Chapter Text
“They will seek death but will not find it; they will long to die, but death will flee from them.”
Katsuki scowled as he trudged down the dirt path, boots hitting the ground hard with every step.
The sun was low now, that soft orange glow people used to romanticize. But he didn’t give a shit about the sunset.
He was pissed.
He, Izuku, and Todoroki did this run all the time. Standard sweep, check for walkers, scavenge, hunt. Routine. Boring, even. They were good at it. But today?
Bullshit.
Thirty minutes ago, they’d veered off trail, chasing a pair of rabbits like desperate idiots. Thought they could bag something fresh.
Turned out the little fuckers were faster than expected, and now they were empty handed and starving. Katsuki’s stomach growled again, just to remind him they hadn’t eaten anything real in days. Just cans of grayish meat, beans, stale rice. Barely enough to keep them moving. They needed protein. Needed something fresh.
He tuned out the sound of footsteps behind him. Izuku’s constant chatter and Todoroki’s quiet responses. Always the same dynamic.
Izuku talked like the world was still worth getting excited over, and Todoroki just…let him. Katsuki sighed and kept his eyes on the path ahead. This part of the countryside was usually clear. Not walker free, but manageable. They’d swept it dozens of times and only occasionally ran into strays or slow movers. Herds weren’t common here, but all it took was one lazy fuck up to end up dead.
Kirishima, Mina, and Denki had taken off earlier that morning for a longer supply run. They were headed toward two nearby towns to stock up on essentials, medicine, canned food, anything worth a damn. It was the kind of trip that took time. They’d be gone overnight, resting in some halfway safe house between stops. Katsuki hated that shit. Splitting the group, trusting a roof that wasn’t theirs.
But sometimes there wasn’t a choice. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, they had to go farther and farther to find what they needed: propane, antibiotics, batteries, socks, goddamn tampons. Anything. You ran out, you went without, or you risked someone dying over something stupid.
So yeah, it was just the three of them today. Him, Todoroki, and Izuku. Fine.
It was fine. They had a system. They knew how to move. Keep quiet. Stay alert. Cover each other’s backs. Katsuki and Todoroki weren’t exactly friends, but they worked. Mostly by staying out of each other’s way. Katsuki hated how calm he always was. Like nothing rattled him. Like he had some kind of internal volume control that never went past level two. The guy never rushed. Never yelled. Never slipped up.
Always knew what to say, how to say it. It drove Katsuki fucking nuts. So they kept their distance. It worked.
But Izuku was different.
Katsuki didn’t have a name for whatever they were. Friends felt… wrong. Not enough. Not after everything. Not after the years that came before the end of the world.
When Izuku was just the annoying kid from down the street who followed him around like a shadow. Not after the shit they survived together after. The months spent patching each other up, cooking with next to nothing, sleeping shoulder to shoulder when the cold crept into the floorboards.
Not after the thing with Inko. And before all this, before the world cracked open, Izuku was there, watching every match, sitting front row, clapping whenever Katsuki stepped out of the ring. Always cheering too loud. Always waiting after, no matter how late it got. He’d always been there.
Now Katsuki didn’t know what the hell they were. Calling him a friend felt like a joke. But he wasn’t ready to name it. Didn’t know if he ever would be. It crawled under his skin, sat hot in his chest, clawed at his ribs whenever Izuku smiled at someone else. Katsuki glanced up ahead.
Izuku walked beside Todoroki, talking fast, gesturing with both hands, practically glowing with whatever dumb shit he was rambling about now. Something about comics. Again.
He was wearing that oversized white shirt that made him look even smaller than he already was, black cargo pants that were fraying at the knees, and those goddamn bright red boots he refused to give up. They looked like they belonged to someone else. A clown, maybe.
“—and then All Might just leaps into the fight with no warning!” Izuku said, practically bouncing.
“Don’t spoil it,” Todoroki cut in, calm as ever.
Izuku froze. “Oh! Sorry, Shouto! I’ll let you borrow them when I finish, promise!”
Katsuki’s stomach twisted at the way Izuku said Shouto. Like he’d earned it. Todoroki still called him Midoriya, though. And honesty? Good. He kept walking.
Izuku now had his pocket knife out, idly twirling it between his fingers as he rambled, the blade catching the sun now and then. The metal glinted gold, handle dark with etched vines and delicate patterns, too pretty for the world they lived in. Katsuki’s gaze stuck on it.
That was his knife. Well, it used to be. He remembered the night he gave it to him. Or more like, drunkenly shoved it at him while slurring his words and pretending it didn’t mean shit. Kirishima had found bourbon in one of the back cabinets and practically begged him to drink. So they did.
On the couch, his couch, since Katsuki had given up a bedroom and settled for sleeping out there alone. Didn’t matter that Todoroki had offered him a bed with a, polite please don’t kill me look. Katsuki said no. Too fast. Too loud. He wasn’t about share a room with Izuku. Couldn’t. Would’ve eventually lost his mind.
And not in a bad way. So he took the couch. Still fucking regretted it.
Izuku had broken his knife earlier that day. Something cheap and flimsy, cracked right through the hilt. Katsuki hadn’t said anything then, but later, drunk and restless, he burned Izuku’s name into the sheath of his own knife with a red-hot nail. Sloppy work. Uneven letters. But deep enough it wouldn’t fade. Kirishima had blinked at him from the recliner. “You’re giving him your knife?”
