Chosen one, broken one

by Solmussa

Summary:

Some heroes are by choice. Some by destiny.

Izuku was both, and now he’s facing a future where he’ll be neither as the embers of his quirk slip through his fingers one drop at a time.

OR

Izuku has accepted he's eventually losing OFA. Fortunately for him, Katsuki has not.

Notes:

• For Jaqie, itachtea.

I really thought I was done writing Bakudeku when I finished Carry you home (canon compliant fix it). However, I just absolutely hate that Izuku ended up quirkless, so here we go again.

Chapter 1: Of Post-it notes and strange questions

“Midoriya, it’s your turn.”

Simple words, not so simple full-body shudder reaction. Logically, Izuku understands that Aizawa-sensei is just doing his job. And his job is to help them successfully complete their second year at UA high school.

Emotionally, though… those words hit him harder than they should. Because, yes. It’s his turn now to do this particular exercise, but also, it was his turn to save the world. And he did, and now he’s standing amongst the rubble that is both his country and his quirk. 

“Midoriya?”

“Sorry! Yes,” he squeaks, because becoming the greatest hero of your generation at sixteen doesn’t magically rid you of teenage awkwardness. “Right.”

Izuku shakes his head to clear his mind and pushes open the door, waving a brief ‘see you later’ to Iida, whose turn is immediately after Izuku’s. The earpiece connected to the main control room, where his classmates and Aizawa-sensei will monitor his progress, crackles a bit. 

It’s a warm, sunny day. Spring is slowly but steadily making way for summer. The air has already begun to turn sticky and heavy. The rainy season will start any day now. 

Izuku steps onto the training ground, squinting in the sudden brightness as he waits for the exercise to begin. Today’s simulation is designed to test a hero’s ability to respond to a crisis on their own. Before, it wouldn’t have been part of the curriculum. Now? Too many heroes died or quit last year. Patrolling alone is going to be par for the course more often than anyone would like. 

Schools can’t churn out new heroes fast enough to refill the tragically thin ranks.

The exercise would have been a piece of cake a couple of months ago. Today, on what’s officially his first day of second year—adjusted to accommodate for his recovery after the war—Izuku isn’t sure he’s got it handled. 

Idly, he brushes a hand over his chest. The embers of One For All are still burning inside of him, but he doesn’t know for how long. From what he’s pieced together, All Might’s mentor could still use her quirks three years after passing One For All to All Might himself. But he… well. He burnt out in less than a year. Then again, that fight with All For One in Kamino was like nothing Izuku had ever seen. 

Uncertainty doesn’t sit well with Izuku. Never has. He likes knowing things. Likes analysis and planning. Pattern recognition, strategy. It’s one of his strengths, or so he’s been told. The fact that he can’t puzzle this one out scares him. 

He can’t squander whatever he has left of One For All. Every burst has to mean something, because it could be the last. 

“Any day now, Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei sighs into his earpiece. 

Oh. “Yes. I’m—I’m ready.”

Aizawa-sensei must turn the simulation on, because suddenly the grounds around Izuku shift and change. The air ripples as the systems come alive. Izuku walks a few steps towards the centre of the grounds, his boots kicking up dust as he moves. Carefully, he watches his surroundings, waiting for any signs of an emergency. 

Boom. 

Ah, here we go. 

The explosion—gas, maybe—rips through the middle of a nearby building, showering the street below in debris. Smoke rises towards the sky in black, toxic spirals. From where he’s standing, Izuku can see the fire licking up the sides of the hole where an apartment used to be. 

Fake screams ring through the air. 

Alright, he can do this. A rescue shouldn’t require him to activate his quirk. The building doesn’t look in danger of collapsing just yet, so if he can evacuate everyone safely, he should be fine. He’s strong. Not in top form just yet but getting there. 

If Izuku plans this well, he should be able to rescue his fake victims quirkless. 

That’s what he does. 

“I’m sending an alert to emergency services and through the hero network in case anyone is nearby and can come to assist me,” Izuku says, so that Aizawa-sensei records that in his scorecard. 

“Got it. Good. What’s next?” 

Izuku watches the scene for a few moments, taking in as much detail as his brain can process. The black smoke is rising fast, coming out of several windows. Asphyxiation kills as many people as the actual fire, so he should try to get people in the most clogged areas first. He can’t do anything to increase airflow because more oxygen will only make the flames bigger. 

Is there a way for him to calculate how many people are inside the building? Not on his own. If he were with Jiro, for example, he’d have an easier time mapping the scene. But he’s got to do this alone. That's the point. 

He knows he’s muttering under his breath, but it’s not like it’s distracting anyone else and it helps him think better. 

“Right. I’m going in,” Izuku says. 

Determined, Izuku takes off at a run. He jumps as high as he can without activating his quirk and hangs himself off the fire exit stairs on the side of the building. Climbing up is relatively easy. His right arm complains a little, but Izuku has never let pain stop him. 

On the first floor, he kicks open the door and barrels inside. The mask of his suit has an air filter, so he doesn’t have to worry about his own smoke inhalation. He had Hatsume install that ages ago so he could fight alongside Shouto and Kacchan without worrying about their fires. 

He finds two dummies with little screens on them that give him a summary of their condition. Scared, but mostly unharmed. They’re far enough from the main explosion that smoke and fire have barely reached here. Izuku talks as fast as he can, explaining how to get to the stairs and climb down, then to walk for a block and wait for further help there. He reiterates that it’s safe to do so, and that an emergency crew is on the way. 

Both dummies show him a green tick—he’s successfully ‘rescued’ the first two. 

Izuku moves as fast as he can, clearing floors the old fashioned, quirkless way. Every storey he climbs the air gets hotter, and the condition of the dummies gets worse. The fire broke out on the sixth floor, meaning the dramatic, visible flames mostly move upwards. Still, Izuku is smart enough to know that certain building materials are flammable, and some walls and pipes are burning all the way through to the foundations. The smoke has been thick since the second floor, which has slowed Izuku down a bit. 

Not to mention that the explosion was intense enough there’s structural damage up and down the entire building. He can’t take the current stability for granted. The thing will cave in eventually. It’s a matter of when, not if.  

Everything in Izuku’s life these days seems on the brink of collapse. Just a matter of time, alright. 

Still, Izuku handles every obstacle he encounters calmly and with a smile. He’s the Symbol of Peace, and he’ll use that to his advantage. It seems Aizawa-sensei programmed that into the system, because simply telling his name to the dummies helps bring their panic down. Maybe, Aizawa-sensei is going easy on him because it’s his first day back. 

On the fifth floor, Izuku runs into a real challenge. He cleared almost a dozen dummies on the way up, including an ‘injured person’ for whom he made a sling out of his own cape before asking the other victims to ‘help him to the fire stairs’. Luckily, the simulation accepted this as a reasonable course of action and gave him the points. 

The one in front of Izuku now wouldn’t be able to walk if it were a real person. Both his legs are broken, smashed by a beam that fell when the explosion went off. The flames have crawled down over the ceiling. Everything smells of burnt plastic and tastes acrid. Not even Hatsume’s air filter can stop it from coating the back of Izuku’s throat. 

“Okay. You’ve got this,” he mutters under his breath before crouching next to the dummy with the broken legs and extensive internal damage. “Sir, I’m here to help you. My name is Deku. You’re going to be okay.”

On the screen, Izuku reads the response: recognition, relief, but too much pain to think clearly or be able to respond. 

“I’m going to release your legs,” Izuku informs the dummy. “It’s going to hurt, but I have to remove the beam so I can carry you out. You’re safe now. I’m here. It’s going to be fine.”

Without waiting for an answer, Izuku wraps his arms around the wooden beam, ignoring the heat radiating off it. At least, it’s not actively burning. 

He pulls. Nothing happens. 

Frustrated, Izuku shoves his shoulder under it, wrinkling his nose as the hot wood singes his cheek. He tries to squat, using his powerful thighs to push the beam up, to no avail. 

It becomes apparent immediately that Izuku isn’t strong enough to lift this without using his quirk. Not even if he had help. It’s a structural piece, something designed to hold the building together. There’s no way Izuku can move it on his own. 

For a long moment, Izuku stands there staring at the dummy. Weighing his options. 

He needs to graduate high school if he has any hope of having a future. But he can’t waste what he’s got left of his quirk on things that won’t make a difference. 

It’s a hard balance to get right. 

“Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku asks into the earpiece. “Can anyone else hear me?”

“No. Something wrong?”

Izuku hesitates. It’s hard to get the words out. They weigh on Izuku’s tongue, clawing at his throat like they don’t want to be voiced. If he says what he’s thinking out loud, he can’t take it back. Speaking doubts into existence is a terrifying thing, even more so when they’re fears that haunt you in the night. 

After a long moment, he forces himself to say, “How many more points do I need to pass?” 

The silence stretches for a few seconds before Aizawa-sensei clears his throat. “That’s not how this exercise works. You’ve got five minutes left. I’m evaluating your performance throughout.”

Izuku clicks his tongue. His eyes burn, and it’s not because of the smoke around him. His hands shake. 

“It’s just a simulation. The dummy is fake. No one is hurt,” he mutters. His lip trembles but he doesn’t allow himself tears. Izuku will not cry over this. Not in the middle of a training exercise. His classmates might not be able to hear him, but they are watching. 

In his earpiece, Aizawa-sensei sighs. It makes Izuku feel like there are ants crawling under his skin. He sounds pathetic to his own ears, but ultimately, it’s better to be embarrassed than to be useless again.

“It’s just—I lift this beam… if I use One for All here, for this dummy… a real person could die someday because I ran out of strength for real.”

Aizawa-sensei inhales sharply. Izuku waits, wonders. He doesn’t hope, though. Hope is for people who aren’t heroes. 

“Midoriya…” Aizawa-sensei starts, then stops himself. He sounds more defeated than usual. Izuku swallows. “If you let a civilian die, I have to fail you.”

“I understand.” 

He really shouldn’t have asked. 

Izuku activates One For All to five percent only. He aims a precise kick at the beam right from underneath, at a point that sends it flying up high enough for Izuku to grab the dummy and drag it away. It’s a very controlled, small expenditure. But it's an expenditure anyway. 

The rest of the five minutes go by without a hitch. When the time is out, Aizawa-sensei informs him that he’s passed, but not with top marks because he was too slow. He doesn’t ask why Izuku moved at a quirkless pace. Izuku doesn’t offer any excuses for his mediocre grade. 

In the control room, people are standing in groups, chatting to each other about everyone else’s exercises. Izuku was one of the last students to take a turn, so the class will be wrapped up soon. 

“Good job, Deku!” Ochako says, smiling at him. It doesn’t reach her eyes, but Izuku pretends it does. She’s trying, and so is he. It’ll take time for them to feel normal, if such a thing is possible.

Tsuyu nods, offering Izuku an encouraging smile. 

“Very smart, making a sling with your cape,” Shouto comments from where he’s leaning against the wall. 

“Thanks guys,” Izuku says before dropping himself onto a chair to watch Iida go next on the screens. His emotions are in complete turmoil, his head full of guilt and shame and stubbornness. He doesn’t regret saving his quirk, but oh, how he wishes he didn’t have to. 

Kacchan glares at him out of the corner of his eye from his observation seat next to Aizawa-sensei. He’s not allowed on the field or the training simulations yet because his right arm hasn’t recovered, but he didn’t want to keep missing school. 

Izuku looks away. He doesn’t want to see that expression on Kacchan’s face right now, even if he deserves it. Most likely, Kacchan is going to yell at him later. Frankly, he has every right to. 

This isn’t Izuku. It’s not who he wants to be. In fact, Izuku hates everything about what he just did. He even hates himself a little bit. 

Izuku has always aimed for the top. He strove for greatness. Perfection. The title of Number One. Earned and undisputed. He spent every ounce of his energy on getting better, growing stronger, becoming the best hero. Nothing else would have satisfied him. Nothing short of legendary would have done for him.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Midoriya Izuku is a hero of legends now. 

He made it to the very top. The pinnacle of herodom. Actually, he didn’t just make it. He shot past it so aggressively, he went full circle and landed back at the beginning. And the price he paid means he’s simply not capable of crawling his way back up again. 

Some heroes are by choice. Some by destiny.

Izuku was both, and now he’s facing a future where he’ll be neither as the embers of his quirk slip through his fingers one drop at a time. 

He doesn’t regret it. Izuku made a choice to save the world. The right choice. The hero’s choice. Everyone loves him for it. But that’s the thing. 

Heroes don’t get happy endings because it’s their job to give them to other people. 

##

“Izuku.”

That’ll never get old.

The trickle of warmth down his spine compels him to stop walking and turn around to wait for Kacchan. He looks larger than life, striding along the empty corridor. The bandages wrapped along his arm make Izuku’s heart skip a beat. Or maybe it’s the way Kacchan holds himself. He looks far older than his seventeen years. Mature and strong and everything Izuku has ever looked up to. 

“What the hell are you doing in school so late?” Kacchan asks, narrowing his eyes. 

Most students are back in their dorms already, but Izuku had catch up sessions to make up for the weeks he missed at the start of the new school year. Not that anyone is being too strict about it. Winning a war had to have some perks, and Izuku’s teachers’ slightly lax attitude over the fact that he’s roughly a month behind the rest of his class is one of them.  

“Kacchan! I—I had tutoring,” he says. He’s on edge, and his voice sounds like it, but he keeps the smile plastered onto his face like the stubborn maniac that he is. He won’t give Kacchan an opening, and it’ll be fine. “How’s your arm? How was the physio? When will you be able to use your quirk on the right hand again?” 

Kacchan gives him a look so pointed it could draw blood. “Nice try.” 

He keeps walking, certain that Izuku will follow. Which he does, because there are few places Izuku wants to be more than next to Kacchan. 

As soon as Izuku falls into step with him, Kacchan cuts him a sideways glance and says, “How are the embers?” 

I don’t want to talk about it. 

“Fine,” Izuku replies quickly. “I have plenty of time left.”

The look on Kacchan’s face makes Izuku’s blood curdle. 

There are many reasons why Izuku desperately wants the embers to last for years still, but at the very top of the list is Kacchan. They’ve gone through literal hell together. They’re the heroes that ended the war. People call them the Wonder Duo. The Symbol of Peace and the Symbol of Victory. Two kids who defied the odds and beat the unbeatable evil to save the world.  

Izuku would sell his own kidneys for that dream to last. 

“Are you sure?” Kacchan asks, watching Izuku’s face like he can read every painful thought crossing his mind. 

It’s terrifying, because Izuku knows Kacchan doesn’t want him to be quirkless. He cried in the hospital, long, fat tears that Izuku had never seen on him before. It broke Izuku’s heart, and scared him to death. 

Things will change between them when the embers run out. Izuku knows it with the same certainty he knows the sun rises from the East. 

What he doesn’t know is how. 

Will Kacchan pity him when he’s quirkless? Will he stop pushing him to be better? Maybe, Kacchan will treat him like he is… fragile. Not strong enough. Not good enough. Certainly not a hero. Maybe not even a rival.

What will Izuku even compete with Kacchan on? 

He’ll keep growing, getting better, striving for that number one spot. Izuku will be left behind as soon as those embers expire. 

They mustn’t.

Not yet. Preferably not ever, but that’s not something Izuku is allowed to say out loud. He did what he did, and he’s got to learn how to live with it. Just… not yet. 

“Yeah, Kacchan.” Maybe if he pretends hard enough, he’ll start believing his own lies. “Perfectly fine.” 

They’ve reached their dorm now, so Izuku makes for a swift exit. His chest hurts too much for him to keep the smile on his face much longer. “I’m going to do some homework before bed, I’m a bit behind. See you tomorrow.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Nerd, wait.”

Izuku, inexplicably, stops moving. 

“You haven’t had dinner,” Kacchan grunts. “Bring your homework to the kitchen.”

“I—” Realisation hits, smacking Izuku over the head. “You’re cooking?”

“I’m not going to eat shitty take out!” 

He could swear there’s a faint blush on Kacchan’s cheeks, but it’s dark, and the outdoor lights on the dorm walls aren’t strong enough for Izuku to know for sure. It could just be a trick of the shadows. 

Izuku grins, nodding. “Alright. I’ll bring my stuff down.”

They walk inside and head in different directions. When Izuku steps into the elevator, he’s surprised to find that his reflection is smiling back at him without him actively trying. With a little sigh, he lets himself enjoy the fact that Kacchan wants to hang out with him. 

Their friendship seems to be steadfast, and as long as Izuku draws breath, he’ll fight to keep it that way. 

By the time he finds Kacchan in the kitchen, the pan is sizzling and he’s halfway through making something that smells so delicious Izuku’s stomach rumbles loudly.

Kacchan’s mouth twitches. “Hungry?”

“It smells amazing,” Izuku says somewhat defensively. 

He sets his books on the counter, far from where Kacchan is cooking, and tries to focus on his homework. It’s impossible, though. He cannot stop stealing glances at Kacchan, who is quietly preparing their food. He’s so good at everything he does, Izuku could watch him perform any task and be amazed by it. 

“Focus,” he mutters to himself. He grips his pencil a bit harder than he needs to and desperately tries to come up with the answer to the maths question in front of him. “Maths. Do maths. Numbers, Izuku.”

He’s writing down the answer to an equation when Kacchan swears loudly, startling Izuku so badly he draws a long line on the notebook. 

“Kacchan?”

“S’fine.”

Izuku is out of his chair before he can even think things through. “It’s your arm, isn’t it?” 

Kacchan bares his teeth, growling a little like a rabid stray dog. Unfortunately for him, Izuku isn’t afraid. He hasn’t been for a very long time. 

“Let me see,” Izuku says, reaching to gently grab Kacchan’s wrist before he can cuss him out. “You’ve overdone it today,” Izuku tells him, noting the twitching fingers and trembling muscles of his forearm. “You’re seizing up.”

“Leave me alone,” Kacchan says, but he doesn’t pull away. 

Izuku rubs circles along Kacchan’s arm with his thumbs. It helps him with his own right hand, which is equally shattered. Probably worse, because while Kacchan took heavy damage, it only happened once. Izuku broke his bones more times than should be possible. 

“This helps, doesn’t it?” Izuku asks, not looking up. Something about meeting Kacchan’s eye right now makes him nervous, so he focuses on easing the pain instead. 

“How did you know?” Kacchan asks. 

“My hand still hurts. I think it’ll always hurt a bit.”

Kacchan hums, but doesn’t say anything for a minute or so. When he speaks again, he sounds annoyed. “The food will burn.”

“Oh, right.” Izuku drops Kacchan’s arm, then takes his place in the kitchen. “Tell me what to do to finish dinner. I’ll take care of it.”

“No fucking way.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku protests, finally looking up to meet those intense, red eyes he knows so well. “You shouldn’t use your arm any more today. Come on, let me be your hands so we can eat.”

Kacchan’s mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he stares at Izuku with an expression he cannot decipher. Oddly, the tips of Kacchan’s ears turn pink right before he looks away and clears his throat. 

“Fine,” he grunts. “If you fuck this up, I’ll kick your ass.”

Pleased to be allowed to help, Izuku rolls his shoulders back and, very seriously, says, “I won’t fuck it up if you give me proper instructions. Come on. Tell me what to do.”

They fall into a nice rhythm. Kacchan hovers at Izuku’s shoulder, watching him like a hawk as he meticulously follows instructions to finish cooking their dinner. Izuku doesn’t mind, because he can feel Kacchan’s warmth on his back, and his voice is kinda low and raspy as he talks Izuku through the cooking. 

As he works, Izuku’s brain calms down and quiets almost entirely. Like Kacchan took a sponge to the corners of Izuku’s mind and scrubbed it clean of blood and gore and pain and suffering. It’s such a wonderful reprieve, he’s almost sad when he finishes plating their meal. 

Izuku carries their food to the counter, and they climb onto tall stools side by side. 

“This is so good,” Izuku says around the first mouthful. It’s not too spicy, which means Kacchan tailored it to Izuku’s taste buds, not his own. 

“Course it is,” Kacchan scoffs. “I made it.”

Izuku grins. His knee knocks against Kacchan’s, and it makes him feel a little funny, but not in a bad way. When Kacchan doesn’t immediately remove his leg, Izuku finds himself wanting to lean into the warmth even more. 

Kacchan doesn’t like being touched, but he’s okay with Izuku being in his space. Not always, not excessively. But there are times, like right now, when Kacchan seems to find comfort in Izuku’s presence just as much as Izuku finds it in Kacchan’s. 

Is this what it means to be best friends?

Izuku sure as hell hopes so. He wants them to be this way forever. 

##

The next morning, Izuku finds a small package outside his room door. There’s no note, but the little box smells faintly of burnt sugar so he has no doubts where it came from. 

Puzzled, but also a little giddy, Izuku brings it inside. He’s running a few minutes late, but his curiosity won’t let him get on with his day until he knows what Kacchan gave him. So, throwing his backpack on the floor for a moment, he flips open the lid and stares. 

The jar of ointment looks inconspicuous. It’s a faint orange colour with a metal lid. No branding or stickers on it, which makes Izuku think it’s handmade. But what is it? And why did Kacchan give it to him? 

When he pulls the jar out of the box, a post-it note flutters to the ground. Izuku catches it. 

Rub it on your right hand.

No signature, like Kacchan knew Izuku would recognise his handwriting. The thought makes Izuku smile to himself as he obediently unscrews the lid and scoops some ointment onto two fingers. 

Carefully, Izuku rubs it into the scarred skin of his ugly hand. Look, he’s not vain. Izuku has long ago accepted that he’s kinda plain when it comes to looks. He keeps hoping he’ll grow a bit more handsome with age, but there’s no way he’ll ever compete with people like Shouto or Kacchan. They’re a level of beautiful that Izuku couldn’t reach even if he still had use of Float. 

The point is, even though Izuku knows he’s normal looking, and he doesn’t mind it too much, he’s a bit ashamed of his right hand. It just looks… wrong. Crooked and gnarled and bent in odd places. His fingers are swollen at the joints, and they feel rough to the touch. It’s not a right hand people will be too keen to hold. 

Still, it’s the one he has, and Izuku is used to it. 

The ointment smells a bit like earth, with some ginger and orange in it. It’s interesting. Different. When he’s coated his hand with a thin layer of it, he leaves the jar on his desk and heads to class, wondering about the purpose of it all the way. 

“Morning Kacchan,” Izuku says, sliding into his seat behind his friend. 

“Nerd,” he grunts, not even looking up from the book he’s reading. 

“Deku-kun!” Ochako calls him. “I saved you some breakfast.”

Izuku joins Ochako and Iida by their desks, quickly scarfing down the tamagoyaki she brought him. “Thank you, Uraraka-san,” he says with a little bow. 

“Midoriya, you should try to be more punctual,” Iida says. “Breakfast is a very important meal that you shouldn’t be skipping.”

“Stop admonishing him, Iida-kun,” Ochako protests, elbowing him lightly. “Not everyone can be a morning person.”

Izuku laughs, eyes straying towards Kacchan. He’s a morning person. Always has been. 

“Alright, alright! Everyone, take your seats!” Present Mic walks in, talking way too loud for the early hour. 

“Nerd,” Kacchan mutters over his shoulder when he sits down. “Did you use it?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Thank you, Kacchan.”

“You should put that shit on every day.”

They don’t get to talk anymore because Present Mic starts the lesson at that moment. Izuku is barely paying attention, staring at his hand intently. At first, Izuku doesn’t feel any different. Maybe, it’s just some sort of softening cream for his scars, and nothing else. But why would Kacchan give him something like that? 

Confused, but still grateful, Izuku grabs his pencil to start taking notes. That’s when he notices that the swelling around his finger joints has gone down a bit, and curling and uncurling his hand hurts less. 

Surprised, he glances up and smiles at the back of Kacchan’s head. 

##

The common room is packed. Izuku is working through his homework on one of the large tables. Ochako, Tsuyu, Iida and Shouto are with him, each bent over their own books and notebooks. The quiet is companionable, broken only by Izuku’s errant muttering when he forgets himself. Ochako nudges him under the table every time. 

Kacchan and the others—Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero and Ashido—are sprawled on the sofas. Supposedly, they’re also doing homework but their books are mostly abandoned on the floor at their feet. Instead, they’re all watching something on Sero’s phone. 

Momo and Jiro are on a pair of bean bags in the corner, quietly working on their laptops side by side. Tokoyami is with Shinsou, who is now officially part of their class. He was given Aoyama’s room when he left, on the same floor as Izuku’s. 

It’s a normal Thursday afternoon. Painfully, wonderfully normal. They’re teenagers facing nothing more threatening than a possible mock biology exam on Monday. 

Izuku takes it all in. 

Even though technically it’s safe for students to go back to living at home, the vast majority of them opted to remain in the dorms. 

It’s not surprising, Izuku thinks. Most of the country is in ruins. Many people lost their homes, student families included. It’ll take time to rebuild, and it’s easier to manage when kids have a safe place to live. 

Not to mention, a lot of them had active roles in the war which means they are heavily traumatized. Izuku himself doesn’t want to have to live alone with his mother right now. He loves her, but her survival wasn’t really in question. Or, at least, Izuku didn’t consider it as a possibility when he was fighting. 

If Inko was going to fall, it’d be because all else was lost. That was simply not an outcome Izuku ever truly entertained in his brain, so he didn’t have to fear for his mother. 

Not the way he feared for Shouto, or Ochako, or Iida. Not the way he—

His brain shuts down, leaving only static between his ears. 

We don’t think about that.

Dutifully, Izuku picks his line of thought back up, just a few steps further so he can ignore the murky middle. He likes being here with everyone. They feel near and safe. Izuku likes that he can hear his friends on either side of his walls. Their music, their conversations. He likes that he wakes up and wanders into the kitchen to find familiar faces waiting for him.

It’s reassuring. It’s comforting.

They fought, and they survived. They’re here. Together.

The school has set up a counseling program. Izuku has to see a therapist twice a week. He’s not sure it’s making a difference—the nightmares haven’t eased even a little—but he hasn’t skipped a single session.

Healing takes time, they keep telling him. 

Izuku understands. He does. He just doesn’t know how to tell them that time is the only thing he doesn’t have. 

##

“You’re too late.”

Izuku sits up, gasping.

“It’s your fault they’re all dead.” 

He’s drenched in sweat. The bed is soaked through, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He can taste his heartbeat in his mouth. 

“You were too slow.”

“No,” Izuku says into the darkness.

“You couldn’t save him.”

“No. No. He’s alive.”

Izuku can’t breathe. His chest aches like someone reached inside and squeezed mercilessly. Izuku knows he’s crying, but he can’t hear himself sob. He can’t hear anything but his own pulse thundering in his ears. 

There’s not enough oxygen in the room, so he scrambles off the bed and throws the balcony door open. Gulping, Izuku steps outside on unsteady legs and grips the railing with both hands. He’s shaking so hard his teeth are clattering even though he feels feverish. His skin is too hot, too tight, his hair plastered to his forehead. 

He can’t fucking breathe. 

“Help…” he says weakly. Dark spots blot his vision. Izuku tries to cry out again, but no sound falls from his lips. 

He’s alone. No one is coming. Izuku is the help. Or he was supposed to be, anyway. He didn’t win the first time, and so his country is a disaster zone. He didn’t stop Shigaraki early enough, and so Midnight sensei and all the other heroes aren’t here anymore. He was too late to his own battle and Kacchan’s heart exploded. He wasn’t strong enough to pull him out of the darkness and Tomura died a villain. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. 

His legs give out, and he collapses against the railing. It’s cold and rough. 

“They got hurt because of you. He died because of you. Everything is broken because of you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

No one answers. Izuku won’t be absolved for his mistakes. Who would forgive him for letting someone like Kacchan die? Who would forgive him for causing the ruin of Japan? 

Something moves in the woods behind their dorms. A fox, maybe. Trees rustle. Wind croons as it slides between branches. Izuku throws up, but he didn’t have dinner today so there’s only dribble and bile. 

His throat burns. He can’t remember getting into an all-fours position. 

Izuku closes his eyes, but that makes it all worse. He blinks, and he can see him. Kacchan, torn and bloody. Chest blown open, eyes unseeing. That wasn’t… it—Kacchan isn’t like that. He’s alive.

He has to be.

Blink. 

Tomura, small and afraid, brainwashed by All For One. Taken advantage of because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Manipulated and hurt. Rejected by a world that doesn’t understand or accept differences. 

Blink.

Kacchan. Cold, lifeless. Still. So terribly still Izuku didn’t even notice him upon landing on the coffin in the air. There was so much blood around him. On his face, his clothes, his chest. 

Kacchan is dead. 

“He’s alive,” Izuku tells himself, forcing the words out even though his voice is stuck to the back of his teeth. “He’s alive.”

Suddenly, Izuku isn’t sure and he simply cannot function. He must see him. Must reassure himself that Kacchan is alive. That he didn’t dream it all just to cope with reality. Is he still at the hospital? No, he made it to school, didn’t he? 

Izuku stumbles back inside, peeling off his pyjamas. It’s so wet it splatters when it hits the floor. He has to—what is he… Desperately, Izuku tears the sheets off the bed, throws them on the laundry bin. Wait, why? No. No. He needs Kacchan. He doesn’t need sheets. The bed can wait. Everything can wait. 

Izuku just needs Kacchan to be alive. 

Disoriented but gripped by sheer despair, Izuku throws open his door. The corridor is quiet. Too quiet. Like Kacchan was. Is? No. Kacchan is loud. Alive. He died but he didn’t stay dead. 

He died, but he didn’t stay dead. 

He’s alive. 

Izuku repeats it under his breath as he climbs the stairs to Kacchan’s floor. He bounces from wall to wall, unable to move in a straight line. He can’t see very well. Everything is blurry. He’s so afraid, and so lost. Izuku has never felt smaller. 

Every step takes a lifetime, but Izuku doesn’t let up. 

He’s alive.

He died, but he didn’t stay dead. 

He mutters the words to himself until he’s standing outside of Kacchan’s door. He thinks. He hopes. If it isn’t… no, no. It is the right door. 

Izuku raises his hand… can’t knock. What if—what if Kacchan doesn’t answer? 

Terror is a funny thing. Izuku isn’t thinking when he turns the knob. He isn’t thinking when he steps into Kacchan’s room quietly. Isn’t thinking when he makes it all the way to his bed. 

Kacchan is asleep, but he’s not still. He’s not cold. He’s thrashing, sweating, crying. 

Alive. So alive.. 

“Don’t lose. Don’t lose. Don’t lose. Please, don’t lose.”

Izuku snaps out of his trance like a rubber band stretched too far. Kacchan is alive, but he’s not okay, either. None of them are. 

He’s not sure if any of them will be for a long time. 

Kacchan is sobbing in his sleep, fighting something Izuku can’t see. It tears him apart to watch it happen. He knew Kacchan was also in therapy. Knew he had nightmares, too. He told Izuku as much. 

But it’s so different to actually see him, vulnerable and soft in the clutches of sleep with nothing to keep him safe from the demons inside his own head. 

“Kacchan,” he says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Kacchan.”

“Save to win. Win to save. Don’t lose. You can’t lose.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku says. 

His eyes snap open, mouth gasping. It’s so painfully similar to Izuku’s own waking up that it tugs at his heartstrings. He woke up alone, but Kacchan didn’t. Izuku is here. Kacchan is alive, and Izuku is whole, and they made it.

“We’re okay,” Izuku breathes. Kacchan looks at him like he’s never seen him before. “We’re okay, Kacchan.”

Izuku is trembling. Kacchan is hurting, and Izuku can’t stand it. He pulls Kacchan up by the hands and envelopes him in a hug. He’s not sure why he does it, only that it’s the only thing he wants to do at this moment. The only thing he can do. 

He needs to be close. To feel Kacchan’s heart beating against his own chest. Shockingly, Kacchan lets him. He slumps forward into Izuku, face tucked in the crook of his neck. 

Kacchan’s voice is so small when he asks, “I won? We’re okay?”

“Yes,” Izuku tells him fiercely. “You won. You always win, Kacchan. You always find a way.”

His hands hold on to Izuku’s shoulder blades. They’re so warm, and so big, and having them on his back makes Izuku breathe a little easier. 

“I haven’t found a way to help you,” Kacchan says after a moment, drawing back to look at Izuku. His eyes are wild, unfocused. Izuku isn’t sure Kacchan is fully conscious. “But I will. I promise. I promise, Izuku.”

“It’s okay,” Izuku whispers. “You already helped me. We won.”

Kacchan nods, blinking slowly. Izuku smiles at him, and runs a hand through his hair. He’s also soaked in sweat. It smells delicious. “Go back to sleep, Kacchan. We’re okay.”

“We’re okay.”

Izuku stays until Kacchan’s breathing smoothes out. When he’s sure Kacchan is resting, he  sneaks back to his room. He lies down on his bare bed, aware for the first time that he went for a night walk in his underwear and nothing else. That he barged into Kacchan’s room in his underwear and nothing else. 

He should be embarrassed, but he doesn’t have it in him to be. 

Izuku falls asleep with his hands curled in front of his face. They still smell like burnt sugar. 

##

Chemistry lessons aren’t necessarily Izuku’s forte, but he knows many heroes have quirks that work off chemical reactions. It’s an important class, one that could be the difference between life and death if he encountered someone with an alkaline quirk. 

Today, they’re learning about hydrocarbon reactions. On the board, there’s a detailed explanation of combustion, which is apparently the most common one.  

Izuku finds this moderately fascinating, but ultimately not that new because he’s been studying explosions since Kacchan got his quirk when they were children.

It’s not the same—Izuku would fail chemistry if he couldn’t tell the difference between detonation and deflagration—but still. It’s close enough that only half his brain is engaged. The other half is distracted, cataloguing everything Izuku knows about how Kacchan makes his sweat explode at will. 

The teacher is droning on about the release of energy and the conditions needed in order to have a successful reaction. Izuku’s chin is on his hand, elbow braces on his desk. Outside, the sky remains blue, though there are some clouds in the distance. As soon as June hits, the rain will start. 

Idly, Izuku wonders if they’ll have a sports festival this year. It was postponed due to the fact that there was an active war going on during May, and the students haven’t been informed of whether they’ll do it or skip it altogether. 

In front of him, Kacchan is taking notes. Izuku gets a bit distracted by how broad his shoulders are. Kacchan had to get a new uniform recently because he didn’t fit into his first year blazer anymore. 

Kacchan’s hair is slightly longer, too, like he hasn’t cut it since getting out of the hospital. It’s nice. Kacchan looks nice when he’s like this, focused and alert. In broad daylight, the nightmares seem like such foolish weakness. A thing that happens to someone else. 

If Izuku thinks too hard about what he did last night, he dies a little inside. But Kacchan hasn’t brought it up, and so Izuku won’t either. What happens in the dark can stay there. He’s cool with that. So cool. Like a cucumber. 

But why hasn’t Kacchan berated him for barging into his room half naked at four a.m.? 

It’s only because Izuku is watching him so closely that he notices when Kacchan goes completely stiff all of a sudden and for no apparent reason. His entire body becomes alert, like he’s sensed a threat nearby. 

Izuku’s body reacts, tensing and getting ready to spring into action. Where’s the threat coming from? The windows are clear, and the door is ajar. Izuku can’t detect any movement anywhere. What spooked Kacchan? 

He’s about to just ask him where the enemy is when Kacchan raises a hand. 

The teacher calls on him, and he asks, “Is friction the best way to create a spark?”

“Not necessarily,” the teacher replies. “A strong impact can create one, too. It might look similar, but it’s not the same as friction. Think striking a match versus using flint and steel.”

“What about electricity?” asks Kaminari.

“A spark is created when a current jumps between two points. It’s slightly different to the first two, but it can also start a fire.”

“Which one is most effective?” Kacchan asks.

Izuku frowns, confused by Kacchan’s line of questioning. He doesn’t need sparks when his sweat is made of literal nitroglycerin. What is he on about?

The teacher purses their lips, thinking. “Most effective in what way?”

“Which one is most sure to catch on fire,” Kacchan clarifies. 

“Probably an electrical spark, which is why there are so many electrical fires in domestic settings. But, it’s hard to create unless you have the right equipment,” the teacher explains patiently. “If you’re outdoors, impact is most effective and realistic, if you know how to do it right.”

Kacchan nods, scribbling furiously on his notebook. The teacher moves on. Kacchan sets his pencil down. Then, to Izuku’s absolute bewilderment, he stares at Kaminari with the strangest, most intense look ever. 

What the hell is that about? 

On the board, the teacher draws some equations they’re supposed to copy, but Izuku can’t stop puzzling over Kacchan’s behaviour. None of this makes sense to him. Why does Kacchan need any help starting fires? He’s the proud owner of an explosion quirk. Not to mention Shouto is right there.

When the bell rings, Izuku taps Kacchan on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Kacchan. Why were you asking those questions?”

Kacchan closes his notebook, slipping it into his bag before grimacing. “Hah? None of your business, is it, nerd?”

Izuku frowns, profoundly intrigued and a bit ticked off that Kacchan is refusing to explain. “Well, it’s weird. You don’t need—”

“Leave it, Izuku,” Kacchan says, shrugging. “It was just a stupid question.”

He might as well have displayed a neon sign saying ‘suspicious behaviour’. 

Kacchan gets up and goes to sit on Kirishima’s desk, leaving Izuku even more confused than he was before. He knows Kacchan is not telling the truth. He wasn’t just asking.

He wanted answers. About fire. About combustion. Why? Is it about improvement for his suit? It’s quite possible, especially considering the damage done to Kacchan’s right arm. Maybe he’s working on enhancing his explosions so using his quirk takes less of a toll on his shattered bones. But why wouldn’t he tell Izuku about that? That’s exactly the sort of thing they would discuss. 

The niggle of unease doesn’t leave him alone for the rest of the day. 

##

“It’s just weird, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” his therapist says later that evening. The office is quiet and cozy. If it weren’t for the things they talk about in here, Izuku would love this room. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Midoriya. Bakugo’s question was very normal given the context of your lesson.”

“But you didn’t see how tense he got right before he asked!” 

“It could be unrelated.”

“I don’t think it is,” Izuku protests, sighing in annoyance at having to explain something that really was quite obvious. 

The therapist cocks an eyebrow, noting something down. Izuku’s gut churns, though he’s not sure why. The birds in the painting on the left wall stare at him. They look a bit judgy, which is insane because they’re birds made of ink on a piece of parchment. 

“You think I’m making a mountain out of a grain of sand,” he says. Adults do this to him all the time. And look, Izuku knows teenagers are notorious for being dramatic, and supposedly make big deals out of things that aren’t.

But he’s right about this. 

He knows he is.  

The therapist smiles. She’s always kind. Izuku likes her most of the time. “Why do you sound so upset? Do you want Bakugo to be hiding something from you?”

“No!” Izuku shouts vehemently. “He wouldn’t. He would tell me.” Unease pools near his sternum, spreading like vines over his ribs. “It’s… you’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

“Did he behave strangely in any more lessons?”

Izuku sighs again, this time in defeat. “No. No, he was… normal.” 

“I’m going to ask you a question, Midoriya,” the therapist says in the tone that alerts Izuku to the fact whatever is coming next, he’s not going to like. She uses it every time she asks him about Shigaraki. 

“Right.”

“Are you perhaps trying to find hidden meaning in an innocuous interaction because you’re expecting there to be one? Are you expecting Bakugo to—”

“I’m not expecting anything.” He doesn’t want to be having this conversation anymore.

“It wouldn’t be—” the therapist says slowly. 

“You’re wrong,” Izuku says, cutting her off. He gets to his feet. The hour is up anyway. “Kacchan would never keep secrets from me. I was spiralling because that’s what I do. He just wanted to get top marks in the next chemistry exam. Thank you for your time.”

“Midoriya…”

“I’ll see you in two days.”

He walks out the door, letting it click closed behind him before his therapist can say anything else. Some sessions don’t go very well, but that’s okay. He’s been told that healing isn’t linear. That mood swings and reactions to ‘triggers’ are normal. He’ll get better. He’ll stop getting angry for no real reason.

Except he has reason, because that woman implied Izuku wants Kacchan to lie to him! What a ridiculous fucking notion, honestly. 

Maybe Izuku should ask for a new therapist. 

He’s mulling this over when he arrives at the dorms. He’s missed dinner again, and he’s hungry, so he heads to the kitchen to grab a protein shake. 

The fridges are organised by floor. Izuku shares one with Shinsou and Tokoyami. When he opens it, he finds a bento box on his shelf. A yellow post-it note stuck to it reads, ‘Eat some real food, nerd,’ and it makes Izuku smile so wide that his cheeks hurt. 

Humming to himself, Izuku heats the food in the microwave and brings his dinner up to his room. He sits on his bed, chopsticks in one hand, laptop in front of him with an old All Might movie, and eats the meal Kacchan left for him. 

Kacchan is his best friend, and best friends don’t lie to each other. If Kacchan said he was just asking, then Izuku believes him.

Chapter 2: Of movies and homework

Notes:

Izuku is struggling and I'm putting him in my pocket

“Everyone, gather ‘round!” Ashido’s voice is shrill and loud enough that Izuku is sure they heard her over in the 2-B dorms. 

Still, they know better than to say no to her. Especially when she’s standing on a table and waving her arms like she’ll coat them all in acid if they don’t comply. 

“What’s up?” Hagakure asks, skipping over to stand directly under Ashido. 

“It’s Friday, and the class is all here for the first time this year,” Ashido announces, rocking on her feet. “And I’ve decided that we should start a new tradition.”

“Who named you class spokesperson?” Shinsou asks, blinking at Ashido. Brave man. Izuku wouldn’t dare call her out on it. Ashido has more energy than two thirds of their class combined. 

She glares at Shinsou, pointing a finger at him. “Careful, Shinsou-kun. No one likes a killjoy.”

Shinsou looks the same way he always does: extremely unbothered. Izuku sympathises with him a lot more these days. Especially with the perennially tired set of his eyes. 

“Ignoring that interruption!” Ashido continues. “As I was saying, we’re starting a new tradition—” 

Next to Izuku, Kirishima crosses his arms over his chest, watching the proceedings with a look Izuku’s never seen on his face. “She’s so manly.” 

“She’s… a girl?”

“A manly girl,” Kirishima says sagely. “So strong and brave.” 

Izuku tilts his head, studying Kirishima. If he didn’t know better, Izuku would think he likes Ashido. But that’s… it can’t be, right? It’s too soon. Who has room to think about those things? 

Izuku’s mind is full of shadows that slither among bloody stains and debris. He hasn’t stopped thinking about the destruction the war left behind. Cities upon cities turned to dust. Hundreds of lives lost. Heroes shattered. A society in ruins. A hospital turned into a scientific lab of nightmares. A school turned into a shelter. 

A country devastated by a single man with entirely too much power. 

The past few months were… heavy. They feel like a huge burden on Izuku’s shoulders. 

