might knows all the ins and the outs of it.”
“Like that wasn’t obvious enough.”
“But somehow.” And his gaze lifts, soft, elevated spirits with every bit of thankfulness tenderly caressing the edges. “Maybe because I sacrificed it to you, Kacchan, one for all came back.”
Katsuki scoffs. “Damn boomerang.”
(He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t.
But if he had —)
(His body is screaming, shrill and whiny, a petulant little kid he’s learning to tune out. But with every beat comes a louder noise, begging his attention, to remind him of the lasting hurt. The numbness saves the scream from reaching his throat.
Katsuki can’t feel his fingers, lost all feeling god knows when, but they move, seemingly on their own, stretching, reaching, forwards, forwards, forwards. They’re dirt kissed, and bleeding, mottled all colours so human, so real, he’s wearing his very life on his sleeve.
His fingers clench at the ground, snail’s pace scraping as sediment sandwiches itself up his nails, clawing forwards to a hand he knows is there. Trusts is there. Always.
They lock on, sliding onto it like the two hands are made to fit. Puzzle pieces for the bigger picture. Bloodied and raw, but still very much alive. Alive because of a choice, a risk Deku had made.
‘Here’s another crazy idea, Deku,’ his spirit screams in his stead, parched of a voice, and without a listening ear. He hopes this will reach.
‘Let me hold your hand, once more.’
‘And give it back.’)
(It’s not over.)
(“The hell.” It’s all dark, and then it’s not as nothingness washes the sky with a bleached on bleakness, wholly unadulterated white. The battlefield is an eternity away, where here there’s merely him and —
“You’re the past users, aren’t you?” Katsuki stares at them, the bundle of faces that should be strangers, and yet. This feeling adjacent to himself prods him with the intel, as coherent as any thought provoking space between mind and body can allow. Heroes, the lot of them. And not just any. “Why this, why now?”
The strongest, sharpest edged presence steps forwards, less of a flicker of a candle, and more of a spotlight, yet to recede to the back. Dark black hair cascades down her back, and over a cape, tousled by a wind nonexistent. Her name still evades him, but that’s nothing new. Without leaving a distinct impression, they often do.
“We heard you calling out to one for all, to us. So we came,” she says, and it echoes faintly, somehow, despite having no walls to bounce off of, “It’s my understanding you have a request.”
“Damn right I do.” Katsuki looks to his palms, feeling the simmering stir of energy beneath them, like the flow of electricity. It’s natural, and yet its existence within him is a shock. It’s not his power to bear. “It’s his quirk. I can do this on my own, with mine. I’m not a charity case.” He scowls at them all, each apparition one after the other, leaving no soul spared. “So give it back. Don’t take being a hero away from him.”
“You want to reject being the 10th holder? Now, this is a first,” the woman says, but there’s this smile to it, edging at the corners — and is it him or does she sound pleased by this turn of events?
“Tch.” Katsuki clicks his tongue. “Deku’s not done with you yet, so I’d better not be seeing you lot again, you hear? That damn nerd needs all the help he can get. And I’m not about to have you go and jump ship halfway through.”
“Very well.” The woman nods. “But something tells me this won’t be our last meeting.” A flicker of light steers his attention, the roaring sun of a silhouette bathed in gold. Just as always, All Might is a sight to behold, even in the skeletal form Katsuki’s reduced him to.
The woman points at apparition, the most ghostly of them there. No one has spoken a word but the woman, and yet, Katsuki has a feeling this one simply can’t.
“He still has his eyes on you,” she says.
“Hah?! And what’s with him anyway? Last I checked, All Might is alive. Don’t tell me I’m gonna be stuck as a ghost here too.”
Last thing he wants is another him lurking around Deku all of the time. Get a life.
“All souls that live on through one for all reside here. But your soul already burns bright by the current holder’s side. You’ll have a different role to play. Support him in person, as we at present can not. Be his motivation, his determination. It’s not a quirk that leaves an impression on a life, but the spark behind it.”
“What are you blabbering on about, lady?!” he snarls to a receding form, each user taking a hike elsewhere. Because sure, why not. Be cryptic and make a dramatic exit. What’s one more shitstorm of nonsense left unanswered? “Hey, get back here! I’m not done talking! I need — ”
All Might turns, this ball of flame, turning to give Katsuki one last nod of approval. With that, he’s the last of them, winking out, extinguishing into the blinding light.
It’s Katsuki, now. And, as he fades, as does the memory. Into the recesses of his own mind.
It does not resurface, not until —)
Katsuki does not expect death to capture him in a chokehold so soon. He’d hoped, at the very least, for a longer chance to rise amongst the ranks. To leave a lasting impression of a hero, with a name that dare not be forgotten.
But just as quickly as his entrance, ignited dynamite — Dynamight — goes out, one resounding boom, then nothing.
He wonders if he can still manage it, in these final seconds, stretching on forever and yet passing in no time at all. If he can still catch up to him.
Izuku.
But time slips from him, with every resounding beat of his heart. Slower, more pained in the excruciating blister of a movement.
All Katsuki can reach towards is a future he will never have.
A hand too far away for him to reach.
Izuku’s long off, miles away.
And he’ll be too dead by the time he gets here.
His vision swims, blasted by a flash of pure light. It takes a bit, but Katsuki’s eyes refocus, acclimating to his surroundings.
His incredibly familiar surroundings.
(How had he forgotten? And better yet — how can he remember? What meagre hold over him does the quirk have left?)
It’s just him, this time, in the one for all space. Him and All Might, a wisp of a blazing sun, meeting once more.
He hadn’t had the chance to, before. But Katsuki supposes he can ask for an autograph.
It’s not as if his ghost will be going anywhere.
(Get a life.)