Katsuki shrugged. “Got two machetes. I don’t need it.”
Which was true. Technically. But he always kept that knife on him. Had for years. A gift from some old auntie. The blade was top tier, even if the floral engraving was… a little much. Didn’t matter. It was Izuku’s now. He’d given it to him in the middle of the night. Stumbled into the room like a goddamn lunatic, stood over him while he slept, touched his cheek like a creep. Woke him up. Handed him the knife. Izuku, all sleepy, had looked at him like Katsuki hung the goddamn moon.
And when he saw his name on the sheath? His whole face lit up like it meant everything. Then his eyes had watered. Katsuki had bolted not long after. Didn’t even say goodnight.
He looked away. Walked a few paces behind them now, boots thudding against the dirt with every heavy step. The sun had started to dip lower, shadows getting longer. Everything felt too quiet. Too still.
Izuku was still fucking talking. Rambling, really, some tangent about the comics they’d found on their last run. Probably didn’t realize Katsuki was one snapped nerve away from losing it. Because he hadn’t slept. Henever did. Not in a way that counted. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw teeth. Blood. Heard screaming. A gunshot. Woke up gasping most of the time with his heart trying to punch its way out of his chest.
So he’d snapped earlier. At Izuku. For talking too loud. Hadn’t even been that loud. Izuku had gone quiet for a minute after, chewing his lip like he was trying not to take it personally. Katsuki hadn’t said shit to fix it. Now, walking behind, watching Izuku’s back as he chattered on like nothing happened, Katsuki felt the guilt twist in his chest. But he didn’t get to feel sorry for himself. Didn’t get to feel anything. He just had to keep them alive.
A rustle cut through the air. Not natural.
Izuku went silent mid sentence.
Katsuki didn’t hesitate. His hand was already on his machete, drawing it in a smooth motion. He stepped forward fast, moving to put himself between Izuku and the treeline.
“Back up,” he muttered.
Todoroki mirrored the motion beside him, hand resting on his own blade. Katsuki snapped his eyes over. Todoroki stilled. Without waiting for either of them, Katsuki stepped off the path, scanning the trees. Every crunch of underbrush beneath his boots sounded like thunder.
“Kacch—”
“Shut up,” he bit out, harsher than he meant. His arm shot out, blocking Izuku with a quick motion, never taking his eyes off the brush ahead.
Another rustle. Then the crack of a branch. Katsuki’s heart thudded once, twice, faster now. He pushed forward, slowly edging deeper off the path. The forest felt dense. Leaves brushed his legs. Mosquitoes buzzed by his ears. He wanted to believe it was a rabbit. A deer. Something they could eat. His stomach twisted in hunger at the thought.
He kept moving. Checked over his shoulder, Izuku and Todoroki were still on the trail. He rounded a tree. And froze.
There was a clearing ahead, half overgrown but still open. At first glance, it looked empty. But then he saw it.
Two tents. One blue, still upright. A makeshift table set up beside it, cluttered with supplies. Cans, water bottles, a couple pots. The second tent, black, sagged awkwardly to the side like someone had abandoned it in a rush. Blood near the fire pit. Streaked across the dirt in sharp, messy lines. Not dried yet. His machete dipped slightly as his eyes swept the clearing. No movement. No walkers. No bodies. But the stillness was worse somehow. Like the air had stopped. Wrong. Behind him, leaves rustled again.
He whipped around, machete up, ready to swing.
And nearly fucking sliced Izuku in half.
“Kacchan?” Izuku stood just a few feet away, eyes wide, his chest rising and falling fast. He looked between the tents and the blood, then at Katsuki. He’d almost hit him.
“Fuck!” he snapped, loudly. “What the hell are you doing?!”
Izuku flinched but didn’t back away. “Sorry! I just—I heard the noise, and I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Katsuki tried to rein it in. Failed. “Don’t ever sneak up on me,” he growled, voice scraping his throat raw. “Got it?”
Izuku looked down, nodding.
They were too fucking close to home.
This was supposed to be dead land. Empty countryside, quiet and safe in the way nothing was really safe anymore. Their cabin was just five minutes from here. One clearing over. Tucked behind the creek. Secluded, remote. That was the point. And now, here… were tents. Blood. Supplies. Too fresh to be old. Too recent to ignore. Someone had been here. Maybe still was. And that was a fucking problem. Katsuki turned to Izuku, who was still standing stiff behind him, wide eyed and jittery. His knife hand hovered uncertainly.
“We check for supplies,” Katsuki said, tone clipped. “Grab what we can. Get the fuck out.”
He scanned the campsite again, eyes locking on a pair of coolers near the table. That was what they needed. Food, water, anything. Izuku’s gaze flicked from the coolers to the trail behind them. He shifted like he was about to bolt. “I think we should just go,” he said. almost whispering. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”
And then Todoroki stepped between them, laying a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. Katsuki nearly rolled his eyes. Here we go with the reasonable mediator bullshit.
“Bakugou’s right,” Todoroki said.
The fuck?
“We’ve got barely anything left in the kitchen,” Todoroki added. “It’ll take two minutes.” He turned back to Izuku, who was clearly thrown. Still fidgeting and looking ready to argue. His eyes darted to the blood by the firepit and then back to the coolers.