Izuku hasn’t moved on from the coffin in the sky. From the splintered bones and the stolen quirks and the broken bodies that littered the remains of UA high school’s defense system. He’s still in the middle of it all. Desperately rushing towards danger, sprinting across the sky to fight, fight, fight.

Izuku doesn’t know what comes next. Doesn’t know when he’ll stop feeling out of breath. Exhausted but unable to stop. 

Even if he weren’t worried about the embers winking out too soon, Izuku doubts he’d be ready to… to just live. How can he? So many people died, and he didn’t. Against all odds, he didn’t.

Kacchan grumbles something at Kaminari a few steps away, splitting his attention between Ashido, and their electric friend. He’s glowing and glowering in typical Kacchan fashion. Izuku’s chest cracks like broken glass. He’s so full of life. 

They lived, but they shouldn’t have, and Izuku just— 

He gasps, pressing one hand against his sternum. Keep it down, Izuku. Be normal. 

“Beautiful,” Kirishima mutters, stars sparkling in his eyes as he looks at Ashido like they didn’t fight a giant killing machine together. 

It’s just… Izuku cannot imagine liking anyone. It’s hard enough attending school, and going to therapy, and trying to find a way forward despite the ghost nipping at his heels. 

Izuku watches Kirishima, trying to puzzle this out. If he focuses on someone else, he can control his own spiral better. 

Is it because Kirishima is stronger than him? Not physically, although that, too. But mentally. Is Kirishima’s apparent crush on Ashido normal? 

Is Izuku the only one whose insides are covered in tar? Objectively, he saw some of the worst of it. Kacchan’s chest torn open, for example. The vacant look in his eyes. 

Oh, fuck. 

Izuku quickly looks up, finds Kacchan’s face. Alive. Not empty. Annoyed at his friends, but here. Scarred and blissfully animated. 

Okay. Okay, Izuku can do this. He—can he? His friends don’t seem to be having these thoughts. At least nowhere near as often as Izuku is. Why? Did the horrors not touch them the same way they did Izuku? 

They all went through hell together. Every kid here tonight fought and lost something. Someone. 

How are they all smiling and joking? Kirishima doesn’t look like he’s forcing anything. Like he’s putting on a brave face. He looks genuinely smitten by Ashido. Present and relaxed in the company of his classmates on a Friday evening. 

“Nerd,” Kacchan says, flicking his forehead. Izuku startles. He didn’t notice Kacchan coming to stand next to him. “Quit looking at Shitty Hair like that. It’s creepy.”

“So-sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku mutters. 

On the table, Ashido is explaining her grand plan. Every weekend, they’ll mark the start of their two free days with a class activity. It doesn’t matter what they do, she says. It only matters that they do it all together. 

That is something Izuku can support. 

He understands needing to feel these people close. And maybe that’s how their hurt is showing. Maybe they’re not drowning like Izuku, but they are still struggling. And that’s okay. It makes him feel less broken to know that his friends are looking for ways to feel human again.

That’s all he wants. To feel human. To feel whole. 

Perhaps Ashido’s idea will help. 

Izuku doesn’t particularly care what activity his classmates settle on so long as he can be in the same room as them for a couple of hours. 

After a week back in school, Izuku has realised that he breathes a bit better when he’s catalogued everyone’s scars, and seen their half smiles. 

His therapist floated the words ‘separation anxiety’ by him and he scoffed at her. It’s possible that she was onto something. But so what? Who wouldn’t want to be reassured that everyone is alive after the shit they went through?

“Hey,” Kacchan says quietly. “You good?”

Izuku nods, not trusting his voice. 

“Today, as the first day of our tradition, we will play a game!” Ashido shouts, jubilant. She’s beaming, arms spread wide before she points at Yaoyorozu. “Momo, can you make 72 plastic cups please?”

“Hah?” Kacchan barks, scowling. “I’m not drinking, Pinky.”

“They’re not for drinking, I promise!” Ashido says quickly, watching Iida like he might forcefully remove her from the table. “The cups will stay empty. They’re just for the game.”

“I’m on it!” Yaoyorozu says, sitting down on the sofa to focus on creating the cups. 

“We also need ping pong balls!” Ashido calls. Yaoyorozu nods. 

Ochako looks up at Asihdo. “What else?”

“We need cookies. Like… Oreos or something. Sato, do you have some? And before you say anything, Bakugo, yes cookies are for eating and if you don’t want to have any sugar you just get your teammate to do that part for you.”

“Teammate?” Izuku repeats softly. 

“Obviously, it’s you and me, nerd,” Kacchan says. “We’re going to win the hell out of this stupid ass game.”

“Okay,” he says, and if he leans a little closer to Kacchan, that’s just because he’s always warm and he smells nice and Izuku needs things that help him ground himself in the moment.

Izuku watches absently as Ashido directs their entire class like a conductor does an orchestra. In record time, their common area is transformed into a competition field of sorts. There are five stations with a game each. She’s set up a board to keep track of the scores—the games all afford points to the winners—and procured a megaphone so she can be extra loud in her enthusiasm. 

“Alright everyone! We will do this by total point count. We’ll eliminate teams as we go until we have the top two face off against each other.”

Kacchan growls, which is his way of showing his support for anything that encourages competition. 

“It better be someone good in that showdown against us,” Kacchan says, not even considering the possibility that they won’t make it to the top two. 

But first, they’ve got to complete one round of every game. 

“Where do you want to start?” Izuku asks Kacchan, eyeing the different options.

Kacchan grabs his arm and drags him towards the corner. Izuku lets him, curious as to where this is going. Everyone else is breaking up into pairs, finding someone to play with. 

Iida and Ochako are apparently teaming up. Kirishima and Kaminari, too. Jirou is with Yaoyorozu. Ashido isn’t playing because she’s organising the entire thing. Izuku wonders if Kirishima would have tried to pair up with her if she’d been available. 

The atmosphere is vibrant, and it does infect Izuku enough that by the time he’s standing in the corner with Kacchan, he feels less like a hollowed out shell of a person and more like someday he’ll be himself again. 

“What is it?” he asks, shaking some hair out of his eyes. The haircut they gave him to treat his head wounds is getting a bit unruly. He has to find time to fix it. 

“Which one are we most likely to not win?” Kacchan asks quietly, leaning into Izuku.

“Oh.”

Izuku eyes the stations. The cookie challenge will be easy, and so will the ping pong one. The junk in the trunk one will be embarrassing but they’re both competitive enough they’ll do it anyway. 

“If we’re going to lose any,” Izuku says. “It’ll be either the balloons if you make them explode by accident, or the cups because your right arm is still recovering and my fingers are… you know.”

Kacchan grunts, nodding. He glances at his hand, tries to curl it into a fist but can’t really close it just yet. Izuku’s heart breaks. He swallows the apology on the tip of his tongue. Kacchan will hit him if Izuku says how sorry he is about his arm again. 

“Always so fucking smart,” Kacchan says, dropping his hand and smirking at Izuku. “Let’s start with the balloons.”

“Okay.”

“Izuku,” Kacchan says, narrowing his eyes as he stares at Izuku critically. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“What? Yes, of course I’m okay, Kacchan.”

He frowns, but after a long moment, decides to let it go. They walk back to join the others just as Ashido starts to break them up into groups so they can rotate through the stations. 

Without warning, Izuku’s heart picks up its rhythm. It’s a staccato drum, insistent and relentless against his ribcage. He presses the palms of his hands against his jeans, trying to focus on the roughness of the fabric. He can hear his friend’s voices. The air smells of popcorn, too many people in one room, and Kacchan’s burnt sugar scent. 

Despite his sudden shortness of breath, Izuku wills his heart to calm down. Wills his brain to let him have this. He wants to have this so badly. Just some fun with friends. Please. Is it too much to ask? Should he feel guilty for wanting it? 

Desperately, Izuku grapples to find other things to distract himself with. 

Kacchan. Focus on Kacchan. 

He’s taller than Izuku, but not by much. His hoodie is baggy on purpose to hide the bandages wrapped around his right arm. A scar mars his right cheek. 

“You better put up a decent fight, Shitty hair!” Kacchan is telling Kirishima. He’s not… smiling, per se, but he looks content. 

It helps. Nothing is wrong, Izuku tells himself. This is, in fact, one of the nicest Friday evenings he can remember. No one is in danger. There are no emergencies, no imminent threats. Izuku is mostly healed. Kacchan is fine. Ochako is laughing with Iida. Shouto is…

Wait. 

What is Shouto doing?

He seems to be attempting to drill a hole in the back of Shinsou’s head with a glare alone. Somehow, Shinsou must have felt the intensity of it, because he turns without prompting. If he’s fazed by Shouto’s weirdness, he doesn’t show it.

Tilting his head, Shinsou asks, “What do you want, Todoroki?”

“I don’t have a teammate,” Shouto says deadpan.

“Ah,” Shinsou mutters, blinking twice. It doesn’t escape Izuku’s notice that Shouto did not hesitate to answer a Shinsou question. A lot of students still don’t dare. “Okay.”

“We must win,” Shouto declares. 

Shinsou smirks. “Yeah.”

Izuku blinks. What the fuck did he just witness? His oncoming anxiety attack has disappeared, which is amazing, but also testament to the fact that this was not a thing he was expecting. At all. 

No one else seems to have found the exchange odd, which makes no sense to Izuku. He’s going to have to ask Shouto about it later. 

“Everyone take your positions at your stations!” Ashido bellows. “We’re starting in fifteen seconds!”

“I go first,” Kacchan tells him, dragging Izuku to their starting game. “Plus ultra, nerd. We’re not fucking losing.”

“Plus ultra,” Izuku replies, pleased when Kacchan almost smiles. 

The game is simple enough: keep five balloons in the air using only one hand for an entire minute to score a point. 

Of course, this is UA and they don’t do anything the normal way, so Ashido has recruited Dark Shadow to try to disrupt the games as much as possible. 

It’s absolute mayhem. The moment Ashido blows her whistle—courtesy of Yaoyorozu—all hell breaks loose.

“Fucking die!” Kacchan shouts, tapping the balloons so they stay afloat.

“Kacchan! Treat them gently!”

“WE WILL WIN.”

Izuku nods vigorously and hopes for the best. So long as Kacchan’s sweat doesn’t get activated accidentally, they should be okay. 

Dark Shadow swoops down, disturbing the balloons. But Kacchan is approaching this game like a fight, so he’s ready. He moves fast, and he’s agile and flexible. His balloons stay afloat and before they know it, the minute is up.

“TAKE THAT YOU SHITTY LOSERS!”

Kacchan smirks at Izuku with pride. He doesn’t say anything, but Izuku knows this matters to him. Being able to move again is proof that he survived the impossible. 

Izuku rolls his shoulders back and takes his place. It shouldn’t be too hard to keep these balloons up for a minute, and he absolutely cannot lose against Kacchan. There are two competitions going on—them against everyone else, and them against each other.

The whistle goes, and Izuku lunges. He sends all five balloons up as high as he can get them, then quickly calculates their trajectory back down so he can map his route as efficiently as possible. It works well for the first twenty seconds or so. He’s comfortable. He’s got this. The point is his.

“Keep them afloat! Don’t let them touch the ground, Deku!”

The sound in the room is sucked out like a vacuum. A ringing noise pierces Izuku’s ears. He gasps, blinks. He’s in the ruins of Jaku city, floating above complete devastation, holding the people he loves up with Blackwhip and wavering. 

That’s—it’s over. 

Is it over? Where—

No. No, no, no. Izuku can’t remember. He doesn’t—where is he? Where is everyone?

His eyes aren’t working. The ruins of Jaku city are superimposed on the school. It’s merging together. He can’t tell if he’s on a carpet, or flying, or on the packed dirt where his friends and sensei bled.

They can’t touch the ground. 

But Shigaraki died, didn’t he? Izuku—is it over? 

Decay spreads so fast. It’s unstoppable. Izuku can’t let anyone down. They’ll die and he’ll be alone. 

Izuku retches, and the violence of it brings him back to the common room. School. Friends. They’re here with him. Are they? Is this real? 

He’s on his knees. Kacchan is talking to him, but Izuku can’t hear him. Where are the balloons? He let them fall, didn’t he? Touching the ground is dangerous. Things decay. People die. 

He can’t let his people die. 

Float.

Float. Blackwhip. Float. “Float!”

“Izuku,” Kacchan’s voice breaks through. Izuku blinks. Kacchan has him by the shoulders. They’re not in the common area anymore. Where are they? “Izuku, you’re in my room. In school. You’re okay.”

“The ground,” Izuku says. He needs Kacchan to understand it’s not safe. “Kacchan, don’t touch the ground.”

“It’s over,” Kacchan says. “Shigaraki is gone. We won.”

Izuku is shaking. His body hurts so much. His head is full of noise and pain. But Kacchan is here. He’s—Izuku reaches for him. He cups Kacchan’s face in his hands, brings their foreheads together. “Kacchan, you’re here.”

“Yes. We’re okay. Everyone is okay,” Kacchan tells him. His thumb is moving over Izuku’s cheeks. Collecting tears, Izuku realises. “It was just a flashback. It’s normal. You know this. Part of the healing. It’s… PTSD.”

“I don’t—I’m…” Izuku swallows. His throat burns. “I can’t use Float anymore.”

Kacchan sighs, pulls Izuku in for a hug. It fuses Izuku’s soul back with his body. Suddenly, he’s aware of where he begins and where he ends. He hadn’t realised he’d lost that until he got it back. Kacchan’s body is warm and hard. Izuku hides his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Izuku admits. “I—I didn’t… This has never happened before.”

“You’ve been out of the hospital for a week,” Kacchan says. “You hadn’t had time for this to happen.” Kacchan’s fingers thread through Izuku’s curls in a steady rhythm. It feels so nice. Izuku relaxes a bit. “I get them, too. About different things. But I get them, too.”

“I don’t understand how the others are acting so normal.”

Kacchan scoffs. “They’re trying. Shitty Hair has been prescribed sleeping aids because he went five days without sleep so he wouldn’t have to dream about finding Midnight sensei.”

“Oh.”

“No one is okay, Izuku,” Kacchan tells him gently. “But everyone is trying.”

“You don’t think I’m a freak?”

“For having war flashbacks to the war you won a month ago?” Kacchan scoffs. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid or what?”

Izuku sighs. After a long moment, he says, “Hey, Kacchan?”

“Hah?”

“If you… if it happens to you…” Izuku trails off, suddenly self-conscious. How can he offer to help anyone when he’s like this? “I mean… I just—if you want…”

Kacchan pulls back, looks into Izuku’s eyes. “Cat got your tongue, nerd?” 

“Kacchan!”

“Enough sappy shit,” he says, disentangling their bodies and shoving Izuku aside. “You’re so clingy, oh my God. Anyway, do you want to watch a movie?” 

Izuku scrambles to adjust to the change in pace, but he’s not mad about it. Kacchan is Kacchan, and that is the most normal thing. The most grounding thing. Izuku wouldn’t want him to be any other way.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.” Kacchan reaches for his tablet, propping it up on a cushion in front of them on the bed like this is something they do regularly. It’s not. But Izuku would very much like it to be so he’s very careful not to mess it up.

“What do you want to watch?”

“This,” Kacchan says, and clicks on a hero movie that Izuku has seen before. “I haven’t watched it yet. You?”

“No, I hadn’t had time. Been meaning to, though,” Izuku says with a small smile.

Kacchan grunts, then hits play without further ado. After a second, he pasuses and looks at Izuku, “Do not put your feet anywhere near my pillow or I will fucking end you.”

“Sure, Kacchan.”

Maybe things will eventually be okay, Izuku thinks. And in that moment, he believes it. 

##

His friends don’t make a big deal out of his breakdown, and Izuku is grateful for it. 

He’s happy to learn that they managed to salvage the party somewhat, despite his best attempt at ruining it for everyone. Once Kacchan took him to his room to help him calm down, Ashido and Ochako rallied the others, and they shared a slightly subdued but nice evening.

Or so Ochako tells Izuku when they meet to go through their homework on Sunday.

“You should have seen Tokoyami trying to shake all the bits and bobs from the box tied to his back,” she says, smiling. “It was hilarious.”

“I honestly cannot imagine it,” Izuku says, and he means it. Tokoyami is too solemn and intense for something as silly as a ‘junk in the trunk’ game.

“I did not enjoy that game,” Shouto declares. “But it was nice to be with everyone.”

“I concur,” Iida chimes in.

“Shinsou was very good at the ping pong one,” Shouto adds. “He was a strong game partner.”

Ochako makes a little noise of surprise before clapping her hands together in front of her chest. “So, Todoroki-kun… what was that about?”

“What?”

“Shinsou.”

Shouto blinks at Ochako in a way that means he’s waiting for further elaboration from her. Izuku knows Ochako won’t give it (and he’s been dying to ask anyway) so he takes his chance. 

“It was surprising that you asked him to be your partner, and we’re wondering why you did.”

“Ah,” Shouto says, tilting his head. “What part was surprising?”

“The part where I’ve never seen you talk to the guy,” Ochako says. 

“He doesn’t talk much to anyone,” Shouto observes. “That’s why I thought it’d be nice to partner with him. Parties are loud. It’s smart to work with someone who is quiet. For balance.”

“For balance,” Ochako says, staring at Shouto like if she tries hard enough, he’ll suddenly make sense. 

Izuku shrugs. “It’s good you asked him. We should try to include him in class activities.”

“Midoriya is absolutely correct!” Iida agrees. “In fact, Yaoyorozu-san and I discussed that we must make sure he’s not left out since he’s newer to the group.”

“He helped us win the war,” Shouto says. “No one would leave him out.”

“It’s still important to make an effort to be inclusive, Todoroki,” Iida replies. “Since you seemed to collaborate well and won the party games, I suggest you find other opportunities to partner with Shinsou.”

“You won the whole thing?” Izuku asks. 

Shouto nods. “Yes, but only because you and Bakugo had left.” He looks up at the ceiling longingly. “I tried to leave, too. Ashido wouldn’t let me.”

“Deku-kun had a respectable reason for needing to leave, and Bakugo was taking care of him,” Ochako says firmly. “You just wanted to avoid people.”

Shouto doesn’t have anything to say to that, which settles the conversation. Iida reminds them that they’re supposed to be working on their various essays and exercises and, reluctantly, they spread their notebooks out and pick up their pens. 

Ten minutes later, Izuku is still staring at the first page of his notebook, chewing the inside of his cheek. The worksheet in front of him shouldn’t take too long to complete, but his motivation has deserted him for the day. He plays with the pen in his hand, running it over his scarred knuckles and back.

English isn’t his forte. Kacchan is better at it than Izuku is, which is annoying because Izuku would like to be able to write emails to Rody without having to ask for help. Kacchan always makes a big fuss whenever Izuku brings him an email to check.

It’s not really that big a deal, is it? Not like Izuku writes novels every time. Well. Or he tries not to. But he hasn’t seen Rody in so long. There’s just a lot to tell him. That’s normal, isn’t it? Kacchan just likes to complain and exaggerate.

Now that he’s thinking about it, Izuku should write to Rody soon. He hasn’t yet. Izuku isn’t sure what he wants to say. How he’d describe what happened to someone who wasn’t there. It’s not like Rody doesn’t know. He watched it all online, he said. Izuku had an email from him waiting the moment he woke up in the hospital.

He should really reply to Rody before too much time passes and it becomes awkward. And, based on his lack of success with the English homework, Izuku will definitely need Kacchan’s help. 

But maybe it’s cruel to make Kacchan read an account of what happened. Could Izuku get away with just using Google translate this time? He’s had a couple of mishaps with it but he’s discovered that if he’s very careful with his kanji he can get the error margin down considerably.

“Deku-kun,” Ochako says, nudging him under the table. “Focus.”

“I’m focused.”

“You’re muttering.”

“Hmm. Sorry,” he sighs. He’ll draft something for Rody on his own first, then he’ll decide if it’s worth bothering Kacchan about.

The worksheet stares at him mockingly. He’s supposed to fill in gaps in sentences that look entirely too long. The words swim on the page. Or maybe he’s just tired. He had another nightmare last night, though this time he managed to not sneak up to Kacchan’s room like a creep.

“I am confused by sentence twelve,” Iida announces. “How are you doing?”

“You’re already on question twelve?” Ochako asks, alarmed.

“I finished,” Shouto supplies unhelpfully.

“How?” Ochako says, mildly hysterical. “I haven’t made it past the second line!”

“Me neither. This is hard,” Izuku declares, slumping forward onto the desk.

Ochako nods immediately. “It’s just so weird that the verb is so early in the sentence,” she complains, glancing to read his work over his shoulder. “This is impossible.”

Izuku has to agree. Truth be told, he hasn’t tried all that hard, but he just… it’s a lot of energy and Izuku isn’t sure has it.

“Todoroki-kun, give us a hand,” Izuku says.

Shouto looks up, a little frown between his brows. After a moment, he shrugs. “The cold or the hot one?”

“What?”

“The hand?”

Izuku feels a broken chuckle rattle in his chest. “We just meant we need help with the homework.”

“Ah,” Shouto says, then joins them so he can read their worksheets. “This is all wrong, Uraraka-san. You’re really bad at English.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ochako says, but she knows better than to be upset. Shouto doesn’t mean anything by it. Besides, based on the mistakes he’s pointing out, she truly is atrocious at English.

Izuku is only faring better because he hasn’t written anything at all. 

With Shouto’s help, they manage to complete their homework and move on to history, at which point, it’s Izuku’s turn to help the others. 

When they hit a snag on biology after that, Iida comes to their rescue with support from Ochako, who is apparently a biodiversity genius.

Izuku likes that they have different strengths. It’s like the field, he supposes. Different quirks, different areas of expertise. Ochako will be a wonderful rescue hero, even though she’s an impressive fighter. Iida is the fastest hero they’ve got in the country at the moment. Shouto is… well, Shouto is practically unstoppable.

It strikes Izuku that they’ll be the names topping the charts in a few years. And he’ll most likely have faded from public memory by then.

The pang of jealousy is unwelcome. Izuku isn’t petty. He isn’t envious. He’s happy for his friends, and he’ll support them no matter what. He got to be a hero and save the world. He still has some time left. That’s more than he thought he’d get.

It’s enough for him.

It’s got to be.

“I’m glad that the full class is finally back together. It was weird not having you and Bakugo around,” Iida says casually, jarring Izuku out of his pity party.

“I didn’t like it,” Shouto admits. 

“Yeah,” Ochako says, looking up for her bag. They’re done with homework now. Small mercies. “It was way too quiet until you both came back.”

Izuku frowns, pausing in his own repacking. “What do you mean?”

“If Bakugo isn’t around, no one is yelling,” Shouto clarifies.

“No, I got that,” Izuku says. “But Kacchan came back before me.”

Ochako’s confused frown makes Izuku uneasy. “Well, yes. He came to school on Monday, and you only came back on Tuesday, but that’s hardly—”

“No,” Izuku insists. “Kacchan was released from the hospital two weeks ago. He came back a whole week earlier than me.”

“No, no. He only came back on Monday,” Iida confirms, going as far as to pull out the class register list, which he keeps as their President, to show Izuku.

“Maybe he was doing intense physical therapy for his arm,” Shouto says. “He could have been staying at home for a bit.”

“It is pretty crazy that he’s back in school already as it is,” Ochako adds. “You both got beat up pretty badly, but Bakugo-kun…”

The pause is barely a fraction of a second long, but it makes Izuku’s breath shatter in his lungs anyway. Kacchan died. That’s what Ochako isn’t saying. He died. 

Because Izuku was too late. 

“He could have taken more time off, and no one would have held it against him,” Iida agrees, unaware of the nausea roiling in Izuku’s gut.

Izuku swallows, looks away. He forces himself to stay here, in the present. They’re all okay and safe. And his friends are right about Kacchan. Of course, they’re right. 

So why does Izuku feel so weird about it?

Kacchan could have told him that he was going to spend a week doing therapy. He could have—no. No, it doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he stay in the hospital to do rehabilitation? Unless he had to go home for other reasons. Which ones? Mental health? Izuku just cannot believe it.

They spent a month side by side in the hospital, sharing a room. The day Kacchan was discharged, he didn’t say anything about special therapy. He didn’t say anything at all, so Izuku assumed he was going back to school so he’d stop missing lessons. That’s typical Kacchan.

What’s not typical Kacchan is disappearing for a whole week. If he wasn’t in the hospital, and he wasn’t in school, where was he?

##

Villain activity has dropped sharply in the aftermath of the war, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other dangers. Entire cities must be rebuilt from the ground up. They’re still finding bodies under the rubble. Toxic substances have leaked into water sources. Nationwide electrical wiring is affected. Pipes are damaged. Tunnels on the brink of collapse.

And the shortage of heroes is significant.

This is how Aizawa-sensei explains to Izuku that most hero schools have adjusted their curriculum so that all second and third year students spend two afternoons a week contributing to the rebuilding efforts. It’s field work, which they would need to do anyway, but it’s not tied to any specific agency.

Most of them are scrambling anyway.

The work is supervised and supported by the pro-heroes, but there aren’t enough of them so students must work in teams and make decisions to the best of their ability. The priority is to protect civilian life and facilitate recovery. Kids with quirks suited to rebuilding are in special teams tackling rehousing. People like Kacchan, who are suited to clearing debris or helping bring down unstable buildings safely, are in high demand. 

“It’s mandatory for almost everyone,” Aizawa-sensei explains. He looks tired as ever, leaning on his desk and looking at Izuku and Kacchan like he’s not really sure what to do about his problem children when they are not misbehaving. 

The office is stuffy, like Aizawa-sensei doesn’t use it all that often. Maybe he does, but only for sleeping. Curtains are drawn over the windows, making it feel late evening even though it’s really only mid afternoon.

“Almost?” Kacchan asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Classes 2A and 2B can opt out.”

“That doesn’t feel fair,” Izuku mutters.

“What wasn’t fair was that adult pro-heroes had to depend on children to win a war,” Aizawa-sensei says sharply. “Most of you shouldn’t be near any of the disaster areas this soon. But you’re all stubborn as hell.”

“No one has opted out, have they?” Izuku asks.

“No.”

“And you think we will?” Kacchan asks.

“No,” Aizawa-sensei admits. “But I think you should.”

Izuku looks at him, absolutely offended by the insinuation. “We’re fine,” he says. “We’re heroes. We will help.”

“What the nerd said.”

Aizawa-sensei sighs. He looks exhausted. “There’s no shame in needing some time to recover. You two shouldn’t even be in school this early, let alone rebuilding war zones.”

“The people need us,” Izuku says with finality. Next to him, Kacchan shifts his weight but Izuku doesn’t look at him. He’ll get distracted, and that won’t help him convince Aizawa-sensei. 

“I think you’ll find you’ve done more than enough for the people, Midoriya.”

“I caused this mess. I am the reason our country is in ruins. I’m not going to sit here comfortably while people sleep in tents and get sick because the drinking water is poisoned,” Izuku says, bewildered by the fact that he even has to make this point. Surely, they all know this? 

Kacchan’s eyes cut to him sideways, but Izuku pretends he doesn’t see it. Aiwaza-sensei cocks an eyebrow. “That’s exactly why I don’t think you’re ready to go out there.”

“It’s not your fault, Izuku,” Kacchan mutters. “I get wanting to help. But it wasn’t your fault.”

Izuku swallows back a retort. They don’t get it, and they never will. There’s no point having this conversation with them. Not when he doesn’t need their permission. Aizawa-sensei is giving advice, not orders.

“I’m doing it,” he says with a shrug. “You can stay behind if you want, Kacchan.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Aizawa-sensei mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘problem children’ before shaking his head. “Fine. You’ll get your assignments from the careers office.”

They leave Aizawa-sensei’s classroom together. Izuku’s shoulder brushes Kacchan’s arm. It’s warm. Kacchan doesn’t move away, doesn’t put space between them. Izuku likes it, the closeness. He’s not too happy about the path they had to walk to end up here, but he also wouldn’t change it.

He may have lost his quirk, but he got Kacchan back. Really back. Best friends level back.

And best friends tell each other everything, so Izuku really should ask where Kacchan was that one week that he was discharged before him. He is going to. Really. But then Kacchan speaks, and Izuku gets distracted. 

 “Izuku,” Kacchan says. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

Izuku scoffs, Kacchan puts his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. The retort dies on his tongue. Kacchan doesn’t touch people very often, but lately he’s been quite generous with Izuku. He’s delighted about it. So much so, he lets the whole thing go.

“I know,” he lies. “But I want to help. I still have my quirk, and I’m meant to use it for good.”

Kacchan’s grip tightens ever so slightly. “Right.”

Feeling brave and reckless and a little like he could maybe activate Float again if he tried, Izuku says, “Hey, Kacchan?”

“What?”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

Kacchan’s hand drops from his shoulder, sending Izuku’s stomach tumbling to his ankles. But then, Kacchan says, “Yeah. Come to my room.” And it soars right back up, up, up into the clouds. 

##

“Welcome, Midoriya,” his therapist says. 

She’s sitting in the same chair and wearing the same clothes as she was last week. This is Izuku’s fourth session with the school therapist—the hospital had a different person—and she either has a very repetitive wardrobe, or she does it on purpose. 

“Hello.”

“Please, take a seat.”

Izuku sits. His back is ramrod straight for some reason, but he knows better than to try to fight himself on it. The couch is comfortable, but Izuku just doesn’t like it. He can’t seem to relax when he’s on it, no matter how much his therapist tells him to breathe. 

After a few minutes of some meditative stuff Izuku doesn’t really get, but patiently goes through, his therapist leans back and regards him with appraising eyes. 

“It’s the first time that we have a weekend in between sessions,” she points out calmly. “I'm wondering what the few days have felt like for you, especially without the structure of lessons. Did anything stand out emotionally?”

“Not really,” Izuku says with a shrug. “We played a game. I had a bit of a flashback, but Kacchan helped me through it quickly. Rest of the weekend was normal.”

“A flashback? Can you tell me about it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

The therapist nods and writes something down. Izuku bites his tongue so he doesn’t ask what. 

“Did Bakugo do anything in particular that helped you through that? It may be good to incorporate some grounding techniques.”

“Not really,” Izuku says, feeling immediately more relaxed. It’s nice when the therapist doesn’t insist on something. She might write her notes, and that’s kind of annoying, but she let the flashback go so Izuku is happy to tell her about Kacchan. “He took me upstairs. We talked a bit, then we watched a movie.”

She smiles, then folds her hands on her lap. “Were you two alone when that happened?”

“No,” Izuku replies. “The entire class was there. Someone said something… something that made me think of… you know. It was bad. I couldn’t breathe. I threw up, too. But Kacchan was with me and it really helped. It didn’t last long or anything, and if—I think it was Tsuyu? If she hadn’t used the words she chose, I wouldn’t have had that reaction at all.”

“Your entire class was there, but only Bakugo could help you calm down?” 

The question gives Izuku pause. He doesn’t like the tone. Doesn’t like the way the therapist’s voice tilted at the end, or the faint lines between her eyebrows. Izuku shifts on his seat, suddenly on his guard. When did he drop it anyway? 

“He was just the fastest,” Izuku says, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, but he’s running with it. “And he knows sometimes I don’t feel so great. He’s my best friend. He knows me best.”

“Midoriya,” the therapist starts, and he can already tell he’s not going to like whatever she has to say. “Can you tell me about what you did the rest of the weekend?”

“Huh?”

“I’d like to hear about your weekend.”

“Oh,” he says, blinking. “Sure. I slept in a bit on Saturday, then Kacchan made breakfast. We hung out in the common area for a while, then went to the pool because it was warm. Later, we watched Kirishima and Tetsutetsu spar. Kacchan made food again for dinner, then he went to bed and I read some manga in my room. On Sunday, we cleaned the dorms and then I did my homework.”

“Alone?”

“No. Everyone cleans the dorms together. All of us, it’s a class effort,” Izuku explains. He’s not sure what this has to do with him recovering from the horrors of the war, but he’s certainly happy to talk about mundane stuff. It’s easier than when the therapist asks him about Shigaraki. 

“I meant the homework,” she clarifies. 

“I was with Todoroki, Uraraka-san, and Iida-kun.”

“That’s very good, Midoriya,” the therapist says. “I’m going to give you a bit of homework myself, if that’s okay. I want you to work with this group every week. Can you do that?”

“Of course? They’re my friends? I don’t understand why you’re asking me to do this.”

The therapist just smiles. “I explained at the beginning that sometimes I would tell you to do things without giving you a profound reason for it. You said that was okay. Do you still trust that I have your best interest and recovery at heart?”

With a sigh, and mostly because All Might would throw a fit if he found out Izuku thinks therapy isn’t really helping, he says, “Yes. And it’s fine. I was probably going to do the homework with them anyway.”

“That’s very good.”

“Yeah, well. Kacchan takes too long helping Kirishima and Kaminari with theirs. It’s kind of annoying,” Izuku says, smiling to himself. Kacchan complains endlessly about how stupid Kaminari can be, but he has a lot of patience with him. 

“I see,” the therapist says, the smile wiped clean off her face. To his annoyance, she writes in her notebook again. 

 ##

“This is wrong,” Izuku says, staring at the map spread on the careers’ office desk the next morning. “You have made a mistake.”

The intern filing reports in the corner glances over her shoulder at Izuku. He ignores her. This is a priority and it must be fixed before they’re due to go out on the field. They can’t be heading out to the incorrect assignment posts. That’d be a disaster. Isn’t this man supposed to be a responsible adult? 

“I can assure you I haven’t,” the man replies, looking at Izuku like he’s lost his marbles. “Everything has been double checked. The locations are correct.”

“No, they are not.”

“Midoriya-kun,” the man sighs. “I promise you this is all correct. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” Izuku says. “Because you’re wrong.” He stares the man down, leaning in a bit to point at one of the pins on the map. “This is me.”

They made it green and everything, which Izuku thinks is too on the nose, but fine. Whatever. Green is his colour, he supposes. 

“Yes.”

Then, deliberately slow, Izuku drags his finger across the map to point at another pin. “This is Kac—Bakugo.”

Orange, because these people are unoriginal. It’s also the wrong shade. 

Frowning deeply, the man nods. “Yes.”

Izuku waits, but the man doesn’t react. He’s just… sitting there, on his squeaky chair, watching Izuku with an expression that indicates he doesn’t understand why he hasn’t left the careers office yet. And that just won’t do. At all. 

“They’re too far apart,” Izuku explains patiently. Not everyone is quick-witted. That’s okay. Izuku isn’t mean. Ever. He can be kind, even if he’s annoyed. The Symbol of Peace has to be nice to people no matter what. Even when they don’t grasp obvious things on the first try. He takes a breath, then elaborates. 

“The pins. Kacchan and I are too far apart. That’s not acceptable. His arm still doesn’t work very well. He can only use his quirk on the left side. What if something happens? Even if I could still use Float, Fa jin and Blackwhip, it would take me seven minutes to make it to Kacchan. Do you know the sort of destruction that can happen in seven minutes?”

The man’s eyes widen, face paling. He glances at the map, then back at Izuku. “This area hasn’t seen any villain activity in weeks. The assignments are completely safe.”

Izuku doesn’t have time for this. He doesn’t care what this man thinks. The truth is that there could be a villain or a faulty line or a sinkhole or any other source of danger that he’s unaware of. He won’t be the reason Izuku is late again.

Izuku simply won’t let him.

He plants both his hands on the desk and leans in. “You made a mistake. Fix it. Swap Bakugo with Shoji’s patrol here.”

“I can’t move Bakugo,” the man says quickly. “They need a building demolished. They need his quirk.”

Izuku can feel his patience thinning. He tries to breathe in, to calm himself, but his voice still sounds a little cracked when he speaks. “Then swap me with Jirou.”

The man is now actively sweating, watching Izuku like he isn’t certain he won’t punch him. To be honest, Izuku isn’t sure either. This is beyond ridiculous. Who made this plan? 

“We need her vibration quirk for—”

“I can smash through an entire building if I feel like it,” Izuku says. “Swap. Me. With. Jirou.”

With a trembling hand, the man moves the pins. Izuku grins at his, standing just one road down from Kacchan’s. Green and orange. Not side by side, but close enough. It’ll do. 

Pleased, he thanks the man before turning around to go do his civic duty and help rebuild his city like the responsible hero that he is. 

 

Chapter 3: Of road rash and cleaning closets

Notes:

Thank you for your patience, life is busy but these two nerds continue to drive me insane in the best possible way.

“Wake up, Ninth.”

Izuku gasps, opens his eyes. He’d been sleeping without nightmares, for once. He’s not sweating or shaking, just startled out of his rest by a voice he never thought he’d hear again.

It’s been almost two months since he said goodbye to the vestiges of One for All.

“Second?” His voice cracks like dried clay. Does this mean… what does this mean for the embers?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Kudo says with a shrug. Izuku’s heart picks up as he takes in the defined shape of the second user of One for All. The scar across his face. His spiky hair and the slightly mean smirk permanently etched on his lips.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, frowning and leaning closer.

Izuku can’t help his stammer. “I—I… why—I mean… I thought…”

“You’re upsetting the kid,” Banjo, the Fifth user says, arms crossed over his chest. Kudo shrugs and backs away. 

Izuku bristles at that. He’s young, but hardly a kid anymore. Who could ever remain a child after going through a war?

As though sensing his thoughts, Nana puts a hand on his shoulder. “To us, you’ll always be a kid, Izuku-kun.”

“Don’t feel much like one,” he mutters. He hasn’t said anything like that aloud to anyone before, but this feels different. In this dream-like world, with the vestiges of the previous holders of One for All, Izuku doesn’t have the same defences.

He learnt the truth of what his gift meant in this liminal space. This neither here, nor there limbo where his fate was sealed long before he was given a choice.

Not that he would have had it any other way. He saved the world. Izuku just wishes he felt less broken about it. 

“We’re sorry it’s up to you,” Yoichi says. His voice is always softer, kinder. Izuku would like him the most if it weren’t for Second. He’s not sure why, exactly, but Izuku finds himself intrigued by Kudo more than any of the other vestiges. “You’ve done well so far.”

That jolts Izuku out of his musings. “What? What do you mean?”

“It’s not over yet,” Sixth says gravely. “Is your resolve strong enough?”

Izuku’s stomach falls to his ass. What is happening? “But—All for One is gone. He rewinded into nothing. I—”

“Izuku-kun,” Nana says calmly but firmly. “You’re still in the fight.”

Fourth looks at him with something akin to pity, and Izuku glances down at himself, because something doesn’t feel right. 

At first, he’s confused. He’s not in bed. Wasn’t he asleep just now? He’s—but he can’t be here. They left this place. They survived the coffin. 

Why is he—

Oh.

Izuku’s lungs collapse in his chest when he looks over his shoulder and sees Kacchan. Kacchan is dead. Best Jeanist is holding vigil over his body, hunched and bloody like a penitent begging at an altar. Mirko has lost her limbs. Suneater and Nejire Chan are unconscious.

“Guys,” Izuku gasps.

Second looks him straight in the eye. “Keep fighting, Ninth. Don’t give up now.”

But Izuku’s arms are gone, and he’s so tired. Everything hurts. He’s running out of options, and energy, and can’t someone else pick up this fight just for a second?

“I—”

“It’s your duty,” Third says. “You got this gift for a reason. Honour it. Fight.”

I am afraid.

“Keep going, Ninth.”

I thought I was done.

“Don’t let us down,” Nana says.

I don’t think I’m strong enough for this.

“Until the end,” Fifth adds.

Kudo nods. “You must win.”

Izuku wants to cry. He thought he was done. Did he have a hallucination? Did he pass out from the pain for a few seconds and dream his return to school? Was it all a lie? Kacchan is still dead. Izuku’s body is mangled. How is he going to punch Shigaraki with no arms?

It’s a lot, he thinks desperately.

I’m only sixteen years old.

And he is. But Izuku has never let that stop him, has he? He wants to be a hero so badly. He worked so hard for this. Trained so hard for the power crackling along his skin.

I just never thought it’d lead to this.

Izuku wants to help people more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life. And yet, ever since he received One for All from All Might, all he’s brought is destruction. To his city. To his school. To his family. To his friends.

To Kacchan and his burst heart.

“No one else can shoulder this burden,” First tells him.

He’s right. Izuku knows this in his broken and mended bones. There’s no one else. He is it. The last hope. The only one who can save what little there’s left of their community. Of their nation. Of the world.

Kacchan died, and Izuku won’t let it be for nothing even if it kills him, too.

If this is the price he has to pay… Izuku steels himself. Despite the grief, and the exhaustion, and the fear. Despite the fact that he’d rather not have to.

There is no one else.

Izuku activates his quirks, flexes his legs, and jumps.

He falls.

And falls.

And falls until he crashes because his legs give out.

Gasp.

This time, when he wakes up, Izuku is in his bed. One for All sparkles across his skin, lighting up the room in the characteristic shade of green Izuku has come to love. It’s his quirk. Or whatever is left of it.

The reminder is a bucket of cold water on his back.

Izuku snuffs it out immediately, upset that he’s wasted some of the embers when he wasn’t even conscious. If only there was a way for him to measure how much he’s got left.

Shaking his head, Izuku sits up on the bed. His pyjama sticks to his back, itchy and uncomfortable. He’s sweated through his clothes, and the acrid smell of it hangs heavy in the air. It’s dark and quiet except for his frantic, erratic breathing.

His hands tremble as he lifts them up, but he is lifting them, because he got his arms back. He’s whole, if not emotionally, at least physically. It was a dream.

“You’re not here anymore, are you?” he whispers. “You’d tell me if you were. You’d talk to me, right?”

“Shimura-san?”

“First?”

More quietly, almost reverently, he adds, “Second?”

And even though he knows better, it still breaks his heart that he never gets a response.

##

Izuku hates to admit it, but maybe Aizawa-sensei had a point. Don’t get him wrong, he’ll never back out or refuse to help anyone in need. But being in the middle of it all, moving rubble and clearing areas that used to be lively neighbourhoods is rough.

It makes the hole in Izuku’s chest grow like a monster’s maw, wide open and ready to swallow him whole if he’s not careful. 

They haven’t been doing it for long. This is Izuku’s third rotation, and he’s been lucky. Hagakure found a dead body two days ago, and she’s still not back in school. It was pretty gruesome, and poor Hagakure is still being treated for the nervous breakdown she suffered.

Izuku wonders what will happen when he finds something like that. One of these days, he’ll move a piece of wall no one else is strong enough to lift and find a splattered body underneath it. Crimson blood, bonedust, and the innards that make a person function. He wants to think he’ll be okay. That he’ll do his job and rescue the body so it can be put to rest with dignity.

He is, perhaps, a bit delusional. He’s also not stupid. 

Izuku knows he’s not unaffected by what he witnessed during the war. The nightmares are proof of it. The shaking of his hands at random. The cold sweats and shortness of breath. The way he flinches at his own shadow. 

He’s not okay. 

Kacchan said no one is. 

Izuku, on some level, accepts that. 

But he’s also not incapacitated. His body works, and so does his analytical mind. He can move and think at least 87 per cent of the time. Lack of sleep will become an issue eventually, but Kacchan told him that Kirishima-kun got sleeping aids. Maybe Izuku can get them, too. 

He just has to do some research to figure out which kind prevents dreams.

It’s bad enough waking up soaked in sweat and tears fighting off the flashbacks to the war, but Izuku knows in his gut that if he sees the vestiges again, he will lose it for real.

He’d rather remember the blood and despair and open wounds than go through the pain of realising he’ll be forever alone again.

Stupid as it is, he got used to having the vestiges with him. He doesn’t think he would have been able to get through the war if they hadn’t been whispering encouragement in his ear. There was pressure, yes. But there was support, too. 

Izuku misses them, and the quirks he mastered in a short time. Soon, he’ll miss One for All as well. 

The embers won’t last forever. 

“Deku-kun,” Ochako says. “Is everything okay?”

He’s been muttering again. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and he waves a hand in the air. “Yes, sorry. Just… thinking.”

“It’s a lot,” Ochako says quietly. “The memories are…”

“Yeah.”

“Is your therapy helping?”

Izuku blinks, surprised. It’s a direct question. A bit intrusive. But then again, he’s always been able to talk about some of the hard stuff with Ochako. Only she understood why he wanted to save Shigaraki. Or, at least, Shimura Tenko. 

“I’m not sure,” he says truthfully, helping her push a floating piece of debris. It’s an elevator that fell outside the building when it collapsed. No people inside, thankfully. “Sometimes, I get angry. I don’t like the questions she asks.”

“Why?”

“Not sure,” Izuku admits. “ What about you?”

Ochako shrugs. “I know I’m traumatised. I don’t need a therapist to tell me that. I just… I’m not sure how long it’ll take to feel better.”

“You don’t look… I mean–”

“Trauma isn’t a visible scar, Izuku,” Ochako says. “And letting it become one doesn’t help. We all need to smile, and try to do normal stuff, and enjoy things we used to like. If we don’t, what was the point?”

Izuku is quiet for a beat. He kicks away some large rocks, clearing an area for the fire brigade to roll some equipment through. He uses the smallest possible percentage of One for All to do so, grateful he still has iron soles so his feet don’t break from the impact.

Wasn’t the point saving everyone else?

Heroes don’t get happy endings. 

They’re not supposed to want them. Not for themselves, at least. 

“You think I should smile more?”

“Yes,” and it’s obvious from her tone that she’s thought about this before. Knowing Ochako, she was waiting for a chance to say it without spooking Izuku. “You had it worse than all of us—”

“Not all of us,” he says sharply. “Kacchan…”

Ochako swallows. “Yeah, okay. But you carried the heaviest burden. No one expects you to be unchanged. We just want you to try to heal.”

“You don’t think I am?”

“I know you are,” she says confidently. “But I also know you overthink everything, including your own mental health issues. That won’t help. Some days, you’ll feel okay and you need to make the most of them. Some days, you won't. And that’ll be okay, too.”

Izuku supposes that makes sense. He understands the theory. Eventually, the good days will outnumber the bad ones. Some day, he’ll only have good days. Or so he’s been told. He’s not sure that’s possible, but Izuku would be happy with an 80/20 split. 

God, he really is a nerd, isn’t he? Why is he applying maths to his PTSD recovery journey? 

“What do you do on your good days?” he asks Ochako, genuinely curious. He could use some tips. 

To his surprise, Ochako blushes a deep pink. “I just spend time with the girls. We do these… pampering sessions. Mina is amazing at organising them. We do face masks and things. Paint our nails. Gossip.”

Izuku smiles. “That sounds nice.”

“You could come to the next one,” she tells him encouragingly. “Boys are allowed, too.”

“Really?”

“Kirishima almost always comes,” Ochako explains. “It’s very funny when he talks about how manly he is with a pink facemask on. We love it.”

Izuku’s grin widens. That does paint a funny picture. It sounds like an easy good time. Something that won’t trigger him or make him worry. Maybe he’ll join when they get together next, even if he doesn’t like like any of the girls in that way. 

Kirishima probably goes so he can spend time with Mina, but Izuku isn’t about to rat him out. The more he’s been observing Krishima interact with her, the more he realises he quite likes them together.

They make a good hero team, as evidenced by their backing each other up during the war. Izuku can’t imagine more solid proof that two people would succeed in a relationship than them fighting and winning together. 

“Maybe next time, I’ll—”

A thunderous noise cuts through his sentence. Both Izuku and Ochako turn, seeking the source. When Izuku locates the cloud of smoke, his heart vaults into his throat.

Izuku’s feet are moving before he’s had time to process. That’s the direction of Kacchan’s patrol, which he knows by heart because he’s made a habit of dropping by the assignments office to confirm no one is trying to put them too far from each other. 

Panic is a funny thing. 

A couple of months ago, Izuku flew from a remote island back to Musutafu with urgency but calmly. He knew not to exhaust himself before he arrived, because he had a job to do.

Except, he was too late that time. 

Never again.

Today, Izuku smashes straight through the remains of a building. He crosses his arms in front of himself and uses more One for All than he’s activated since the end of the war to make himself a human bullet. There’s no time to go around. Izuku sprints a straight line across two blocks to where Kacchan is. 

He arrives to his worst fear coming true. A huge slab of concrete is falling, and Kacchan is standing right in the impact zone. 

Izuku flexes his legs, wishing he had Fa Jin but making do with One for All, and tackles him so hard out of the way they both skid across the asphalt for several metres, leaving skin grafted on the rough road. 

“What the fuck!” Kacchan’s shout is swallowed by the wall hitting the ground, blowing a gust of dust so tall it might as well have been a cloud. 

“What just happened?” someone—Monoma?---asks. 

“Where is Bakugo?”

Izuku blinks away the dust clinging to his eyes and takes Kacchan in. Aside from the roadrash on his arm, he’s fine. Whole. Alive.

In Izuku’s arms. 

“Kacchan.”

“Izuku? What—what are you doing here? Why… did you just…” Confusion brings Kacchan’s eyebrows together. 

Izuku swallows, tasting dirt and metal on his tongue. “You almost… what happened?”

“Bakugo!” Monoma appears next to them, eyes wide with alarm. When they land on Izuku, a weird expression crosses his face. “What are you doing here, Deku?”

Kacchan puts a bit of distance between them by scooting backwards on the ground.

“What are you doing here? You’re not scheduled to be in this area.” Izuku doesn’t understand why he’s been asked questions instead of thanked. Does no one else care that Kacchan was in danger? 

“Well, there was a power outage and they swapped—wait.” Monoma stops suddenly, frowns, then says, “Wait, what? How do you know that?” Monoma asks, bewildered. 

Izuku sputters, flustered. “I—doesn’t matter! You guys almost got hurt!”

“No!?” Monoma throws his arms out. “No one is hurt? What are you talking about?”

Kacchan grunts. When Monoma looks at him, he gestures towards the far end of the road. 

“Knockoff, cut it out. Go get some first aid. I’m fucking bleeding all over the suit.”

To Izuku’s surprise, Monoma shrugs and does as told. It doesn’t sit right with Izuku, though he’s not exactly sure why. 

Since when does Kacchan have a nickname for Monoma? And since when does Monoma just… allow it?

What is going on?

Kacchan shakes his head, rolls his shoulder back. “Nerd,” he says, reclaiming Izuku’s attention. “You’re bleeding. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Izuku realised his chin is, in fact, pretty badly scraped. It kinda hurts, but pain has never stopped him before. 

Kacchan cocks his eyebrow and shoves his bleeding road rash close to Izuku’s face. There are bits of asphalt embedded in Kacchan’s arm. He feels slightly guilty, but mostly, he’s just relieved. A flesh wound is nothing. 

“This fucking stings.”

Indignant, Izuku says, “You were about to be flattened! I had to—I thought you were going to get hurt, Kacchan.” 

Something too subtle for Izuku to read flickers on Kacchan’s red eyes. “I was waiting for it. I was going to blow that wall up.” 

Oh. 

Really? But the dust and the chaos… Izuku doesn’t think they had things as under control as Kacchan is trying to imply. Besides, Kacchan isn’t yet able to use his quirk on his right side, and that was a big wall. 

“With one hand?” Izuku asks quietly. 

Kacchan sighs. “I never said it was a smart idea.”

“So, good thing I showed up, right?”

A small smile pulls the corners of Kacchan’s mouth. “Sure. But don’t do that again. Don’t waste One for All on me, Izuku. That must have been a pretty powerful push.”

Izuku waves a hand dismissively. “Nah. Barely anything.”

The lie is worth it for the relief on Kacchan’s face.

##

Kacchan is so close, it’s making Izuku feel a little self conscious.

Look, he doesn’t care much for what he looks like in general. He’s kinda plain, not bad looking but nothing to write home about, either. Generally, he has no self image issues. The freckles and big eyes make him look younger than he is, but that tends to put people at ease. That’s all he needs to do a good job as a hero. That, and his smile.

So, yeah. Izuku doesn’t care much for what he looks like. At least, not until Kacchan’s eyes are less than an inch away from his face.

Turns out, in this situation, he does care. A considerable amount. 

“Kacchan—“

“Don’t talk,” he says, dabbing at his chin with antiseptic. It burns. “I need to get it all out or it’ll get infected. Do you want a fucking face infection, Izuku?”

“No.”

“I said shut up!”

Izuku rolls his eyes and goes back to worrying about the fact that Kacchan can probably see that stupid spot he got on the side of his face two days ago. Red and angry because Izuku picked at it immediately and made it worse.

Not to mention the few little hairs growing where normal men have beards that aren’t enough to be called anything but pathetic. 

Izuku wishes he could grow a beard. Instead, he’s got three lone warriors on random places on his face that he’s certain Kacchan can see. 

He’ll probably mock Izuku about it as soon as he’s done bitching about the wound he’s cleaning. 

They’re in the school’s dorm, in Izuku’s room. Both of them declined a visit to Recovery girl for obvious reasons. They’ve had worse. A few scratches are nothing they need to bother the professionals about. 

Monoma tried to be all uptight and insist on “protocol” but Kacchan called him Knockoff again, said something that Izuku couldn’t catch without stepping closer, and Monoma let it go.

Izuku still doesn’t like it. 

“You need to work on your rescue skills, nerd,” Kacchan is saying. He tilts his head, gets even closer so he can dig dirt out of Izuku’s chin. “If I’d been a civilian, you could have injured me.”

If you’d been a normal civilian I wouldn’t have had to tackle you.  

“You’re heavy,” Izuku says. “I did that because I couldn’t move you out of the way fast enough otherwise. Not without black whip.”

Kacchan pauses, glances up to meet Izuku’s eyes. This close, Izuku can count his individual eyelashes. They’re long and delicate. There’s a single freckle on the crest of Kacchan’s cheekbone, close to his eye. It’s so faint, Izuku very rarely gets to see it. 

It occurs to him that the situation goes both ways. Kacchan being this close means Izuku has a rare chance to catalogue his features in detail. Of course, Kacchan doesn’t have any imperfections. Not a spot or a hair to be found.

It’s the scar on Kacchan’s right side that captures Izuku’s attention. Trust him to make something like that look cool. Izuku’s own facial scar is a nuisance he could do without, but Kacchan’s makes him look tough and mature. 

“How much One for All did you really use?” 

Startled out of his reverie, Izuku is a beat too slow with his reply. “I told you. It was barely a push.”

Kacchan clicks his tongue. “They told me you ran through a fucking building, Izuku. Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s fine,” Izuku insists. “Are you going to stitch this up or what?”

Growling, Kacchan grabs the thread and needle he prepped moments before. With his free hand, he grabs Izuku’s face by the chin, fingers wide to avoid the wound. 

When Kacchan tilts his face up, Izuku’s heart does the weirdest little skip. 

“Don’t waste your quirk on me, nerd.”

Before Izuku can reply, Kacchan stabs him with the needle. Annoyed, Izuku harrumps and stays still and quiet until it’s over. 

“Done,” Kacchan says, stepping back and away. 

“Thanks. Now, you,” Izuku replies, grabbing Kacchan by the wrist before he can try to get away. 

Annoyance flashes across Kacchan’s face. His eyes drop to where Izuku’s scarred fingers are wrapped around the fine bones of his wrist. For a beat, neither of them move. Then, Kacchan nods and steps closer again.

“Sit down,” Izuku says, slipping down from his desk to make room for Kacchan. 

They trade places. Kacchan is taller than Izuku, and when he sits on the desk, he towers over him a little. Izuku isn’t afraid of him. Hasn’t ever been, despite their tumultuous middle grade years. But he’s not completely at ease, either. He can’t put his finger on why Kacchan towering over him is making him sweat a bit, but Izuku won’t let it get in the way of tending to a wound he caused. 

Willing himself to be calm and professional, he gathers what he needs to clean Kacchan’s arm. “I’m going to have to brush this,” he says, twisting his face into a grimace. “There’s too much.”

“I know,” Kacchan growls. “Just get on with it.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” Izuku warns.

Kacchan gives him a look. Izuku sighs. He wishes neither of them knew the very top end of the pain scale. Sadly, they’re both intimately acquainted with how much excruciating agony a body can be in before it gives up entirely. They’ve both pushed beyond that limit, touched the boundaries of humanhood with the tips of their fingers.

“Plus ultra,” Izuku mutters.

Startled, Kacchan laughs. Izuku starts brushing his wound, and the laughter turns into a low hiss. He can feel Kacchan trembling. The effort it takes for him to stay still and quiet. 

After a few moments, Izuku can’t take it. He’s hurting Kacchan, and it kills him. They need a distraction.

“What were you doing the week after you left the hospital?” he asks. 

“Hah?”

Izuku digs a little harder, watching closely as the bits of black dislodge from Kacchan’s lacerated skin. Unfortunately, the wound is on the left arm. If it’d been the right, it would hurt Kacchan a lot less, because he doesn’t have full feeling on it just yet. 

“You were out for a week but didn’t come back to school until I did. Why?” 

Kacchan curls and uncurls his right hand. He squints at Izuku like he’s weighing his words. After an oddly long pause, he sighs. “I wanted second opinions,” he mutters. “I went to talk to some people.”

“About your arm?”

“And the chances of recovering fully, yeah,” Kacchan admits. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

If Izuku hadn’t been touching him, he would have missed the slightest wince that runs through Kacchan at the question. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

It’s a lie. 

Izuku pauses, glances up. Kacchan’s face is so close he almost springs back in alarm, but something keeps him rooted to the spot. Is he brave enough to tell Kacchan he knows he’s lying? 

Why is he lying? 

“It matters,” Izuku mutters. “I thought… we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

Kacchan frowns. “Yeah.”

“That’s the sort of thing you tell a friend,” Izuku points out. “You don’t—you don’t have to. But I’d… I want you to tell me stuff, Kacchan. I tell you stuff all the time.”

“Really?” Kacchan asks. “You mean you lie to me all the time.”

“I don’t—”

“I know you overdid it with your quirk earlier, and you still haven’t fucking admitted it.”

Izuku scowls. That’s so unfair. It’s not the same thing at all! Kacchan’s life was in danger. Izuku doesn’t regret using One for All, but he knows Kacchan will feel guilty about it. Is a lie really a lie if he’s telling it to protect Kacchan from getting even more hurt? 

Annoyed, Izuku goes back to cleaning asphalt out of Kacchan’s arm. 

His stomach churns. Blood stains the gauze and brush he’s using. The skin is angry, swollen and oozing. Kacchan isn’t complaining, but Izuku knows how much a wound like this hurts. He wishes he could spare Kacchan the pain. Any kind of pain, forever. 

He did enough already. 

Kacchan gave the ultimate sacrifice for him. For everyone. He should be exempt from anything bad happening to him ever again in his life. It’s only fair, isn’t it? What more can the world ask of a seventeen-year-old boy who fought so hard to protect others his heart exploded? A kid whose arm was shattered so badly the doctors wanted to amputate it clean off and give him a prosthesis rather than even try to rehabilitate it.

A lump the size of a fist lodges itself in Izuku’s throat. It’s a good thing he’s focused on the wound so Kacchan can’t see the tears lining his eyes. 

Is that why he’s lying? Is that why he’s behaving strangely? Izuku hasn’t completely forgotten that question in Chemistry. He’s noticed that sometimes Kacchan will leave the common area to speak on the phone, which is weird because anyone Kacchan ever speaks to is usually in the room he’s leaving. 

And now, that week. That week after the hospital and this lie, and Kacchan’s refusal to just tell Izuku the truth.

Is it because his arm will never recover? Is Kacchan trying to spare Izuku the guilt? Izuku doesn’t want to be spared. He wants to shoulder the pain. He needs his fair share of anguish and shame.

He was late, and Kacchan might never be able to use his arm again because of it.

He was late, and Kacchan died because of it.

Izuku doesn’t deserve small mercies. 

Unless… unless Kacchan knows that. Izuku glances up, finds Kacchan looking at him with such an intense expression, Izuku's fingers falter. 

Blushing, he hurries to continue dealing with the wound. He can’t stand to hold eye contact this close to him. 

Kacchan probably knows Izuku doesn’t deserve shit. Maybe, that’s why he won’t tell him much. He said they’re friends, and that’s good, but… friends isn’t best friends. It isn’t partners. It isn’t… It isn't special.

Friends is everyone else in Class A and they aren’t entitled to any of Kacchan’s secrets. So why does Izuku think he is? 

“Why was Monoma there?” Izuku hates the way his voice cracks, but he can’t help it. 

“Hah?”

“Monoma,” Izuku says, swallowing the bitterness coating his tongue. “You have a nickname for him now and everything.”

Kacchan shrugs. “Yeah. He was cool during the war. Didn’t look away once.”

It takes everything in Izuku not to pout. Kacchan is right, and there’s nothing Izuku can do about it. Monoma did his part, and he did it well. From beginning to end. 

In fact, Monoma is part of the reason they didn’t lose more people. He kept Shigaraki’s quirks locked away despite the horrors he had to witness and endure. Monoma made no mistakes. He didn’t let Toga drag him away from his post. 

Monoma wasn’t late. 

“You’re friends now?”

“I guess,” Kacchan replies. For a long moment, he says nothing else. 

Izuku keeps working at his wound, one hand cleaning it, the other holding Kacchan’s arm in place. His skin is warm. He smells of burnt sugar and boy. It’s familiar and comforting. So much so, Izuku almost forgets the conversation until Kacchan asks, “Is that a problem?”

“Why would it be a problem?” Izuku shoots back sharply. 

“Well, he pissed you off so much that one time you lost control of Black whip. Would be normal if you didn’t like him.”

The wound is clean. He breathes a sigh of relief, then gathers the antiseptic to disinfect the abused, raw flesh. Izuku pauses, looks up again. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Is Kacchan even closer? Clearing his throat, Izuku asks, “And that would matter?”

“What did he say to you?” Kacchan asks in lieu of a reply. 

Izuku measures the gauze, then cuts a piece long enough to wrap around Kacchan’s arm. “He said some shit about you,” Izuku confesses. “Made me angry.”

To Izuku’s shock, Kacchan smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Izuku smiles back. 

“What did he… no. Don’t tell me,” Kacchan says. “Doesn’t matter.” 

Impossibly, Kacchan leans in even closer. Izuku is certain he has no idea he’s doing it. Maybe he’s a bit woozy from the pain, or he simply needs to feel Izuku near. Either option makes Izuku’s heart pound in his ribcage. 

Izuku’s fingers tighten the bandage around Kacchan’s arm. “There,” he says softly. “Done.”

Kacchan tilts his head, something akin to fear glimmering across his red gaze. “Thank—”

The knock on the door is as unexpected as it is loud. Izuku flinches, stepping away from Kacchan like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Kacchan’s expression is one Izuku has never seen before. He’s not sure what to call it. 

Suddenly, it feels very, very important that Izuku doesn’t look away. “Kacchan…”

“Deku-kun!” Ochako shouts. “We’re coming in.”

That does it. Izuku’s eyes slide to the door against his will. “Uraraka-san?”

The door opens. Ochako, Shouto and Iida spill inside. Immediately, Iida notices Kacchan sitting on the desk. “Bakugo-kun, you should sit on the chair. That’s what it’s for.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Kacchan says, jumping off the desk. Izuku startles at the sheer fury dripping from Kacchan’s voice. 

“Kacchan?”

“See you later, nerd.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge the others before he’s out of the room. Izuku feels distinctly like he missed something, but he can’t be certain. That whole interaction with Kacchan has left him a little unmoored. 

“We heard what happened,” Iida tells him. “And came to check that you were doing okay.”

“Who stitched this?” Shouto asks, getting very close to peer at Izuku’s chin. “Neat stitches. Very good. Was it Bakugo?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll ask him to stitch me up next time,” Shouto comments in that deadpan way of his. “He’s better than the nurse.”

Ochako glances between Izuku and the door, chewing on her lip. “Did you guys have a fight?”

Izuku shakes his head, then decides it’s stupid to stand around in the room. He plops himself on his bed, gesturing for the others to make themselves comfortable. Shouto sits next to him, closer than he would have a year ago. Iida takes the chair. Ochako perches on the corner of the desk. 

“No, we didn’t fight,” Izuku answers. Then, he reconsiders. “I mean, maybe a little? I’m not sure.”

He really isn’t. Izuku knows Kacchan is lying to him. About what, he’s no idea. It worries him. It could be something benign, but if it were, Kacchan would tell him. The fact that he hasn’t—that he won’t, no matter how much Izuku asks—makes Izuku want to vomit. What if Kacchan is in trouble? What if something is wrong with his arm?

Izuku must find out because he can only fix it if he knows what it is. 

“He was very angry,” Iida observes.

Shouto shrugs. “Bakugo is almost always angry.”

“No,” Ochako agrees. “That was unusual. Was it about… was it about the embers?”

Izuku frowns. All three of his friends are staring at him with concerned expressions. He hates it, but he can’t tell them. It’s not their fault that he resents the hand he’s been dealt. It’s not their fault that Izuku can’t handle the reality of his fate.

They’re his friends, and they’ve a right to ask him. To be worried. 

“A bit,” he admits. “He thinks I overdid it. I didn’t. I’m fine. Plenty left.”

Not enough. Never enough. 

He’s running out of time and power no matter how strictly he rations himself. 

But there’s nothing his friends can do about that, and Izuku won’t burden them with the truth. So, he smiles, and asks Shouto about his patrol rotation in the mountains. And if he cries himself to sleep that night thinking about how much One for All he used and how little he probably has left… 

That’s Izuku’s dirty little secret.

##

On Tuesday, Izuku meets the girls for his first official ‘self love and pampering’ session organised by none other than Ashido Mina herself. 

They’ve cordoned off a corner of the common room because these little gatherings have become too popular for everyone to fit in her room. All the girls are present. Kirishima, Kaminari, and Iida are here, too. 

The girls have arranged cushions in a large circle, and set up a small table in the middle where bottles and packets of all shapes and sizes are neatly arranged. Izuku suspects Yaomomo made the table, because it’s pink and glittery and doesn’t match any of the other furniture around them.

Everyone has been served tea, also courtesy of Yaomomo. Ashido is sorting through some of the items while people settle down. Apparently, they’re going to be doing face masks and manicures. 

Izuku hasn’t yet decided if he’s brave enough to let the girls touch his hands, but the face masks he thinks he can do. To distract himself from the stupid nerves, he leans in towards Iida, sitting next to him. 

“So, why are you here, Iida-kun?”

Very stiffly, Iida replies, “Seemed like an entertaining activity and I have completed all of my coursework.”

It’s only when Ochako stands up to help Ashido organise the face masks that Izuku notices the way Iida’s eyes track her movements. And is that… is Iida blushing? 

This can’t be happening. 

Alarmed, Izuku looks around. Kirishima is unashamedly staring at Ashido like she hung the moon in the sky. Jirou is sitting so close to Yaomomo, she’s practically on her lap. Kaminari is alternating between looking put out and interested—like he can't decide if that development is a good or a bad thing.

None of this makes sense to Izuku.

“Iida-kun,” Izuku says under his breath. “Do you—do you like Uraraka-san?”

Iida springs to his feet so vigorously he accidentally triggers his quirk, which sends him hurtling against the wall. Izuku jumps up and goes to help him recover from the accident, picking up his glasses. 

“Iida-kun? Are you okay?” Ochako asks. 

“Fine! Perfectly fine! My apologies, Midoriya played a prank and I overreacted.”

“Sit down, we’re going to do face masks and I have to time us!” Ashido calls. 

Izuku is, despite himself, mildly amused. As confusing as this situation is, something about how flustered Iida is at the simple idea of liking Ochako strikes him as adorable. 

It also worries him.

Izuku is almost one hundred percent sure that Ochako was a little bit in love with Toga Himiko. He doesn’t think she’s ready to be interested in anyone else, and Izuku would hate for Iida to get hurt. 

But Ochako is also kind and gentle. He doesn’t think she’d be disrespectful about Iida’s feelings if he… well, if he does have them. Maybe Izuku is jumping to conclusions. 

It’s entirely possible that this is all in his head, and Iida simply wants a distraction from his own pain. 

For the past week, Izuku has been thinking about what Ochako told him on patrol. No one is doing too well, but they’re all trying. Trauma looks different on everyone. Just because Izuku doesn’t see their bad moments doesn’t mean they aren’t having them. 

Izuku’s therapist told him something that has been haunting him since their last session.

“You must find ways to hold on to the youth the League of Villains tried to steal from you, Izuku,” she said. “You’re not yet seventeen. These could be the best years of your life. Don’t let the villains take all the joy away. Fight back.”

“I’m… I think I’ve fought enough,” Izuku replied quietly.

“I don’t mean with your fists or feet. I mean with a smile. Small things make a big difference. Go outside and stand in the sun for a few minutes. Eat something you really like and savour it. Listen to your favourite song on repeat for an entire day and take a moment to appreciate that you can do those things because you did something incredible. You won, and even though you’re hurting, you’re alive.”

“A lot of people aren’t,” Izuku said. The feeling of cracked glass on his chest was cold and oppressing. Anxiety, fear, guilt. 

“Punishing yourself won’t bring them back,” she told him. 

Maybe that’s the key. Maybe, when they’re all together like this it’s easier to remember that yes, they made it. That they’re here. Back in school and moving forward. Maybe, his friends are just trying to honour the fact that they survived. 

Is that… mmm. Izuku supposes that romance is one hell of a way to feel something that’s not dark and bloody and bruised. He wouldn’t know, but there’s a reason there are so many songs and movies about falling in love, right? 

And look. It’s not like Izuku has never ever had a crush. He did, once. Before it all happened. When he was a quirkless nobody, too scrawny and short to have any hopes of it ever going anywhere. He was in middle school and his crush was insignificant. It was stupid, because the girl didn’t even know Izuku existed, but it was there. So he knows he has the capacity for it. 

It’s just… yeah. It’s probably buried under the layers of hurt and trauma he has to sort through. But just because Izuku isn’t ready to even consider that he should be having the normal hormonal reactions that result in random boners and inappropriate dreams doesn’t mean the rest of his classmates aren’t entitled to the experience. It’s part of being a teenager. 

Resolutely, Izuku decides he’ll support Iida no matter what. Kirishima, too. Not that he can do much there, but you never know. Maybe, he’ll tell Kacchan about it and see if he can help. He’s close with both of them. 

When the girls have put a sort of white gel mask thing on their faces and moved on to their next victims, Izuku leans into Iida again. “I’m happy for you. I won’t tell her. If I can help, just tell me how.”

Iida’s ears turn a violent shade of red. “Not the time to discuss this, Midoriya.”

“Got it,” he says, and smiles. 

“Deku-kun stop grinning! You’ll ruin the mask!”

“Sorry!”

“Don’t speak either!” Ashido screeches. Kirishima tries really hard not to laugh, and fails. Horrified, Izuku watches as everyone in the circle starts giggling, like it is contagious. 

It does ruin the masks a little bit, and the girls have to come back to readjust them, but it also feels good. Normal. 

Like Izuku will truly, eventually, be happy again. 

##

“Midoriya shounen!” 

Izuku grits his teeth and stops walking. The rest of the students are used to his relationship with All Might by now. No one bats an eye as the former Symbol of Peace singles him out in the corridor. No one thinks to run interference. 

Until recently, Izuku wouldn’t have wanted them to. 

“All Might,” he says, turning. “Hello.”

“Have lunch with me,” All Might says, grinning gently. “I have some of your mother’s tonkatsu.”

That does soften the sharp edge cutting into Izuku’s gut. He nods, and follows All Might to his office. It’s not uncomfortable, per se. Izuku loves the old man. Still looks up to him. He’s grateful for the opportunity All Might gave him. For making his dream come true.

It’s just… Izuku wants a bit of space. Just a little. A few weeks, maybe. 

Looking at All Might feels like looking into a sort of messed up mirror of Izuku’s own future. Sure, he won’t be skinny and weak like All Might on account of the fact he did walk away from the war with his stomach still in place, but… 

“How have you been?” All Might asks, offering him a neatly packed bento that has Inko all over it.

“When did mom bring this?” he asks instead, taking the lunch and sitting on the sofa. 

All Might chuckles nervously. “I visited her briefly this morning.”

Izuku blinks. That’s… odd. Isn’t it? Maybe it isn’t. Inko is a bit lonely, Izuku supposes. And she bonded with All Might over dealing with Izuku. He’s pretty sure they both agree with Aizawa-sensei when he calls him ‘problem child.’

“Ah,” he says, and tucks into the food as an excuse to not have to talk. 

Tonkatsu is and has always been Izuku’s favourite dish. He’s never not enjoyed it. Except this time, it feels too charged with memories for Izuku to chew. His jaw aches as he remembers the days he spent alone in the city, dashing around trying to find Shigaraki and help people all at the same time. 

He learnt how to make the most of his quirks during those weeks. It was, perhaps, a bit stupid. He ran himself ragged and scared the hell out of his friends and family. But he couldn’t have beaten Shigaraki if he hadn’t gone solo for a bit. 

His mind wanders, journeying through the memories. The vestiges that kept him company and taught him how to make the most of their enhanced quirks. The time it took to convince Second and Third to give Izuku a chance. The fight with Lady Nagant. 

Maybe, in another life, Izuku would have found a way to do things differently. He would have found Shigaraki’s lair and saved him from All for One. He would have walked away with his quirks and a new friend. 

Kacchan wouldn’t have died. 

“Midoriya shounen,” All Might says tentatively. “Is everything okay?”

Izuku realises he’s stopped eating and is staring off into nothing. He swallows and promptly chokes on the half-chewed piece of pork. Alarmed, All Might springs to his feet and brings him a glass of water. 

“What’s going on here?” 

Kacchan strides into the office like he owns it, taking in Izuku’s desperate chugging of water and All Might's worried expression as he rubs his back. 

“Bakugo shounen! Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You can start by not making scenes in the corridor during school.”

All Might steps away from Izuku as if burnt. He turns to Kacchan, and Izuku can’t see his face as he speaks. “Bakugo shounen, if it makes you feel better you can direct your anger at me, but do it bravely. You and I both know I did not cause a scene.”

“We talked about this, and yet here you fucking are,” Kacchan replies, fists curled at his side. His right hand still doesn’t close all the way. 

Kacchan has never been particularly good at talking to All Might. Izuku has always suspected it’s because it’s easier for him to cuss someone out than it is to show any emotion whatsoever, and All Might evokes a lot of them in Kacchan.

Still, this is unlike anything Izuku has seen before.

“What is happening?” Izuku asks weakly. 

“Nothing,” Kacchan says. “Come on, Izuku.”

To Izuku’s shock, All Might nods and steps away. “I’ve kept you long enough. The bell will ring soon,” he says affably. 

Izuku frowns, confused. He only just got here. 

“It was good to see you, Midoriya shounen. Say hello to the others for me.”

The niggle of guilt is inevitable. Deep down, Izuku knows his resentment is unfair. Childish. Izuku needs someone to blame for what he went through, and All Might makes a perfect target. Perhaps because Izuku knows the man will let Izuku hate him for as long as he needs to feel better again, then welcome him back like it never happened.

People who give unconditional love always end up being treated the worst by those they give it to.

And yet, he’s not strong enough, mature enough, perhaps, to stop himself from picking his lunch box and leaving the office with Kacchan. 

The door closing behind them sounds like a thunderclap, making Izuku’s throat tighten for a moment. 

“I told him to stop talking to you for a bit,” Kacchan mutters, slowing his steps to walk beside Izuku. 

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Kacchan’s red eyes cut sideways. “You don’t want to see him, right?”

Izuku’s eyes well up with tears. “No, I don’t.”

He promptly starts crying, which is a problem because they’re in the middle of school and the bell is about to go off. 

Kacchan doesn’t hesitate. He yanks open the first door he finds and shoves Izuku inside a maintenance closet, shuting them both away from prying eyes. It smells of bleach and permanently damp mops. 

“S–sorry,” Izuku says shakily. “I just—I feel awful.”

“Why? He ruined your life.”

Izuku looks at Kacchan, mouth hanging open. “Kacchan! That’s All Might!”

“And?” Kacchan asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He was the best hero ever, but he sucks as a parent.”

“He’s not my dad,” Izuku protests. 

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t press the point. He doesn’t press any point. Instead, he leans back against the nearest shelf and waits for Izuku to get it out of his system. It’s… the nicest thing Kacchan has ever done for him and that includes the food Izuku keeps finding in their communal fridge labelled with his name. 

“How did you know?” Izuku asks when he’s calmed down enough to talk with a steady voice.

“Know what?”

“That I don’t want to see him right now.”

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, nerd,” he says aggressively. “He put the weight of the entire world on your shoulders. Knowingly.”

“He made my dream come true,” Izuku fights back. It’s weird. He doesn’t… disagree with Kacchan, but criticising All Might isn’t something he’s capable of doing. No matter how right Kacchan’s words feel. 

“Did he?”

Izuku inhales sharply. Kacchan might as well have slapped him. “I—I saved the world, Kacchan.”

“I know. I was there,” Kacchan says with a shrug. “But saving the world wasn’t your dream. Being a hero was.”

And you won’t be one for much longer.

The reminder hangs in the air between them like a guillotine. That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Despite everything, Izuku is still quirkless. Useless. 

A nobody that has no place standing next to the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. 

The blogs and magazines are already talking about Kacchan’s future as a top hero. There are fan websites about him. Izuku has seen drawings of him made by artists so inspired by his raised fist they’ve started calling him the Symbol of Victory. 

Izuku swallows, looks away. “I still have the embers,” Izuku says. It sounds pathetic to his own ears. 

There it is again. That look in Kacchan’s eyes. They both know this fantasy where they’re equals is a bubble about to pop. It’s up to Izuku how long it lasts. 

“You do,” Kacchan agrees, surprising Izuku. His voice softens. He steps closer, just a little. Just enough that burnt sugar gives Izuku a respite from the smell of cleaning products. “Look, Izuku, you’re allowed to be hurt. That’s all I’m saying. You don’t have to be nice to everyone all the time. If you need space, fucking ask for it.”

“It would break his heart,” Izuku says, wiping another errant tear. “He didn’t want any of this to happen. He didn’t even know everything about how the quirk worked. He had no idea about Shigaraki. It’s not his fault things got so dangerous.”

Kacchan clenches his jaw, looks away for a moment. When he looks at Izuku again, it robs him of breath. Kacchan is growing up. He looks less like a boy and more like a man every day. In this moment, in the semi-darkness of the closet, he looks years older than Izuku. 

“Eat lunch with me every day,” Kacchan says. “If you can’t tell him no, then just use me. You’ve a standing lunch meeting with me until the end of the year.”

Izuku laughs. It’s a bit wet, and a bit wobbly, but a real, genuine laugh. “You could just say you want to hang out more.”

Kacchan cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t fucking need to say that, nerd. This is for you, not me.”

“Oh,” Izuku says, embarrassed he even tried to make such a joke. 

“Hey,” Kacchan says, and to Izuku’s absolute shock, he hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his face up. “Lunch is for you. To buy you space. But the movies? Those nights are for me.”

Izuku’s chest constricts in the weirdest way. He feels hot all over. Trapped, claustrophobic. Like they’re running out of air in this small closet. 

His entire body is begging him to move, but Izuku has no clue what to do. Should he alert Kacchan they’re in danger? Should he open the door? Why isn’t Kacchan moving away? 

“Okay,” he says weakly. 

Kacchan watches him for a moment longer before he lets go, stepping back where the shadows dance on his face. Before Izuku has time to puzzle over the goosebumps on his skin, Kacchan is opening the door and stepping outside.

“You coming or what?”

##

For a week after that, Izuku feels kind of like he got Float back. 

He’s not necessarily doing heaps better, but he feels lighter. Things are easier. The days go by faster, like time knows Izuku wants to get better, and it’s keeping pace to help him out. 

It’s a bit strange, but not in a bad way.

On Friday night, he tries to join the newly instated Class A tradition. This time, he doesn’t get triggered and manages to stick around for most of the baking class Sato gives everyone at Ashido’s request. It’s quite funny, especially when Izuku turns out to be a better baker than Kacchan, the best cook in the entire school.

He gets angry about it, but steals a slice of banana bread when he thinks Izuku isn’t watching and eats it aggressively. 

It’s still difficult for Izuku to find a good balance in class. Theoretical lessons are fine as ever, and so are physical therapy and gym sessions. It’s when they’re doing simulations that Izuku runs into trouble. He almost always gets low grades because he keeps trying to pass without activating his quirk. No one says anything about it, though. 

Izuku finds himself spending more time with Kacchan than he ever has before, which does wonders to quench the buzzing under his skin that insists danger is waiting to try and snatch Kacchan away any moment he isn’t looking.

Izuku is almost always looking, so it’s alright.

He also spends a bit more time with his friends, doing homework with Ochako, Iida and Shouto before going to watch movies with Kacchan. Izuku discovers that if he stays in Kacchan’s room until he’s almost too sleepy to function, he barely has dreams when he does make it to his own bed. He’s cut it close a few times, but Kacchan is never in a hurry to kick him out, and Izuku is grateful.

Maybe, their little night ritual helps Kacchan, too. 

“So, you see? I’m doing way better,” he tells his therapist proudly. 

The woman clicks her tongue, writes something on her notebook. “Midoriya-kun,” she says carefully. “I would like you to start keeping a journal. Do you think that might be something you can do?”

“A journal?”

“Yes.”

“What do you expect me to write in it?” he asks. He’s no stranger to keeping records. He has notebooks upon notebooks of hero research. 

“Just everything you’ve done in a day,” she explains casually. “Before you go to bed—”

“No,” he says. “I can’t do that.”

To her credit, the woman nods. “Because of your movie dates?”

“Not dates,” Izuku says automatically. “But yes. I told you, if I’m with Kacchan until I’m very tired, I have less nightmares. I think that’s better than asking for medicine, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she agrees quickly. “Absolutely. In that case, how would you feel if you wrote the journal before going to watch movies? It doesn’t have to be very detailed. Just a quick account of what you’ve done that day. The classes you attended, what you ate, that sort of thing.”

Izuku nods. It seems pretty harmless. “Are you going to tell me why?”

“If I tell you, it defeats the purpose,” she explains. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I guess. You’re not asking for anything weird,” he admits. “I’ll do it. Do you want me to bring the journal next time?”

She hesitates, and it makes Izuku worry. Just why does she need him to keep a record of his activities?

“Yes,” she says eventually. “But I don’t want you to leave things out if you don’t want me to read them. You can cross things out before showing me, just… make sure you write everything, please.”

Izuku leaves the room shortly after. There’s a niggle in the back of his mind, like he should know something he keeps forgetting. 

The school is quiet. Today, his therapy session was later than usual to accommodate some schedule changes. 

In the kitchen of the dorms, Izuku finds a box with his name on it in Kacchan’s handwriting. He smiles, hums to himself, and sits down to eat in blissful silence. 

By the time he’s making his way upstairs, Izuku is tired but happy. Kacchan should be waiting for him, a movie ready for them to watch, so Izuku doesn’t even stop by his room to drop off his bag. 

The door to Kacchan’s room is ajar, which is weird. Izuku peers inside, but he can’t find Kacchan. Confused, he walks in and hears his voice. He’s on the balcony.

“Please.”

Izuku’s body freezes. He’s never heard Kacchan sound like that before. Like he’s begging. 

“I just need her to hear me out,” Kacchan says, and Izuku realizes that he’s on the phone. “Five minutes. That’s all I ask. If she gave me a chance, she’d—wait. Please.”

Kacchan doesn’t ask nicely. He—Izuku wasn’t sure Kacchan even knew how. And yet, here he is. Talking to someone like they hold Kacchan's happiness in their hands. It’s not right. Why are they making him beg? 

Who is he talking to? . 

“No, no, don’t—I swear if I can just talk to her once, I’ll never bother her again!” Kacchan says desperately. His voice cracks. “I just need—oh. Hello? No. Shit. Fuck.”

There’s a sound like a bang, then the pops of small explosions. Burnt sugar wafts into the room and Izuku realizes that Kacchan is about to come in and catch him eavesdropping. 

Hastily, he steps outside, leaving the door ajar like he found it. He can’t breathe very well. There are dark spots crowding his vision.

Izuku forces himself to count to ten. 

He needs a moment to process. To sort through the mess of thoughts and feelings. To come back to his body, because Izuku is pretty certain that his soul exited the premises the moment he heard Kacchan beg.

Please. 

That phone call sounded like… like Kacchan… 

But that’s not possible. When would Kacchan have had time to have a girlfriend? One that broke up with him and now won’t talk to him.

That’s what it sounded like. 

Please.

Oh God. If Kacchan finds out Izuku heard him like that, he’s a dead man. Which is annoying, because Izuku is suddenly consumed by the need to interrogate Kacchan about this mysterious she.

In Izuku’s mind, she’s a shadow. He can’t put a face to the pronoun. Can’t even fathom who would be good enough for Kacchan to fall apart like that. 

He can’t ask. 

But Izuku feels like he’s going to have a stroke if he doesn’t get some answers. 

Kacchan can’t be—not Kacchan. 

Why is everyone suddenly liking people and stuff? It’s absurd. Kacchan has better things to do than beg some girl on the phone. It’s… it’s annoying, and unfair. Why is Izuku the only one being left out of this whole situation? He had hoped that Kacchan wouldn’t… that he’d be above it. 

Is that wrong of him? Should Izuku be happy that Kacchan likes someone? No. No, absolutely not. Especially not when that someone is making him unhappy. 

Kacchan deserves happiness. Who is this girl and why is she—

Izuku’s own phone buzzes in his pocket. 

Are you coming?

Swallowing, Izuku throws his shoulders back, then knocks on the door. He’s absolutely not ready to face Kacchan, but he also can’t just leave. He isn’t sure why, but Izuku really doesn’t want to give Kacchan space to mope about this stupid girl.