Katsuki almost snapped right then.
We don’t have time for this shit.
Izuku exhaled slowly, chest rising and falling.
“…But what if this is still someone’s campsite?” he muttered, almost to himself. “What if we’re stealing? What if they come back and—”
Katsuki rubbed a hand down his face. “Don’t fucking start.”
“They could starve because of us!” Izuku kept going, voice rising. “What if they have kids? What if they’re just out looking for firewood and they come back and—and everything’s gone—”
He was spiraling now. Words coming out fast, hands moving, pacing in place like his brain couldn’t slow down enough to let logic in.
It was always like this.
Izuku, too fucking kind, too worried about everyone but himself. Even if it meant going without. Even if it meant letting the group suffer. Letting himself suffer.
Katsuki had been watching him shrink for weeks. Face getting thinner, eyes darker, arms too bony when he reached for his shirt in the mornings. Shoulders sticking out. Clothes hanging too loose. Disappearing right in front of them.
“We don’t need to steal,” Izuku was still muttering, frantic now. “We can leave something. Trade, maybe. Come back later—”
Katsuki was sleep deprived, starving, strung tight from the closeness of this camp to home, and Izuku’s voice just kept going…Something snapped.
He gestured hard toward the scattered supplies, the overturned table, the two coolers by the fire pit. “Shut up,” he barked. “Look at this place.”
He jabbed the machete toward the tents. “You really think anyone’s coming back to this? These people are either long gone or already fucking dead. Who the hell cares?”
Izuku’s face twitched.
“I don’t want to lose my humanity to survive,” Izuku muttered. “If we take this and they come back… what if they die because of us?”
“They’re already dead,” Katsuki shot back. “And if they’re not? Tough shit.”
Izuku’s eyes burned now. “That’s not right! What if they’re still alive and we’re just the monsters who came out of the woods and ruined their lives?”
Katsuki’s blood went white hot.
“Monsters?” he repeated, stepping closer. “Really? For trying to keep ourselves alive?”
Izuku didn’t flinch. Katsuki saw it in his face, stubborn, righteous, impossible.
“I’m sorry to crush your little martyr complex,” he snapped, “but that doesn’t keep us fed!”
“I’m sorry,” Izuku shot back, just as loud, “but I refuse to lose my humanity, Kacchan!”
Katsuki’s vision narrowed.
“You know what?” he hissed, closing the distance, voice lethal now. “Go ahead. Fucking starve. See if I care.”
He let his eyes drop, raking over Izuku’s thin frame, bones pressing against his shirt, cheeks hollowed out from weeks of not eating enough.
“You’re already barely hanging on,” he growled. “Maybe I’ll just start digging your grave now.”
Too far.
Izuku froze. For a second, Katsuki saw the tears well, shining in the corners. But just as quickly, the expression shut down. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Whatever he’d been about to say got swallowed, locked away somewhere Katsuki couldn’t reach.
“Bakugou.” Todoroki’s voice cut in.
He stepped forward, slipped between them, calm as ever, but his body blocked Izuku, just enough to make Katsuki feel like he’d crossed a line. He exhaled through his nose and took a single step back. Izuku didn’t look at him.
“Fine,” Izuku muttered. He turned away, walking toward the campsite like something inside him had just… shut off.
Todoroki followed without a word, only glancing back once. And then they were both moving, leaving him standing there in the dirt, adrenaline still burning through his veins.
Katsuki stayed frozen. His own words rang in his ears like a goddamn echo.
Maybe I’ll start digging your grave now.
Fucking idiot.
He turned away from the path, tried to shake it off, focus, move. But then, his eyes caught on something near the fire pit. Small and filthy. Once white, now stained dark, half buried in the dirt. One ear torn. Its little face matted with blood. A teddy bear.
Katsuki’s stomach turned a little.
Izuku was already kneeling next to it, eyes locked on the mangled thing. His face looked wrecked, but he didn’t say a word. Didn’t touch it. Just stared.
Katsuki’s looked away and focused on the tent closest to him. Machete in hand as he approached it slowly. Every step heavier than it should’ve been. He crouched, exhaled once through his nose, and pulled the zipper open.
Katsuki immediately saw the gash torn through the back wall of the tent. Long, ragged, smeared with blood. The inside was a mess. Splatter on the fabric, dark and dried at the edges, still sticky near the seams. Something violent had happened here. Recently.
Walkers didn’t do this. They were mindless. Bumped into shit? Sure. But tearing into tents. His brain spun, searching for the logic, but there were too many possibilities.
He dropped to a crouch. Three sleeping bags. One small. Pink. A tiny beanie. A pair of mittens. A plush blanket half buried in the mess. He tried to look away.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about what that means.
A scream tore through the trees.
Katsuki was on his feet and running before the breath left his lungs. He slammed out of the tent, boots skidding in the dirt, heart jackhammering as he tore across the clearing—
Everything stopped.
Because Izuku was falling.
He stumbled backward over a thick branch, one arm flailing, the other barely holding onto his knife as a walker bore down on him, with its teeth snapping. Its nails were clawing. His back hit the edge of the fire pit with a sickening crack.
Fuck.
Todoroki was already there, grabbing the walker from behind, trying to haul it off. It was massive. Lunging harder the more Izuku pushed back.