Because she is stupid. What is she thinking?! She’s got Kacchan pining after her, and she doesn’t even pick up the phone? Who does she think she is?

If Kacchan liked him like that—just like hypothetically—Izuku wouldn’t refuse to talk to him. It would be an honour. Being liked by Kacchan is the best thing that could happen to anyone. Ever.  

It’s infuriating. This girl doesn’t fucking deserve him. She should be grateful that someone like Kacchan is—

The door swings open. Kacchan takes Izuku in, and something on his face must show his distress because the first thing Kacchan asks is, “What’s wrong?”

Izuku glances up, meets a red stare that gives nothing away. The words tumble out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop them. 

“Do you like anyone, Kacchan?”

Notes:

Kacchan is having an internal meltdown, in case you were wondering.

Chapter 4: Of journals and late nights

When they first joined UA, Izuku told Kacchan the truth about One for All. That day, he confessed to something that should have been impossible—a quirk given by someone else. It defied everything they knew about quirks. It went against genetics. It was inconceivable.

Worse, it broke the fundamental belief upon which Kacchan had built the lies he told himself about Izuku. 

And yet, that day, Kacchan didn’t look half as shocked as he does now.

The door to his bedroom groans, complaining about pressure and heat where Kacchan’s hand is gripping it tightly. His face is pale, but the tips of his ears are red. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Izuku’s self-preservation has deserted him. The insane recklessness he’s been often accused of is at the wheel. It’s the only explanation for why he doesn’t back down. 

“I asked you if you like anyone. You know, like… a crush. Romantic feelings, I mean. For another person,” Izuku is rambling, which is literally the worst thing he could be doing. He doesn’t want Kacchan to know he’s nervous, and he’s giving himself away. 

The pause is charged with something akin to electricity. Izuku watches Kacchan closely, hoping for a clue. He gives nothing away. 

He looks away for a second, then back at Izuku with such intensity it feels like being shot. “Why would you ask me that?” 

“It’s like… a normal thing to ask a friend, no?”

Kacchan’s expression shifts from bewildered panic to something softer. Curious. He narrows his eyes, taking Izuku in like he’s never seen him before. Izuku’s chest tightens, like it might crack under the weight of Kacchan’s attention.

“But why now? Did… did something happen?” Kacchan asks, and it feels like he knows. Like he’s expecting Izuku to confess to his violation of Kacchan’s privacy. Did Kacchan see him from the balcony? Is he just waiting for Izuku to break first? 

It makes Izuku’s gut roil with nerves. He’s never been particularly good at subterfuge, and the holes in his plan are showing.

But Izuku is too stubborn to let this go without a fight, so he puts that big brain of his to use and comes up with an idea. Maybe he can still salvage this. 

Izuku shrugs. “Everyone is liking people it seems. Haven’t you noticed?”

Whatever Kacchan was expecting, it wasn’t this. He blanches at Izuku’s question, then barks, “Everyone—what?”

Uh oh.

It was the wrong approach. Izuku didn’t mean for Kacchan to get angry.

Alarmed, Izuku tries to backtrack but he’s panicking and nothing good has ever been accomplished by an anxious person in the middle of a panic spiral.

“Everyone is… you know. Talking and looking at each other and stuff. It’s everywhere,” Izuku says, unable to stop himself. He always says stupid things when he’s nervous. “Like there’s a crush bug in the air or something.”

Kacchan looks downright horrified. “A crush bug.”

Maybe he thinks Izuku is insulting Kirishima, who as far as Izuku is concerned is patient zero.

“Yes. It’s like a disease.” Izuku needs to stop talking but he can’t make his mouth obey him. He’s on a roll. Headed straight for catastrophe with no hope of avoiding the imminent collision. “Everyone’s catching it. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, so I wondered if you… if you had it… too.”

Someone please kill him where he stands.  

Izuku knows he’s said all the wrong things as soon as he’s said them. He can’t take any of it back, so he watches Kacchan process the words, then withdraw into himself. If Izuku didn’t know better, he’d think Kacchan is hurt. 

Maybe he is. 

“I don’t fucking have it,” Kacchan snarls. 

It’s another lie, but this one Izuku blames himself for. Kacchan is hardly going to confess to liking some girl when Izuku just equated having a crush to catching the flu. He’s absolutely hopeless at this spying thing. Subtlety wasn’t really his forte anyway. He’s always been better at smashing things loudly.

“Good to know!” Izuku says, mentally smacking himself. He steps into the room, gestures at the laptop. “Are we watching?”

It takes Kacchan a moment to follow him, but he does. Relief sweeps through Izuku. No matter how badly he fucked that one up, Kacchan and him are good. That’s all that matters. It means Izuku can try again later. 

They’re about to hit play on the movie—some horror film Kacchan has been wanting to watch forever—when Izuku feels the bed dip under him. He glances up. Kacchan is staring at him. 

“Do you like anyone?” he asks. 

Izuku shakes his head. “No.”

There’s an almost imperceptible shift in the air. Something Izuku didn’t know was tugging at his sternum evaporates like morning dew in the sun. It leaves a sort of emptiness behind. Like he’s missing something obvious.

Kacchan hits play, and the movie starts. Izuku adjusts his position, trying to get rid of the strange sensation.

For the first ten minutes, everything is fine. Normal. But then Izuku’s mind starts to wander, and he can’t make himself focus on the film. 

Why won’t Kacchan tell him about this girl? 

Who is she? Why does Kacchan like her? Is she tall and beautiful? Or short and cute?

Does she have freckles? She probably has perfect skin like Kacchan.

The whole thing is bugging the hell out of Izuku for some reason. He wants Kacchan to trust him with this sort of thing. To confide in him. They’ve been through too much together to keep this sort of secret, right?

Izuku wants Kacchan to share the happy things with him. Because if he doesn’t, does that mean Izuku is only good enough for the ugly parts? For the scars and the tears and the nightmares. Kacchan has told him some about that. Why not this, then?

If Izuku liked anyone, he would tell Kacchan. He thinks. Most likely. He’d want to share happiness with Kacchan. To smile and confide in him. Maybe ask for advice.

Perhaps that’s the problem. Izuku only finds himself smiling when he’s with Kacchan these days, whereas Kacchan has found joy in someone else. Izuku being pathetic isn’t really Kacchan’s problem, no matter how badly Izuku would like it to be.

Selfish.

There it is again.

He’s so selfish. So entitled. Izuku needs to let this go because Kacchan owes him nothing. He’ll never owe him anything ever again. If there ever was a debt, Kacchan paid it in blood twice over.

“Stop mumbling,” Kacchan says, nudging Izuku.

“Sorry.”

He tries to watch.

His mind won’t quiet down.

A man gets impaled by what appears to be a deer antler on screen and Kacchan flinches. Izuku scoots closer. Kacchan moves his arm to make room, and Izuku makes himself comfortable resting against him. He’s warm, and he smells so nice. Izuku relaxes almost immediately. People keep dying in the movie, blood spraying the walls and the camera. It’s loud with bangs and shouting, but Izuku could easily fall asleep. 

Kacchan lowers his arm, and it comes to rest around Izuku. 

Burnt sugar.

He wants to write about this in his journal. It’s such a… good moment. A normal moment. He’s watching a movie with his friend and they’re okay. More than that. If he turns his head just a bit, he can hear Kacchan’s heartbeat. 

It’s the most beautiful sound in the entire world because it sings of victory. Of survival against all odds. Kacchan’s heartbeat is a miracle Izuku will never take for granted, no matter how many years carve lines on his face.

If he could, Izuku would bottle the thump, thump, thump and carry it with him everywhere. A sure reminder that Kacchan is alive. 

“Fuck!” Kacchan snaps and skips a heartbeat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you not watching the movie?” Kacchan asks, incredulous. 

Izuku smiles guiltily. “I was a bit distracted.”

Kacchan glowers at him, hitting pause. “What now?”

“This is nice,” Izuku tells him. “I just—I was thinking that this is a normal high school student activity, and I’m glad we’re doing it.”

It’s too dark for Izuku to see Kacchan’s face clearly. The light of the screen barely catches on the lines of his jaw, nose, and cheekbones. But he can still hear the rhythm in Kacchan's chest, and it picks up the pace like it agrees. Like Kacchan’s heart is happy, too.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “But pay attention, nerd. I’m not going through this shit alone.”

“Are you scared, Kacchan?” Izuku teases. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

That’s a yes. 

Izuku giggles. Kacchan shoves him, and Izuku throws a leg up to keep his balance, kicking the laptop. They exchange a panicked glance before they lunge for it. Kacchan’s good hand manages to catch it just in time, but they land in a heap—half on the bed, half on the floor.

For a moment, neither says anything. Then, Izuku bursts out laughing and Kacchan follows. It’s unhinged. Izuku feels out of control, like the huge cackles bouncing off the walls of Kacchan’s room carry a hidden weight. 

He can’t remember the last time he laughed so much, or so desperately. 

Izuku’s chest expands, letting in new air. Like throwing open the windows in an old house that’s sat empty for too long, the laughter clears away some cobwebs. It swipes through, disturbing corners long untouched. 

Except in those corners Izuku was keeping shadows he didn’t know had teeth. 

They rise like demons. Claws out, maws snapping. They are the things Izuku doesn’t want to think about. The contradictions that make his head feel too small to contain his brain. 

Regrets and guilt for the things he sacrificed but wanted to keep. 

Shame and resentment for the time he feels he’s due, but knows he isn’t. 

It’s a lot to keep buried inside. 

On one hand, Izuku holds his pride like it’s the last thing keeping him together. Pride for what he achieved. For the lives he saved. For his title of Symbol of Peace. 

But on the other hand, Izuku holds self-loathing like it’s the key to a cage he desperately wants to escape. Because he’s whole and alive when so many aren’t. He should be sated. He should be content. And yet Izuku still wants more. 

He wants everything. 

The world and his quirks. 

And he knows that selfishness makes him a villain. 

Without warning, tears spill from his eyes. 

Izuku chokes on his own saliva. 

He needs to get out of here before Kacchan notices he’s not just laughing. But he can’t gather himself fast enough. He’s not so strong. 

He never could control his heart properly. 

Izuku tries to breathe, to calm down. He can’t. Hysterical, he curls in on himself, hoping Kacchan is too distracted by his own laughter. 

Izuku has never been that lucky. 

“Nerd,” he says, sobering up. “Are you laughing or crying?”

“Both?” Izuku gasps. 

For a moment, Kacchan looks lost. He scrambles for something to say, something to do. All that comes out is, “Why?”

Kacchan should kick him out of his room. Izuku keeps ruining everything. He’s always crying at all the wrong times. Breaking down when they’re doing normal shit like playing games with their friends. Asking him intrusive questions. 

Why does Kacchan put up with someone like him? 

Why is Izuku so afraid that he’ll stop? 

“I—” Izuku gasps, clutches his chest. “I don’t know, Kacchan. It—it hurts. In here.” Izuku looks at him. He knows he doesn’t deserve to ask for anything. That Kacchan gave enough. Still, Izuku can’t imagine getting through this alone.

“‘Zuku,” Kacchan’s voice cracks like clay left too long in the sun. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

“Make it stop,” Izuku whispers, panicked, and broken, and hurting so, so much. “Please, make it stop, Kacchan. I can’t take it.”

Warm, strong hands cradle Izuku’s face. Kacchan presses his forehead against his and holds him there. They’re so close, Izuku can’t really see Kacchan very well. But he can smell him. Burnt sugar. Caramel. Izuku can almost taste him with how close he is. 

“Breathe with me,” Kacchan says.

“I—Kacc—” Izuku can’t. He can’t breathe.

“Izuku,” Kacchan says, firmly. “Listen to me. Look at me. You’re okay. We’re okay. Focus on me. Just me.”

One of Kacchan’s hands disappears from the cradle holding Izuku’s cheeks and he panics. Izuku scrambles to grab him again, to keep him close.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave me.

Please, I don’t know how to function if you’re not around.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” Kacchan says. His fingers close around Izuku’s wrist. “Here.” Kacchan guides Izuku’s hand to his own chest, right over his heart. “Keep it there. Breathe with me. Come on.” 

It takes a long time, but eventually, Izuku returns to his body. The shadows retreat, giving him back control of his functions. Everything hurts in that exhausted way that usually indicates a dangerous fight or a very intense workout. 

“I’m sorry,” Izuku says, slumping forward.

“Don’t be,” Kacchan replies, catching him against his body. 

Izuku is drained. He has no energy left for anything. Not even to register his face is squished against Kacchan’s chest. 

“Why am I doing so much worse than everyone else?” Izuku asks quietly. 

“Because you lost more than anyone else,” Kacchan replies. He’s trembling, but Izuku doesn’t know if it’s exhaustion, anger, or something else. “You gave up everything you ever wanted. Everything you fought so hard for. And you’re trying to act like it cost you nothing.”

“That’s what a hero should do,” Izuku mutters. “That's all I have left, Kacchan. If I don’t at least behave like a hero…”

Kacchan doesn’t reply. His silence is confirmation enough. 

##

“You seem distracted, Midoriya,” Shouto says, forcing Izuku to look up from the stack of pancakes he is supposed to be eating. 

Their dorm kitchen is buzzing. Almost everyone in Class A is around. Most people have spread their homework on tables to work through their assignments together. Kaminari is hanging upside down from the couch’s backrest, for some reason. The girls are all together, chatting and giggling. The noise is comforting. It fills some of the spaces in Izuku’s mind so that there isn’t much room for other things. 

It’s not enough to fully drown out his doubts, and fears, and the nagging feeling that something is wrong and he can’t figure it out, but it’s better than nothing. 

“No, I’m fine,” he replies quickly. 

Shouto blinks. “You’ve missed your mouth three times.”

What? Oh. It’s true. Izuku has failed to eat the piece still dangling precariously from his chopsticks. Why is he eating pancakes with chopsticks? He grimaces and realizes his face feels kind of sticky. 

He sighs. “I’ve got syrup all over, don’t I?”

He zoned out again, it seems. Distantly, he remembers that he’s been doing that a bit more than normal lately. It hasn’t become a problem yet, but he needs to get a grip. He can’t zone out during training or a mission. That would get him in trouble. Possibly cause an accident. 

“Yes,” Shouto confirms. “It’s a bit gross.”

“Todoroki-kun!” Ochako chastises him. Izuku blinks, surprised to find her sitting next to them. “Be gentler.”

“But it’s the truth!”

Izuku shakes his head, reaching for a napkin to clean the mess he’s made. Ochako leans closer to Shouto, furiously whispering what Izuku knows is an explanation about why one shouldn’t just blurt things out regardless of their truthfulness. 

Izuku takes the opportunity to look down at his uneaten stack. Kacchan made pancakes for everyone this morning without prompting or explanation. The rest of the class ate their fill earlier, and they haven’t stopped raving about them. They’re delicious, and perfectly fluffy. Best pancakes ever.

Izuku’s stomach is in knots, and he can’t bring himself to eat more than a few bites. It feels like a waste. Like Kacchan deserves better for his effort.

“Do you want to tell us what’s bothering you, Deku-kun?” Ochako asks quietly, big eyes watching him carefully. “Todoroki-kun is right that you look like you aren’t really here.”

Izuku doesn’t want to talk about it. What is there to say? He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. Not this time. He just… shut down, he supposes. 

But if he’d been contemplating something, he probably wouldn’t want to talk to them about it, either. Izuku doesn’t want to admit out loud that he doesn’t have the patience for this ‘journey of healing’. He wants to be okay, and he wants to be okay now. 

He needs the walls to stop caving in.

He needs the shadows to stop blinking at him with crazed eyes.

He needs his scars to soften so it doesn’t hurt to exist in his body.

Most of all, he needs the embers to never flicker out and die so he doesn’t become quirkless again.

His friends can’t help with any of that, so what’s the point of burdening them? Izuku has broad shoulders and strong legs. He can carry this alone.

“I had bad dreams,” is what he settles on. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ochako says. “The nightmares can get rough.”

“I keep dreaming of Touya,” Shouto volunteers, looking down into his empty plate. “I always almost convince him to not burn himself out. I never manage, though.”

“Todoroki-kun…” Izuku mutters, reaching out to touch his hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Shouto shrugs. “I know that. I still wish I could have done more to save him.”

“When are you going to visit him next?” Izuku asks. 

Ochako’s smile falters. Shouto’s family tragedy is heart wrenching, but at least Touya is still alive. They all know it won’t last very long, but the Todorokis might be able to find some closure while their eldest son is in the hospital.

Ochako, on the other hand, will never see Toga again. 

“Tomorrow,” Shouto says. “We go every Sunday.”

“You do?” Izuku asks. This is news to him. Not that Shouto needs to tell Izuku what he does and when. He doesn’t expect that from him. 

But Shouto says it like it’s obvious. Like Izuku shouldn’t have asked. 

Ochako and Shouto exchange a quick glance. “Yes,” Shouto says. “It works with everyone’s schedule.”

Before Izuku can comment further, Iida arrives carrying his textbooks and Ochako’s. “Hello friends! Uraraka-san, I have our maths coursework. We can start whenever you’re ready.”

Izuku tries to catch Shouto’s eye to see if he’s noticed it, too. But Shouto is distracted, looking towards the corner where Shinsou and Kaminari are watching something on a phone. Looks like it’s up to him to help Iida with his romantic endeavour. 

“I’m off to do some training,” Izuku says, jumping off his chair. “Todoroki-kun, do you want to come spar?”

“With you and Bakugo?”

“Yeah.”

“No, thank you,” Shouto says. 

Izuku almost facepalms himself. How can Shouto be so oblivious? This isn’t about sparring. It’s about leaving Iida and Ochako alone. He does a subtle gesture with his head to indicate to Shouto that he needs to leave. 

“What are you doing? Does your neck hurt?” Shouto asks.

Iida and Ochako both turn to Izuku, who can feel his ears burning. “No. I need to talk to you. Privately.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“You should have said,” Shouto tells him. He waves at Iida and Ochako, then finally, thankfully, follows Izuku away from them. 

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Izuku rounds on Shouto. “I don’t actually have anything that important to talk about. I just wanted to leave Iida-kun and Uraraka-san alone.”

Shouto frowns, peering at Izuku intently. It takes him a few moments, but then his eyes widen. “Oh. Really?”

“I’m going to go ahead and ask you to please confirm what you think you know, just to be safe,” Izuku says. 

Shouto seems completely unoffended by this, which is not surprising, but still a relief. Shouto is probably his closest friend after Kacchan. Izuku would rather chew off his own arm than hurt him, but he does have a slight issue when it comes to picking up social cues and reading situations. 

“They want to be alone together,” Shouto says slowly. “They either have secrets they don’t want us to know or they like each other. Maybe both.”

“Alright,” Izuku admits, impressed. “You’re not far off. I think Iida-kun likes Uraraka-san.”

Shouto glances back at them and watches them intently for a long moment. Eventually, he nods to himself. “It’s possible.”

Amused, Izuku shakes his head. “Anyway, sorry to drag you away. I just think we need some happiness and normal teenager shenanigans, so I’m secretly supporting Iida-kun.”

“That’s very good of you, Midoriya,” Shouto says. “Are you supporting other potential couples?”

“Kirishima and Mina would be good together, right?”

“I agree.”

Izuku smiles, and Shouto blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yes?”

Shouto’s lips turn downwards ever so slightly. “I see. Did they do anything in particular that made you want to support them?”

A small alarm rings in the back of Izuku’s head. He’s losing control of this conversation completely, and he cannot predict where it’s going. It’s not the first time Shouto has done this—there was that memorable occasion in which he asked Izuku totally deadpan if he was All Might’s secret lovechild—but it’s definitely been long enough that Izuku is unprepared.

“They—no. I mean—what do you mean?”

“How did you notice that Iida-kun likes Uraraka-san?” Shouto asks.

“The way he looks at her, I guess? And he always wants to spend time with her. He came to that girls’ pampering session and wore a face mask and everything just to be near her.”

“Oh.” Something sparkly crosses Shouto’s eyes. “Thank you, Midoriya. I have something to do. See you later.”

Before Izuku has a chance to reply, Shouto is halfway across the room.

##

Izuku has always loved putting pen to paper. It’s like emptying his brain onto a container that never gets full no matter how much Izuku pours into it. For someone whose brain is always whirring, it’s a blessing.

He’s not used to keeping a diary of sorts, but it’s not hard for him to fall into a routine after his therapist asked him to.

The page doesn’t judge. It doesn’t talk back. It doesn’t ask questions.

It listens, and it absorbs, and it keeps.

Izuku hadn’t realised how much he needed something like that until he started writing.

At first, it was a little awkward because he wasn’t sure if he should be addressing this to anyone. Maybe his therapist since she’s the one who wants to read it. But Izuku knows he’d keep things inside if he felt he was talking directly to her. He still doesn’t fully trust her. It’s hard to say some of the things crowding his mind aloud.

Maybe that’s why she asked him to write.

Instead, Izuku writes like he’s a tween girl, addressing his entries to the diary itself. It should be embarrassing, but Izuku is past that. He feels so much lighter and better after every journalling session that he’d address the entries to anyone so long as he could keep doing it.

“All right,” he mutters to himself, uncapping his pen. The sooner he does this, the sooner he can go to Kacchan’s room. And since he started writing, he hasn’t had another meltdown so he absolutely must empty his tank first, as it were.

Dear diary,

Today, I went to school. It’s Monday.

We had classes—nothing of note happened. Well, Kaminari showed up with pierced ears. He spent the weekend visiting his family and, apparently, decided it was time for a change. He looks so cool.

Kacchan kept sneaking glances at him. I think Kacchan would look awesome with piercings, but I’m never telling him that. I think he’d call me stupid—if you get piercings, you have more chances of getting badly hurt in a fight. It’s the sort of thing Kacchan would say, because it’s true.

Now, I’m going to his room to watch a movie.

I don’t feel like talking about my feelings much today. Yesterday’s entry was so heavy and I have felt pretty light today. Probably because you’re now carrying all of that for me. Thank you, I guess? Ugh, this is weird. I don’t think I’m supposed to thank you.

Anyway. Today, nothing is crushing me. I suppose this is what Ochako means by good days. I didn’t cry, or hyperventilate, or panic. It was all pretty normal. Like… like before.

The… the hole in my chest isn’t hungry today, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it.  You know I’ve tried. All you’ve got to do is read the other entries. That’s the best I can do: not hungry, so it’s not consuming me and I can get through my day more or less okay.

Maybe, it’ll be hungry again tomorrow and I’ll have to write another ten pages for a single entry. I hope not, but sometimes I’m too smart for my own good. I know I’m not better. I know the things inside of me are still rotten.

I’m afraid they’ll always be.

That I’ll never

Izuku taps his pen on the corner of his desk. If he goes down this path, he’ll start crying for sure. He should cut his losses and take his wins where he can get them. There’ll be time for tears. They happen more often than not, anyway.

He shuts his journal closed and stretches to put the pen in its holder. When he twists his hand, he realises there’s handwriting on his wrist. Confused, Izuku brings his hand closer. It’s his own handwriting.

Don’t forget to give Kacchan his book.

What book?

Izuku pulls his backpack closer and rummages inside. Sure enough, Kacchan’s history book is inside. Why does he have Kacchan’s history book?

Wait, they didn’t have history today. Did they? Confused, Izuku flicks open his planner. There is it. Third period. History.

But he can’t remember it. Not in that way where you’re aware you did something but just can’t grasp the details, like when you’re very tired and can’t exactly recall how you made it to your room from the common area.

No, this is…. Void. Empty. Izuku was not in history class today. Not according to his brain.

Something’s off.

He’s suddenly hyper aware of a wrongness that he can’t name. On the surface, forgetting something like this isn’t concerning. A lot of people don’t remember what they had for breakfast on any given day.

It’s just… Izuku isn’t like that. He remembers everything. Every note he writes, every class he takes. Izuku pays attention and doesn’t forget.

Fear sticky like tar clogs Izuku’s veins. What—Izuku drops the history book and picks up his diary again. He hasn’t shown it to his therapist yet. She said he should work on it for at least a week, preferably two, before they read through together in a session.

Izuku opens to one of the earlier pages. A completely normal account of a completely normal day. Mental breakdown included.

Breathing a little easier, Izuku turns the page. More of the same. There’s the sadness. The despair. Ugly feelings. Tear stains and splotches of ink. Bad sketches of Shigaraki’s face. Drawings of Kacchan’s chest scar. But there’s also the little joys. Class. Training. Homework with friends. Iida trying to find ways to be next to Ochako at all times. Kacchan and Kirishima causing chaos in the common room for no apparent reason.

Izuku chuckles to himself, his heart rate calming down. Okay, so maybe nothing’s wrong at all. He—Wait.

The next page Izuku turns to looks normal on the surface, except someone—Izuku—has added notes in a different pen after the entry was complete.

Kacchan had a wound I don’t remember him getting.

Izuku frowns. He recognises his own handwriting, but he doesn’t remember adding this note. It’s got a little arrow pointing towards the line where he wrote about their simulation training for that day.

Trepidation thrums in his skull as he keeps flicking through the pages. The closer he gets to the more recent entries, the more notes he finds. Izuku is too smart not to recognise a pattern. They’re all about Kacchan.

About Kacchan getting hurt, albeit in small, insignificant ways. About Kacchan saying things that Izuku missed the first time he wrote the entry. About working with him on his arm rehabilitation.

Why is Izuku—oh.

Oh no.

It hits him with the force of a freight train. Izuku knows he’s not doing well. He knows he’s terrified of anything happening to Kacchan again. And he knows that trauma can play tricks on one’s brain.

“I’m forgetting things,” Izuku mutters to himself, his heart back to a gallop in his ribs. “I’m forgetting things about Kacchan.”

##

Izuku sends Kacchan a text to tell him he can’t come to watch a movie today, and that he’ll explain later. He doesn’t wait for a response, instead tearing out of the dorms like he’s being chased by demons.

The therapist lives in the school, in the same dorms the teachers who are group tutors do. It’s a new measure, but a necessary one. People don’t have mental health crises on a schedule, so they need a professional to be available at all times.

Izuku’s fists pound on her door with a bit too much force. He cringes, and steps back, but he’s caused enough of a ruckus for her to open immediately.

“Midoriya?”

“We need to talk,” he says, voice cracking.

She gestures for him to go inside but leaves the door open. It’s policy, Izuku knows. She can’t be alone in a room with a student. He doesn’t care. He’d have this conversation out in the corridor if necessary. He just needs to understand.

He needs answers.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I’m forgetting things about Kacchan,” he says immediately. “I found some notes I left myself in the journal. I—why am I forgetting things about Kacchan?”

“Can you show me these notes?”

“I left the notebook in my room,” he replies. He’s shaking. “I—you knew, didn’t you? That’s why you asked me to write a diary? Why am I forgetting Kacchan? What is happening to me?”

“Can you give me an example of these notes, Midoriya?”

Frustrated, he groans. His hands are fluttering at his sides, and his words come out high pitched. “Last week, we had a patrol. I wrote about it, said nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Then, in a different pen, I wrote ‘Kacchan saved you from getting burnt when a gas pipe exploded’.” Izuku looks at her, grabs her by the shoulders. “Why can’t I remember that? Why am I forgetting Kacchan?”

The therapist removes his hands from her gently but firmly. Izuku blinks. He didn’t mean to do that. He’s never touched her before.

Clearing her throat, she says, “Sit down, Midoriya.”

He does. His body feels stiff like a wooden board. “Well?”

“Believe it or not, you’re not forgetting Bakugo. He is, in fact, the only portions you’re recalling.”

The world tilts to readjust itself on the axis of this revelation. It’s easier to stomach that he’s remembering Kacchan, but it’s still pretty fucked up that Izuku’s brain is so messed up he’s losing entire chunks of time.

That’s what’s happening, isn’t it?

“I—what?”

“I noticed it from the first session we had,” she tells him. “Your brain is fracturing some of your memories. It’s an uncommon but not completely unheard-of trauma response. You can’t cope with everything that happens on any given day, so your brain selects part of it to erase. Think of it like your brain deciding you’re not ready to deal with 100% of life, so it’s only giving you 75%.”

“That’s not possible,” Izuku says. He’s going to vomit. “I would know. How—”

“You don’t know because that’s the entire point.”

Izuku springs up from his seat. Sweat trickles down his spine, cold and sticky. His stomach churns with nausea. The light of the room hurts, making him squint. Everything feels unsteady.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because our brains are smarter than us,” she says simply. “If yours is protecting you this way, it was safer for you to realise it on your own. I might have caused more damage if I’d just told you when you weren’t ready.”

“I’m not ready now!” Izuku shouts. “How—what have I missed? What if I did or said something important?”

The therapist looks at him with so much pity, Izuku has to grab the trashcan in the corner and vomit into it. She gasps, then rushes to her desk for something. Izuku heaves, retches again. His throat is on fire. Sweat runs down his temples, getting into his eyes. His hands falter, and the trashcan falls from his grasp.

Izuku sways. Black dots spread across his vision. His legs give out.

When he comes to, Izuku is lying on a bed in the infirmary. Recovery Girl is standing near, placing a cold compress on his forehead. Izuku blinks, then tries to sit up.

“Midoriya shounen, do not sit up just yet,” All Might says. “You might faint again.”

Oh, God. He’s fainting now? Can he be any more embarrassing?

No one would believe he’s the same kid that saved the world.

Talk about peaking too early.

“What are you doing here?” Izuku rasps.

“We came because we’re worried about you, and we want to help you.”

That’s Principal’s Nezu’s voice. Izuku regrets his choices. As if this wasn’t bad enough, he’s somehow summoned half the faculty so they can witness the spectacle he’s making of himself first hand.

Why won’t they let him keep some dignity?

“I’m fine now,” he says weakly.

“No, you aren’t,” Aizawa-sensei declares. Izuku doesn’t have it in him to contradict him. Not Aizawa-sensei.

Defeated, Izuku sighs. “Alright. So, what now?”

“I’m glad you’re asking,” says the Principal. “We’ve discussed your current diagnosis with the therapist that saw you at the hospital, just to get a second opinion. We believe that you would benefit from a change of scenery, Midoriya-kun.”

Immediately, he doesn’t like the sound of it. What scenery do they want to change? Are they expelling him from UA? Oh. Maybe, they just don’t think he should continue his studies. There’s no point in training to be a hero when you’re on your way to losing your quirk for good.

Swallowing hard, Izuku tries not to sound afraid when he asks, “A change of scenery?”

“Yes,” Aizawa-sensei says. “You went through hell right here. From the day you enrolled at UA, you fought harder than anyone else. Danger found you early on and it never really left your side. You can’t have room to heal if you’re still in the same place that caused all your wounds.”

Izuku looks at him, horrified. He struggles to sit upright, but he does it. The compress falls pathetically on his lap. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No,” says All Might. “Absolutely not. No one is kicking you out, Midoriya shounen. We’re proposing a short exchange. A term, no more. A couple of months away from here so that you can heal some of the deeper wounds.”

“Your psyche needs some space to breathe,” the therapist says. Izuku hadn’t even noticed she was here, too. “It’s not helping your recovery to be constantly surrounded by reminders of what happened. Your nervous system is burnt out. You have severe, actually no, extreme PTSD. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You saved the world, kid. Now, it’d be nice if you let us save you.”

Izuku cannot believe his ears. Are they messing with him? Surely, no one can think this is actually a good idea? Izuku can’t leave. Where would he go? He can’t be away, no unless—

“Can Kacchan come with me?”

The adults exchange glances. “Bakugo is part of the problem,” the therapist says.

All Might flinches visibly. Aizawa-sensei glares at her. Nezu sighs, shaking his head.

“What did you say?” Izuku asks, and he’s not surprised his voice has dropped to ice-cold temperatures.

“What happened to Bakugo has scarred you more deeply than any other event in the war,” she says bluntly. “You need time away from him. You need to remember how to exist away from him. How to be yourself on your own.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Izuku growls. How dare she? What does she know about him? About Kacchan? They’ve been together since they were kids. Little and snotty and stupid. “I’m myself. Izuku. Deku. And I’m Kacchan’s best friend. I am not leaving him.”

“Why?” she asks him, tilting her head like she’s genuinely curious about Izuku’s answer.

He sputters. “What do you mean why? Because he’s my friend! Because we help each other. We make each other better. Because—”

Izuku chokes on the words, but he has enough sense to keep them in.

Because the only thing that helps me sleep is the smell of burnt sugar lingering on my clothes.

Because I’m terrified I’ll be late again, and he won’t make it out alive a third time.

Because he’s everything I have ever wanted to be.

Because I can’t breathe when he’s not close by.

Because he’s my idea of victory.

“Because I don’t want to,” he says firmly. “I don’t want to be away from Kacchan. That should be enough of a reason.”

His therapist sighs, shaking her head. “As the professional in charge of supporting you on your healing journey, I strongly advise that you consider a term away from here.”

“You could go to the United States,” All Might suggests. “You have a friend there, right? We could make it so you go to a hero school near him.”

Rody.

Izuku would like to see Rody, but not so much he’d agree to leaving Kacchan behind for months. That’s just insane. Izuku might not be okay, but he knows he’d be doing a lot worse if he couldn’t see Kacchan. If he couldn’t put his head on his chest to hear his heartbeat when they’re watching movies.

Kacchan is Izuku’s miracle. The divine gift he didn’t deserve but was given to him anyway. There is no world in which Izuku doesn’t stay by his side to cherish him properly.

“I’ll visit Rody some other time,” Izuku says. “I’m not leaving. I’ll do anything you ask. More journaling. That meditation thing you wanted me to try. I’ll take medication. Anything. But I’m not leaving.”

The last thing Izuku wants is to cry, but he doesn’t seem to be able to help himself. The back of his jaw aches with the building pressure of hot tears. His throat is thick, clogged. Inside his chest, a rubber band stretches so tight it’ll crack him in half if it snaps.

“I’m not leaving.”

Him.

I’m not leaving Kacchan.

The expressions on the adults’ faces range from sadness, to disappointment, to straight up disapproval.

Izuku doesn’t care. They can’t deny him this.

He won’t let them.

##

It’s almost one in the morning when he’s allowed to leave the infirmary.

Physically, Izuku is fine. He only fainted because of the shock of finding out his brain has been keeping things from him. Traitor.

But Izuku understands. It’s too much all at once, and his brain has always been the best part of him. He’s a genius kid for a reason. It’s not all that surprising that his best asset decided to take matters into its own hands to keep its house in order.

According to his therapist, now that he’s aware, it’ll happen less frequently. Eventually, his brain will simply accept that Izuku can handle whatever happens and it’ll stop trying to confiscate memories.

At least, it’s been trying to let me keep the ones about Kacchan.

Izuku smiles to himself.

He opens the door to their dorm building carefully. No one should be around, but he doesn’t want to make noise. It wouldn’t be the first time someone falls asleep on the couch in the common area.

He tiptoes past the kitchen and the living room, finding them deserted. Izuku relaxes a bit, considers going back to grab a snack. Kacchan always leaves him stuff in the fridge and on his pantry shelf. Izuku likes to play a little game with himself where he tries to guess what Kacchan might have left for him before checking. He almost never gets it right, but that doesn’t make the snacks any less amazing. It’s almost like Kacchan knows what he likes better than Izuku himself.

It's a tempting idea, but really, Izuku doesn’t feel hungry. It’s probably good to let his stomach rest after he vomited so violently early.

Thinking of which, Izuku needs to brush his teeth stat. They gave him some mouthwash in the infirmary, but he still feels gross.

Izuku rounds the corner to head to the lifts and stops dead in his tracks. There’s someone in the shadows.

A siren rings loud and piercing in his brain. Intruder! Villain!

Izuku is about to activate One for All when he hears a soft sound. A laugh? Someone is laughing. And… gasping. What’s going on?

The shadows move, and Izuku realises there are two people here. Against the wall, very close to each other.

His heart lurches for an entirely different reason. His ears burn.

Izuku turns to leave, but then he hears a voice.

“Well?” Is that Shinsou? “What do you—"

“Do it again.”

Izuku has to brace himself on the wall. What the actual fuck is going on? Why is Shouto—

Despite himself, Izuku glances again. His eyes are more used to the dark now, so he can see their shapes. Their heads are so close together, Izuku couldn’t lie to himself if he wanted to.

Shouto and Shinsou are kissing.

They’re kissing on the mouth.

“Oh my God,” Izuku whispers, covering his face with his hands.

He runs.

Forget the elevators. He takes the stairs three at a time. Izuku has never sprinted this hard without using his quirk in his life. But he feels like he’s collapsing, unravelling. His thoughts are fraying, tearing at the seams and Izuku has no idea how to keep it all together.

He needs to hide in his room and process this information before he has a nervous crisis in the middle of the hallway.

By the time he locks himself in his safe haven, Izuku is hyperventilating. It’s entirely different to his recent attacks, though. He’s not panicking. Well, yeah, okay, he is. But not in a terror way. Not in a trauma way.

Izuku is panicking in a I didn’t know boys could kiss sort of way.

It’s stupid, okay? He understands that with piercing clarity. Why couldn’t two boys kiss? Who would stop them? Or two girls, for that matter. Wait. Izuku did know girls can do that. Kiss on the lips. Like each other that way.

Look at Toga and Ochako.

So why is he so surprised to realise boys can do it, too?

Groaning, Izuku throws himself on his bed. He feels stupid, and also a little bit like a perv. Why did he have to see that? It was dark, so he didn’t catch many details. But… deep down, he wishes he had.

What would it look like? Two boys together. Kissing and holding each other. Would it be soft? Rough? Maybe, a little bit of both.  

Izuku wants to know.

Jerking upright, he drags his journal closer, opens it, and writes about this. He cannot forget it, no matter what. He’s not sure exactly why but he feels like it’s absolutely crucial that he never, ever forgets about boys kissing boys.

It feels like the heavens parted and delivered him some fundamental truth he must cherish forever.

For the first time since he left the hospital, Izuku has no room in his brain for fear, or guilt, or shame. He can’t think of his embers or being quirkless again. He doesn’t panic about Kacchan being safe, or flinch at his own shadow.

All Izuku can think about on a loop until he falls asleep is that boys can kiss boys and he, desperately, needs to know more about it.

Notes:

I desperately want to tell Izuku 'you'll be alright, kid' 😭

He's going through it - but it always lowkey bugged me that Hori skipped the post-war and did a timejump at the end. Izuku saw his Kacchan dead. Went through hell and back to win that war. Watched so many horrors unravel in front of his eyes. And he was sixteen. There's no way in hell he didn't struggle in the aftermath.

Anyway, it gets worse before it gets better, always, but this is a happy ending and a fix-it fic so, in case you're wondering, it all works out. Also, reminder that this is not canon compliant with the post-war timeskip 👀👀

Chapter 5: Of training and practice

Notes:

One thing about me is that I love first kisses.

There’s got to be some sort of sign. 

Right? 

Izuku glances at Present Mic, currently attempting to teach them some complicated English grammar thing called subjunctive mood. He’s filling the board with scribbles and not really paying the students that much attention, so Izuku tilts his head again so he can see Shouto. 

Nothing. There’s zero outward evidence. Shouto looks so normal, in fact, that Izuku is starting to worry he hallucinated the entire thing. 

Except he really saw Shinso kissing him. He did. 

Izuku couldn’t sleep after that. Like, at all. He’s so tired today he has tipped past sleepy and all the way into dangerously hyperactive. The crash will come at some point, but if his vigilantism taught him anything, it was that Izuku has a terrifying ability to cheat himself out of sleep and still function. 

Shouto continues to take notes, completely unaware that Izuku is having a crisis about the fact that he’s acting so normal. 

A few desks behind him and to his left, Shinso is equally calm and collected. He does glance in Shouto’s direction every now and then, but that barely counts for anything. Izuku has been staring at his friend for hours today, and he certainly didn’t kiss him. 

Izuku doesn’t want to, which was a strange realisation to have in the middle of the night. Strange, but positive. Izuku doesn’t know what he would do if he found himself wanting to kiss Shouto. 

Or Shinso. 

He thinks it would be less weird to kiss Shinso, because they’re not as close. But still. Izuku sort of appreciates the whole aesthetic Shinso’s got going on, but he cannot imagine himself kissing him either. 

Why he’s even thinking about kissing his classmates, Izuku has no clue. He’s losing it a little bit. 

By the end of class, Izuku still hasn’t been able to put together a single coherent sentence using the subjunctive mood. He has, however, spiralled to literal rock bottom about the kissing situation.

He’s confused, and mildly unsettled, and kind of stressed. Nothing makes sense. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Kacchan asks, slamming a hand on the table the minute Izuku puts his lunch tray down. 

Their standing lunch date has become a staple now. No one questions it or tries to interfere. They eat lunch together every single day, and that’s that. They even sit in the same spot every time, because both Kacchan and Izuku find comfort in small routines. 

Izuku’s therapist says it’s a permanence thing. The cafeteria doesn’t change, and their table waits for them every day no matter what. It makes him feel good to know he can keep returning to the same place. It feels safe, and comfortable, and for someone with as much trauma as Izuku is carrying, safe and comfortable are like oxygen and food. 

“What?” Izuku asks, alarmed.

“You’ve been acting weird all day,” Kacchan says, stabbing his rice with his chopsticks like it personally offended him. “I want to know why.”

“Oh. It’s nothing,” Izuku deflects. He can’t tell Kacchan about Shouto and Shinso, can he? “Just thinking about some stuff.”

Kacchan grunts, then elbows him in the ribs. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Izuku protests. “It’s just some stupid stuff my therapist said.”

That always gets Kacchan. He never, ever asks about Izuku’s therapy. At first, Izuku thought he didn’t care. It’s only recently that he’s realised maybe Kacchan just doesn’t want Izuku to ask him about his. 

And he can’t blame him. Some of the stuff that comes up in therapy is not for anyone else to hear. Although…

Izuku glances at Kacchan. The fluorescent lights overhead should make him look sickly, like they do everyone else, but somehow Kacchan looks amazing. 

Always.

Kacchan sugoi, Izuku thinks somewhat bashfully, and hides a little smile. 

If he’s honest with himself, there’s nothing he wouldn’t share with Kacchan. There’s something about him that just makes Izuku sort of reckless. Reckless with his body, with his powers, with his secrets. Reckless with his whole self. All of Izuku, always ready to be sacrificed at the altar of Kacchan’s greatness. 

But none of this is new. Izuku has always known that he’ll never be able to lie or hide any part of himself from Kacchan. He’s also known for a while that Kacchan isn’t the same. Doesn’t feel the same. Not as intense. Not as consuming. Not as overwhelming. 

Because Kacchan keeps secrets from Izuku like it’s easy. Like he doesn’t have to think twice about it. 

“Are you going to at least tell me why you didn’t come last night?” Kacchan asks abruptly.