“Fuck!” he shouted, sprinting straight toward them. “Get it off!”
Todoroki fought to pull the thing away, foot braced in the dirt. Izuku scrambled underneath, his left arm barely holding the walker back by the throat, his right hand patting the ground, searching. His fucking knife was just out of reach. The walker twisted, mouth snapping sideways, closer—
Todoroki yanked it off with both arms, staggering back.
Katsuki was already there.
He raised the machete and drove it into the walker’s skull with everything he had. The blade crunched through bone, a sharp, wet squelch echoing through the clearing. The body spasmed once, then collapsed limp in Todoroki’s grip. He let it fall. Katsuki didn’t look at it again. His head was already snapping back toward the ground.
“Shit,” he breathed, lungs burning. His hands were still shaking, fingers tingling with adrenaline.
Todoroki dropped to his knees beside Izuku, breath coming fast. “Midoriya, I couldn’t reach my knife. I didn’t want to hit you—”
Izuku was lying on his side now, body curled in on itself. His forehead was pressed to the dirt. He let out a low whimper, one hand clenched into the grass.
Katsuki dropped to his knees.
“You good?” he asked. His hands reached out automatically, already checking him over.
Izuku winced, whole body curling tighter.
Katsuki brought one hand to the back of Izuku’s head, cradling it gently. His voice cracked into something more familiar. “Crybaby. You just bumped your—”
Katsuki’s words died in his throat the second he registered the warmth seeping through his fingers. Shit.
He recoiled, pulling his hand back from Izuku’s head, slick with blood. Too much of it. The metallic stink hit his nose fast and hard, curling in his gut.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Izuku wasn’t moving much. His eyes were still squeezed shut, face tight with pain. And when Katsuki leaned closer, he saw the tears. Real ones. Rolling down his cheeks.
Katsuki’s stomach dropped straight through the floor. He suddenly felt like the worst fucking person alive.
“Hey,” he said, voice dropping low. “Look at me.”
He reached out and brushed a thumb across Izuku’s cheek, wiping the tears away gently.
“You’re okay.” he promised, voice urgent now. “I’ll fix it.”
Izuku’s eyes fluttered open. He gasped, a shuddering sob tearing its way out of his chest.“M-My arm…”
Huh?
Katsuki’s head snapped down. Blood. More of it. Pooling in the dirt.
Then he fucking saw it. Izuku’s left wrist, bent against the ground, sleeve torn to hell, pale skin slicked and shining with blood. And right there, between the hand and forearm, were two deep, unmistakable rows of teeth marks.
A bite. A fucking bite. Behind him, he heard Todoroki say something. But it barely registered. Katsuki’s ears were ringing. Everything sounded underwater.
“No.” he said.
He blinked hard, hoping he was wrong. Hoping he imagined it. But it was still there. Still bleeding. He squeezed his eyes shut again like that could undo it, like maybe if he stopped looking it wouldn’t be true. That it’d be gone. That he’d wake up. Start over.
It’s a nightmare.
Wake up. It’s just a nightmare.
But when he opened his eyes again, it was still there. Izuku’s eyes were wide now, with sheer panic. He was trembling, his breath coming in short, choppy gasps, like the oxygen wasn’t sticking.
“H-how?” Izuku stammered.
Katsuki couldn’t think. When had it happened? They got it off him. They killed it. Not fast enough.
Todoroki had a hand on Izuku’s shoulder now, holding him down gently, grounding him. Katsuki couldn’t look away from the bite.
“We gotta—” Katsuki choked. His eyes snapped to Todoroki, searching his face.
Say something. Do something.
Give him a reason not to say what he was about to say. But Todoroki just looked back, silent. They both knew what happened next.
A bite meant infection. It spread fast. Black veins, fever, rot. You didn’t survive it. You just died. And then you came back. It took hours. Sometimes two. Sometimes twelve. But it was a death sentence either way. Unless? …Kirishima. Kiri had gotten bit. Just a thumb and finger, clean through. They cut them off immediately. He was still alive. That had been a miracle.
But…this? This would be Izuku’s entire fucking hand.
“I gotta cut it off,” he said suddenly, the words tumbling out before his brain could fully form them.
“Huh?” Izuku gasped, head snapping up. His eyes were terrified.
“It’s the only fucking way.”
He was already reaching for Izuku’s wrist, gripping it, inspecting the bite. Blood still trickled from the punctures. Izuku winced at the contact. He had to cut above it. Mid forearm, at least. Probably close to his elbow joint. He’d have to move fast.
“Not letting you die,” he said, and it came out rough. Honest in a way that stripped him down to bone.
Izuku stared at him, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. “Kacchan…”
Todoroki knelt closer. “We need to act now.”
“No!” Izuku snapped.
They both froze.
Izuku’s voice broke again. “I’ll die anyway,” He shook his head hard. “It won’t matter,” he rasped, and then the sobs started. “I can’t become one of them. You need to—you have to—”
He didn’t finish. But Katsuki knew what he was about to say.
You have to kill me.
He held Izuku’s gaze for a moment, steady as he could manage. Then Izuku dropped his head into his hands, his whole body trembling. Todoroki met Katsuki’s eyes.
He didn’t speak. Just gave the smallest nod. It was barely even a movement. But it was weighted. Mutual understanding passed through them both.