Izuku blinks. In his boys-kissing-boys panic, he totally forgot that he stood Kacchan up. He’s been obsessing over his discovery so much that he hasn’t had time to come up with a plausible excuse. He has to stall.  

“I’ll tell you later,” he replies, gesturing to the packed cafeteria with his head. “Too many people.”

“Hah? Did you do something?”

“No! It’s just… I’ll tell you later, Kacchan.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes, and bites his food aggressively. 

It strikes Izuku that Kacchan doesn’t seem to like it when Izuku is keeping things from him, which is quite frankly unfair. Here Izuku is: waiting for Kacchan to fess up about some mysterious girl for days, while Kacchan gets pissy because Izuku insists on talking in private in a few hours.

The thought doesn’t bother him as much as it should. Deep down, Izuku is pathetically happy that Kacchan just wants to know. Mostly because, ultimately, Izuku wants to tell him.

Maybe not about Shouto and Shinso specifically, but certainly about—

“Just tell me if it’s about the embers,” Kacchan mutters so quietly, Izuku almost doesn’t catch it.

Oh. 

Izuku swallows the sudden lump in his throat. He looks away, fighting his eyes. Commanding them to not get watery. Not here, not now. Please. 

Of course, Kacchan thinks it’s about the embers. It’s always about One for All, isn’t it? Kacchan doesn’t actually care if Izuku keeps things from him. He doesn’t want to know. 

Kacchan mostly just cares about Izuku’s fading quirk. 

The Wonder Duo’s days are numbered. 

Is Kacchan worried he can’t be the Symbol of Victory if there’s no Symbol of Peace?

Izuku’s heart breaks clean down the middle, but he swallows the pain and licks the fear from the back of his teeth. 

Izuku shakes his head. “No. The embers are fine. Haven’t used them in a few days.”

Kacchan nods, takes a swig of water. “Okay.”

His appetite is gone, so Izuku pushes his food around the bento box. He can’t look at Kacchan, not now. He might blurt something out he can’t take back. Something about how he wishes he hadn’t had to sacrifice One for All or about how he’d give a limb if it meant keeping a quirk. All so that he could compete with Kacchan for the rest of their lives.

That’s what he said. Covered in bandages, tears in his eyes, Kacchan told Izuku he’d hoped for that—for the rest of our lives—and Izuku has never been sadder than he was in that moment. 

It was a dream evaporating in a puff of steam. 

Without One for All, there’s no Deku and Kacchan. There’s no competition, no challenge. Kacchan will overtake Izuku and keep running ahead, and Izuku will be left behind to chew on the dust long after Kacchan is out of sight.

In another life, Izuku would have had a chance to keep up. 

In another life, Izuku wouldn’t be staring down the barrel of a lonely future as all his friends go beyond. 

Just not in this one. 

Izuku lost his chance to be good enough to stay at Kacchan’s side forever the day he saved the world, and isn’t that kind of horrible? Izuku never asked for anything, but if he had known, he would have asked for this.

Let me keep him. Let me stay by his side. 

Kacchan is all Izuku needs. But Izuku isn’t all Kacchan wants. Not anymore. Not without the power to challenge him for the top spot.

If Izuku weren’t quirkless, he’d be enough. He’d be enough for Kacchan.

But he isn’t. 

Izuku is broken, and his time is running out. Slipping through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Every day the cracks get deeper. They stretch longer. Soon, he’ll shatter. When he does, Kacchan probably won’t bother to pick up the pieces. 

“Nerd,” Kacchan says, nudging his leg. “You’re kind of freaking me out a little bit. You look upset.”

The day will come, but it’s not here yet. Izuku is still worthy of Kacchan’s attention, and he won’t squander it.

“It’s fine,” Izuku insists, and forces himself to make eye contact. “It’s just the usual stuff.”

“A bad day? Did you have nightmares last night?”

“Yeah,” Izuku says. 

Kacchan’s eyes dim. He looks away for a moment before finding Izuku’s gaze again. “Eat something. Come on. We’ve got training in a bit. You can’t go on an empty stomach.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

“At least eat the bread,” Kacchan says, and he shoves a roll into Izuku’s hand. 

Begrudgingly, Izuku bites on it. He’d rather not, but he’s never been good at denying Kacchan anything. The moment Izuku starts chewing, Kacchan focuses on finishing his own meal. He turns his head, and grimaces a little in a way that pulls on the scar on his face. 

Inexplicably, Izuku’s mind snags on it. On the slightly raised edges of the wound, the pink skin growing there. In time, it’ll probably be darker than Kacchan’s skin tone. It looks good on him, Izuku thinks. Makes Kacchan look tougher, even though he didn’t need the help. 

Absently, Izuku bites on his bread again. 

Kacchan has so many scars. Unlike Izuku’s, all of his look good. They tell stories more interesting than ‘I didn’t know how to use my quirk so I broke myself to pieces in order to learn’.  

His friend’s body is a temple to victory. To winning at all costs. Kacchan put himself through hell to protect everyone else, and now the lines of him are slightly jagged in fascinating places. 

Izuku swallows, glancing from Kacchan’s arm to his face again. There’s still time. Izuku isn’t totally quirkless yet. Perhaps he won’t be for a few years. If there’s a god above, any god, by any name, they’ll let him keep the embers until he’s ready to say goodbye. 

Until looking at Kacchan and finding him close doesn’t steal the breath from Izuku’s lungs.

There are things Izuku hasn’t had time to say to Kacchan yet. They’re not done training together. Healing together. Izuku knows that some day he’ll feel less panicky if Kacchan isn’t near him. They’ll grow and the wounds will scar and all the therapy they’re doing will bear fruit. 

Izuku just needs the embers to last until then. Until the miracle of Kacchan surviving doesn’t haunt Izuku’s ever waking moment. Until…

Movement in his peripheral vision distracts Izuku for a second. He glances away, and finds Shouto and Shinso leaving the cafeteria together. A small smile pulls Izuku’s lips. Are they going to kiss again? 

His eyes bounce back to Kacchan—always back to Kacchan—and it hits him like a shotgun shot to the heart. 

He sort of, maybe, almost definitely, would like to know what kissing a boy feels like. 

And well.

Kacchan is a boy. 

Oh my God. 

“Got something on my face, nerd?” Kacchan asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“No!” Izuku squeals. His heart is hammering in his chest so hard it’s actually making him feel kind of nauseous. “So-sorry, Kacchan. I was distracted.”

“By what?”

There’s absolutely no way Izuku can successfully explain what he was thinking. Kacchan would think it’s weird. He’d probably get angry. Tell Izuku he’s gross for even wondering. Why is Izuku wondering? 

And Kacchan would be right to shout at him for it, because it is stupid, and Izuku doesn’t actually wanna kiss Kacchan. He doesn’t. Like at all. 

He’s just always been too curious for his own good, and Kacchan is the only boy Izuku knows whom he’d trust enough. 

That’s all it is.

“Training is soon,” Izuku says quickly. “We’re going to be late.”

##

Izuku is fucked.

He’s not one to swear often—Kacchan does it enough for the both of them—but there’s no other descriptor for the predicament he’s in.

“Deku-kun!” Hagakure shouts through the earpieces they’re wearing, courtesy of Yaomomo who is also in their team. “They’re almost on you. You’ve got to get off that rooftop.”

Izuku glances over his shoulder and yes. The team playing villains is about to catch up to him. They haven’t seen him but it’s a matter of seconds. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have offered to be a distraction while his friends set the trap. He should have let Kaminari keep them busy instead. But Izuku couldn’t help himself despite knowing better. He really should have just stayed in the background this time. 

How did he think he’d successfully outmanoeuvre the entire ‘villain’ team when he’s unwilling to use One for All in training? No wonder he let himself be cornered on a rooftop. 

Embarrassing performance for someone they call the new Symbol of Peace. He can’t even get through a school class without messing up these days. 

“Where’s Tokoyami-kun?” He mutters under his breath. 

But he can’t wait to be rescued by Dark Shadow. First of all, Izuku does have some pride left. Second of all, Dark Shadow should be laying in wait to capture the villains and help them win this round. It’s the whole point of the trap they’ve set. Izuku can’t ruin this for his classmates.

A drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face. He’s itchy inside his suit. Uncomfortable in the crouch he’s been holding for way too long. His legs are cramping. 

Footsteps gain on him. He shifts, trying to ease the pain in his quadriceps. Someone shouts in surprise. “Over there!”

Fuck.

He’s been spotted. 

If he gets captured, his team might still win but they won’t have a perfect score. Izuku certainly won’t get any points. 

They weren’t supposed to find the ventilation shaft. 

His plan was almost flawless. But he miscalculated, forgot he can’t sense danger or float himself out of trouble anymore, and the ‘villains’ found him. 

And now he is fucked.

It really is difficult to adjust after having had several quirks at his disposal. Some he misses more than others. 

Black whip. Float. Fa Jin.

He’d give anything to have them still. 

And maybe Gearshift, though that’s probably more to do with the fact Izuku had too little time to learn it and use it with Kudo’s guidance. 

Izuku glances over the edge of the roof. The ugly grey cement of the building looks dull and muted, kind of like how Izuku feels inside without the vestiges. 

More importantly, it’s a five story drop down. 

He could activate his quirk and be done with it, but it would be such a waste. 

Is a good grade worth draining the embers even more?

No, it’s not. Izuku shouldn’t even consider it. He refuses to. But he also refuses to lose. He can’t. 

Kacchan would find an alternative. 

“There’s Deku! Get him!”

Shit.

Ugh.

Heart in his tonsils, Izuku darts out from his hiding spot behind empty crates and sprints across the roof to the corner. The artificial light of the training area glints on the metal door to his right. It’s guarded, so Izuku can’t escape that way. 

Slightly desperate, Izuku swerves to the side and picks the next available corner. Dust kicks off his heels as he runs. 

It’s a long jump to the next building, but it’s more doable than the sheer drop down to ground level. Or so Izuku wants to believe. He’s got no other option. 

Izuku sprints and doesn’t give himself time to hesitate. 

He jumps at the very last second, the heavy duty sole of his boots propelling him forward across open air. For a second, he feels like he’s flying.  

I’m not gonna make it.

And he doesn’t. He starts to lose height way too early, the next rooftop a brittle hope he doesn’t even get to graze with his fingertips.

Izuku is familiar with pain and with fear. They’re almost part of him by now. Still, the prospect of crashing against the wall of a building before falling several stories down is… unpleasant. He’s not sure it’s survivable. He’s going to have to use his quirk after all. 

Think.

“Deku-kun, what are you doing?” Yaomomo asks through the earpiece. “You’re going to crash!”

Behind him, on the roof he jumped from, one of the Class B kids asks, “Is he insane?” 

Yeah, probably. 

And this is going to hurt.

But then Izuku sees that the window on the second to highest floor is open and maybe—

WIth the sort of agility born from sheer panic and desperation, he reaches for it, arm stretched and lungs a ball of fear in his chest. His fingers hook on the windowsill, and he slams against the concrete wall with his whole body, bones groaning and grinding together. 

His shoulder pops out of its socket from the strain of holding Izuku’s weight from falling and his hand twitches. He screams, then throws his other hand up. It’s a good thing Izuku spends so much time weight lifting at the gym. He pulls himself up with his undamaged arm and rolls into the building through the open window.

Dust billows around him, and he breathes it in as he heaves where he lies. His bangs stick to his forehead with sweat. He’s shaking, nauseous. The room is dark and dirty, but he’s alone. For now.

The pain in his shoulder is threatening to pull him under, but Izuku can’t rest just yet. He is doing the training quirkless, but no one else is. The ‘villain’ team could be here any second. 

“Deku-kun? Deku-kun, are you okay?” Hagakure asks.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “How’s the trap looking?”

“We’re ready,” Yaomomo replies.

“Good. Get them off my back?”

“You got it, Deku!” Kaminari says.

A flash of light illuminates the training grounds. Izuku hears more shouting, then a commotion. He drags himself closer to the window and looks. No one is chasing him anymore.

He’s off the hook, alive, and more or less whole.

Sighing, he rests his back against the wall and waits for his team to capture their opponents. He bites his teeth so hard he cracks a tooth, and the pain of that sort of distracts from his shoulder. 

Izuku is a mess, but at least he didn’t need to use his quirk after all.

His embers live to see another day.

##

Kacchan is on him the moment Izuku steps back into the observation room Aizawa and the class watch the training from. “What the fuck was that?”

Izuku grimaces, but faces Kacchan head on. Their classmates watch wearily. “We won.”

“Your shoulder popped off its socket!”

“Yeah, I know. I can feel it,” Izuku snaps back, glaring at Kacchan. Why is Kacchan allowed to break himself to pieces, to die for a victory, but the moment Izuku gets a minor injury he’s told off? 

Feels unfair if you ask him. 

“Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei says, stepping between him and Kacchan. “You need to go see Recovery Girl.”

“It’ll go in a bit. I want to watch everyone else,” he says. “I’m fine. Yaoyorozu-san set my shoulder back.”

“We saw,” Kacchan grunts. 

Izuku glances at the screens, currently vacant of students as the next teams ready for their turn. 

Aizawa sighs, shakes his head. “We need to talk about this, Midoriya. You can’t keep trying to get through advanced hero training without using your quirk. It’s not sustainable.”

Izuku stomps away and throws himself on a chair, stubbornly staring at the floor. He’s acting like a child, he knows. But can’t the others give him a break? Doesn’t Aizawa understand? 

“Nerd.”

“Not now, Kacchan.”

“Tough shit,” he replies, crouching in front of Izuku so he has no choice but to look at him. “You jumped off a fucking building without activating One for All. Are you nuts?”

Izuku cocks an eyebrow. Kacchan laughs, and his eyes widen like he caught himself by surprise. Izuku’s lips twitch, despite himself. 

“Fuck. Fine,” Kacchan concedes. “But maybe get some new support items. That could have gone horribly wrong.”

“I would have used it if I hadn’t caught the windowsill,” Izuku tells Kacchan. “I’m not suicidal, Kacchan.”

“No, you’re just fucking reckless. Scared the shit out of me, nerd.”

Izuku smiles. It’s nice that Kacchan worries about him. “I’m fine.”

“I hate it when you lie to me.”

Kacchan puts his hand on Izuku’s leg and Izuku’s brain melts out of his ears. It’s unexpected, and exhilarating. Kacchan doesn’t touch people. Not voluntarily. Not often. He lets Izuku touch him sometimes, but this? A hand on his knee? This is new, and special, and wonderful.

It makes the pain in Izuku’s shoulder dissipate, chased away by the warmth of the contact. Izuku swallows, overwhelmed by a feeling he’s pretty sure he’s never experienced before. 

And the thought slams back into his head with the force of a storm.

Kacchan is a boy, and Izuku is almost one hundred percent sure that he’d like to kiss him. 

##

Watching Kacchan prepare for his turn on the training field isn’t helping with Izuku’s dilemma. 

If anything, it’s making it worse. 

Because has Kacchan always been beautiful? Yes. Has it ever stood out to Izuku before? Not so dramatically, no. 

What is wrong with him?

Is this another weird trauma response? It’s bad enough his brain is confiscating hours of his day and feeding him back the tiniest bits of Kacchan. Izuku doesn’t need to suddenly be hyper aware of how broad his shoulders are or how tiny his waist is. 

Maybe he had alterations made to his hero costume and that’s what’s making Izuku go haywire. 

Because that’s exactly how he feels. Like an open wound, flesh flayed and exposed to the elements. Watching Kacchan step out with Sato, Sero and Jirou for their exercise makes Izuku’s skin skitter with sparks. He’s sweating even though the aircon is on inside the observation room. 

His shoulder pain has faded to a persistent ache, overtaken by the confusing jumble of emotions he’s been wading through since Kacchan touched him earlier. 

Annoyed and embarrassed, Izuku tries to focus. He follows Kacchan and the others’ movements as they try to locate the team playing villains—class B students. 

He moves with so much grace despite the power packed into his quirk. Kacchan is truly something else. He’s… grown up, Izuku realises. Earlier, he thought of Kacchan as a boy. Now, observing him while he leads a team through hostile territory, Izuku thinks Kacchan is already a man.

Who could ever remain a child after going through a war?

Kacchan grew up amongst rubble and decay. With broken bones and torn ligaments and a heart that wouldn’t stop fighting even after it burst open. 

No wonder he moves like that. 

Kacchan looked death straight in the eye and pulled the pin off his grenade.  

Does he kiss the way he walks? Confident but alert? Sure and steady but with an undercurrent of violence thrumming like a river down a mountain?

“Stop it,” Izuku hisses to himself, blushing so violently his cheeks hurt from it. 

Ochako shoots him a funny look that Izuku ignores. He doesn’t have the bandwidth to even try to explain this to anyone else. 

He can’t even explain it to himself.

Nothing has changed. And yet, Izuku feels like a new person. Like the sudden, world-shattering epiphany he had last night unlocked some secret part of him he’d buried under the pain, and resentment, and fear. 

Alarmingly, he currently feels golden, and it’s not because of the afterglow of Kacchan’s explosions. 

Absently, Izuku wonders if he should go see his therapist. Except, she doesn’t like Kacchan, and keeps trying to find reasons and ways to separate Izuku from him. If he told her he’s suddenly mildly overcome with the urge to kiss him—just to know what it’s like—she’d probably try to intervene. 

Izuku can’t imagine anything worse.

So no, he won’t be telling his therapist that for the first time since the end of the war he hasn’t felt like everything inside him is in shades of grey, and it’s because he’s discovered that boys can kiss boys. 

Good lord, how many times is Izuku going to repeat that to himself? 

There’s a collective gasp in the room, loud enough to break Izuku out of his mental spiral. Alarmed, Izuku looks around. If he was muttering about kissing Kacchan aloud he might have to fake his death and move to a new country. 

His shoulder pulses uncomfortable, but Kacchan’s team is the last one so Izuku will be able to go see Recovery girl soon. 

“This is getting good!” Kirishima says, grinning. 

Relieved that nothing is wrong, Izuku turns to watch the screens and freezes. Both teams are engaged in a fight—which is ultimately the point of this training—but Kacchan is about to be in trouble. 

Izuku is the only one who can see it coming. The only one who knows. 

Following the example of Izuku and his team earlier, Sero has set up a trap with his tape, hoping to capture Class B and claim victory. Jirou is playing lookout and telling him where to tangle it more heavily. Sato is waiting to knock them unconscious.

The problem is that Kacchan is the bait. Which makes sense, because everyone in Class B’s team wants to take him out first as he’s the biggest threat. Except Kacchan is leading them to the trap, and Izuku can calculate his trajectory, and unless something changes in thirty seconds, give or take, Kacchan will...

“Sorry, sir,” Izuku says in Aizawa sensei’s direction before breaking every rule about their training grounds and bolting out the door. 

Shouts erupt behind him. Izuku ignores them. He jumps down the stairs, then throws the gate open and launches himself as fast as he can across the fake city in the simulation environment. 

Even with One for All crackling along his legs, Izuku is late. 

Again.

Always.

Kacchan is on his knees on the ground, hyperventilating. The rest of the students have stopped their exercise, visibly worried for him. No one knows what to do, though. Kacchan doesn’t break down. Ever. 

At least, not in front of people.

Izuku barrels through. He throws his arm out, then has to swallow the bile that rises up from the stab of pain. He forgot about his shoulder. “Out of the way. Leave. Leave him alone. I’ve got this.”

“Nothing happened,” Sato says, visibly upset. “We don’t know why—”

“Just go,” Izuku snaps. One for All sparks across his skin.

The others scatter immediately. 

“Kacchan? It’s okay,” Izuku whispers, kneeling in front of him slowly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Izuku grabs the tape around Kacchan’s neck and very gently, very slowly, unwraps it. Kacchan is trembling, sweat has his hair plastered to his head. He hasn’t said a word, but Izuku suspects he won’t for a while. 

Izuku has never seen this happen before in person, but Kacchan has told him. He has breakdowns and attacks like everyone else with trauma piled so high they’re walking skyscrapers, he’s just better at hiding. 

According to Kacchan, he only breaks the fuck down in therapy, and his therapist helps him though. 

Today, it’s up to Izuku. 

The moment the tape is free from Kacchan’s neck, Izuku throws it away and puts both hands on Kacchan’s shoulders, dipping his head so he can press their foreheads together. 

“Kacchan? Can you hear me?”

Clearly, it’s a no. Kacchan is out of it. He’s barely breathing, despite the heaving of his chest. His eyes are unfocused, glassed over. It’s heartbreaking to look into that crimson gaze and find it so lost. 

Kacchan’s body is here, but his mind is far away. 

“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers. It’s close to a sob, but there are no witnesses. 

Izuku bites his tongue to stop himself from crying. This isn’t about him. 

“Kacchan, I need you to listen to me. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Come back to me. Please.”

No response, only jagged, heaving breaths that aren’t pulling enough oxygen in. Izuku has to do something. He’s got to find a way to help Kacchan. 

Careful not to make any sudden movements, Izuku takes off his gloves using his teeth one at a time. He runs his thumbs over Kacchan’s cheekbones, then slides one hand into his hair. It’s soft despite the dampness of sweat. Dazed by his own daring, Izuku draws slow circles on Kacchan’s skull. With his other hand, Izuku finds Kacchan’s good arm, and brings his palm to rest on his chest. 

“I need you to breathe with me,” Izuku tells him, hoping against all hope that he’ll somehow get through to him. That he’ll reach his best friend wherever he’s retreated to. “Please. Kacchan?”

Nothing.

Slightly desperate, Izuku abandons all caution and just pulls Kacchan into his arms. It’s hard to cradle someone bigger than you. It’s also agony on his broken shoulder. Izuku does it anyway, biting back a gasp of pain. He holds Kacchan as close as he can, lips brushing against his ear as he begs him to come back.

“It’s not real. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real,” Izuku repeats, rocking them together. “I’m here. I’m real. Come back. Kacchan, come back. Come to me.”

Kacchan coughs, and then, beautifully, croaks, “‘Zuku?”

“Oh my God.” The relief almost knocks him sideways. “Kacchan? Are you with me? Can you hear me?”

A full body shudder. “I—Izuku.”

“Breathe,” he says immediately. “Breathe with me. You’re panicking. You were triggered, and are having an episode. I’ve got you.”

“Where?”

“Training grounds,” Izuku replies. He keeps Kacchan close, clutching him to his chest like he can bring Kacchan back through sheer force of will. “We’re in school. We’re okay. We’re safe.”

Kacchan swallows. His hands spasm and then fist in Izuku’s suit, holding on for dear life. “Don’t let me go.”

Izuku’s heart swells. “Never.” 

He’s never sounded fiercer in his life. All Might in his prime could come to try and separate them, and Izuku wouldn’t let him. There’s no force in this universe strong enough to win against Izuku’s determination to keep Kacchan at his side. To keep him close. Safe and held in Izuku’s arms. 

“I—my neck,” Kacchan gasps. “It’s—”

“It’s okay,” Izuku reassures him. “It was just a bit of Sero’s tape. You’re good. I promise. I took care of it.”

Kacchan nods, curls himself into Izuku. Dry sobs make him shiver and tremble, but Izuku pretends not to notice.

This is his fault. If he had ran faster, he would have stopped Kacchan from getting tangled by the neck in the first place. 

It takes a while before Kacchan’s breathing returns to normal. Izuku holds him through it, forcing himself to be present. His own spiralling can wait. His guilt and shame at having failed Kacchan again must wait.

Right now, what matters is making sure Kacchan is okay. 

“Nerd,” Kacchan rasps. “Did everyone see?”

Izuku hesitates. The thing about Kacchan’s trauma is that it’s quiet. Maybe because he’s so loud—his voice, his quirk, his presence—his pain had to be silent. It sneaks up and smothers him like a thief in the night. 

Kacchan doesn’t cry or faint dramatically. 

He’s just there one moment, and gone the next. 

Normally, people don’t notice it because Kacchan is strong as hell and doesn’t get triggered by the mundane. It takes a lot of prodding for Kacchan to implode, which is why the therapy room is where he caves to the pressure. 

But today… Izuku sighs. “Yes,” he says. “But no one has come out yet and it’s been a while, so I’m pretty sure Aizawa-sensei sent everyone to the dorm and is waiting for us to get up from the ground.”

“Fuck.”

“Hey. Have you forgotten how many times I’ve had full on breakdowns in public? You’re good. It’s okay.”

Kacchan clicks his jaw, looks away. “It’s different when it’s you.” 

He still hasn’t detangled himself from Izuku’s arms. A black soot streak marrs his cheek, and dust clings to the trousers of his costume. He smells like burnt sugar and smoke. 

“It shouldn’t be,” Izuku tells him, and before he can second guess himself, or stop to think about what he’s doing, he tucks Kacchan under his chin and wraps him even tighter in his arms. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Kacchan. You’ve already won. It’s okay to rest sometimes.”

To Izuku’s surprise, Kacchan lets out a bitter chuckle. “You’re lecturing me on rest?”

Izuku grins even though Kacchan can’t see it. “Just because I don’t follow it myself doesn’t make it bad advice.”

Kacchan hums, buries his head against Izuku, and nuzzles Izuku’s neck. 

They both freeze. 

What was that?

Panic rushes through Izuku like water out of a firefighting hose. Is it better to acknowledge or ignore? He doesn’t want to move, but also is Kacchan expecting a reaction? Izuku kind of liked the affection. He wouldn’t be mad if Kacchan did it again.

In fact, Izuku… Izuku wants him to do it again. 

Slowly, Izuku slides a hand up Kacchan’s shoulder, the nape of his neck. He threads his fingers through his hair, counting their breaths. Kacchan often reacts like a cornered animal. The last thing Izuku wants is to spook him. 

Without a word, Izuku applies the barest hint of pressure, and waits.

“I’m just—” Kacchan starts, cuts himself off, then presses his face against the burning skin of Izuku’s throat. When he speaks again, his voice is like gravel. “Just need a fucking moment.”

“Anything you want,” Izuku breathes. 

He must look unhinged. He feels like it. His heart is hammering his ribs and his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. He’s… Kacchan is…

They’re cuddling? Maybe. Does this count as cuddling? Surely not. 

This is just trauma comfort or something like that. Is there a name for what’s happening here? Like a scientific one. Izuku thinks he’d feel less out of it if he could attach some sort of medical label to this. 

Because if he can’t, he doesn’t know what it means.

Kacchan is warm. He’s hard muscles but also soft hair and skin and caramel and victory and Izuku sort of very desperately wants to yank his head back and kiss him on the mouth.

Oh.

Oh.

This is bad. This is terrible. Kacchan is his best friend. He is not someone Izuku should use for experimentation. 

Right?

But then again, everything Izuku knows he’s learnt from Kacchan one way or another. They always push each other to be better. To surpass themselves. They train, and study, and eat together. They fight and win together.

Maybe that’s why Izuku can’t fathom learning to kiss with anyone else. 

“You’re muttering,” Kacchan says. 

“Sorry.”

“Is this freaking you out?”

Izuku shakes his head. “No. I just feel bad I didn’t make it here fast enough.”

Kacchan draws back, and Izuku feels the sudden space between them like a knife to the ribs. “What?”

“I noticed you were heading straight for a tangle of Sero’s tape, but I didn’t run fast enough,” Izuku admits, defeated. “I was late again.”

“Fuck, Izuku,” Kacchan groans. “Don’t tell me you used One for All.”

Annoyed, Izuku glares at him. “They’re my embers and I’ll use them for whatever I want.”

“Not on me! Fuck.” Kacchan pushes his hair back with both hands, looking at Izuku with a wild expression he can’t really interpret beyond frustration. “It’s not worth it, Izuku. Stop wasting your quirk on me.”

“It’s not wasted,” Izuku says stubbornly. “Not on you.”

Kacchan is safe. Kacchan is steady. Kacchan is the miracle Izuku prayed for when all was dark and all hope was lost.

And Kacchan brought back the light.

The least Izuku can do is keep him safe. Why can’t he understand that? 

“I can’t have this fight again,” Izuku says. He feels too unsteady. Emotionally and physically. His shoulder is on fire, and his chest can’t contain all the emotions the past few minutes have brought. “If you’re okay now, I need to go see Recovery girl.”

Kacchan blinks, then scowls. “You’re a fucking idiot, Izuku.”

He’d shrug if he wasn’t in so much pain. Instead, Izuku resigns himself to the end of their moment and gets to his feet. “A thank you would be nice, Kacchan.”

“I’m not fucking thanking you for your idiocy.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“I told you never to use your quirk for me again! You just don’t listen, do you?”

“Kacchan—”

“No,” he says, getting to his feet, too. “Don’t ‘Kacchan’ me until you’ve learnt to respect my wishes.”

Izuku’s lip trembles, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let Kacchan win by crying in front of him. Hurt, and confused by the sudden turn of events, Izuku shakes his head and walks away without another word. 

So much for not wanting to have this fight. 

##

Recovery Girl lectures Izuku on his recklessness, but she does heal him. Fortunately, a dislocated shoulder isn’t bad, especially compared to the sort of injuries Izuku has sustained in the past. 

By the time he walks out of the infirmary, he can more or less move his arm normally.

Izuku checks his phone only to be disappointed that Kacchan hasn’t replied to his text. He caved, alright? Didn’t last thirty minutes before he messaged him to apologise. Izuku isn’t sure what for, but that doesn’t matter. He just hates being in a fight with Kacchan right now.

Defeated, Izuku sits on a bench halfway to the dorms. It’s warm outside, and the humidity makes his skin sticky, but Izuku isn’t ready to walk into their building only for Kacchan to ignore him. 

This is why his therapist wants him to put some distance between them.

To some degree, Izuku recognises it’s not great how much he needs to be around Kacchan. It wasn’t like this before the war. Izuku has always admired him, and considered him a close friend. The symbol of victory. The hero he wanted to compete with.

He’s still all of those things, of course. But he’s also more. 

Kacchan was the one who had his back. The one who saved his life. The one who died for him. 

If Izuku needs constant reassurance that he’s okay, and happy, and close enough to touch… can they really blame him for it? Who wouldn’t feel this way? 

“Midoriya?”

Izuku looks up to find Shouto standing there. “Oh, hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

Shouto sits next to him. “Are you worried about Bakugo?”

Always. “No.” But then, “Should I be? He was fine when I went to the infirmary, right? Did anything happen?”

“No, no,” Shouto reassures him quickly. “He was back to normal when we came to the dorms. Left a bit later with Monoma.” 

Izuku looks away. He doesn’t want to be resentful, but it’s hard to keep his cool. Monoma isn’t Izuku’s kind of person, but he has a powerful quirk and a future as a hero. Of course Kacchan doesn’t mind spending time with him. 

And, much to Izuku’s annoyance, Kacchan is allowed to have other friends and hang out with them. 

“Right,” Izuku says. “Nothing to worry about.”

Shouto nods. They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, and it’s nice. Izuku kind of wants to ask Shouto about Shinsou but he doesn’t know how to bring it up without confessing he saw them. Maybe Shouto wouldn’t mind, but Izuku can’t be sure. Until that moment, Izuku didn’t even know Shouto liked boys. 

Maybe, it’s a secret and Shouto isn’t ready to tell it. Izuku respects that. He would never want to push Shouto. 

“How’s your shoulder?” 

Izuku startles. “What?”

Shouto looks at him. “Your shoulder. You dislocated it earlier.”

“Ah. Yes. Better.”

Shouto leans back, looks at his left hand for a long moment. “I wish I could help.”

Izuku is pretty sure they’re having two different conversations. It’s the only explanation for how confused he is. “What?”

“I have two quirks. Seems unfair. I wish I could give you one,” he says. It’s deadpan and flat, but Izuku knows it’s the honest truth. “It’s not fair you have to give yours up. I don’t like it.”

And okay. Way to put the finger on the bruise, Shouto. Tears well in Izuku’s eyes.

He forces them away. Evens his voice out. Shouto means well. He always does, even if his delivery is a tad tactless. 

“You have one quirk, Todoroki-kun,” he corrects softly. “Two sides of it, but just the one. It’s yours. I wouldn’t ever want to take it from you, even if you were to offer it willingly. Besides, I’m fine. It’s fine. I don’t need a quirk. I’ve made my peace with it.”

Shouto nods, closing his fist. “That’s good, then. If you’re fine. You’re stronger than I am. I don’t think I would be fine. You’re very strong, Midoriya.”

Izuku nods, and for once in his life, takes advantage of Shouto’s inability to read social cues. 

Ochako would know Izuku is lying. Shouto just takes him at his word. It’s maybe a bit mean, but Izuku doesn’t want his friend’s pity. He also doesn’t have the resilience to entertain this conversation any longer. 

Not without spiraling and having another mental breakdown. 

It’s been a good day on that front. Izuku wants to keep it that way. 

“How’s Touya?”

Shouto shrugs. “Same. I think. I haven’t been to see him this week.” There’s a pause, like Shouto is hesitating. Izuku glances at him and finds him looking down at the ground. “I’ve been… distracted.”

“Huh?”

“I… I like someone,” Shouto says. “And I’ve been spending time with… him.”

Izuku recognises the test for what it is. Shouto, for all his straight forwardness, is afraid. Does he think Izuku wouldn’t accept him just because he likes boys? Come to think of it, that’s the sort of thing Endeavour would have a problem with. Ugh. 

Not on Izuku’s watch. 

“Is he your boyfriend?” Izuku asks as casually as he can. 

Shouto looks up, eyes bright. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said.”

“Have you asked him?”

It’s a bit funny how alarmed Shouto looks all of a sudden. “Should I have asked him?”

Izuku giggles. “I think so. If you want him to be your boyfriend, I mean. If not, then no.”

“I didn’t know. I—I have to ask him.”

“I’m sure he’ll say yes,” Izuku reassures him. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

“Thank you, Midoriya. That’s nice of you.”

He pauses, pensive. A small, pleased smile on his face. Izuku is glad Shouto feels light enough to be experiencing this. He deserves it so much after everything he went through. 

“Is it weird?” Shouto asks. “I know boys should like girls, but… I don’t know. He’s smart, but doesn’t talk too much. And he doesn't mind that I sometimes don’t understand what people mean the first time.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Izuku replies. “Not at all. Why should it matter?”

Shouto nods, and then fully grins at him. Izuku grins back. 

There’s nothing else to say, so they don’t. That’s the thing about Shouto. You don’t need to fill the silences because he never makes them awkward. There’s something special about being able to exist in a pocket of quiet with a friend. 

Kacchan is the only other person Izuku can do that with. 

After a while, the wind picks up. In a few minutes, the sky turns dark with heavy clouds. Izuku frowns at the sudden overcast gloom. It was sunny a moment ago, but now the clouds threaten rain. It smells of petrichor. Both Izuku and Shouto glance at each other as the first drops begin to fall, then bolt towards the dorms at maximum speed. 

Despite how quickly they moved, they’re drenched by the time they’re indoors so Izuku waves goodbye to Shouto and goes to change into dry clothes. He’s got homework to catch up on anyway. Might as well get a head start on it.

Unfortunately, when Izuku sits at his desk and opens his bag he remembers that he left his textbook in Kacchan’s room. 

He’s got two choices. He can text Kacchan again or… or he can sneak into his room and get the book back. He’s out with Monoma, Shouto said, so it’s not like Kacchan would know. And Izuku already texted him once. Kacchan is ignoring him, and as much as it pains him, Izuku refuses to grovel. 

It’s not like he did anything wrong!

Determined, Izuku hurries to Kacchan’s floor. He knocks on the door, waits a reasonable amount of time, then opens it. The room is empty. 

The disappointment is an uncomfortable reminder of their earlier fight, but Izuku really doesn’t want to get caught sneaking into Kacchan’s space so he hurries to the desk and grabs his book. 

That’s when Kacchan steps into the room. “Nerd?”

“Kacchan!” Izuku’s brain catches up with his vision and he suddenly processes that Kacchan must have got caught in the rain, too, because his t-shirt is soaked and sticking to his chest. “You’re… wet.”

“No shit,” he says, closing the door behind him. “It’s a monsoon out there.”

To Izuku’s bewilderment, Kacchan shrugs off his t-shirt and begins rummaging through his closet half-naked. After the day he’s had, Izuku doesn’t need any more reminders that he’s terrifyingly sort of into Kacchan. Look at how attractive his best friend is! Does he need that much definition? And what’s with the waist? This is unfair. 

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a towel and dry clothes,” Kacchan replies. “Why are you in my room?”

“I forgot my book,” Izuku says automatically, raising the book and giving it a little shake. “I thought you were out.”

Kacchan pauses just to frown directly at Izuku. “I was.”

“You didn’t answer my text.”

“I didn’t.”

“Kacchan!”

“What?” He abandons his search for clothes—which Izuku can’t decide if it’s a good or a bad thing—and throws his arms out. “I have told you a hundred times not to use One for All for my benefit. You never fucking listen. I needed to cool off.”

Izuku scowls, drops his book on the desk, and crosses his arms over his chest. “With Monoma?”

Kacchan looks confused for a minute. “Were you spying on me?”

“No! Shouto told me,” Izuku protests, blushing way too hard. “Oh my God, Kacchan!”

The relief on Kacchan’s face should have made Izuku’s alarm bells ring, but he’s frankly distracted because they’re having a sort-of-but-not-quite argument and Kacchan is still shirtless. Shirtless and wet. 

The droplets of water clinging to his collarbone are going to be the death of Izuku. Why can’t he stop noticing them?

“What? It was a fair question.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Izuku says, shaking his head. He sighs, then forces himself to look away. “I don’t want to fight again, so I’m going to leave.”

He grabs his book and makes for the door, but Kacchan catches him by the wrist when he walks past. “Wait. Izuku, wait.”

“It’s fine, Kacchan.”

“I know it’s fine,” he snaps, pulling Izuku closer. “Ditch the homework. Watch a movie with me. You owe me for last night.”

“I owe—oh wow.”

Kacchan cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head, and if Izuku didn’t know better, he’d think Kacchan is pouting a little. “Come on, nerd. You stood me up. Stay.”

There’s no way in hell Izuku would ever be able to say no to Kacchan. Not on a good day. Even less when he looks like that. 

“Fine, but it’s my turn to choose the movie.”

##

Here lies Izuku, killed by the weight of his stupid choices.

They’re half way into the movie and everything is a mess. They’re on Kacchan’s bed (normal) but he’s still shirtless (not normal). The movie is funny (normal) but it turned out to have a lot of romance in it (not normal). Izuku keeps getting distracted (normal) by the idea of kissing (not normal).

And all because every two scenes, someone on screen is making out. 

And also maybe a little bit because the light dips between Kacchan’s pectorals and honestly how does a seventeen year old kid have a chest that size? The scar makes Izuku want to simultaneously cry himself to sleep and run his fingers over it in worship. 

Okay, and if Izuku is being honest, the trail of blond hair Kacchan has from his navel down into his sweats isn’t helping matters. Not even a little bit. 

He cannot stop fidgeting. It’s like he’s been colonised by a charm of hyperactive hummingbirds. If he keeps this up, Izuku is in danger of his soul gyrating out of his body. 

“Fucking hell, nerd,” Kacchan grunts, hitting pause aggressively. “What’s the matter with you?”

Izuku opens his mouth and blurts, “Have you ever kissed anyone, Kacchan?”

The silence is thicker than the blanket of snow in the remotest parts of Hokkaido. Izuku prays for a world-ending catastrophe to take his mortification away, completely frozen in place. 

Please just end it all. 

Why does his mouth have a life of its own?

Slowly, Izuku side eyes Kacchan as subtly as he can. Just to check how bad the reaction is. 

But Kacchan looks… like he might start crying any second? He glances between the screen and Izuku’s face, a faint blush on his cheeks and a fearful look in his eye. 

It’s jarring enough that Izuku forgets to be worried or anxious. 

“I just—they keep kissing,” Izuku mutters, gesturing to the laptop. “And guess what? I saw two of our classmates making out yesterday. So I’ve been… just thinking about it.”

“About kissing?” 

“Yeah,” Izuku admits. “I—I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Kacchan swallows, traps his bottom lip between his teeth. “Me neither.”

“Really?” Izuku asks, oddly relieved by this new information. He hadn’t known he was worried Kacchan had kissed that phone girl until he learnt he hadn't. “I thought—I don’t know.”

“You thought what?” Kacchan insists aggressively. “Who would I be kissing? I’m not wasting time on any extras!”

Izuku grins, then slaps a hand over his mouth. 

“What?!” Kacchan asks, raising his voice even more. “What’s funny? Do you think it’s lame? You haven’t kissed anyone either. You just fucking told me!”

“I don’t think it’s lame.”

“Then why are you laughing?” Kacchan hits Izuku with a pillow out of the blue. “Don’t laugh at me, you fucking nerd.”

Izuku gasps, then scrambles to grab another pillow and retaliates. “I’m not laughing!”

The laptop is forgotten on the chair as they launch into a pillow fight. It’s not rare for them to have a little scuffle here and there. Sometimes, Izuku wonders if it’s because a part of them can’t let go of the thrill of trying to one up the other. Even if it’s with pillows and cushions. 

It’s usually pretty even. Not that Izuku keeps count, but if he did, he’d tell you that he wins as many bouts as he loses. He knows Kacchan’s weaknesses by now. 

Today, however, Izuku is at a huge disadvantage. Every time he goes in for the kill, he’s presented with Kacchan’s bare chest and that is just not something Izuku is prepared to deal with right now. 

His distraction costs him, and before he knows it he’s on his back, surrendering to Kacchan before he is smothered to death.

“Fine! You win!” he yelps. “Kacchan wins. Let me up.”

Breathing hard, Kacchan scoots back just enough for Izuku to sit. It’s dark in the room. The laptop went to sleep ages ago while they were rolling around the bed. Shadows dip and highlight the planes of Kacchan’s face. 

Deep in his gut, Izuku knows. This is one of those liminal moments. Dark and quiet and easily tucked away into a secret pocket if they must. It’s a rare chance to take a risk and blame it on the environment. On the day they’ve had. On the painkillers Recovery girl gave him. The truth is that he hasn’t taken them, but Kacchan has no idea.  

Izuku pushes his hair out of his face. “Kacchan.”

They look at each other. “What?”

“Don’t you want to know what it’s like?”

Izuku’s agitated breathing is all that can be heard in the silence that follows. 

Kacchan swallows, but he doesn’t move away. “What what is like?”

“Kissing.”

Izuku is pretty sure his heart is going to shoot out of his chest while he waits for Kacchan to react beyond the widening of his eyes. 

“What are you saying, Izuku?”

“I’m saying that I want to know what it’s like. I’ve never done it, and I don’t want to be bad at it. You’re supposed to practice, right? And well, you’re here and I’m here and why not? It’s like training. You’ll get all competitive and try to win at kissing, and then I’ll try to beat you, and we’ll just learn quickly and then be ready.”

Too many words, idiot. He’s going to notice you’re freaking out.

“I—but.” Kacchan stops, looks away. “I’m a boy.”