Katsuki understood. Without a word, Katsuki reached out and placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
Izuku looked up, confused.
“If that’s what you want,” he said softly, “I’ll do it.”
He felt the sting behind his eyes and swallowed hard.
“Not here.” Katsuki managed.
He was lying through his fucking teeth.
He wasn’t going to do it. He couldn’t. He’d never do it. He’d rather burn this whole fucking forest down. Izuku could hate him for it. For the rest of his life, he could hate Katsuki with every breath in his lungs.
But as long as he was breathing, that was enough. Katsuki was so selfish. He fucking knew that. He reached down. Helped him up. Todoroki moved in beside him, supporting Izuku’s other side without saying a word. Izuku leaned against them, his legs unsteady, face still pale. His eyes kept flickering up to Katsuki’s like he was trying to memorize him or something. They gathered their shit fast. As they turned back toward the road, Izuku suddenly stopped.
“Kacchan…” he said, weak. “My knife.” He patted at his pants with shaking hands, checking the sheath. “I dropped it.”
Katsuki opened his mouth to snap at him. Really? That’s what you care about right now? But the look on Izuku’s face…he sighed.
“I’ll grab it,” he said quietly, turning back toward the clearing without another word. They hadn’t made it far. He jogged across the brush, back to the front of the tent where it all went to hell. The knife was just outside the flap, glinting faintly in the fading light. He bent down, picked it up then paused.
Something caught his eye. Inside the tent, just visible through the opening, was the edge of a photo. A Polaroid. Peeking out from behind a scattered pile of pill bottles.
Katsuki frowned, hesitating for only a second before pulling the flap open.
Inside was chaos. More blood, empty bottles, scattered pills. And there, on the floor, the photo. A man…clearly the one they’d killed, smiling.
One arm around a woman, both of them young, maybe late twenties. She was holding a baby, maybe a year old, dressed in a pink beanie and matching mittens. The same ones that were inside the tent. The same color as the blanket. The baby’s smile was big and gummy. Katsuki stared at it.
Oh.
Fuck.
Katsuki stepped back, shoved the tent flap down, and took off running.
He pushed through the brush, boots catching on roots and low thorns as he rejoined the others. It hadn’t even been a full minute, but it felt like hours. He walked up and handed Izuku his knife. Izuku took it without question, sliding it back into its sheath like it was just another night, like they hadn’t just decided they were going to maim him.
“Thank you,” he said, soft. And he smiled. That fucking smile. Like he trusted Katsuki with his life. He had no idea. No fucking clue what they were about to do to him.
They started walking again, making their way toward the dirt road. Izuku was unsteady, his steps uneven. He nearly tripped on a loose rock, and Katsuki caught his arm, steadying him without thinking. Held on until they reached even ground.
Katsuki didn’t let go until he had to.
The road was maybe five minutes away from the cabin. But they didn’t have five minutes. This had to happen now. He made brief eye contact with Todoroki. A nod.
Then it was happening.
Katsuki shoved Izuku forward, harder than he meant to. Todoroki caught him from behind, arms locking around his chest and shoulder.
Izuku stiffened immediately. “Huh?”
Todoroki tightened his grip. Forced Izuku’s infected arm forward. And Katsuki watched the realization break across Izuku’s face. Watched it shatter him. Confusion turned to fear.
Fear to fucking utter betrayal.
“No, wait. What’s happening?!”
Katsuki dropped to his knees in front of him, grabbed his belt with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking, and started wrapping it tight around Izuku’s upper arm, just above the bite.
“Stop!”
The belt cinched tight. Katsuki yanked the buckle through, twisted it until it dug in.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t!” Izuku’s voice cracked, high and panicked. “Please, Kacchan, please don’t!”
Todoroki grunted, struggling to keep him restrained. Izuku kicked, thrashed, panic setting in. Katsuki stood, pulled his clean machete from his back. His vision tunneled.
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be real.
“Stop! Please! Don’t do this!”
The sound ripped through Katsuki like a blade.
Todoroki managed to get the arm straight. Katsuki saw the opening. Saw the bite and the infected skin already starting to rot, already a death sentence if he didn’t move, now.
He raised the machete. His hands shook so violently he almost dropped it. He forced a breath in.
Please forgive me.
And brought the blade down. It hit Izuku’s forearm, just under his elbow crease. Not clean. Not near enough force to sever it clean.
The scream Izuku let out? It didn’t sound fucking human. Katsuki froze for a second, blade still in hand, the blood already soaking through his shirt. His boots. The dirt.
It was everywhere.
Izuku was still fighting, screaming and sobbing, his body jerking so violently Todoroki nearly lost his grip. Katsuki couldn’t look at his face anymore. Didn’t want to hear his voice. He forced himself to breathe, raised the machete again.
One more strike.
He brought it down.
Hard.
It hit just right, bone giving way with a sick, wet crack. The severed limb hit the ground with a thud. Izuku screamed again, raw and ragged, before it dropped into a low, shuddering whimper.
Then his eyes fluttered, rolled back, and he slumped completely against Todoroki’s chest. Katsuki dropped the machete. He didn’t even feel it leave his fingers. He moved on instinct, snapped forward, cradling Izuku’s bleeding arm in both hands, blood slick between his fingers. He yanked it tighter.
Another twist.
And another.
His hands still shook uncontrollably. Blood and sweat made everything slick.
Stay alive. Stay the fuck alive.
His head was spinning.
Infection. Blood loss. He was already running through the supply list. What they had back at the cabin, what they were missing. Did they have antibiotics? Painkillers?
Anything?
He glanced down just once, just long enough to see the exposed bone jutting out, the way the skin had split around it. The mess of it.
And then he was turning, staggering a few feet off the trail, and emptying his fucking guts into the dirt. The bile burned all the way up. He coughed, spat, wiped his mouth on his forearm, and forced himself back upright. He stormed back to Todoroki and grabbed Izuku under the arms.
“Gimme,” Katsuki snapped.
Todoroki hesitated. “You’re shaking.”
“Don’t care.”
Todoroki shifted his grip. Gently passed him over. Izuku collapsed against Katsuki’s chest.His head lolled against Katsuki’s collarbone. His face was chalk white. Blood still dripped steadily from the end of his arm. “If he dies,” Katsuki said, “I swear to fucking god—”
Katsuki pulled him in tighter. One hand under his legs, one arm across his back.
And with that, Katsuki ran with Izuku cradled tight against his chest, limp and bleeding, lighter than he should’ve been but still heavy enough to make Katsuki’s arms scream.
Adrenaline tore through hi, his feet pounding against the dirt road as he sprinted toward home. He barely registered the way the trees blurred past. Get him home. He glanced back once, Todoroki was close behind, catching up fast. Katsuki caught a glimpse of the machete in his hand. He’d forgotten it. Katsuki turned his eyes forward again. The forest opened just enough to see the hills stretch beyond them, the last rays of sunlight painting everything gold. Their cabin, perched along the slope, was finally in sight.
Just a few more turns. Just a few more steps.
His arms burned from trying to keep Izuku steady, every jolt threatening to make the blood flow faster. The wound had slowed, but it was still leaking. Izuku didn’t make a sound. Katsuki’s heart was trying to punch a hole through his ribs.
You were supposed to protect him. You were supposed to keep him safe.
They’d been careful. So fucking careful. They picked this place because it was remote. Safe. They didn’t take big risks. They kept their circle tight. Kept their heads down. And still, Katsuki fucked it up.
His fault.
All his fucking fault.
He wasn’t a praying man. But as he ran, lungs burning, arms shaking, blood soaking into his shirt, he prayed anyway. To anyone who might be listening.
Let him live. Please. Just let him fucking live.
What if he hadn’t been fast enough? What if it was already too late? He’d taken his arm with a machete. No anesthesia. No pain meds. No sterilization. Just steel and desperation and panic. If Izuku died now? If that was the last thing he remembered, being pinned down, screaming, bleeding, and Katsuki cutting?
He wouldn’t survive it.
He couldn’t fucking survive it.
The house was closer now. He pushed faster. Harder. His legs burned, but he didn’t care. Izuku stirred weakly in his arms, his head rolling slightly with the motion. A low sound left his throat, a groan or a whimper or something in between. Katsuki looked down, frantic.
“Izuku,” he gasped. “Stay with me. You hear me? Just hang on.”
Katsuki kicked the gate open without stopping, the makeshift wood cracking under his boot. Todoroki was at the door in seconds, pushing it open before Katsuki could even fumble for the handle. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the last of Katsuki’s resolve started to snap.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He yelled.
Adrenaline was now slipping into panic. Behind him, Todoroki shoved the door closed, dropped the plank into place. Then he moved fast, lighting a match and tossing it toward one of the homemade lanterns hanging near the kitchen doorway. He bolted for the cabinet, grabbing the first aid supplies without a word.
Katsuki carried Izuku straight to the dining table, between the kitchen and living room, and laid him down as gently as he could. Izuku’s eyes were open slightly. Staring somewhere past the ceiling.
“H-Hey,” Katsuki rasped, crouching beside him. “Look at me.”
No response. Panic clawed up his throat. He reached out, cupped the side of Izuku’s face.
“Fucking look at me!”
Nothing.
Katsuki’s heart cracked straight down the middle.
Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.
He bit back the sob rising in his chest, wiped the sweat from Izuku’s cheek with his thumb, and tried again.
“You’re not dying here,” he whispered. “You’re not fucking dying. You got that?”
Still nothing.
“Where’s the antiseptic?!” Todoroki’s voice cracked from across the room, panicked as he tore through the cabinet.
The sound barely registered.
Katsuki stood frozen. His eyes were locked on the wound, on what was left of Izuku’s arm. Blood still ran down the table, seeping into the cracks of the old hardwood, pooling at the legs. The tourniquet had slowed it, but not stopped it. Not enough. The room stank of iron. It coated the back of his throat.
Without antiseptic?
God. They were fucked.
He grabbed a rag from the supplies Todoroki had dumped on the table and pressed it hard to the raw stump. His hands were slick with blood, and the cloth turned red almost instantly. Izuku let out a low, cracked whimper beneath him.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
The words felt foreign on his tongue.
I’m sorry for snapping.
For being careless.
For letting you get bit.
For the way Izuku looked at him in that one awful second, like he didn’t know him at all.
The rag grew heavier with blood, and Katsuki’s stomach lurched. Bile crept up his throat, but he forced it down.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he choked out, louder.