“Yes, I know that. So am I. It’s okay. I told you I saw Shouto and Shinso kissing,” Izuku blurts. “It’s fine for boys to kiss boys. I didn’t know that before. But I do now. I don’t mind, if you don’t mind.” Then, the panic sets. “But if you… if there’s some girl, then I mean, of course. We don’t have to. I just—”

“There’s no girl.”

“—thinking that maybe… wait. There’s no girl?”

“No.”

“So, it’s okay I’m… a boy?”

“I don’t care that you're a boy but… Izuku, are you sure? Don’t you want to wait for someone you like?” Kacchan asks, and it’s so… considerate that Izuku almost cries. Except he knows the moment there’s a tear in sight, Kacchan will back off and Izuku absolutely, fundamentally, cannot allow that to happen.

“It’s just for practice,” he says with a little shrug, hoping to convey a nonchalance he doesn’t feel. 

“Right.”

“So, we do it?”

Kacchan nods, but doesn’t move. Izuku stares at him, wondering. Is he… is he supposed to go first? Does he just tilt his head? 

This is so awkward. He should have thought this through properly. He should have come with a plan.

But that would have felt ambush-y. Izuku genuinely had no idea he’d even find himself here. For all his wondering, he never once considered that maybe Kacc—

“Hey.” A large, warm hand that smells like burnt sugar slides along Izuku’s jaw and tilts his face up slightly. Izuku is going to die, he’s pretty certain of it. “Are you panicking because you don’t actually wanna try or because you’re Midoriya Izuku?”

“The second one,” he breathes. “I’m kinda nervous.”

“Me too,” Kacchan admits, then he smiles. Izuku’s brain short-circuits when Kacchan looks down, straight at his mouth. “But I’ve got you, nerd.”

Their lips brush. Izuku’s first thought is that for a kid so abrasively rude and harsh, Kacchan’s kiss is gentler than the warmth of a hearth. He melts, completely and utterly, sighing against Kacchan’s mouth and letting himself go boneless. 

It’s over too soon. 

When Kacchan draws back, Izuku throws his arms around his neck and says, “That’s not enough.”

Izuku kisses Kacchan this time, but he doesn’t have the upper hand for long. The moment their mouths are touching again, Kacchan’s tongue darts out and Izuku’s soul catapults itself out of his body. 

Holy shit. 

Instinctively, Izuku tilts his head to the side and lets Kacchan in. He’s suddenly everywhere. Izuku’s entire being hones in on the feeling of Kacchan’s tongue tentatively exploring his mouth and wow. 

There’s no room for Izuku’s usually loud brain to try and jabber about technique, or to analyse the kiss, or anything, really, other than to be completely overwhelmed by the fact that Kacchan is kissing him and he tastes like sweet fire. 

It’s clumsy and wet and probably not very skillful, but Izuku thinks there can’t possibly exist a better kisser in the world than Kacchan. He makes Izuku feel like he belongs in the seam of his lips, in the warmth of his mouth, in the gasp that escapes as Kacchan’s tongue traces Izuku’s teeth.

“You good?” Kacchan rasps, breaking the kiss before Izuku is ready. 

Panicked, he opens his eyes. “Yes? Why did—”

Kacchan bites his lower lip and Izuku makes a noise he could have lived without knowing he was capable of. His cheeks burn, but Izuku would rather die than stop, so he kisses Kacchan back and hopes for the best. 

And the best is Kacchan trailing kisses along Izuku’s throat, which he wasn’t expecting, but oh. Oh my God. Okay. He’s not complaining. Ever. 

Izuku holds on to Kacchan’s shoulders, suddenly remembering that Kacchan is shirtless, and does that make this more than practice? It… it sort of feels like it? 

It should scare him, but Kacchan is kissing him again and Izuku cannot recall a single reason why they shouldn’t do this every day for the rest of their lives. 

Izuku’s fingers tug at Kacchan’s hair, and he groans, and Izuku thinks this is the best thing that has ever happened to him. Kissing Kacchan is addictive. It’s a thrill better than fighting a villain, better than flying across the sky, better than raising a fist in victory. 

Kissing Kacchan is everything Izuku didn’t know he wanted. 

“Kacchan,” he breathes in between kisses. “Kacchan.”

“Yes?”

“I—do you—” 

Brrrrrrrrr.

Clonk. 

“FUCK!” 

It takes him a moment to realise that Kacchan’s phone has been ringing for a while, and that it has vibrated so much it has fallen off the desk. 

Izuku blinks, disoriented. Kacchan looks at him, eyes wild and hair a mess. Izuku did that. Kacchan let him. He liked it when Izuku ran his fingers through it. 

Dazed, Izuku realises he didn’t really consciously think to do any of it. He didn’t think much at all, if he’s honest. It was all instinct, and a need to just do more, feel more, have more. Like a beast inside him roared to live and took charge. 

Izuku doesn’t even know how long they’ve been kissing for. 

And that’s a problem, because before the ruckus, Izuku had been about to do something stupid. Something reckless. 

“Just check,” Izuku says, clearing his throat. “It could be important.”

Kacchan doesn’t react immediately. He watches Izuku for the longest second of his life before nodding. “Right. Yes. Okay.”

“Kacchan? Was that… you know. Was it awful?”

“Absolutely,” he says. Izuku’s heart sinks. “We must keep practicing.”

Izuku laughs. “If you insist,” he says. And it’s just. They stay that way for a moment, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Lips swollen and breathing a little too fast.

Kacchan sighs, then moves back. He drops his hands and Izuku feels the loss of contact like a bucket of iced water. Kacchan runs a hand over his face, smacks his lips. “I’ll check the phone now.”

“Okay,” Izuku breathes, and if he sounds a little out of it, that’s alright. Kacchan doesn’t seem to be faring that much better anyway. 

When Kacchan gets up to grab his phone, Izuku takes a deep breath. He has to get himself under control. He has to think about this. About what it means. 

“Nerd, shit. I’m sorry. I—I need to take this call. It actually is kind of important,” Kacchan says, and he sounds a bit regretful, which boosts Izuku’s ego enough he doesn’t mind calling it a night.

He’s got to get himself together anyway. He absolutely cannot kiss Kacchan again until he has clarity and, ideally, a game plan. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says cheerfully. He even throws a little, pathetic wave as he walks out the door. 

Kacchan rolls his eyes, a smirk on his swollen lips. “Bye, nerd.”

##

Izuku doesn’t sleep a wink. 

It should be concerning, because it’s the second night in a row, but there are more important things. 

Things like making sure he gets to kiss Kacchan again soon. 

Things like researching the best technique and tricks to make it good for him so he keeps wanting more. 

Things like taking an online test named ‘am I in love with my best friend’ and having a panic when the answer is YES!

Things like writing in his journal that maybe his middle school crush on Kacchan never really faded, it just morphed and Izuku lost sight of it for a bit. 

Things like admitting to himself in the dead of the night that the way he feels about Kacchan can’t really be explained by friendship alone, no matter how hard Izuku tries to justify and reason it all away. 

It’s kind of freeing to finally have the balls to just accept the truth. 

Perhaps he should be more afraid. Izuku is in no state to be joining the ‘crush bug’ club. He’s still messed up and one single good day—brought about by his sudden obsession with kisses—doesn’t mean he’s healed. 

He’s not stupid. Izuku has a long journey ahead of him. He’s got so much to deal with. Traumas piled so high Izuku needs an elevator to visit them all. Resentment and guilt and grief. Shame about his feelings, self-loathing for wanting things a hero isn’t supposed to need. 

They don’t get happy endings. They aren't allowed to long for them. 

But Izuku does.

Despite himself, he wants and yearns and suffers for it. 

How is he meant to just pivot? Izuku has to completely rethink his future because being a pro hero is off the table and he isn’t even allowed to be mad about it. 

But maybe that’s why he’s so sure he wants to do this. To chase Kacchan for as long as he can.

Izuku is still losing his quirk. He has no idea how long he has. The only thing that’s certain is that Kacchan will stop paying attention to him when the day comes. So, if Izuku wants a chance to woo Kacchan, he’s got to act now. 

He has no time to waste. Every day counts, and Izuku would rather fight a war again than look back one day and regret he didn’t do something about these feelings in his chest. 

So, when the sun rises, it finds Izuku bent over his desk, scribbling in a fresh notebook titled: step-by-step plan to make Kacchan my boyfriend before the end of the term. 

It starts right now. 

Izuku showers and brushes his teeth. He gets dressed in record time, humming to himself all the while. He’s excited, because regardless of whether Kacchan likes him back, he definitely enjoyed the kissing so Izuku has an edge. 

And he’s going to exploit it. 

Feeling slightly unhinged, but hopeful and determined, Izuku makes his way up to Kacchan’s room. They’ve got half an hour before breakfast starts. With some luck and carefully planned goading, he’s seventy two per cent confident he can bait Kacchan into kissing him this morning. 

Izuku knocks and waits. He shifts his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet and back. The backpack on his shoulders is light (he forgot his book here again!). 

After a whole minute, Izuku knocks again. Maybe Kacchan is in the shower? But he’s an early riser. He gets up way before Izuku does. 

Maybe he overslept today. What if kissing Izuku also sent Kacchan into a spiral and that’s why he didn’t get up at the crack of dawn? It’s a flattering thought. 

Grinning, Izuku inches the door open and pokes his head inside. 

The world falls from under his feet. 

Izuku’s breath catches. His hands shake. This—wait. Wait. He backs up, checks the room number. He’s in the right place, but this is all wrong. 

“Kacchan?” 

Nauseous, Izuku steps inside a barren room. The bed is naked of sheets. The closet is open, empty. No posters on the walls. No backpack in the corner. Kacchan’s gym bag and laundry basket are missing. There’s no sign of his study notes or his laptop. 

The balcony is open and it smells like dew and summer. No burnt sugar. No spice. No fire. 

No Kacchan. 

Alone on the desk, marooned like a castaway on a deserted island, is Izuku’s book. 

There’s nothing else in here. 

No trace of Kacchan at all. 

Izuku’s knees hit the floor. He can’t breathe. He can’t—what if—

Did he leave?

No. 

Kacchan wouldn’t leave like this. He wouldn’t do that to Izuku. Not without saying something. Not without a goodbye. 

It makes no sense. Izuku was here. He was! He remembers it so well. He can feel Kacchan’s lips on him, the ghost of touches Izuku couldn’t forget if he tried. It’s been a couple of hours only. 

Did Izuku—oh.

No.

It hurts. It chokes him. 

Izuku can’t breathe, can’t move. He can’t even scream. He makes a noise like interrupted gasps. Broken and desperate. 

This can’t be happening.

Did his brain betray him again? Has it all been a lie? What—

Did Izuku hallucinate Kacchan? Has he—is—

“Is Kacchan dead?” Izuku asks the empty room, and his mind, protective as it is, pulls him into the darkness before he can find out.

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait, life's been busy, but I should be able to post the next chapter pretty soon :)

Thank you for the comments and kudos, you feed my heart <3

PS: Foon, I'm sorry again (thank you).

Chapter 6: Of atonement and amends

Notes:

Katsuki POV has entered the chat

“Is this Bakugo Katsuki?”

For a long second, Katsuki simply stares at the door. The door through which Izuku just left. After letting Katsuki kiss him. 

Fuck. 

“Who’s asking?” He sounds hoarse and out of breath. 

“Is that a yes?”

Bracing on his desk so he doesn’t sway on the spot, Katsuki clears his throat. “Yes. This is Bakugo.”

“Hello, Bakugo-kun. This is Jaqie Couvent. I understand you’ve been trying to reach me,” the voice on the other side of the phone is firm, confident, and everything Katsuki hoped the elusive Jaqie Couvent would be.

Double fuck. 

He had an inkling it might be related to this. He’s never seen a weirder number before. It made all his alarm bells ring, and he was right. 

He’s finally talking to Doctor Jaqie Couvent, the world’s utmost eminence in quirk DNA alteration. He sort of, kinda, wishes he weren’t. 

Not right now. 

It’s terrible timing. 

Katsuki’s brain is still processing that Izuku casually asked to be kissed, and didn’t back down even after Katsuki lost it a little bit and went overboard. He’s pretty sure the nerd is going to have a hickey tomorrow, and Katsuki cannot wait to see it. 

Twisted bastard.

Clutching the phone to his ear, Katsuki does his level best to calm his erratic heartbeat down. “Yes, I have.” 

He must focus. Push the unruly thoughts and wants aside until after he’s spoken to Jaqie. He hasn’t been chasing this woman desperately for two months to fuck this up now. 

“I need your help with a case. Look, I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure this could be the rarest, most interesting challenge of your career.”

“Bold words for a kid,” Jaqie says, but she sounds more amused than annoyed. 

Katsuki takes a deep breath to steel himself. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“Obviously,” Jaqie replies, confirming Katsuki’s suspicions. “I know who you are, Bakugo-kun. I might live in a lab miles underground, but even I was aware of how close we came to the end of the world. I watched the livestream.”

I watched you die.

“I’m not the subject of the case I want help with,” he bites out. 

People have been sending him emails, asking to study him like he’s some sort of walking experiment. 

Katsuki understands what happened to him was nothing short of miraculous, but he’s still a person. Isn’t he? He’s too flawed to be anything but pathetically, hideously human. It’s annoying that people want to cut him open and look inside as though they’ll find anything other than organs and a scarred heart. 

“Of course, you’re not,” Jaqie says, surprising him. “You want to talk about your friend Deku.”

“How—I mean, yes.”

“I can’t promise you results,” she tells him. “But I want to try. You’re right, it’s a rare case. There is no quirk like One for All. My professional curiosity wouldn’t let me pass this up.”

Katsuki covers his mouth with a trembling hand. That’s it? He didn’t know it’d be this easy. Not after he spent weeks emailing and calling and begging people on the phone to please let him speak to this woman just once.

He was prepared to grovel, explain, and beg. 

It’s disorienting that he hasn’t had to do any of it. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m too old for that, kid,” Jaqie says. Then, like it’s an afterthought. “Watch your language.”

Katsuki crumples like wet origami paper. “Right. Yes. Okay. I have research and data. And a theory, but—”

“Hold your horses,” Jaqie says. “I’ll do my own research. This isn’t going to be a quick one or an easy one. I’m not leaving anything up to chance. The sort of work I do is dangerous. Do you and Deku understand this? People die in my lab.”

Katsuki swallows, suddenly nervous. He knew this would come up, but he’s still unprepared to explain it. How does he tell an adult that he knows Izuku will break beyond repair if he catches wind of this and then it doesn’t work?

No one would believe him. They’d say ‘Deku isn’t that fragile’. 

But Katsuki knows. In his bones. In his soul. 

If Izuku’s hopes to stay a hero get shattered, he’ll shatter with them and never be the same again. 

“Ehm… so, Izuku doesn’t know about this. About you. I haven’t… I didn’t want to tell him. Not until I knew whether it’s even possible. Couvent-san, I can’t get his hopes up in vain. You—he’s already struggling so much. It would break him.”

“Bakugo…” A pause. A sigh. “I understand that, but I can’t do this without Deku. I need his DNA.”

“I’ve got it for you,” Katsuki says quickly. “He’s my best friend. I can get anything you need. Blood, spit, whatever. Name it, and I’ll send it to you.”

“I need a live body with One for All embedded in its DNA to run tests, Bakugo-kun,” she informs him. “I can run some initial experiments on samples, but the real stuff will only show if I’m working with the subject. It’s dangerous, and painful, and I need Deku informed and consenting. I need him in my lab. Otherwise, I can’t do it.”

Katsuki drops to a crouch. His throat hurts like something wants to crawl out of it. 

Fuck. 

He didn’t anticipate that Jaqie would need Izuku himself. 

Katsuki believed he’d thought of everything. He anticipated the DNA part, and has been collecting samples when he could. He photocopied Izuku’s notebooks about One for All to make sure he has all the information about its origin and the other quirks stockpiled inside of it. He has video files from the war saved for reference, and some of their filmed UA training from last year to be able to show Jaqie Izuku’s progress with One For All. He even sat down and wrote everything he remembered—from their entrance exam to the day they fought Shigaraki and All for One—in a very neat, carefully colour coded notebook (that the nerd can never know about). 

And still, he didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be able to do this without Izuku. 

“What are the chances of this working?” he croaks. 

“Low,” Jaqie tells him. “I won’t sugarcoat it, kid. The chance of Izuku dying during testing is higher than the chance of this working.”

Katsuki closes his eyes to keep the tears in.

This is it, then. 

He’s not risking Izuku’s life. 

The world needs Izuku to be in it, even if he’s not a hero. Katsuki needs Izuku to be alive, even if he’ll lose him the moment his quirk vanishes. 

Katsuki doesn’t expect—doesn’t want—anything from the damn nerd. 

So long as he’s alive. 

Katsuki is going to have to learn to live on the sidelines. It’s going to have to be enough to watch Izuku rebuild his life away from hero work. It’s going to have to be enough to watch him leave Katsuki and his childish dreams behind. 

It burns like someone poured acid down his throat. 

But Katsuki is used to his own weakness by now. He pushes it away, buries it deep. Down where he can pretend it doesn’t exist. All his fucked up feelings get locked up in a vault and smashed to smithereens. 

“Then, I’m sorry I wasted your time, Couvent-san,” Katsuki says, and he can’t help the sniffle. Can’t help the tears of rage and frustration.

It’s so fucking unfair. 

Izuku deserves better.

And Katsuki hates losing the chance to be the one to give it to him. 

“Hey, listen,” Jaqie says. “I needed to put a bit of fear in you so you’d take this seriously, but—”

“If there’s even a zero point one percent chance of Izuku dying, I’m not doing it,” he cuts her off. “I didn’t think it’d be that dangerous. I should have looked into your work more.”

Jaqie hums. Katsuki hears her tapping her nails on a hard surface. Her desk, perhaps. “You couldn’t have. It’s already impressive you even found me. You must be a very smart kid.” She clicks her tongue, sighs heavily. “I understand you don’t want to risk it. I wish I had better news for you. I’d really like to be able to tell you that I can reignite One for All for Deku without any risks, but it’s just not that easy.”

Katsuki has never felt a loss more keenly. He thought he’d be able to do this for Izuku. That he’d be able to pay back his debt and stand on equal footing so he’d have a chance to stay in Izuku’s life.

It’s not really about the quirk itself.

It’s about atonement, and amends. It’s about deserving and earning. About wiping the slate clean. About redemption and worship. 

It’s about paying back someone who saved Katsuki’s life in more ways than he can count. 

It’s about showing Izuku that the world might have moved on from his sacrifice, but Katsuki hasn’t. He won’t. Because he’s always watching, and he has noticed. 

Katsuki knows how much it weighs on Izuku to have to give up on his dream. It’s tearing him apart, pulling at his seams and unraveling him. It’s one of the reasons his recovery is slower than most of the others. Not because Izuku is weaker, but because he’s had to forfeit so much more than anyone else. 

Izuku will never admit it, because he’s a good hero like that. He’s too selfless to ever say it out loud. Izuku has always been a self-sacrificial asshole. He’s always found a way to save everyone else. He’d give up his life in a heartbeat. He has even given up his quirk be—oh.

Oh. 

 “Wait,” Katsuki says into the phone, jumping to his feet. “Wait. Wait. Couvent-san, are you still there?”

“I am.”

“What if there’s another way? Another way to run the tests and figure out if you can do it before we involve Izuku.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had One for All once,” Katsuki tells Jaqie. He’s not supposed to know. He certainly doesn’t remember. But he read it in Izuku’s journal and why would the nerd lie about something like that? “Izuku—it doesn’t matter. He transferred it to me, and I used it, but the transfer was incomplete so it went back to him.” 

“You—I see,” Jaqie mutters. “I’d have to test you for it first, but if it’s in your DNA… we will still need Deku. There’s no way around that. But, depending on the concentration of quirk factor leftover in your DNA…”

“You could run most of your tests on me,” Katsuki says. “By the time you need Izuku, you’d know, right? You’ll have more visibility into the feasibility of this whole thing?”

“Yes. That is correct,” Jaqie replies. Then hesitates. “But Bakugo-kun, the risks still apply. It’ll be painful. And you could die.”

Katsuki shrugs. He’s not afraid of dying. Been there, done that. Came back angrier than ever and took down the big bad villain. 

Death can kiss Katuski’s ass. 

If he does this, then he’ll be coming to Izuku with a solid chance. Not a needle in a haystack. Not a wish upon a star. An actual plan, with scientific evidence, that could let Izuku keep his quirk. 

There’s nothing Katsuk isn’t prepared to give up. 

“I don’t care. I’ll do it. Whatever you need.”

##

Katsuki should have thought things through a bit more before he agreed so readily to Jaqie booking him a flight out of Musutafu at dawn. He’s got to be at the airport in one hour in order to make it.  

It’s less than ideal that he’s leaving the very same night he kissed Izuku. It sends the wrong message. But what would the right message be anyway? It’s not like Katsuki can tell Izuku that, to him, it’s not practice. Katsuki isn’t experimenting, or exploring, or any of the other bullshit people do when they’re hormonal teenagers.

Katsuki wants Izuku and only Izuku, in any capacity he can have him. It’s ugly and twisted and angry, because Katsuki wishes it weren’t Izuku and he hates that it is.

The way Katsuki feels about the nerd isn’t romantic. It’s not pastels and hearts. It’s not holding hands and giggling on a Ferris wheel. 

Katsuki wants to crack Izuku open and crawl inside of him so he can taste what he’s made of. To shatter him and stitch him to his skin in bits so he can never be away. Katsuki wants Izuku tattooed on the inseams of his muscles and carved into his bones. Nestled under his skin, in a home (or a prison) that he can never leave. 

He wants to beat Izuku bloody and bask in a well earned victory only his nerd can deliver. Katsuki wants to make Izuku cry and lick his tears. Katsuki wants to be Izuku’s poison and his cure. He wants, and wants, and wants, and he hates that he does, because it makes him pathetic. 

I would break you to pieces just so I am the only one that can put you back together. 

Terrifying shit to be saying to a fellow kid. He knows that, which is why he won’t tell Izuku a word. 

The way Katsuki loves Izuku is the worst, ugliest thing about him. 

It’s also something Katsuki can never give into, because Izuku deserves better than bloodied teeth and bruises. Katsuki knows violence and pain, and that’s all he can give. Katsuki doesn’t know how to love anything without destroying it, and he’ll be damned if he ever hurts Izuku again. 

The room is dark and empty, and Katsuki stands in the middle of it and stares at the book that Izuku forgot behind again. 

He’s not writing a note because fuck that. That’s embarrassing and Katsuki has no idea what he would even write.

“Brb, running an errand. Don’t be upset?”

There’s just no good way of saying goodbye without explaining where he’s going. It was already a nightmare composing an email for Nezu to explain his absence without getting kicked out of school. Fortunately for him, his arm is still majorly fucked up so it’s plausible he’d go on an extended trip for experimental treatment. 

Nezu and Aizawa will tell Izuku where he went, and he’ll believe it, or not.

Katsuki isn’t stupid. There’s a good chance Izuku will be pissed. Maybe hurt, though chances of that are lower. Izuku doesn’t actually like Katsuki. He just wanted to learn how to kiss. 

So, yeah. He’ll be annoyed, and possibly a little out of it because Izuku has been struggling with separation anxiety after Katsuki’s heart exploded. . 

Katsuki hesitates. That’s…

Ugh. 

He presses a hand over his chest. Alright, so it’s going to be hard to be away from the nerd. For the both of them. Izuku does need him around. Katsuki isn’t stupid or blind. They both feel better when they have the other in their field of vision. After the shit they went through, it’s not surprising. Katsuki wouldn’t leave Izuku if he had a choice. 

But this is… this is the only chance he has to fix things. 

Katsuki is the only one fucked up enough to try something like dangerous, experimental quirk DNA manipulation to give Izuku another shot at herodom, but he’s not the only one who can help Izuku with his trauma. 

He won’t ever get another shot at this. Izuku’s time is running out. The embers won’t last very long at the rate he’s been burning through them for no fucking reason. 

It’s now or never. 

Izuku has a support system here. People are looking after him. Adults and friends. His mother. He’s surrounded by extras ready to coddle and baby him until he’s better. Fuck, he’s got All Might himself, even though Izuku could use with some distance from that guy for a change. 

He—mmmm.

Whipping out his phone, Katsuki writes a text message: 

Can’t tell you where I’m going, but I need to go do something important. I need a favour. You have to eat lunch with Deku every day until I come back. Do not, under any circumstances, let All Might invite him to lunch in his office. Keep an eye on him for me. I’ll owe you. 

Kirishima sleeps like a rock, so he won’t see that until the morning. 

If there’s anyone Katsuki trusts to keep his mouth shut and do him a solid, it’s Kiri. He’ll make sure nothing bad happens to Izuku or he’ll die trying. 

What else? Katsuki paces his room, considering. He doesn’t need to ask Round Cheeks or Iida to look after Izuku. They do it anyway. Same as Todoroki. 

Izuku will be fine. It won’t take too long. Couple of weeks, Katsuki hopes. Izuku can survive a few weeks. It might even be good for him. Principal Nezu and All Might tried to get Katsuki to convince Izuku to leave for an exchange in America, citing their codependency as an impediment to Izuku’s healing journey. 

Apparently, Izuku refused to leave. 

Katsuki smiles to himself, then shakes his head. He’s an idiot, but what else is new? 

Izuku is going to be pissed. 

But he’ll understand. When Katsuki comes back and tells him why he left… when he explains to Izuku that he can keep his quirk and be a hero like he always wanted… all will be forgiven. 

Katsuki has to believe that or he’ll be miserable the entire time he’s away. Considering he’s volunteering himself as a lab rat, he’d rather minimise the misery where he can. 

Swallowing hard, Katsuki glances at his room one last time. He packed his stuff in boxes and moved it downstairs to their storage closet to prevent it getting dusty and stale. It’s more hygienic to keep everything neatly stored until his return. 

Jaqie said one month. She needs him for a month. It’ll pass in the blink of an eye. 

##

A black SUV picks Katsuki up from the airport when he lands in Shenzhen, China. The driver doesn’t speak Japanese or English, so Katsuki quickly gives up on asking any questions and sits his ass on the fancy backseat. 

The car rolls on the tarmac and the lul threatens to send Katsuki to sleep. He didn’t manage a single minute of it on the flight. It was uncomfortable as fuck, and he was too wired to close his eyes anyway. He regrets it now. After five hours crammed in the tiniest economy seat known to man, Katsuki’s back is full of knots and stiffness he’ll have to work out of his system later. 

Through the window, tall buildings and greenery mix together, like Shenzhen developed faster than anyone expected, and it’s still not fully settled into itself. He knows very little about this place, only that there’s a big river estuary and that it’s close to Hong Kong. 

His right arm is sore and swollen from not moving for too long. That worries him a bit, so even though he’s exhausted and vaguely nauseous with nerves, he decides to tackle that particular problem while he can.  

Grunting, he pulls one of his grip exercisers and begins the painful process of getting feeling and mobility back into his fucked up arm. Honestly, if he could, he'd bring Shigaraki back from the dead just to kill him again. Fucker.

One hour later, the SVU pulls up to a condo in what appears to be a nondescript residential area. Curious, Katsuki lets the driver open his door and hand him his bag. A few moments later, he’s ringing the bell of a house so plain looking, Katsuki half expects an apron-wearing woman to show up and tell him he’s got the wrong place.

Instead, the gate swings open. As soon as Katsuki is past the threshold, the SUV rolls away and the gate closes again. 

“Welcome!” 

Ah, there’s the apron-wearing woman, except Katsuki immediately notices the corded muscle along her arms, and the scar poking from under the collar of her plain shirt. 

Jaqie told him her facility was the most secure in the world. It's a scientific wonderland, hidden away so far down a rabbit hole anyone not cleared to find it will die looking before they find the Cheshire cat.

Katsuki, being seventeen and a little naive—don’t tell anyone—didn’t realise quite the lengths people go to to hide. It’s kind of like he’s stepped into a movie, and he’s not mad about it. 

He feels like a spy, and isn’t that fucking cool? 

Smirking, Katsuki lets the woman usher him into the house. 

“We’ve got to search you and your luggage,” she says the moment the door is closed. A man wearing the ugliest golfing outfit Katsuki has ever seen joins her in the parlor. 

“Sure.”

They are thorough. They check in places Katsuki would have never thought to even consider. After a solid twenty minutes, the woman nods. 

“You’re good. It’s a long way from here to the lab. You should rest. Jaqie will send someone in a few hours.”

“What do you mean a long way?” Katsuki asks dumbly.

The man gestures for Katsuki to follow him. For lack of anything better to do, Katsuki walks with him through a door and into a fancy dining room. Through the window, he sees a well kept garden where, to his shock, two children are playing football. Yo, what the fuck? Are these people really a family?

“The lab is underground several miles away from here,” he explains. “Please, sit. My wife will bring some food in a moment. It’ll take at least two hours to walk through the tunnels. After that, there’s an elevator, more tunnels, and another elevator before you’re at the gates.”

“I—Is all that really necessary?”

“People have killed and died trying to get to Jaqie,” he says solemnly. “Her quirk could be the most powerful weapon in the world. She won’t risk it falling into the wrong hands.”

Izuku would love to learn about Jaqie’s quirk. He’d ask so many smart questions. Katsuki can almost see him here, vibrating out of his skin with excitement and mumbling under his breath about all the possible applications of a quirk that can manipulate quirk factors at the deepest levels of a person’s DNA. Fucking nerd. 

“I understand,” Katsuki says, and doesn’t prod any further. It hasn’t escaped his notice that these people haven’t introduced themselves, and he doesn’t think that’s an accident. 

The lady brings food, and he eats his fill. He’s shown to a room and told to rest, so Katsuki throws himself on a bed, clothes on and everything, and finally sleeps.

A few hours later, Katsuki wakes up to an insistent tapping on his shoulder. He sits up, alarmed. Sparks pop off his left palm in a mildly threatening way, but then he quickly remembers where he is, and why, and the man in tactical gear standing in his room makes sense. He snuffs out his quirk. 

“Put this on and meet me outside,” the man says. “We’re going.”

Katsuki stares at the bag at the foot of his bed, nods, and yawns. 

Ten minutes later, he’s also wearing military-grade gear. It’s all black. Sturdy and on the heavier side. Katsuki has never worn tactical clothing that wasn’t his hero costume, and he finds himself once again thinking that he wishes Izuku were here. 

The nerd would find all this supremely cool. 

Throwing his own bag over his shoulder, he meets the man in the living room. Neither of his earlier hosts are present as the soldier opens a hidden trapdoor under the rich carpet and disappears into darkness. 

Adrenaline thrums in Katsuki’s veins as he follows. Once at the bottom of the staircase, the man pulls a cord and shuts the trapdoor.

“I’m gonna hook this to your belt,” he tells Katsuki. “Do not touch it.”

Katsuki nods. The hook latches around a hoop on his belt and he realises it’s a line connecting him to the other man. 

“Don’t talk. Just walk.”

Don’t fucking tell me what to do. 

But the man has guns and he’s Katsuki’s only way to Jaqie, so he swallows his retort and obeys.

He loses track of time. 

The ground is rough and it scuffs against his thick boots. It smells like damp earth and things that are on the brink of rotting. Unpleasant and moist. Katsuki immediately hates it here. 

The soldier doesn’t use a flashlight, and there are no bulbs or torches lining the walls. It’s darker here than in the pit where Dark Shadow came from. He can’t get his bearings, has no idea if the tunnel is wide or narrow, and his hearing isn’t good enough for him to get a sense for it based on the rustling of their clothes. 

It’s claustrophobic, and disorienting, and Katsuki knows that’s on purpose. He can’t imagine trying to sneak in here without a guide. He’d lose his mind to the panic of no longer being able to tell what’s what. 

Katsuki doesn’t like how vulnerable he feels, but he finds comfort in knowing he can light this place up like a summer festival with a single hand. Besides, he’s not an enemy of this place. He won’t be left here so long as he keeps walking and following the line attached to his midline.

With nothing to do but put one foot in front of the other, his mind wanders. 

Deep in the bowels of the world, Katsuki cannot tell what time it is, but the flight was five hours, and then the drive another one. He ate and slept and that took at least three or four. Which means it must be late morning or mid-day in Japan and Izuku will have found out that he’s gone by now. 

Is he angry? Most likely. People think Izuku shits rainbows, and most of the time he does. But he has a fire simmering under the surface that shouldn’t be underestimated. 

When Izuku gets angry, it’s almost scarier than Katsuki himself. 

Demon, some of their classmates say, only half-joking. 

Katsuki likes that side of Izuku. He likes it when he loses control and breaks character from the wholesome, cute as fuck freckled kid that can make iron melt with a single look. 

It reminds Katsuki that Izuku might look it, but he’s not perfect. And maybe in that speckle of dark, of crazy, of angry, there’s room for someone like Katsuki to drop anchor. 

If Izuku loses his quirk, that will be gone and Katsuki will never find a foothold in the endless sea of nice. 

Hey, Katsuki didn’t say he was doing this for an entirely altruistic reason, alright? He does think the world needs pro hero Deku. He also desperately wants to keep Izuku within his reach. Both of those goals are valid and complement each other. 

If he pulls this off, they’ll be heroes together, just like they want. Katsuki more than Izuku, but no one needs to know the details. 

Chasing each other to the very top, and then beyond. 

It’s a dream worth dying for, so Katsuki visualises it in his mind’s eye to help him through what comes next. He’s going to need all the motivation he can muster to willingly subject himself to what amounts to torture. 

Jaqie hasn’t given him any specifics, but her warning has been ricocheting inside his head since he hung up the phone.

People die in my lab.

Katsuki isn’t afraid of dying, but he’s suddenly sweating and struggling to swallow. It’s just… if he dies here, will Izuku know why? Will he understand? 

Will they bring his body to his parents?

“Watch your step,” the soldier says, breaking the silence for the first time in an eternity. 

“Up or down?” Katsuki asks.

“To the right,” the man says, and Katsuki feels the line being pulled to the side which is the only warning he gets to turn. 

He avoids walking into the wall by a small margin, then he’s past the corner and there’s a lone bulb flickering with an electric buzz in the middle of a round room. There are seven doors here, and Katuski immediately thinks of that video game Kirishima likes playing. 

Fortunately for him, the soldier doesn’t ask him to choose. He picks one of the gates and swipes a card. It swings open, and they step through to a small chamber. 

Two more gates and several security systems—the man’s prints, eye scans, voice scans, and another swipe of a different card—later, Katsuki steps into an elevator and feels his guts float to his throat as it plummets so deep into the earth Katsuki wonders if they’ll reach its core. 

The second tunnel is lit, which is a major improvement on the first one. It’s lined with cameras, so Katsuki has no doubt that he’s being watched. He walks stiffly, trying to project confidence. 

He might be a kid, but he’s a war hero, goddammit. 

The Symbol of Victory. 

He’s not going to let any extras make him feel any type of way. The only person he’s here for is Jaqie, and it’s all to repay his debt to Izuku. 

Nothing else matters. 

By the time they reach the final gates, Katsuki is tired. His legs are heavy, and his right arm is seizing again. He’s hungry and sweaty and his nose itches from the constant smell of humidity. 

“Alright,” the soldier says. “You made it. Congratulations.”

Katsuki cocks an eyebrow at him, and he smirks. “You’ve got balls, for a kid.”

“Hah?”

“I’ve led people down that path for two years,” he explains, unhooking the line. “You’re the first one that hasn’t broken and cowered in the darkness. You didn’t ask how much further a single time.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “It wouldn’t have made the journey any shorter.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he replies, nodding. “I like you, kid. Come find me in the cantine after you talk to Jaqie. Ask for James.”

“Whatever.”

James pushes a series of buttons on a large keypad mounted on the wall, and the gates open inwards. After hours trekking in the quiet darkness, the sudden burst of noise and light makes Katuski’s head spin. 

The compound is a vertical structure built into a tunnel. It’s levels upon levels of metallic stairs, cargo elevators, and building structures perched on rough cement walls. Nothing here is fancy or aesthetically pleasing. They didn’t build this place to be pretty. They built it to be practical. 

It doesn’t escape Katsuki’s notice that it wouldn’t be that difficult to collapse the entire thing. He could blow up the foundations and watch the entire structure plummet into the dark void beneath them. It makes him feel uneasy, but he’s not a pussy, so he squares his shoulders and walks on the grid-like metal bridge behind James. 

“Jaqie is waiting for you in there,” James tells him, pointing towards a nondescript door carved into the wall. 

Katsuki nods, and twists the handle. 

##

“That’s all I need for now,” Jaqie says, pulling out the seventh needle and writing something down in her notepad.

Katsuki blinks, a little dizzy from blood loss but otherwise okay. “Right.”

Jaqie grins at him. “You need some rest and I need to make sure there’s enough One for All in your DNA for this to work.”

“Right.”

It’s a little underwhelming, if Katsuki is honest. After the spy-movie experience of getting to this ultra secret lab, Katsui expected to be flayed open and tortured in the name of science from the moment he stepped into Jaqie’s office. 

That’s not what happened. 

Instead, she asked him questions for over three hours, then sucked enough blood out of him for Toga Himiko to look like an amateur. Now, she’s sending him on his way. 

“Wait,” he says. His voice is hoarse from talking, and the dry artificial air pumped into the lab by the vents overhead. “James took my mobile. Is there a phone here somewhere?”

“No,” Jaqie replies. “You’re not allowed to communicate with the outside world until we’re done here, Bakugo-kun.”

He clicks his tongue. He expected as much, but to have it confirmed… yeah, okay. He sort of, deep down, hoped he’d be able to at least text Izuku. Maybe it’s better this way. 

After talking Jaqie through their first year at UA together, Katsuki feels raw and unsettled. There were things he didn’t say, because they have no scientific significance, but they’re simmering right under the surface. 

Katsuki has always known that he felt shit around Izuku in a way that wasn’t normal—it’s why he bullied him so fucking much in middle school—but it wasn’t until their fight in Ground Beta that Katsuki realised what those feelings meant. 

Talking through that, even on a surface level, with Jaqie fucked him up a bit. But she needed to know. She needed to know everything Katsuki knows about Izuku, and One for All, and how he learnt to use it.

“Go rest,” Jaqie repeats. She’s firm but kind. Her hair is chocolate brown, and her eyes crinkle at the corners like she always knows something you don’t and it amuses her. She’s not as old as Katuski expected for someone with as many degrees and doctorates as she has. “I’ll call for you when I’ve got the results.”

A woman with a mohawk leads him from Jaqie’s office through a set of stairs and across another bridge to what looks like military barracks. They don’t see many people, and Katsuki can’t tell if it’s because the compound operates on a minimum required personnel basis, or because everyone else is too busy to be seen. 

“This is your room,” the woman says in Japanese, surprising Katsuki. “Get some sleep. If Jaqie calls for you, you might not get another chance for a while.”

Katsuki swallows, looks away. Something about hearing his native language here punches a hole in the defences he’s built around himself. “Is it… she said it can get bad.”

The woman looks at him for a long moment. “We hear them screaming. Sometimes, we carry bodies out. We’ve got someone with a strong ass healing quirk, so if you survive the tests, then the damage isn’t permanent. But… yeah. It ain’t pretty, kid. Are you sure you want to do this? Is it really what you want?”

Confusion draws his eyebrows together. “Hah?”

“Why are you here?”

“To help a friend,” he replies quietly. “He doesn’t want to be quirkless, and I’m trying to find a way to fix that.”

Clearly, this isn’t what she was expecting. Her eyes go wide, and she clears her throat. “I—okay. That’s… hmm.”

“You’re surprised.”

“You’re the first person to seek Jaqie out on behalf of another,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s got tattoos down her arm, all the way to her knuckles. She looks tough, like she’d bite a brick and chew on it with a smile, and suddenly Katsuki decides that if he makes it out of here, he’s getting some ink himself. 

The woman is still talking. “Every other patient that has walked through that gate wanted to fix something for themselves. Some wanted their quirk gone, some wanted it altered. Some wanted their factor isolated so they could pass it on to their children to secure their legacy. Most people want to be stronger. Some people wanted to get rid of a quirk that prevented them from living the life they yearned for.”

Katsuki sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He’s exhausted. “You must think I’m a fucking idiot, then.”

“No,” she says quickly. She stretches her back, showing off impressive muscles. If he liked girls, he’d probably like this one. “Quite the opposite. I think you’re the bravest motherfucker I’ve ever met, and before this gig I was a navy SEAL for ten years. You’re what, eighteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“Whoever that friend of yours is, they won the lottery,” she tells him. “That you’re willing to risk dying for them… fuck, I’m embarrased. I don’t think there’s anyone I care enough about to do that for them.”

Katsuki smirks, puffs his chest a bit. “It wouldn’t be the first time I die for him.”

“What?”

Katsuki has no idea what possesses him, but he lifts his shirt and shows her the scar. “I’ve been dead before,” he says with a shrug, like it’s no big deal. Like he doesn’t sometimes wake up in the middle of the night unsure of whether he’s corporeal or a ghost. “My heart exploded once already, so yeah. I’m not afraid of dying. I just—Jaqie said I can’t contact the outside at all. What happens if I don’t make it?”

The woman traces the lines of his scar with her eyes. Her gaze is interested, but not heated. Katsuki knows what she’s thinking—he’s been scouted by enough hero agencies to recognise recruitment interest when he sees it. 

“You’ve been—wait, hold up.” She shakes her head, squints at him again. Then, recognition lights her face. “Fuck. You’re that kid with the explosion quirk. I didn’t recognise you in our gear.” 

She smiles, then puts out a hand for Katsuki to shake. “Tokashiki Natalie. I’m half Japanese, half American. It’s an honour to meet you, Dynamight. When you’ve got some sleep, come find me. We’ll keep you entertained until Jaqie is ready for you. If you’re up for it, I want to spar.”

Katsuki is surprised, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like it. James and Natalie are tough as nails, and he somehow managed to earn their respect by doing absolutely nothing. They’re not put off by his permanent scowl, or the curtness of his responses. 

As he lies down on his bed, finally out of heavy gear and freshly showered, Katsuki wonders if coming here won’t just help him save Izuku, but maybe also himself. 

##

“Good luck, kid,” James tells him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’ll be waiting right here,” Natalie says. 

“You’ve got this.”

“If you make it, we’ll give you your first ink,” Xhao tells him. 

Katsuki looks at the group of special ops, marines, and whatever names other armies give their top assets, turned private contractors gathered at the door of Jaqie’s office and feels a swell of bravery in his chest. 

It’s been a week, but these people treat him like he’s one of them already. He’s eaten, slept, joked, and trained alongside them while waiting for Jaqie to confirm if there’s enough One for All in his system for him to be a viable test subject. 

The verdict: yes. 

The consequences: Katsuki is going to be experimented on until Jaqie can tell whether it’s possible for her to stop One for All from leaving Izuku. 