Izuku turned his head toward him, blinking slowly. His face, white as ash, eyes wide, met Katsuki’s. Katsuki’s brain betrayed him, flashing back to that look on Izuku’s face while he brought the machete down.
While he screamed.
He squeezed his eyes shut, like he could erase it. Opened them again.
“I had to do it,” he rasped, meeting Izuku’s eyes. “I had to.”The words kept falling out of him, over and over. “I had to.”
Izuku blinked again, something flickering behind the haze. A faint twitch of recognition. Izuku just let out another soft whimper, his cheek leaning instinctively into Katsuki’s touch.
“…Hurts,” he whispered.
“I know,” Katsuki said quietly. His hand moved to sweep the blood matted green hair from Izuku’s forehead. “I know.”
Izuku’s whole body trembled again, then suddenly went still. His eyes snapped shut.
“No. No. Not doin’ that.” Katsuki’s voice sharpened. He shook him lightly, cupping his jaw.
“Y’gotta stay awake. C’mon, dammit. Open your eyes.”
Izuku didn’t move.
Katsuki leaned in closer. “Open your eyes.” He was pleading now, begging in a voice he didn’t recognize.
He slapped his cheek.
Slowly, painfully, Izuku blinked his eyes open. Looked up at him. And somehow managed the most Izuku thing imaginable, he looked offended.
Katsuki huffed out something like a breathless laugh. Or a sob. Stubborn little shit. He heard more frantic rustling from the cabinet.
“Jesus—is it there or not?!” Katsuki finally snapped, heart hammering in his chest.
No response. Seconds stretched like hours. Then finally Todoroki turned, holding up a half-empty bottle.
“Found it!” he called, rushing over. “And this.”
He held up a prescription bottle. Inside, just one pill.
“’Bout time,” Katsuki muttered, snatching the antiseptic from his hands. He grabbed the pill bottle too, squinting at the label. Oxycodone. They’d found it awhile back on a run. Been saving it for an emergency.
Expired. Of course.
Didn’t matter. It wouldn’t hurt him. Probably wouldn’t help much either, but at least it was something. Better than nothing. Better than pain with no fucking end.
“Any antibiotics?” he asked, voice sharp, desperate.
Todoroki met his eyes, then shook his head.
Fuck. The wound would get infected. That was almost guaranteed. No matter how clean they kept it, how tight they wrapped it. Without antibiotics…
Fuck.
If the others didn’t come back with something, he’d go out and find it himself. He’d tear the countryside apart if he had to.
“I’ll clean it,” Todoroki said, already moving. “Just help him take the pill. Keep him calm.”
Who the fuck did he think he was, giving orders?
But the second Katsuki opened his mouth to snap back, Izuku whimpered.
Katsuki shut the fuck up.
He grabbed the pill bottle, twisting the cap open, pushing the rage down beneath the terror.
“Keep pressure on it while I help him take this. Then you clean it,” he ordered, voice low but firm. He moved to Izuku’s good side, the right arm.
Todoroki nodded, pressing down on the rag again. Izuku flinched under the pressure, teeth gritting.
“Need you to take this,” Katsuki said, leaning in, hand resting on Izuku’s shoulder to shake him gently. “Hey. Wake up.”
Izuku stirred slightly, his head turning just a little toward the sound of Katsuki’s voice.
A clink. Todoroki set a glass of water beside them.
“I’m gonna help you sit up,” he said softly.
He slipped his arm behind Izuku’s back and gently lifted him. Even that much made Izuku whimper, his whole body trembling under Katsuki’s grip.
How the fuck is he still conscious?
“Izuku,” Katsuki said again, giving him another shake. “C’mon.”
Eyes fluttered open. Glassy and wet, locking on Katsuki’s face with faint recognition. Tears still rolled down his cheeks.
“Gonna put the pill in your mouth,” Katsuki said, voice shaking, “then give you some water. You gotta swallow, alright?” A weak nod.
Katsuki placed the pill between Izuku’s lips, then grabbed the water and held it steady, keeping Izuku upright with one arm. Todoroki watched silently from across the table. Izuku took the water in trembling sips. It looked like swallowing took everything he had.
“Don’t fucking choke, idiot,” Katsuki muttered.
Izuku gave a faint nod and turned his head from the cup. Katsuki set it aside and eased him back down, hand behind his head. Izuku’s body trembled, eyelids fluttering as he let out a string of sounds, pain slurring his voice into nonsense.
Then Katsuki took over again.
He moved to the stump, back to the blood, pushing the rag hard against the wound, praying it would help.
It didn’t.
The blood just kept coming. Thick and hot. The rag was already soaked, red running down Katsuki’s fingers, pooling under Izuku’s elbow, dripping from the edge of the table to the floor.
His hands pressed harder.
Please stop. Please fucking stop.
But it didn’t. The tourniquet wasn’t enough.
“We need to cauterize it,” Katsuki muttered.
The words burned on the way out, but the sight of Izuku bleeding out on the table gave him no choice.
None.
Todoroki froze, eyes going wide, horrified. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t have a fucking choice!” Katsuki barked, his voice cracking as he gripped Izuku’s arm tighter. His knuckles went white as blood oozed through his fingers. “Look at him! He’s losing too much—he’s gonna fucking die if we don’t do this! Get the stove!”