“You keep your promise, yeah?” Katsuki rasps. He’s nervous, and afraid, but he’s doing this anyway. 

Natalie nods, taps her pocket. “I’ve got it.”

It’s a letter. It took Katsuki three days to write it, and another to muster up the courage to give it to Natalie. If he dies, she will deliver it to Izuku in person. 

Katsuki really hopes he doesn’t die, but he can’t be thinking about that now. With a final nod of his head, he turns and walks into Jaqie’s lab, leaving his new and unexpected group of friends behind. 

Jaqie has a bunch of assistants that usher Katsuki behind a screen and tell him to strip. They hand him a shitty hospital gown thing, then lead him to a table. It’s been padded to make lying on it a bit less uncomfortable, but Katsuki suspects that’s going to be the least of his concerns. 

The straps make him want to thrash and resist, but he forces himself to stay still. This is for Izuku. This is what Katsuki wants. It’s the only way to make his dream come true. He can do this. He’s done harder things. 

He’s survived worse. 

“Alright, Bakugo-kun,” Jaqie says, taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re ready, because you aren’t, but we’re doing this anyway.”

“Will you tell me what you find out?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Do you want me to talk you through what I’m going to do?”

“No,” Katsuki says quickly. “Just do it.”

Jaqie looks at him for a very long moment, and then says, “There’s one question you haven’t asked me. It says something about your character that you’re willing to die, but not live without a quirk.”

Katsuki jerks, and panic floods him for the first time. “What?”

“Most people would have asked me by now if doing this puts their own quirk at risk. You haven’t.”

“I—”

“It doesn't,” Jaqie says quickly, putting an efficient, immediate stop to the spiral he was about to fall into. “It’s just interesting to me that you value your quirk more than your life, but you value Deku’s life more than his quirk.”

“He’s a better person than I am,” Katsuki gruffs. “He does good in the world even if he’s a quirkless nobody.”

I would just be a cancer if I existed without the ability to win and save. 

Jaqie narrows her eyes at him. “You underestimate yourself, Bakugo-kun. But we’re not here for therapy, so. Your quirk is safe because I’m not diving into that strand of your DNA. I’m only going to tamper with One for All. There’s a good chance it might break and leave you during experimentation.”

“That’s fine,” Katsuki says. “It’s not like I was even conscious I had it. If I hadn’t read it in Izuku’s journal, I would have never known.”

“We’re clear, then,” Jaqie says. “Let’s begin.”

Katsuki opens his mouth and lets an assistant put a chewy rod in there. It’s so that he doesn’t crack his teeth or bite his tongue, apparently. Katsuki’s throat is dry, and he’s sweating something fierce. 

He’s brave. 

He wants to do this.

But fuck if all the warnings haven’t got to him. 

The anticipation is usually worse than the actual thing, in Katsuki’s experience. He tells himself he’s been through a war and made it out alive. He knocked on the gates of hell and turned around before they answered. 

Katsuki has danced with death, chewed her up and spat her back out. 

He’ll be fine. 

##

Pain isn’t supposed to be like this.

It’s a fracturing of his very self at a level Katsuki cannot comprehend, so he doesn’t. His brain thrashes in his skull, his heart hammers against his chest, and his blood turns to boiling oil and bubbles in his veins, cooking him from the inside out. 

He tries to hold on to some thoughts for the sake of his sanity, but not even Izuku’s smile stays in his mind for long. He cycles through their best moments, trying to reach for that little hand in the river. If he could just clasp it in his, Izuku would pull him out of this torment. 

Izuku’s freckles.

Izuku’s eyes. 

Izuku’s voice.

Izuku.

‘Zuku.

Please. Please, help me. Make it stop. 

But Izuku isn’t here, and Katsuki is enduring this so Izuku doesn’t have to, so he bites down on the damp rod harder, and swallows the blood in his mouth just in time for a fresh shock of pain to wash through him. 

Blood floods his mouth and Katsuki doesn’t know it, but he’s burst his vocal chords screaming. 

He’s incapable of describing what he’s experiencing. There are no words in any language to express the sheer agony tearing him apart. He’s being unmade on this table, flayed open and shredded to pieces. His skin is melting off, his bones growing thorns and digging into his flesh. It’s excruciating and it’s coming from inside him. 

He can’t see or hear anything. There’s just pain. Around him, in him, through him. 

Katsuki can’t escape it. Not even as his consciousness floats through the room, sometimes touching him, sometimes against the ceiling. 

Katsuki doesn’t know how long it’s been. A minute, a day, a week. Time has no meaning in purgatory, and Katsuki is trapped with no way out. It's endless. Agony breaks on him like waves on a shore, one after the other, giving him no reprieve. 

You’re doing this so he doesn’t have to, he tells himself in the rare bouts of lucidity, and it helps. It helps his psyche stay pieced together. It helps stave off the insanity crouching in through the breaking of his mind. 

Izuku. 

Katsuki doesn’t believe in God, but he prays. On that table, under Jaqie’s experiments, he prays that this is enough. That withstanding this will mean Izuku gets to keep his quirk. 

That surviving a trek through the pits of hell burns out all the bad inside of Katsuki so he’s good enough to earn his place at Izuku’s side when he comes out the other side. 

##

“He’ll wake up soon.”

“That was bad, Jaqie. He screamed himself mute.”

“Alice fixed him. He’ll be okay.”

“Was it necessary?”

“Yes.”

“Are you done?”

“No.”

Katsuki can’t open his eyes. He can’t move. Can’t signal that he’s conscious. Is he? He’s not sure, actually. Everything feels so heavy. 

“How dangerous is this for him?”

“There’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

“Is there anything you can do to give him better odds?”

“Natalie,” Jaqie’s voice says. “Every person that has died in my lab haunts me. Do you think I want to add the kid that saved the world to that list? I’m doing everything I can.”

“Sorry. I know that. It’s just… I don’t want him to die.”

“Neither do I. I’m doing my best.”

“Thank you.”

Katsuki wants to tell them he can hear them. He can, can’t he? Maybe this is a dream. He’s not sure anymore. He can’t tell what’s real. 

He drifts off to sleep again.

##

“I’ve got bad news and good news,” Jaqie tells him when he blinks. 

Katsuki needs a moment to get his bearings. He’s not in his room in the barracks, but he’s also not on the experiments table. This looks like a hospital, and honestly, fuck hospitals. Katsuki has a visceral reaction to them these days. 

“Bad,” he rasps, and he’s surprised that he can talk. He remembers losing his voice. The metallic taste of blood. 

“It’s going to take longer than I thought to run through all the tests,” Jaiqe says. She looks as tired as he feels. “I need to let you rest in between. The way my quirk works… it’s a combination of it and nanotech crawling through your body at the deepest possible level. It hurts because neither I nor the tech is supposed to be there. But it’s the only way we can see how One for All reacts to stimuli.”

“You can go again,” Katsuki croaks. “Just do whatever you have to.”

“Stop trying to act tough. You need a break, and movement, and some endorphins,” Jaqie replies. “I have no interest in breaking you, Bakugo-kun. We’re going to do this properly so you can keep saving lives after this is over.”

Katsuki sighs. “Is that all the bad?”

“Yes.”

Relief floods him. He can deal with it taking longer if that’s the only negative thing Jaqie has found out so far. Slowly, Katsuki pats himself down. It’s weird to find no injuries or wounds. No bandages or casts. With how much pain he’s experienced, his brain was expecting there to be serious damage. 

There probably is, Katsuki thinks, it’s just not visible. 

“How long have I been out?”

“You walked into my lab three weeks ago, kid,” Jaqie tells him. “You’ve been in and out of testing for as long as I dared risk it, then recovering for six days. It’s the first time you’re conscious enough to have a conversation.”

“That’s why it’s going to be longer than a month,” Katsuki mutters. Fuck. If he’d known, he might have reconsidered his decision to not write Izuku a note. Oh well. Nothing to be done about that now. “And the good?”

“So far, the results are positive,” Jaqie tells him. “I need to test body resilience to a change as drastic as what we’re trying to do but… so long as Deku still has enough of the embers of One for All burning inside him, I think it’s possible. The odds are looking good, Bakugo-kun.” 

Katsuki smiles. Everything hurts, and he feels gross and sticky. His mouth tastes like literal shit, and he’s pretty sure his body has forgotten how to stand on its own. But he smiles anyway.

“Fuck yeah.”

Jaqie smiles, too. “Fuck yeah indeed.”

##

In the end, it takes six months. 

Six months during which Katsuki volunteers himself for torture over, and over, and over again. Six months during which he doesn’t see the sun or breathe fresh air. Six months without contact with the outside world. Without a speckle of green or blue or yellow. No wind, no rustle of leaves, no gravel under his feet. 

He’s only conscious for about half of it, because the tests don’t get any better or any less painful. It’s a very long time for someone to endure such agony. Katsuki tears his throat open again. His heart gives out, and he flatlines for so long Jaqie actually, honestly, thinks she lost him.

Alice saves his life, and Jaqie asks him to reconsider. It’s too dangerous, and Katsuki’s synthetic heart is a variable she hadn’t factored in. 

Katsuki refuses to give up, and tells Jaqie to try again. He doesn’t back down, doesn’t cower. They ask Alice to sit in the room with them, which is a good thing because his heart gives out twice more. One of his eyeballs bursts from pressure. He even bites through the rod and chews out his own tongue in the delirium. 

His determination is contagious, and it only endears him more to the bunch of lunatics living in this pit. 

During the breaks, Katsuki hangs out with Natalie, James, Xhao and the others. He picks up a few words in the languages they speak—Arabic, Spanish, Chinese—and more than one game of cards. They tell him stories from their military days and listen to Katsuki’s war tales. He’s younger than them by over a decade, but a soldier is a soldier, and if you’ve been on a battlefield, you aren’t a kid (they still call him that, but Katsuki doesn’t mind it so much).

His English improves to the point of near fluency. He learns lewd jokes, and rowdy songs, and gets drunk for the first time in his life (and the second, and the third). They give him ink, as promised. It’s dangerous to have both a tattoo gun and a healer at their disposal. No downtime, no flaking, no itchiness.

Nat tells him that’s the worst part. He believes her, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to go through that. He’s suffering enough down here as it is already. They all know it, which is why they spoil him—if what these brutes do can be called spoiling. It suits Katsuki, though. He’s not one for softness or gentleness. 

They teach him their tricks. Show him how the best of the best special ops in the world stay fit and strong. How they fight. It helps clear his head, gets his body moving, and his blood pumping. They help him rehab his arm and cheer the first time he manages to ignite sparks on his right palm. 

In that underground lab, miles and miles under the surface of China, Katsuki is unmade and reborn.

By the time Jaqie tells him she’s as certain as she’s ever going to be that they’ve got a solid shot at letting Izuku keep One for All permanently, Katsuki isn’t afraid anymore to admit to himself that all he’s done, he’s done in the name of love. 

“I’ll tell him everything,” Katsuki says, slipping the folder with the documentation into his backpack. “I’m sure he’ll be keen to come as soon as you’re ready.”

“I need a few weeks,” Jaqie tells him. “I can’t ignore the President’s summons any longer. I’ll call you as soon as I’m back, then we’ll book you on a flight back here.”

“Thank you,” Katsuki tells her. 

“You did good, kid.”

“Told you,” Natalie chimes in, smiling widely. “Bravest motherfucker I ever met. I can’t wait to meet your man.”

Katsuki blushes all the way to his forehead. “He’s not my man.”

“Not yet,” Natalie says. She’s been hyping Katsuki up to confess for weeks. It’s contagious, the hope she’s been carrying for him. 

“Are you ready to head back?” James asks. 

They’re in the same tactical gear from when Katsuki first arrived, which Katsuki now knows is a security measure. James encounters intruders two out of every four times he makes the journey, so he’s always ready for action. 

He wouldn’t mind running into an extra or two to put to use the new shit he’s learnt. Katsuki is lowkey excited to be back in Musutafu and show off his new moves. 

James still hooks Katsuki to his belt, which he’s grateful for. He wouldn’t be able to find his way through the dark alone. Once isn’t enough to get used to those tunnels, and Katsuki hasn’t been outside at all. 

It’s going to be fucking strange to feel the sun on his skin again. 

“Yeah. See you later, Nats, Jaqie,” Katsuki says, and gives them a wave. 

“Send me a selfie with Deku, Kats!” Natalie hollers. Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Natalie and the team are escorting Jaqie to America for her meeting with the President, and they’re all excited as hell to be able to use their phones like civilians. 

They all made Katsuki give them his number. 

The gates open, and Katsuki follows James into the tunnels. 

##

It’s only when Katsuki takes his window seat on the plane that it really hits him. 

He’s going home. 

Leaving cost him little, because he was chasing possibility and a dream. He thought it’d be a quick trip, four weeks at the most. He didn’t bother saying goodbye or doing anything more premeditated than cleaning out his room (fuck, he’s glad he put his shit in storage!). 

Coming back is… weirdly terrifying. 

It’s been six months, which means he’s going home just in time for Christmas. What will it be like? A lot happens in six months. Izuku’s birthday came and went, and Katsuki missed it. He’s seventeen now, too. 

Is he taller now? Stronger? Katsuki bets that he is. Izuku never stops training no matter what. The embers must still be burning—please let them still be burning—and Izuku probably has at least one new scar. The nerd is incapable of not getting hurt on a weekly basis. 

Katsuki looks down at his own body, cataloguing some of the changes. He’s never been too concerned with how he looks, but he’s suddenly self conscious. His hair had grown out a bit too much, so Xhao gave him a haircut. Nat and James said it looks cool, and Katsuki thought so, too. But now… is Izuku going to think he looks stupid with this mullet style? It’s longer at the back and front and Alice said it made him look like a rockstar but—

Stop it. 

It’s just hair. Katsuki can cut it if Izuku doesn’t like it. At least, that’s not permanent. Katsuki’s old hag is going to flip when she sees the eyebrow piercing, but it was a bet, and Katsuki doesn’t back down. Especially not with James. You can’t show weakness in the trenches. 

The piercing Katsuki does like a lot. He regrets nothing. Not the eyebrow, not the small studs in his ears. 

But what he’s really excited about is the ink. That he doesn’t need anyone else to like, because Katsuki adores it. It feels… him. He already knows he’s not going to stop. The half sleeve is going to grow into a full one, and the fire-breathing dragon around his ribs needs some companion on his shoulder blades. 

Katsuki’s favourite is the dagger on his wrist, though. It’s small, and a little fuzzy because it wasn’t Xhao who did it, but Nat herself and she’s no artist. But Katsuki cherishes it because it made him one of them. It was the first one he got, and it matches all the soldiers in Jaqie’s entourage. For a short time, he belonged to a group of people with backstories almost as fucked up as his. 

The sort of people that don’t let just anyone into their tight circle. 

Katsuki is insanely proud of himself for having proven he was good enough to earn a place among them.

Will Izuku think it makes him look tough? Pathetically, Katsuki hopes so. He can’t fucking wait to tell the nerd about all the secret shit he learnt with the squad. He even took notes, because Izuku will appreciate it. 

Katsuki looks out the window as they take off. In a few hours, he’ll be back at UA. Back with his friends. Back with Izuku. 

His heart flutters in his chest even though Katsuki has been trying really hard to get it to stop doing that. First, because it can’t be healthy. Second, because he’s not done yet. He hasn’t cleaned his slate. He hasn’t earned Izuku. 

Until Katsuki redeems himself, until he becomes worthy of the nerd, he cannot give in to his selfishness. Izuku deserves better than him, better than someone so tainted, so angry, so broken inside. 

And Katsuki needs to remember that. 

##

It’s cold as balls when he gets out of the arrivals terminal in Tokyo. Unfortunately for him, there’s no fancy SUV waiting to drive him anywhere on this end, so he has to wrestle with public transport. It takes almost two hours to get to Musutafu. Katsuki uses the ride to turn on his phone for the first time in six months. 

He’s not surprised that there are so many messages his phone freezes. Six months is a long time for someone to disappear without a trace. 

When his phone starts working again, he finds his father’s contact and calls him. It goes to voicemail, as Katsuki knew it would, so he leaves a message. It’s easier that way. The old hag will blow up and let off some steam before she comes looking for him. 

Next, he opens the chat with Kirishima. There’s way too much there, and Katsuki doesn’t have the patience to read it all. He scrolls to the bottom, and types ‘I’m on my way to UA’. 

Katsuki’s thumb hovers over Izuku’s name. The red notification reads 500+ messages. Katsuki wants to read all of them, but he can’t. Not now. Not in public. He has no idea if Izuku is angry, or disappointed, or if he simply doesn’t care all that much that he left. Katsuki can’t find out like this. Not when he’s so close to seeing the nerd again. 

Pocketing his phone, Katsuki watches the city go by from the train window. Lights blink in windows. Clouds swirl overhead in a darkening sky. There are people everywhere. Walking, driving, in this very train with him. It feels a bit strange, a little overstimulating but in a way that Katsuki doesn’t hate. 

It’s good to be above ground. 

He arrives at UA late enough that dinner is over, but early enough that everyone should be hanging out in the dorm common area. It’s a Friday, which means that if Mina got her way, they’ll be doing some sort of celebration bullshit. 

Katsuki’s stomach is in knots, which is fucking stupid because this is his school, these are his classmates, and there’s nothing to be nervous about. 

And yet, his palms are insanely sweaty. 

Annoyed at himself, he wipes them on his trousers—yes, he’s wearing the black cargo pants from the tactical uniform James let him keep—and adjusts his hoodie. On a nearby window, he checks that his hair is falling the right way. The studs in his ears catch the lamplight and glint.

“Alright, motherfucker,” he whispers. “Plus ultra.”

Nothing could have ever prepared Katsuki for the scene unfolding inside the dorm. 

It’s way too warm and bright. Katsuki blinks, breathes in. It smells of cheap beer and too many bodies. The music is loud, the cheering is louder. His classmates are on their feet, hands in the air or around their mouths as they shout and scream and encourage… 

Izuku.

That’s Izuku, right? 

It’s—him, but it’s not.

Katsuki’s brain reboots itself like an old internet box, but the image remains the same. 

Izuku is on the coffee table, wearing the most indecent, tightest pair of jeans Katsuki has ever laid eyes upon and a t-shirt so loose at the top it’s hanging off his shoulder, and singing into a microphone. 

They’re doing karaoke night, Katsuki’s inner voice helpfully supplies. 

That’s all well and good, but what in the name of all that is holy happened to Izuku? Where is the shy nerd with the freckles and the watery eyes and the round cheeks? The guy on the table is… he’s… Katsuki can’t even put it into words. 

Hot.

What you’re looking for is hot. 

Yeah, okay. He’s hot, but in a way that’s… different. Not wrong. Just alien. Strange. 

This Izuku isn’t the same Izuku that looked at Katsuki with wide, innocent eyes and asked to practice kissing.

This Izuku looks like he could eat you alive and leave you begging for more. 

It’s fucking Katsuki up big time. 

Unaware of Katsuki’s internal crisis, Izuku continues to belt the lyrics to some nineties song by that boy band with the ugly haircuts whose name Katsuki cannot recall right now because what the fuck. 

“Tell me why!” Izuku hollers.

“Ain’t nothing but a mistake!” the entire class responds.

Katsuki grapples with the horrible realisation that Izuku’s English is way better than it used to be, at least his pronunciation. He’s stronger, yes, but also leaner somehow. He also got a haircut—shorter, sharper, with an undercut that’s making Katsuki’s already struggling brain go brrrr. 

And then Izuku turns his face, and the light catches on a row of piercings along his ear, from his lobe to the curve of cartilage above, and Katsuki’s soul astral projects out of his body. 

He moves without wanting to. Without thinking. There’s nothing but the unstoppable need to be closer, to hold, to get reacquainted with this version of Izuku that Katsuki doesn’t know. It’s unfathomable. It’s wrong. 

Katsuki must—

Izuku glances up, still singing—yes, I know it’s too late—and finally sees Katsuki. He freezes where he is, still too far behind the line of his classmates. Too far from the nerd. Their eyes meet and hold and the world stumbles to a stop. 

Katsuki’s heart is in his throat, and he’s about to damn it all to hell and sprint towards Izuku when the nerd’s eyes widen, and he drops the mic, but no one notices because some guy Katsuki is going to kill has jumped up on the table and thrown his arm over Izuku’s shoulders to finish the song with him. 

The boy is vaguely familiar, and something about him bothers the fuck out of Katsuki, but he can’t remember exactly what it is. Where have I seen him before? 

Katsuki reads Izuku’s lips. “Wait, Rody—”

The guy—Rody, that’s fucking Rody?—looks confused for a second before he follows Izuku’s gaze and gasps. 

The entire class turns around, alarmed. Katsuki can’t even look at them. He can’t process Mina’s screeching, or Kirishima’s panicked ‘oh my God’. All he can do is stand there, bag hanging from his shoulder, as Rody grabs Izuku by the chin, turns his face, and kisses him. 

Chapter 7: Of should haves and could haves

Notes:

We all hold hands and take deep breaths.

I promise you it's going to be fine. Eventually.

Katsuki loses sight of Izuku and that fucking bland as white bread American kid when Kirishima pops up right in front of him. He’s saying something, but Katsuki seems to have lost the ability to process sounds entirely.

The buzzing in his ears is new, and unpleasant, and Katsuki can’t figure out if something has gone wrong or if he’s just that furious.

After what he just went through…

He expected Izuku to be angry. Upset that Katsuki left without a word. Hurt, potentially. Izuku has every right to be sad, even. Katsuki was prepared to have to do some quick damage control, sure. To ask for forgiveness in the form of a swift explanation, and to be granted it as soon as Izuku learnt why Katsuki had to leave.

What he never, ever expected was for Izuku to be… this. What even is this? The clothes, the piercings, the weirdly confident persona swaying on that table like some sort of pop idol wannabe. It feels plastic-y. Fake. Like Izuku put on a costume of the wrong size but is too stubborn to take it off.

And why is Background Character #19 here? He’s not a hero in training. Last Katsuki read of him—because the nerd kept asking him to help check his emails—that kid had a good-for-nothing quirk and too much family baggage to ever leave San Francisco. So how the fuck did he make it all the way to UA?

Did Izuku invite him? How long has he been around? Katsuki dragged himself naked through hell’s burning fires for Izuku, and all the while he was here… he was with someone else. Someone not twisted and broken. Someone whose edges wouldn’t cut Izuku open if he got too close.

Katsuki has never wanted to kill anyone more than he does the American extra, but the truth is that he’s so much better for Izuku than Katsuki could ever be.

Talk about the truth hurting, huh.

“Bro!”

Katsuki blinks and grunts. “Fucking what.”

Far from discouraged, Kirishima beams at him. “We didn’t know you were coming back today. We would have organised some sort of welcome. Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here, bro!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, then shoves Kirishima to the side just in time to watch Izuku and the other kid jump off the table, hands tangled together.

Okay, forget all that bullshit Katsuki just tried to tell himself. So what if that insipid kid is better on paper? He doesn’t have the balls to try to save Izuku’s dream, does he? He knows nothing of what scares Izuku, of the things that the black void inside of him whispers when he spirals into a panic.

Katsuki does. He’s been there, held him, brought him back out. It’s Katsuki’s t-shirt that Izuku has clung to in the throes of a flashback. It’s Katsuki’s room Izuku visits in the middle of the night when he needs to reassure himself that they made it out alive, even if they lost it a little bit.

What has this uncooked noodle done? Nothing. Sing songs, apparently. Please.

Katsuki is fighting even now, tooth and nail, to give Izuku the one thing he truly wants but is afraid to admit out loud. How could this unseasoned extra compare?

Izuku should have known better than to hook up with the first imbecile to cross his path. He deserves better than that tofu in human form standing next to him. He doesn’t even have a proper quirk, does he?

Oh, the quirk.

Right, Katsuki has to explain things to Izuku. The moment he learns of what Katsuki was doing, of why he left, all will be well. With a bit of luck, Izuku might even get rid of the Plain McPlainface and—is that a bird? Why the fuck is there a bird here?

The flavour vacuum says something to Izuku, leaning in way too close. Izuku nods, then glances up towards Katsuki. For the second time in a few minutes, their gazes collide and the universe shatters.

Suddenly, all sounds come rushing in like a tide. Katsuki flinches as his brain processes the absolute mayhem in the room. The noise levels are stratospheric. Everyone is shouting, asking Katsuki where he’s been, how he is, why he left. For some fucking reason, Kaminari is sobbing in Sero’s arms. Mina is screeching, waving her hands in the air.

Apparently, Kirishima is the only one with a still-functioning brain cell because he’s trying to keep his classmates from crowding Katsuki. There’s a reason he’s his best friend.  

The room is unbearably hot in that way that tells Katsuki his classmates have been packed into it for too long without opening any windows. They’ve been dancing, shouting, and drinking, and the air tastes like it. It’s oppressive and clogging Katsuki’s windpipes.

Or, maybe, that’s just the panic.

Sweat drips down Katsuki’s back. It’s too much, too soon. Katsuki was isolated underground twenty-four hours ago. He needs space and quiet. He needs to talk to Izuku.

“Hey, let’s give him some space,” Kirishima is saying, waving his arms around. “He—”

Someone shouts that they thought Katsuki was gone forever. Mina starts crying, which makes Kaminari sob even harder. It’s loud, and dramatic, and fuck everyone and everything. Honestly.

Deeply annoyed, Katsuki growls, then pops explosions from both palms. “Enough, you dickheads!”

Standing a few feet away, Izuku’s eyes widen before his gaze zeroes in on the sparkles hovering over Katsuki’s right hand. His heart swooshes around his chest like a rollercoaster. 

Everyone falls silent. 

“So, you really went to fix your arm?” Mina asks bravely. “You couldn’t do that before. They said you’d—your quirk.”

Katsuki nods absently, still looking straight at Izuku. The beige bread stick is a problem Katsuki hadn’t planned for, but he can overcome it. There’s no way in hell Izuku chooses that extra when he learns the truth.  

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, and pops a few more explosions on his bad palm for good measure.

The expression on Izuku’s face is unreadable, and that—that makes Katsuki’s gut rise to his throat. Izuku doesn’t have a poker face. That’s his whole deal. He has big eyes with bigger emotions and a wobbly lip or a giant smile.

Izuku is one expressive motherfucker. He blushes and stammers and laughs like the world is ending every time. His focus is so intense that it draws every line on his face with extra definition. Even his rage paints itself on Izuku’s brow with bold, unashamed strokes.

So, what is this shit he’s pulling now? Where are the tears?

This Izuku is a brick wall, and Katsuki was unprepared to crash straight into it.

Blank-faced Izuku isn’t a version of him Katsuki has ever encountered before, and he really, fundamentally, doesn’t like it.

“Wow, bro,” Kirishima says, smiling and clapping Katsuki on the back. “That’s awesome! You really did it.” 

He needs everyone to back off and give him a moment. His arm is so not important right now. Trying his best not to bite someone’s head off, Katsuki steps forward, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, and says, “Izuku, I need to talk to you.”

Tension zips through the air like a spark down a live wire. Izuku meets Katsuki’s gaze, and he feels too much all at once. Longing, and fear, and hope. Guilt for leaving without a word, relief because Izuku is changed, but he’s whole and alive, and Katsuki can work with that. He just needs a chance to explain. A moment alone to untangle the mess he made when he left without saying goodbye.

“Can we—” Katsuki gestures towards the corridor with his head, not bothering to finish the sentence. Izuku has always understood him beyond words.

Something flashes across Izuku’s face, cracking the mask just enough that Katsuki gets a glimpse of the old Izuku before he packs it in again.

Izuku tilts his head and says, “It can wait until tomorrow. We’re kind of in the middle of something, Bakugo.”

Someone gasps. No one dares move. 

Fuck.

That’s not my name.

But it is. It just sounds like nails on a chalkboard when it’s Izuku’s voice shaping the syllables.

If Izuku had punched him using 100% of One for All, it would have hurt less. What Jaqie put him through was less awful than hearing Izuku talk to him like that.

He messed up big time, didn’t he? He took Izuku for granted. Apparently, even goodie-two-shoes Midoriya Izuku has a breaking point, and Katsuki barrelled through it like a battering ram because he’s a fucking idiot that can’t stop breaking shit.

Bile bitter in the back of his mouth, Katsuki nods and clicks his teeth. Before, he would have blown up. But counselling has nothing on the mean punches Xhao can throw or the words that Nat wields like blades. They broke through Katsuki’s stubborn bad habits more effectively than any session on a black leather couch could. In the pit that is Jaqie’s lab, Katsuki learnt that sometimes a well-timed retreat can win you the war. And this is the most important fight of Katsuki’s life. 

He’s got to regroup. It’s what they taught him—when shit goes wrong, you don’t crumble (or blow everything up in flames). You pivot. Step back, reassess. Go again.

“Sure,” Katsuki says, and by some fucking miracle, he sounds whole and steady.

He takes a step away from the crowd, shoulders relaxed, expression unbothered. Izuku watches him like a hawk, and that gives Katsuki enough satisfaction to consider this a temporary setback, not a total shitshow.

Breaking eye contact with Izuku is hard, but Katsuki manages it because he’s Bakugo fucking Katsuki and there’s nothing he can’t do.

Gruffly, he says, “Shitty hair, my stuff is in storage.”

Bless Kiri for his loyalty. He doesn’t say a single word, just follows Katsuki out of the room. The rest of his classmates let them pass, too stunned to react. At least, Katsuki isn’t the only one caught off guard by Izuku’s frostiness.

##

His room smells empty and stale. A thin layer of dust has settled over the desk and the shelves. Katsuki is going to have to do a deep clean but fuck him if he’s got the energy for it right now.

He does open the window immediately, because airing the space will help. The cold breeze tastes like home, bringing in memories of last year’s Christmas. Things were so much harder, but so much easier at the same time. 

Kirishima hovers by the door, uncertain of what to do. 

Mottles of dust swirl in the air between them, suspended in the beam of light cutting through the fluttering curtains. It’s been too long. Things have changed. Katsuki sees it in the new stubble along Kirishima’s chin and on the scar over his eyebrow that he didn’t use to have.

They’re young, and still growing, so their bodies morph at a speed that makes six months feel like six years. Katsuki should have mentally prepared better for the shock of his classmates feeling like strangers to him.

It was arrogant to delude himself into believing everything would remain in stasis while he went and lived out a spy movie fantasy (that’s not what happened, but if Katsuki thinks about what he really was doing in Jaqie’s lab right now he’ll explode the entire building to smithereens).

Groaning, Katsuki stands in the middle of the room and runs his hands through his hair, boxes at his feet. “Fuck.”

The silence is just a tad awkward, and Katsuki hates it. Kirishima is his best friend—Izuku would argue that’s incorrect, but Katsuki has never classified Izuku as a friend—and it grates on Katsuki that he’s also fucked this one up.

He really shouldn’t have just disappeared, but he can’t change the past. What’s done is done.

“You can take my room,” Kirishima says, depositing several boxes against the wall after a long moment. “I’ll stay with Mina.”

Katsuki whirls around. “Hah?”

The grin on Kirishima’s face reaches into Katsuki’s chest and squeezes his heart. “Yeah. We’ve… we’re together. It happened a couple of months ago.”

The earnest glee dancing on Kirishima’s eyes does something to Katsuki’s insides. He should have been here to witness this, even if he’d rather crew through his own arm than admit that out loud. 

In his quest to help Izuku, Katsuki seems to have failed everyone else. He’s not looking forward to finding out what else he’s missed. If only time stood still when you left a place, it’d make returning less painful. 

“Wow,” Katsuki says, blinking. “Good for you, man.”

Kirishima’s grin only widens. “Yeah, so I can stay in her room just for the night. I can help you clean tomorrow.”

Katsuki sighs. He doesn’t deserve this, but he’ll take it because he’s selfish and greedy and horrible. Kirishima has always been there for him, even when Katsuki gave nothing in return. Maybe it’s time Katsuki tries a little harder. Something to think about.  

“Yeah. Thanks. Don’t feel like unpacking shit right now,” he says, then looks away. 

Too much, too soon. 

“I did what you asked,” Kirishima says unprompted.

Katsuki’s head whips up so fast his neck protests. “What?”

“Lunch with Midoriya. Every day for two months,” Kirishima explains with a shrug. “He wasn’t… I don’t think he was happy about it, but he was too nice to ask me to leave him alone.”

“Why only two months, then?” Katsuki asks, cracking his knuckles.

Kirishima grimaces, leans against the wall like he needs extra support. “Something happened, and Midoriya said he didn’t need babysitting anymore. I tried to insist, but he was… he was firm. Not mean, you know, Midoriya doesn’t have the capacity for mean, I don’t think, but well. He made it clear I wasn’t welcome for lunch anymore.”

His eye twitches violently. “What do you mean something happened?”

“With his mother,” Kirishima explains.

Katsuki’s heart lurches. Auntie Inko? “Is she—”

“She’s fine! It wasn’t like that. Not a health scare or anything. Something else. No one is super sure of the details. Mina has tried asking Uraraka, but Midoriya’s friends closed ranks around him like crazy.”

“But he didn’t start having lunch with All Might again, did he?”

“No,” Kirishima confirms, and Katsuki relaxes a bit. “No, in fact, Midoriya… well. He doesn’t have any All Might stuff in his room anymore or anything. It’s weird.”

“He what?”

Fuck.

Katsuki cannot comprehend what Kirishima is saying. Loving and worshipping All Might has been Izuku’s entire personality since he was… three? What could have possibly happened for him to do something so drastic? 

“All we know is that Midoriya went home for a weekend and came back with a new haircut, those piercings on his ear, and a new attitude. He took Mina shopping, too. Asked for new clothes…” Kirishima swallows, looks away. 

Katsuki is, for once in his life, rendered completely speechless. He might throw up. What the hell happened? It’s one thing for Izuku to project some of his resentment onto All Might—Katsuki fully supported that endeavour—but to actively take down merch? Izuku isn’t okay, and Katsuki should have never left.

He has lost the ability to form words. They’re a jumbled mess, sticking to the back of his teeth like tar. None of his usual command centres are firing the right orders, as though everyone has abandoned their posts in his brain to run around flailing their arms at the absurdity that is Midoriya Izuku having a rebellious phase.

Kirishima is still talking, like all these revelations aren’t making Katsuki sick to his stomach. 

“He said he needed a change. Mina says it’s normal to do stuff like cut your hair when you go through something that hurts you. She said girls get bangs after break ups all the time. And, you know, it’s not a bad thing. We all agree that Midoriya has been a lot of fun recently.”

“Fun.” Katsuki says the word like it tastes of dogshit.

“Yeah. He spends more time hanging out and stuff. He’s crazy good at Street Fighter. And he never misses Friday night anymore. It was his idea to smuggle bears into the dorms,” Kirishima says, beaming. “I’d never been drunk before. It was awesome! That’s how Mina and I got together.”

He blinks at Kirishima, trying to make sense of the information. It’s all floating in his brain, but none of it is connecting. Katsuki takes a deep breath, trying to coax his brain cells to go back to manning their stations.

It’s not like Izuku isn’t allowed to have fun. Fuck, Katsuki doesn’t begrudge him any of it. And the piercings look hot as hell. It’s just… there’s something else. Katsuki knows in his gut that Izuku isn’t okay. Everything Kirishima is describing is out of character.

Hell, Katsuki can picture Todoroki going through a punk-ass phase easier than he can Izuku. The nerd doesn’t have it in him. Not loudly.

Katsuki remembers the weeks Izuku went rogue like it happened five minutes ago. That’s the way Izuku rebels. By turning martyr and sacrificing himself to save everyone else. Operating alone in the dark, keeping to shadows and watching over a city in crisis like a divine sentinel.

Whatever the fuck is going on right now isn’t Izuku.

“Are you sure he hasn’t been kidnapped and replaced?” Katsuki asks. It’s not unheard of. Toga might me dead, but she’s not the only person in the world with a quirk that would make it easy to impersonate someone.

These fucking idiots probably just accepted this version of Izuku without questioning it, but Katsuki knows better.

“Bro.” Kirishima stares at him with an expression Katsuki doesn’t like one bit. “Look, I know it’s a bit weird, but it’s Midoriya. You—you need to talk to him.”

I tried.

Kirishima seems to remember it, too, because he clamps a heavy hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. He shrugs it off immediately but doesn’t cuss him out.

“It’s—it’s whatever,” Katsuki mutters, shaking his head. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

##

Katsuki can’t sleep.

He’s been tossing and turning in Kirishima’s bed forever. It’s fucking late as balls, and he’s exhausted beyond reason, but every time he closes his eyes he sees Izuku and that fucking mayonnaise coloured kid and—

Fuck this.

Katsuki throws himself out of bed and shrugs his hoodie on. Barefoot, he pads out of Kirishima’s room and skulks down the corridor. It’s kind of creepy walking the dorms this late. The silence is almost absolute, broken only by the faint buzzing of the emergency lights glowing weakly over the emergency exit doors.

It’s cold out here, and he regrets not taking the time to put on some shoes, but what the fuck ever. 

Izuku’s door rattles under his fist when he pounds on it. Katsuki relishes the noise; hopes it wakes the nerd up with a start. He gives it a moment before raising his arm, ready to knock again, but the door swings open before he has a chance.

“K—what are you doing here?” Izuku looks disoriented. Sleep-addled. Good. Maybe Katsuki will be able to get something useful out of him if his defences are down.

“We need to talk.”

Izuku’s eyebrows slowly, sluggishly, climb on his forehead. He yawns. “It’s two a.m.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Katsuki says, and shoulders his way into Izuku’s room without waiting for an invitation.

It’s a mistake, because Izuku wasn’t alone.

The fact that Background Character #19 was clearly sleeping on a spare futon on the floor is a very small mercy. He shouldn’t be here at all. The uncooked noodle has the audacity to look annoyed that Katsuki is disturbing his rest. He squints at Katsuki, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his hand. The fucking bird perched on his shoulder puffs its feathers in what Katsuki can only assume is the world’s most pathetic attempt at appearing threatening.

“Scram,” he says. “I need to talk to Izuku alone.”

“Rody is my guest,” Izuku says behind Katsuki. “You cannot kick him out.”

“It’s okay, Izuku,” the extra starts, but Izuku cuts him off. 

“We can talk outside if it’s really that important.”

Katsuki turns to look at Izuku with a feral grin. “Ground Beta.”

“No,” Izuku replies immediately. “I meant the balcony.”

“Fuck that.”

The spindly kid has the gall to look bewildered. He keeps glancing between Izuku and Katsuki like he should understand anything that’s going on. Like he’s somehow entitled to it. To Izuku’s moods and ticks and tells. 

Katsuki has never wanted to punch someone this badly before. 

“It’s the balcony or not at all, Bakugo,” Izuku says, and Katsuki dies a little inside again.

He would give anything to hear Izuku call him Kacchan. 

“Stop that,” he protests before he can think better of it. Fuck, he shouldn’t have—It’s too damning an admission of weakness, so he covers it up quickly with an eyeroll. “It’s fucking freezing out there.”

“Then you better keep it short,” Izuku quips, and stretches up to pull a hoodie from his closet.

The momentary break gives Katsuki enough time to scan the room. Kirishima wasn’t lying. Izuku has taken down every single poster and hidden away every figurine he had of All Might. It’s fucking weird, especially because he hasn’t replaced them with anything. The room is bare, sterile, and it’s jarring. Katsuki has known Izuku his whole life, and the nerd has never not had an obsession. It’s part of who he is.

Puffs of mist float in front of their faces as they square up to each other on the small balcony outside of Izuku’s room. The floor is freezing and his feet hurt from standing on it, but Katsuki ignores the discomfort. He’s not going to waste this chance to talk some sense into Izuku. 

Katsuki slides the door shut without breaking eye contact, daring Izuku to say anything.

He doesn’t.

Alright, then. Showtime.

“Let’s have it,” Katsuki says gruffly. It’s so fucking cold his dick has shrivelled up into his body. He jams his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie to keep his fingers from falling off with frostbite. 

Izuku cocks an eyebrow, summoning that alien attitude he was sporting earlier out of nowhere. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Katsuki struggles to keep his voice level, but he manages it. More or less. “Cut the fu—Cut the crap. You’re mad, so be mad. Come on.”

“I’m not mad,” Izuku says smoothly. 

He leans back on the railing, watching Katsuki like one would an interesting stranger at a bar. It makes Katsuki’s anger simmer to a dangerous boil. Clearly, being civil isn’t working. Maybe, Izuku doesn’t know how to handle a sort-of-calm Katsuki.

That’s fine.

He can be mad enough for the both of them. 

Katsuki smirks at Izuku, ready to lay into him and tear him open, when Izuku does something with his mouth and a faint clicking sound rips through Katsuki like a gunshot.

What the fuck—

To Katsuki’s absolute horror, Izuku tilts his head, parts his lips, and traps a metal bar with a little ball attached to it between his teeth.

Fuck this shit all the way to Antarctica.

Oh my God.

Katsuki can’t do this. He is, quite simply, not equipped to handle the fact that Izuku went and pierced his fucking tongue and then used it to kiss the lame-ass plain-as-fuck forgettable American extra lounging on the floor of his room.

Not while Katsuki’s heart gave out thrice in his mad quest to keep Izuku’s dream alive.

It’s just—

It’s not fair.

The thought tears through him so strongly that Katsuki's chest heaves, and for a second, Izuku’s eyes flicker down with worry. Like he only now remembers Katsuki’s heart will never function normally because he tore it open for him. Because he died and came back just so that Izuku wouldn’t have to save the world alone. 

Izuku opens his mouth as if to say something, but Katsuki is suddenly too angry to measure his words and reactions.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Katsuki shouts, loud enough that his voice cracks on the last syllable. He can’t stop his own fury rising to the surface. Enough is enough.

Katsuki knows he doesn’t deserve much, but surely, he deserves slightly better than this? 

“With me?” Izuku has the audacity to look indignant. “You’re the one who barged into my room in the middle of the night.”

“Because you’re acting like a fucking twat!”

“Not dropping everything the moment you want me to isn’t being a twat,” Izuku says sharply. His eyes are narrowed, mouth a thin, bloodless line when he pauses before adding, “I told you we could talk tomorrow.”

Katsuki sees red. “Right, because you’re too busy with that extra to talk to me after I’ve been gone for six months.”

Of all the things Katsuki thought would get a reaction, he didn’t quite realise it’d be that. Izuku’s face changes swiftly the moment Katsuki’s lips give voice to the void between them. Like naming the time that has passed has made it tangible, a wall of solid brick isolating two people who used to be inseparable.

“Because you left without a word,” Izuku hisses. He’s always been beautiful. Too pretty for his own good, if anyone had asked Katsuki. But when he twists his features in this way, he looks mean like a devil. Cruel like only the people who have loved you and known you can be. “You left, Bakugo. You don’t get to be angry that the rest of us moved on with our lives.”