Todoroki didn’t argue again. Just turned and sprinted to the door, grabbing the camp stove from its corner.
Katsuki stayed put, hands trembling where they pressed against the stump, eyes locked on anything but Izuku’s face. He couldn’t look at him. Not right now.
Not if he wanted to go through with this.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he muttered. The words felt like lies, brittle and weightless in the air. “You hear me? You’re gonna be fine.”
A soft whimper slipped past Izuku’s lips. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, locking on Katsuki’s face.
The sharp hiss of gas filled the air as the stove flared to life. Katsuki turned toward the flame, snatched one of their spare knives from the counter, and held it over the fire. Slowly, the metal began to glow, faint red at the edges, deepening.
“Wha…?” Izuku’s voice trembled, weak and slurred.
Katsuki didn’t look at him.
“Stopping the bleeding,” he said, voice hoarse and hollow.
Izuku whimpered. His eyes widened, blinking rapidly, tears spilling down his temples.
Katsuki’s chest twisted, but he didn’t let himself hesitate.
“It’s this or you bleed out,” he said gruffly. “You trust me, right?”
Izuku’s breath hitched. His lips trembled. But after a moment, he gave the smallest nod.
Barely there. But it was enough.
“Good,” Katsuki muttered. His voice shook anyway.
He grabbed a clean rag from the pile, twisting it in his hands before pressing it to Izuku’s mouth. “Bite down.”
Izuku hesitated, eyes flicking between the glowing knife and Katsuki’s face, terror written all over him.
“Bite the fucking rag,” Katsuki snapped, voice breaking hard.
Izuku flinched, but opened his mouth. Katsuki slid the cloth between his teeth.
Then he turned to Todoroki.
“Hold him down.”
Todoroki moved fast, pressing down on Izuku’s shoulders and legs, his face pale and tight with guilt. Katsuki stared at the glowing knife. He brought it closer. Pressed the blade to the wound.
Izuku’s body convulsed.
A muffled scream tore out of him, raw and terrible, barely dampened by the rag. His back arched clean off the table, muscles locking up tight. Todoroki struggled to hold him down, gritting his teeth, eyes wide.
Katsuki held firm. He couldn’t let his hands shake. Couldn’t let the blade slip. Izuku’s whole body trembled. His muffled cries gave way to softer, choked whimpers. His free hand reached for Katsuki’s shirt, curled weakly into the fabric, then went limp.
His body sagged against the table, breath hitching in quiet, pained gasps.
Katsuki yanked the knife back and threw it, heard it clatter against the stove with a metallic clang. His hands moved instantly, grabbing a fresh rag, pressing it tight against the burned, sealed stump.
“It’s done,” he breathed. Voice shredded. “It’s over.”
Izuku’s glassy eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on Katsuki. He blinked, slow and unfocused, like he wasn’t hearing a word.
Katsuki brushed a trembling hand through his damp hair, heart pounding against his ribs. “It’s over,” he whispered.
But Izuku didn’t respond.
His eyelids drooped, breathing shallow and slowing by the second.
Katsuki sucked in a shaky breath, eyes locked on his face. Every part of him was screaming, do something, do more, fix it.
“Get the antiseptic,” he said hoarsely, not taking his eyes off Izuku. “We need to clean it.”
Todoroki moved toward the cabinet again.
Todoroki returned quickly with the bottle, his jaw tight. “I think I should just douse it,” he said, lifting the antiseptic.
Katsuki glanced at the wound, burned, bleeding, brutal. The cauterization had sealed the worst of it, but it still looked like a warzone.
He swallowed hard. “What about stitches? Don’t we need to close it?”
Todoroki paused, eyes on the ruined flesh. “There’s no skin to stitch,” he said quietly. “It’ll scab. Scar. Heal from the inside out, if we keep it clean.”
Katsuki nodded.
“…Alright.” His voice was barely there. “Do it.”
He moved quickly to Izuku’s side and placed his hands on his shoulders, bracing him.
“Todoroki. Now.”
Todoroki hesitated just a moment before tilting the bottle.
The antiseptic poured out in a thick stream, soaking the raw tissue.
Izuku screamed and his body convulsed again, thrashing hard against the table as the antiseptic hit exposed nerves. The rag in his mouth did nothing to muffle the sound.
Katsuki held him down. His chest felt like it might explode. He watched helplessly as Izuku writhed beneath him, tears streaking down his face. His good hand clawed weakly at Katsuki’s shirt.
“It’s okay,” Katsuki muttered, his voice cracking. “You’re okay, just—”
The antiseptic kept coming.
“Ten more seconds,” Todoroki said, breathless. “Just ten more seconds.”
“Ten?!” Katsuki nearly shouted. He looked down. Izuku whimpered against the cloth, barely hanging on. His grip faltered, then his hand dropped and his head rolled limply to the side. His green eyes slipped shut.
“Done,” Todoroki said quickly. Katsuki was already ripping the cloth from Izuku’s mouth.
His head lolled limply.
“Shit,” Katsuki hissed, panic crashing down. “Izuku?”
He shook him, gently at first. Then harder. Izuku didn’t move. Katsuki’s hands pressed two fingers to his neck. His pulse was hammering so hard in his own ears that he couldn’t think.
“Don’t you dare do this to me, Izuku,” he whispered. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Nothing.