“I’m not—that’s not it and you know it!” Katsuki roars. He fists his hands to stop his quirk from going off. “Good for you if you wanted to get a fancy haircut and punch holes into yourself. I don’t give a fuck!”

“You’re one to talk!” Izuku shouts back, pointing an accusing finger at Katsuki.

“Hah?”

“Come on,” Izuku sneers at him, and it’s so mean it makes Katsuki’s hackles raise. “You didn’t get that piercing at a rehab facility. Wherever you went, it wasn’t just to fix your arm so don’t give me that crap. Look at you! You clearly had a great time away, so don’t shout at me for having done the same here.”

Katsuki growls and grabs Izuku by the collar of his hoodie. He’s shaking where he stands, a pressure cooker about to explode. “You have no fucking idea where I’ve been or what I’ve done these past few months, Izuku. No fucking clue, so shut the fuck up.”

“Let go of me,” Izuku says coldly, staring him down.

“Make me.” 

There’s a calculated gleam in Izuku’s eye for a second before it blinks out. Izuku’s face shutters, every emotion wiped out and pocketed away behind that weird, horrible mask. It’s like watching someone shrug off a coat to put on another, except this is Izuku and what he’s shrugging off are all the things that make him Katsuki’s nerd.

It breaks his battered heart to witness it.

“Izuku,” he rasps, giving him a little shake as though he can bring him back out through sheer willpower alone. “Come on. Fight me. Let’s solve this. I’ll punch you, you’ll punch me, we’ll be good again. Fight me.”

“No.”

“Fuck, Deku. Did you also turn coward? I said fight me!”

Slowly, Izuku’s mouth forms the most insipid, horrible, empty smile Katsuki has ever seen on anyone. 

“I can’t,” Izuku says.

The expression on his face is terrifying. It’s fake like the plastic gauntlets hero merch shops sell kids these days. Like a doll with mismatched eyes and mouth. 

Dread roils in Katsuki’s gut. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Izuku closes gnarled, scarred fingers over Katsuki’s wrists and tugs weakly. He doesn’t flinch or waver. “I can’t fight you anymore. Not the way you want.”

“Why?”

Izuku’s voice doesn’t crack or tremble. There’s no stutter, no hiccup, no waver. In fact, Izuku is stone cold as he brings down the axe that chops Katsuki’s sternum in two. 

“The embers burnt out.”

Katsuki lets go of Izuku like his clothes grew teeth.

No. No, no, no. It’s not possible. Six months isn’t enough time—what did he do? Why? They were supposed to have more time. They should have had more time.

Is this a joke? Is Izuku fucking with him?

Katsuki blinks, trying to focus. He’s leaning heavily against the cold metal railing. He can’t breathe. There’s not enough space in this balcony to hold the regrets spilling out of Katsuki’s every pore. He stumbles back, staring at Izuku but unseeing. The darkness closes in, slithers into his mouth, choking him from the inside.

He’s too late.

It was all for nothing.

“Hey, you okay?” Izuku sounds muffled. Underwater.

This is how it’s going to be from now on, Katsuki thinks. Izuku, out of reach. Izuku, a stranger. Far away and untouchable.

A sob dislodges itself from Katsuki’s throat, pushing on his tongue. But Katsuki can’t let Izuku see the depths of his despair. Izuku can never know what Katsuki tried to accomplish. Not now when there’s no hope left.

Clearly, Izuku has forged himself a path away from his dream. It makes sense now. The piercings and the attitude. The alcohol and the parties that Kirishima described. Izuku is no longer on course to be the Symbol of anything, and so he doesn’t have to watch his behaviour.

Izuku is free of the burden of One for All, and even if it hurts him to let go of the dream, it’s obvious he’s accepted it. He can be a different person now that he doesn’t want—now that he can’t—be a hero anymore. 

This Izuku is a stranger, and Katsuki hates him for how much it hurts. 

“Can you hear me?”

Katsuki steps back just in time to avoid Izuku’s hand. He shakes his head. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

And he jumps off Izuku’s balcony, explosions sending him hurtling into the night.

##

In the winter, the ground is so hard that the forest soil cracks like clay when Katsuki crashes into it. There’s no grass or undergrowth to soften the blow. Only packed dirt, near frozen and dead. Kind of like Katsuki’s insides. 

He hears a sickening crunch, but he has no time to worry before he’s rolling without control. A second crunch, but this one is his back hitting a tree trunk. 

Gasping, Katsuki stays where he is. Sprawled against a tree, limbs at odd angles, face streaked with dirt and shock. Immobile. Cold. Hurt. 

Blood trickles down the side of his mouth from having bitten his tongue on impact. 

It’s better this way. If his actual body is in pain, he can ignore the searing agony inside. 

Izuku is quirkless. 

Katsuki failed him.

It was all for nothing. The pain and the blood and the research. Katsuki doesn’t regret it, but he wonders if things would be different if he’d been here to experience the last few months of One for All with Izuku. 

He missed it, and he’ll never see Izuku glow like that again.

A horrible feeling much like homesickness closes its claws around Katsuki’s throat, and ever since the sludge villain and Shigaraki and… yeah. Katsuki doesn’t do well with choking. Not even the metaphorical kind.

Or maybe, he’s just that upset because fuck. He endured six months of soul destroying, mind splintering torment for absolutely no reason. Izuku doesn’t even care to talk to him properly anymore. 

Katsuki’s worst fears have realised, and he wasn’t even here for a gradual separation. Izuku lost his quirk and cut ties to his hero side like a gardener pruning a tree. 

And all Katsuki ever was to Izuku is victory. He doesn’t need to win if he’s not competing anymore. 

Panic sets in, and he lurches away from the tree. Katsuki falls to his hands and knees and heaves. He doesn’t make a sound, but fights to stay present. If he slips now, he has no idea how long it’ll take him to come back. He could freeze to death out here, and as much as Katsuki isn’t afraid of her, he’s also in no particular hurry to rush back to hell.

Not when he’s just escaped it.

So Katsuki rakes his fingers along the cold ground, tears a nail, breaks another. He focuses on the texture and the pain and the fact that his blood is pulsing on those fingers. It’s better than it pulsing in his mouth, so he’ll take it.

He comes to himself abruptly, forcefully. His aborted panic attack leaves him like a petulant child, with a look that promises they’re not done. 

Fuck, Katsuki is going to have to go back to therapy. 

##

True to his word, Kirishima shows up in Katsuki’s room the next day to help him clean. 

So do Kaminari, Sero, and Mina. 

“Do not touch my shit,” Katsuki says aggressively, but he does allow them to take brooms and mops and go to war against the colonising dust. 

Cleaning has always brought him a strange sense of peace—he’s in control and adapting his environment to be exactly the way he wants it. 

Very few things in his life have gone the way he wanted them to since he joined UA, but he can still make his room his.

With the window open to let in fresh air, the sounds of the nearby forest fill the room for the first few minutes. Katsuki’s hearing isn’t good enough to pick up the soft hum of the vacuum cleaner Mina is wielding, or the soft sliding sound of cloth on wood, but he can picture it because he used to be able to. It’s soothing. 

What he can hear, with absolute clarity, is Sero’s question, breaking the silence like a thunderclap. “So, are you going to tell us about the piercings and the hair?”

Katsuki cocks an eyebrow. “What about them?”

“You look…” Sero trails off, but Kaminari apparently has developed a death wish in the time Katsuki has been away, because he says, “You look hot, man. Like, I’d make out with you right now if you wanted to.”

Mina shrieks with laughter. “He’s right, you know? You look delicious.”

“Mina!” Kirishima complains, but it’s good-natured so Katsuki doesn’t worry about it. 

He rolls his eyes, shrugs in his oversized hoodie. “I met some people while I was away. This was a dare,” he says, pointing towards his eyebrow. “These… I just liked them.”

“And the hair?” Sero asks again. 

“I needed a haircut, and Xhao asked if they could just go for it,” Katsuki explains. His chest hurts, so he turns his back on his friends and resumes making his bed with clean sheets so he doesn’t have to face them. 

At some point, he’s going to have to call Jaqie and tell her that it’s over. 

His hands shake, but Katsuki grits his teeth and pushes on, pulling on the sheet until it’s perfectly flat on the mattress. Not a single wrinkle to be found. 

“Was Xhao also a patient?” Kirishima asks somewhere behind Katsuki. 

“Hah?”

“In the… wherever you went to fix your arm,” he adds. 

Katsuki bites his lower lip. He doesn’t like lying. Has never really had a need for it. Katsuki has a lot of flaws—too many to list if he doesn’t want to miss dinner—but he’s not a liar or a cheat. And yet… he can’t tell the truth. 

He can’t risk it getting back to Izuku, for one. But he also just… he can’t face the heartbreak on his friends’ faces. The pity. How else would they look at him if they knew? 

Katsuki was so stupid to think he could change fate. It was arrogant of him. After dying in the war, he really thought he’d had the cockiness beat out of him to some degree, but no. Here he stands, shredded to pieces by his own ego. 

If he hadn’t thought himself smarter than everyone… if he hadn’t assumed he cared about Izuku more than everyone else…

Katsuki told himself no one had the balls to go beyond for Izuku, and so it was his job to keep his dream alive. 

The truth is that Katsuki was selfish, and delusional, and so fucking arrogant he totally missed the point. 

No one else tried to prevent One for All from dying out because no one else was idiotic enough to think it was possible. 

“Bakugo?”

“Hah?”

“You alright?” Mina asks him. She’s standing next to him, way too close. Katsuki didn’t notice her approaching. “You look a bit… do you need to sit down?”

Katsuki jerks away from her, heart beating erratically in his chest. He swallows, but his mouth is dry. His tongue feels swollen and his jaw is stiff. Panic catches him off guard like an inexperienced tourist out on a beach during a full moon spring tide. Violent and too fast to avoid drowning. 

“Bakugo?” Kirishima is in front of him now, squinting as he looks at his face. He must see something, because he turns around to their friends. “Give us a minute.”

His friends shuffle out of the room, he thinks. He isn’t sure. He’s slipping, and Katsuki is fighting back, but he can’t push the episode away twice. He shouldn’t have been able to even do it the once last night. 

It’s probably going to make what’s coming worse. 

Everything sways. Katsuki’s feet are unsteady. A gentle pressure on his shoulder pushes him back, and suddenly he’s sitting. It’s soft and clean. Must be his bed, but Katsuki cannot really see his surroundings anymore. It’s all white light and a buzzing noise that he distantly recognises as his own blood thumping in his ears. 

The pain in his chest increases, and it could be his broken heart, or his lungs collapsing without oxygen, but Katsuki’s brain shuts off and drifts.

And he’s gone. 

Totally disconnected from his body, Katsuki floats away. It’s painless here, but still agonising. The monsters in Katsuki’s head have no mercy on him. They appear without warning, spawning from the empty, white space to bare their teeth at him. 

They’re all blond, and pretty in the way sharp, broken things are. Eyes red like blood glare at him with so much vitriol he flinches. There’s not a smile to be found. Every expression is hostile, smug, cruel. 

Versions of himself he wishes had never existed sneer at him, calling him names he used to call other people. They’re ugly and mean and Katsuki hates them. He hates himself, still. 

“Go away,” he tries to say, but he has no voice here. 

If he could, Katsuki would close his eyes, but he’s not in his body. 

He’s trapped in his own head, tormented by things that he has no idea how to fight. They live inside him, and know his weaknesses. These monsters are his worst fears given shape, voice, and claws. 

“This is what you get for thinking you could ever be good enough for Deku,” one of his selves says. 

“Fucking idiot, you thought you’d be the hero that saves the day, huh?” 

“You only know how to break things,” another says, shrugging. “You fight mean and dirty and win, but that’s all you know how to do. You’ve never saved anyone in your miserable life.”

“No wonder Izuku won’t even look at you. You’re so fucking rotten. All you know how to do is step on people on your way to the top.”

Stop. 

Katsuki wants to cover his ears. To make them shut up. He needs them to go away, give him a break, let him breathe. Please, please, please. 

He doesn’t want to be weak. He doesn’t want to cry. But Katsuki is only human, despite everything, and he put himself through unspeakable horrors voluntarily only to come back and find it was all in vain. 

He’s not steady enough to weather this storm. He’s not whole enough, not yet, not for a long time, he suspects. What he did and felt and tasted in Jaqie’s lab haunts him, and it’s all too fresh. Too recent. 

Fuck. Two weeks ago he was still on Jaqie’s lab table, convulsing as Alice brought him back from the last test. The one that collapsed his heart and burst his eye in its socket. 

He doesn’t have the defenses to keep himself from breaking down. 

“You brought this on yourself. Izuku has moved on. He doesn’t need you. He never will again. He’s too good for you. You don’t deserve him.”

Stop. 

“You should have never believed yourself good enough to be at his side.”

“You could have done everyone a favour and just stayed dead.”

Before Katsuki can scream, something warm and steady cradles his face. It’s disorienting, because he’s not in his body, but he sort of suddenly is, like he’s trickling back in drop by drop. His awareness returns so agonisingly slowly that it takes a long time for him to realise the weights and warmth on his face are hands. 

Katsuki attempts to blink, and he manages it, but the white light doesn’t dim. He can’t see anything, still half way trapped in his head. 

The voices and their jeering have quieted, though, so he’ll take it. He cannot stand to be tormented by himself a moment longer. He’s always been terrifyingly good at hitting where it hurts.

“Can you hear me?”

Katsuki can’t place the voice, but he follows it anyway. It’s soft and caring and it feels like someone wrapped a blanket around him and held him tight. Katsuki’s hands jerk up, and his fingers wrap around strong wrists. 

He clings to them for dear life.

“Yes?” he says, and his voice sounds like sanding paper on wood but at least he can talk now. 

“Breathe. You need to breathe. Come on. I’ve got you.”

Katsuki tries to force air into his lungs. It hurts. He doesn’t want to do it again, but the hands on his face are so, so warm. So gentle. They coax him, and he obeys because he can’t imagine not. 

Katsuki inhales, and it rattles his insides, but it helps clear his eyes.

“Again. Come on, breathe.”

It’s Izuku. 

The realisation that Izuku is here cuts Katsuki to his core. He scared away the monsters in his head and brought him back out to his own body. Izuku saved him again, despite everything. 

It’s too much. 

Katsuki breaks. 

Tears stream down his cheeks, and he curls forward with great heaving sobs. He needs to feel Izuku close, needs to hold him, just for a moment. Getting closer to Izuku is the only thing that will keep Katsuki together in one piece. It’s pathetic. Downright humiliating how his entire self shrinks into a shivering mess, turned towards Izuku like a sunflower seeking the light. 

But Katsuki has lost the ability to be ashamed. He can’t think of consequences or weaknesses or anything at all. There’s only right now, and the despair of knowing that Izuku might never hold him again after this. 

“You’re okay,” Izuku says, and he sounds strained, but Katsuki ignores it and buries his face in Izuku’s chest. 

He smells like spring. Like grass and strong, tall trees. There’s a hint of green tea, and the ozone scent of an electric storm that Katsuki associates with One for All. It’s so Izuku that it breaks his heart all over again. 

Katsuki truly must be a masochist because he’d go through an episode like that again willingly if it meant he ends up here, with Izuku gingerly holding him, and his face pressed against a worn hoodie that smells like coming home. 

“Alright, you’re okay,” Izuku mutters after a minute or two. “You can take it from here.”

To Katsuki’s horror, Izuku steps away. 

“No,” he croaks. “Wait—”

“Kirishima-kun is here,” Izuku says. “He’s got you. You’re fine.”

“No,” Katsuki repeats. He forces his eyes open, blinks up through the tears. Izuku is staring at him with something like regret. “Don’t lea—”

“I have to go,” Izuku says firmly. That damned metal flashes behind his teeth. The earrings glint like little stars hanging from Izuku’s ear. He’s wearing tight jeans again, and a very cool, dark green oversized hoodie that now has a wet patch on it. 

Izuku clicks his teeth, and looks away as though ashamed. “I’ve got plans today. I can’t be late.”

Katsuki lurches to his feet. Kirishima steps forward, but Katsuki throws out an arm to stop him. It hits him that he towers over Izuku. In the past six months, Katsuki got taller, but Izuku only got meaner. 

“Izuku…” Katsuki pauses, hesitates. 

What can he say? What is there to say? The dice have been cast, and their fates decided. Katsuki already tried to rewrite them, and this is where he ended up. 

“I’ll see you around,” Izuku says, backing away like Katsuki is a feral animal who might get violent if spooked. 

The click of the door shutting after Izuku is so final, Katsuki feels any lingering panic and despair snap. They leave him suddenly, in a whoosh like a gust of wind. 

He stands in the middle of his room, drained by the entire thing, and thinks: all I gave you is gone. 

Izuku has cast him away like an empty take-out box. He ate everything Katsuki threw at his feet—his strength, his discipline, his lifeblood—and walked away when he was done. He never looked back. Not once. 

Katsuki supposes he doesn’t deserve it, but he hoped Izuku felt like he did anyway.   

The weight of his new reality is heavy enough to make Katsuki’s knees buckle. How is he supposed to go on now? How does he deal with the fact that every time he sees Izuku from now on, Izuku won’t look back? Katsuki thought he knew what pining felt like. He was dead wrong.

This, the sharp ache behind his ribs, is true yearning. Wanting and knowing he’ll never get again. Katsuki is going to spend the rest of his life chasing after something he can’t have. 

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have called him,” Kirishima says sheepishly. “I panicked. I’d… you looked like it was really bad, bro. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki mutters, even though he is so fucking far from fine he’ll never reach it again. 

The pregnant pause indicates Kirishima is aware that Katsuki is lying, but isn’t brave enough to call him out on it. 

Katsuki clears his throat. “I’m surprised he came.”

“Bro, there’s no way Midoriya would let anyone suffer if he can do something about it, much less you.”

“Shitty hair—”

“No,” Kirishima says earnestly. “He’s upset you left the way you did, but he still cares. He does. I’m sure of it, bro. No way Midoriya doesn’t. Not after everything.”

That isn’t a conversation he wants to have right now. Or ever. So he pretends Kirishima said nothing and tries to stop feeling like he’d like to shrug off his skin.

Everything is heightened, and the clothes on him are weirdly heavy. 

He’s sticky and disgusting with sweat, so he pulls off his hoodie over his head and throws it in his laundry basket. His t-shirt is also wet on his back, damp with cold sweat, so he takes that off, too. Behind him, Kirishima gasps, and then he’s suddenly standing very close.

“Wow. These—bro. Bro! Oh my God, this is so manly!”

Blinking, Katsuki looks down at himself and remembers that yeah. He does look pretty cool. The ink on his skin mingles with the scars scattered all over him, painting a story of sacrifice and resilience. 

Maybe, all he gave Izuku is gone, but Katsuki carries the memories of it. Every raised bump and gnarled bit of flesh on him is earnt. 

For the first time since he arrived back in UA, Katsuki smiles. “Yeah, right?”

“No, seriously,” Kirishima says, leaning in closer. “These are sick. Did it hurt?”

“Nah,” Katsuki brags. “One of the people I was with has a healing quirk. She helped.”

“Bro, this is going to make you look even tougher in your costume,” Kirishima notes, pointing at the tattoos on Katsuki’s arms. 

At the mention of it, Katsuki glances at his friend. It’s been too long since he donned his costume and fought using his quirk properly. And he’s not an idiot, okay? A sparring match won’t fix everything that he broke by leaving, but violence has always made him feel better. 

The prospect of blowing some shit up is a very appealing one, and Katsuki needs any win he can get. Right now, he’d do just about anything if he was certain it’d make him feel less like absolute shit. 

“Hey,” he says. “You wanna go to the training grounds? I need to practice fighting and stabilising myself with both arms again.”

Kirishima beams. “Hell yeah. Let’s go. I have improved my quirk so much, bro. You can hit me even harder now. I can take it.”

Katsuki snorts, and very deliberately, says, “Very manly, Kirishima. Very manly.”

And if Kirishima’s eyes glass over a bit because Katsuki called him by his name, that’s for them alone to know and never tell anyone. 

##

Four full days pass without Katsuki seeing Izuku again. 

For the most part, Katsuki either broods in his room, spars with Kirishima, or smashes through new PRs in the gym. The only times he is around his other classmates is when he’s in the kitchen, but even then, Izuku never shows up. 

It means that Katsuki spends four days stewing in a new sort of anger he isn’t sure he’s experienced before. He’s been angry at the nerd, of course. That was his permanent state for like eight years give or take. But when Katsuki was younger, his rage towards Izuku was confused and scared. A reaction that Katsuki didn’t understand and wasn’t equipped to deal with.

This is different. 

Katsuki is painfully, extremely, minutely aware of the reason why he’s so fucking furious. 

It’s the tofu kid and the fact that Izuku has clearly decided spending time with him is more important than literally everyone else. 

Katsuki chops his vegetables so aggressively, he makes a dent on the cutting board. He swears, then yanks the knife away. This is fucking stupid. Making dinner for one is a waste of time and energy. 

Looking up, Katsuki scans the part of the common area that he can see from where he’s standing. The door to the kitchen is wide, so most of the sofa and the low coffee table where Izuku was singing five days ago are visible. 

“Dunce face,” Katsuki grunts, and Kaminari looks up immediately from his phone. “Come here.”

Jirou frowns, apparently annoyed that Kaminari doesn’t think twice before obeying Katsuki. On her other side, Uraraka sits with Tsuyuu, heads bent close together in some inane conversation. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen Izuku, but he’s seen Uraraka around a lot. And isn’t that also kind of weird? 

Katsuki hates it, but he understands that Izuku no longer wants anything to do with him. But what about his other nerd friends? Has he ditched them too? The idea that that insipid, flavour vacuum of a kid has enough pull to make Izuku ignore even the dorks he usually hangs out with is fucking preposterous. 

There’s got to be something else. 

“So, did you want something?” Kaminari asks, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. 

“Have you had dinner?” Katsuki asks in return.

“No,” Kaminari says, and looks at Katsuki in a way that should concern him but he’s too distracted by the ‘Izuku and the ricecake’ conundrum. 

It bothers him, and it won’t stop bothering him until Katsuki figures out what he’s missing.  

“Sit there,” Katsuki instructs, and Kaminari does. He perches on the stool, puts his elbows on the counter, and his chin on his hands. 

Katsuki goes back to cutting vegetables and ruminating over Izuku’s strange behaviour. His anger at Katsuki for leaving without a goodbye makes sense, and so does the fact that he’s no longer interested in being friends. A quirkless Izuku has nothing to gain from being around Katsuki, as much as it pains him to admit it. 

But Izuku is still here, isn’t he? He hasn’t dropped out of the hero course. Surely, he hasn’t completely cut ties with everything. So why hasn’t Katsuki seen him when Uraraka and Iida have been—actually hold up. Wait. Hold up. Where the fuck is Todoroki?

“Yo,” he says, glancing at Kaminari. “Where the fuck is half ‘n’ half?”

Kaminari’s eyes go very wide. “Oh my God, right, you don’t know!” Before Katsuki can berate him for that stupid observation, Kaminari leans forward. “Right, so, Todoroki-kun is home for the Christmas break, but get this. He had to go because his father found out he’s dating Shinsou,” for some fucking reason, Kaminari pouts as he says this before he continues, “and threw a tantrum. So, Todoroki has gone home to basically fight his father for his boyfriend's honour or something like that. It’s romantic.”

Katsuki has no idea what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. Okay, so Todoroki isn’t around and it’s unrelated to Izuku. That’s strange, but Katsuki will take it. 

Also, now that Kaminari mentions it, he did know about Todoroki and Shinsou. Izuku told him the night that they—

“I see,” Katsuki says aggressively. He will absolutely not think about that night. He refuses. 

“Yeah. Everyone is all lovey-dovey,” Kaminari says, and he sounds upset about it enough that Katsuki blinks in his direction. “Yaomomo and Jirou are also together now.”

What the fuck happened while he was away? 

Izuku was fucking right about the crush bug, ridiculous as it was. When Izuku said that, Katsuki thought he’d never heard more dumbassery crammed into a single sentence before, but turns out he was wrong. 

“Is no one taking hero training seriously anymore or what?” Katsuki grunts. 

Kaminari shrugs. “People can do both.”

“Not if they want to be the best they can’t,” he argues for no real reason. He’s just angry all the time, and any excuse, no matter how small, to blow up at someone is good enough. 

This seems to upset Kaminari. He frowns at Katsuki, then looks down at the food he’s making. Clearly enough for two people. “Then why did you ask me to come here?”

“Hah?”

“If you’re not asking me out in a super weird and roundabout way by telling me to sit here and watch you cook, then why did you tell me to sit here and watch you cook?” Kaminari asks. 

Katsuki chokes on his spit. “I what?”

“Well,” Kaminari says, eyebrows climbing to his hairline. “I did tell you I’d like to make out with you, and you aren’t asking anyone else to…” Kaminari makes a gesture that Katsuki interprets as ‘sit here and watch you cook’. 

For a long moment, Katsuki just stares at Kaminari. The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Until Kaminari explained it so plainly, Katsuki simply wasn’t aware that people paid attention to things like these and interpreted them in a… romantic direction? 

“I thought you were just being your fucking dumb self,” Katsuki says gruffily. “When you said that.”

“I was serious.”

“Yeah, I get that now,” Katsuki barks, annoyed. He doesn’t like looking stupid. He isn’t stupid. But he just… he genuinely, honest to fucking god did not even consider this scenario. 

He saw Kaminari, one of his stupid friends, and called him over because he didn’t want to look pathetic and lonely cooking for a single person. Before this whole shitshow, it would have been Izuku sitting here watching him cook, or at least Katsuki would have been making food to pack him a bento to leave in the fridge for later. 

Oh.

Shit.

Well, Katsuki does like Izuku that way. Is that why he always made him food? But no, because Katsuki has also cooked for the entire class, and he most certainly does not have feelings for, say, the big sugar rush guy or the zookeeper. Or any of the girls, for that matter.

“So, you’re not interested?” Kaminari asks. He says it in a way that conveys he won’t be too upset if Katsuki says no. They’re friends, after all. But, he looks a bit sheepish, and it hits Katsuki all at once that it must have taken a shitload of courage for Kaminari to just straight up ask him this.

“I don’t know,” Katsuki replies. “I hadn’t thought about it. I didn’t—I don’t fucking know.”

The pan sizzles when he dumps the vegetables and chicken into it. Katsuki stirs the food with a wooden spoon, and thinks hard about his predicament. 

Does he like Kaminari? 

Katsuki looks at him. Really, carefully, studies him. He’s pretty, and there’s no denying that. Kaminari looks delicate but not frail. Slender and bendy. He has sparkly eyes and long eyelashes. 

Alright, so Katsuki can at least process that Kaminari is good looking. 

The idea of kissing him isn’t repulsive. It could be nice, Katsuki realises. Kaminari is funny, and dumb as fuck but loyal and brave. He holds his own in a fight, if he doesn’t shortcircuit. They’ve been friends for a long time. Kaminari is one of the people closest to him, together with Kirishima, Mina and Sero. He’s a friend. Katsuki likes him as one (don’t tell him that, ever). 

But liking a friend isn’t the same as… liking them. Right? 

Katsuki’s eyes flicker down to Kaminari’s mouth, and okay. The more he considers it, the more intriguing the idea becomes. So, Katsuki could kiss Kaminari and he might possibly enjoy it. 

But there’s no… he doesn’t have the need to do it. It’s not like… not like Izuku. 

When Izuku is in a room with him, Katsuki feels like someone hooked a line to his sternum and attached the other end to the nerd, so that every time he moves, Katsuki is compelled to move with him. Like Izuku is the sun, and Katsuki has no choice but to orbit him, always. 

When Katsuki looks at Izuku, he has to constantly squash the urge to reach out and touch him. He thinks about his freckles almost obsessively. He has fantasised about kissing him, about eating him alive, cracking him open and licking his bloody insides. Katsuki learnt how to jerk off thinking about Izuku. 

That gives him pause. He’s never needed anything else. 

Katsuki is—despite current evidence to the contrary—very fucking smart. So smart that he can immediately tell his behaviour isn’t normal. 

Everyone else watches porn, or reads porn, or looks at pictures or whatever. But they never really work for Katsuki. He can appreciate good looking people (and here he glances up at Kaminari again) but naked strangers don’t make him hot and bothered in the same way that Izuku punching through a boxing bag in the gym does. 

“Why do you want to make out with me?” Katsuki asks Kaminari in a low voice. 

“You’re hot as hell, dude,” Kaminari replies. 

“But why?”

Kaminari frowns. “That’s it. I… didn’t know I needed more reasons.”

This conversation is rapidly becoming alarming. Katsuki is starting to realise that there might be something wrong with him and his Izuku obsession. He doesn’t want to kiss Izuku just because he’s beautiful. He has a list of reasons even longer than the list of his own flaws. 

Katsuki has never wanted to kiss anyone else, hot or not. 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Katsuki turns off the hob and plates the food. He gestures for Kaminari to follow him, and they relocate to the dining table. It is blissfully empty. Katsuki sets their plates next to each other, and Kaminari looks a little confused, but he rolls with it. 

They eat in companionable silence for a while, and it’s not lost on Katsuki that Kaminari must really fucking want this, because he’s never sat still for this long in his entire life. 

“Do you just… like kissing people you think are hot? Is that it?” Katsuki asks.

“Yeah? Why do you look so freaked out? I know you’re gay, dude. Do not even try to deny it.”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

Kaminari shrugs. “Vibes.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“Just vibes, I don’t know,” he protests. “So? Why are you so freaked out? You don’t like me, that’s cool. But you’re making this a bit weird.”

Katsuki aggressively shovels food into his mouth to buy time to think. He ends up eating this meal before he’s found words to follow that with. He pushes his empty plate aside and curls both hands around the glass of water for something to do. 

This is kind of awkward, but also, surprisingly, not the worst. Something about Kaminari’s easy going personality is making this feel concerningly normal. 

“I—I don’t know if I—” Katsuki sighs, drinks a sip of water. “I’ve only ever really thought about kissing one person. I didn’t—like. I mean… I guess we could make out but I don’t get why we’d do it.”

“For fun,” says Kaminari, completely abandoning his half-eaten dinner in favour of batting his eyelashes at Katsuki. It’s both annoying and kind of cute. 

“We’d have more fun sparring,” Katsuki protests. 

Kaminari laughs. “Tell me you’ve never kissed anyone without telling me you’ve never kissed anyone.”

Katsuki is downright offended. Kaminari has no idea. Katsuki has, in fact, kissed someone and the experience was so mind-numbingly good that nothing ever will compare. Katsuki’s life peaked that night six months ago and it’s all destined to go downhill from there, because Izuku hates him, and they’ll never kiss again. 

“I have,” Katsuki snaps. “And before you say any more dumb shit, it was good. Better than good. It was the best.”

“Well, then,” Kaminari teases, knocking his knee into Katsuki’s. “If you’re not against the idea, you could try. If it’s not the best, then we’ll never talk about it ever again and we can go to the training grounds instead.”

It’s at that moment that the front doors of the dorm building open and Izuku steps inside, followed closely by the personification of a participation award. They’re not touching. No hand holding or linking of arms or anything that should set Katsuki off. And yet, the acrid taste in his mouth is like a flood.

Katsuki knows deeply in his gut that kissing Kaminari isn’t going to feel even remotely like kissing Izuku. But he also realises, with startling clarity, that unless he starts kissing people who are not Izuku, he’s going to be alone for the rest of his miserable life.

And while Katsuki isn’t bothered by the idea of a partner or lack thereof right now, he suspects there’ll come a time when he will be. And won’t it be fucking stupid if he fumbles his way through that simply because he kept holding a candle for someone who won’t even fucking bother to look his way as he crosses the common area? 

“Fine,” he says. “If it’s not… if it doesn’t work, you pretend it never happened.”

“Deal,” Kaminari replies, and he looks so eager it almost makes Katsuki smile, too. “Now?”

“What, here?”

“Why not?”

Katsuki glances around. Izuku and Background Character #19 seem to have disappeared. The space is almost empty. Uraraka and Tsuyuu are still on the sofa, but they’re giggling and looking at their phones, totally unaware of their surroundings. A lot of people are home, because it’s Christmas tomorrow and they’re spending it with their families. That’s why neither Kirishima nor Sero are around. 

“Alright,” Katsuki says, and before he can chicken out of this thing, he fists his hand in Kaminari’s hoodie and pulls him bodily to stand between his legs. 

Kaminari tastes like lightning, which isn’t surprising. It’s kind of cool, Katsuki thinks, that he can sort of feel sparks on his tongue as he tentatively explores Kaminari’s mouth with it. His lips are soft, and he smells like that perfume that the old hag bought Katsuki two years ago. 

To Katsuki’s surprise, kissing Kaminari is kind of good. He’s not seeing god, nor is his soul astral projecting out of his body. But he’s enjoying it. 

He likes the way Kaminari presses himself closer, like he can’t get enough of Katsuki. The way his hands tangle in his hair and pull a little, like what Katsuki is doing is making him needy. Kaminari makes tiny little sounds, and he likes those, too.

Most of all, he likes that his brain shuts up, and the pain in his chest eases, and he feels less like a universal fuck up and more like someone wants him. He hadn’t realised how much he needed that after the worst rejection of his entire life. 

When they break the kiss, Kaminari’s eyes are wide. “Okay, I take it all back. You definitely have kissed people before. Oh my God.”

Katsuki’s competitive streak rears its head. It’s nice to be praised. To be desired, because the glint in Kaminari’s eyes cannot be mistaken for anything else. So Katsuki smirks, and says in a low voice, “Yeah?”

Kaminari nods violently, blushing all the way to the roots of his hair. “Yeah. Again?”

“Sure,” Katsuki shrugs like he doesn’t care either way, but he’s lying to both of them because he does want more.  

Their mouths slide together again, and Katsuki focuses just on that. On the rhythm, and the taste, and coaxing some of those sounds out of Kaminari. 

In the background, he distantly registers someone walking nearby, coming to an abrupt stop, yelping a little bit, and then retreating. There’ll be rumours tomorrow, but Katsuki doesn’t care. Why would he care?

He’s already lost his chance with Izuku. He’s got nothing else to lose. 

Notes:

Midoriya Izuku - you're making it so hard to stay on your side babe. They could never make me hate you, but we're close.

Chapter 8: Of loyalty and teamwork

The day before New Year’s Eve, Katsuki goes to the gym with Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, and Mina. 

They’re all going home that afternoon to spend New Year’s with their families, but Katsuki wanted to get another session in. These days, it’s the only thing keeping him sane. Not to mention, he does have to train a lot to get back to the level of agility he’d accomplished before Shigaraki pulverised his arm.

They’re not wearing hero costumes today because they got a bit lazy and decided workout clothes would suffice. 

The gym is empty and cold, which Katsuki likes. It’s harder for him to sweat during the winter, which means he has to push himself a bit extra. He does a few stretches, then mobility exercises to get the blood flowing and his joints lubricated properly. Next to him, Kirishima is groaning as Mina helps him try to touch his toes. 

“This is impossible,” Kirishima complains. “Let’s get to actual training already.”

“You need to improve your flexibility,” Mina chides him. “It’s not good to be this stiff when you’re not even a legal adult yet.”

“Can you touch your toes?” Kirishima asks, glancing at Katsuki.

Cocking an eyebrow, Katsuki bends forward and rests the pads of his fingers on the floor. “Obviously.”

“Deku-kun can put his palms flat on the ground,” Mina says. 

Immediately, Katsuki scowls. “Alright, losers. Warm up is over. Let’s fucking go.”

Kirishima cheers and Kaminari claps before they all walk to the middle of the gym, taking positions for their training. 

Katsuki would have preferred to be here with Izuku, because no one pushes Katsuki to his limits like the nerd used to. If the last time they trained together Katsuki had known about the absolute shitshow that would ensue—namely, the war, his death, Izuku sacrificing his quirk—he would have savoured it more. 

But he didn’t, and he’s here now, and he’s got a quirk and arm that works against all odds. He also has tons of new military strategy skills and, if he can’t practice them with Izuku, he supposes there are worse people to train with than Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane and Pinky. 

His friends all have decent quirks and know how to use them. Katsuki doesn’t think that’s a coincidence. 

They launch into their training, going through the routines and sparring matches Katsuki designed last night. He’s very pleased that his friends are sticking to the program. He’s also impressed by how much they’ve improved in the past six months. 

He’s just blown Kirishima up so far that Sero had to lasso him back to the ground when Iida and Uraraka show up to the gym. They’re in their workout uniforms, too, and carrying water bottles with them.  

Katsuki cranes his neck a bit, then processes what he’s doing and scoffs. The distraction means Kaminari gets a hit in, the electric shock thrumming through Katsuki’s body and making his muscles spasm. He yelps before he can stop himself, and Kaminari celebrates getting past Katsuki’s defenses. 

What an embarrassing performance. James would be so disappointed that he let his guard down during active combat. Katsuki can almost hear his voice in his head, chidding him for letting his emotions get the better of his focus in the field. 

It’s life or death, Kats. Every move, every second, is the difference between walking off the battlefield or being carried away in a bag.

Annoyed at himself, Katsuki redoubles his efforts. 

An hour later, all five of them throw themselves on a bench against the wall, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. It’s been a great session, and Katsuki is buzzing with endorphins. 

He reclines where he sits, takes a long sip of water. His phone buzzes in his pocket with a text from Monoma, but Katsuki hasn’t really felt like hanging out with him. Monoma is still a fucking tease, and he’s sure to have caught wind of the situation with Izuku. Katsuki isn’t sure he won’t punch Monoma’s face in if he makes a joke about the death of ‘Kacchan’.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Kaminari watching him. Katsuki cannot engage with that right now. He still doesn’t know if he even wants anything like that to happen again, and Katsuki knows better than to give Kaminari mixed signals. 

He’ll be damned if he’s going to lose a friend over a stupid kiss.

Grimacing, Katsuki fixes his attention on the rumbling noise of Iida’s quirk. Iida and Uraraka are doing some sort of joint training where Iida is learning to use the engines on his legs whilst floating in the air under Uraraka’s quirk. It looks pretty difficult, and Katsuki has no idea why that would ever come in handy, but he respects the determination Iida is showing.

“I need him to tell her, or I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands,” Mina says dramatically. 

Katsuki tilts his head, confused. Kaminari, however, seems to know what she’s talking about. “Iida-kun is too afraid.”

“Afraid of what? You think she’d put up with this if she didn’t like him?” asks Sero.

“Ochako-chan is like Deku-kun in that sense,” Mina says. “They’re always happy to help people. I can see why Iida-kun doesn’t consider this proof of anything.”

“But Sero is right,” Kirishima says. “She definitely likes him.”

Katsuki has almost tuned out the conversation when Kaminari says, “I thought she liked Midoriya.”

“You’re all fucking dumb,” Katsuki says, deeply annoyed all of a sudden. “She liked Toga and if you couldn’t see that you need to get your eyes checked.”

His friends nod with various levels of enthusiasm until Sero, who is feeling brave today, says, “Well, yeah. But Toga died. Also, she was a villain. And you can like more than one person at a time. Uraraka-san definitely had a crush on Deku. She liked him even before he got hot.”

“The fuck?” Katsuki says.

Mina wiggles her eyebrows, “Come on, Bakugo. I know you guys aren’t talking right now, but you’ve got eyes.”

“Yeah,” Kaminari says. “It’s like he lost the quirk but won plus one million hotness points.”

Katsuki can feel sweat pooling on the palms of his hands. He’s about to blow everything within a five mile radius to shit. He doesn’t want to talk about Izuku. Doesn’t want to think about Izuku.

But something about Kaminari’s comment gives him pause for a second. “How do you know about the quirk?”

Kirishima flinches. Sero and Mina look deeply sad. It makes Katsuki regret his question. 

“Well, he’s exempt from hero training now. Not like before, you know? When he’d try to do them without using One for All to preserve it. Now, he really doesn’t have it, so…” Kaminari trails off, a troubled expression on his face.

“How?” Katsuki rasps.

“There was a really bad storm,” Mina says quietly. “It rained for days and days. A dam up in the mountains was faulty, but they didn’t know about it. All the rivers feeding it were overflowing, and the crack that had gone unnoticed gave out. They called all hands on deck, but most of us didn’t know what to do. You can’t stop a flood.”

Katsuki swallows. He can imagine it, and the truth is that he’d have no idea what to do. It’s unpleasant to realise there are circumstances when his quirk might not help. Would he have been able to do anything if he’d been around? Probably not. You can’t blow up a flood. 

Mina finishes her explanation in quiet, solemn tones. “Todoroki froze part of it, but the landslide was too great, and heading straight for Musutafu. Then, Deku punched a hole on the ground a couple of miles outside the city big enough to disrupt the flood and stop it from being catastrophic. Several districts had property damage from the muddy water, but he saved a lot of lives and a lot of infrastructure.”

“He said he’d been using One for All in bouts before then, and apparently that effort was too much,” Kirishima confirms. “It was the last of it.”

Katsuki bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t say a word. He can’t. If he opens his mouth, he’ll scream. With a sharp nod, Katsuki gets up and legs it out of the gym. He needs to be alone. Needs to take deep breaths so he doesn’t do anything stupid. 

The truth is that he’d been unprepared to hear this. Deep down, Katuski had hoped it was a mistake. A lie, maybe. That there was something left of the embers in Izuku. But he wouldn’t lie to teachers. Not like this. 

If he’s truly been pulled out of training, then Izuku doesn’t have anything left in him. 

##

Katsuki sits on the windowsill of his room, legs dangling outwards over the empty street. His breath is white, misty puffs hovering in front of his lips. Despite how cold it is, the sky is clear. But Musutafu has too much light pollution for him to see the stars properly.  

At his back, memories and echoes of who he used to be haunt him. 

It’s not that he never wants to come home. Katsuki does love his parents, despite how little he likes to show it. It’s just that when he moved to the dorms in UA, he was still learning to be a better person. So coming back here feels dangerously like staring at all his past mistakes in the face. 

Right now, Katsuki isn’t in the best state of mind. Confronting his younger self’s stupid actions only makes him feel worse. Of course Izuku doesn’t want anything to do with him. The fact that he used to is insane enough, considering how Katsuki treated him. 

With a sigh, he climbs back inside and shuts the glass. He can no longer feel his toes or the tip of his nose, and he can’t spend the entire night hanging out the window. His mother only just barely forgave him for disappearing without a trace. 

She doesn’t show it very well, but the old hag loves him, too. 

Deep down, Katsuki knows some of his difficulties stem from his mother’s explosive personality and inability to show love normally. What would he be like if his mother were calmer? Less prone to shouting and hitting him over the head with her open palm. Maybe, he’d be gentler, too. Capable of kindness. 

Perhaps, he’d be less angry all the time. 

But he can’t blame it all on her. Yes, his mother isn’t perfect, but he’s made his own choices, too. He’s responsible for his arrogance, and his rudeness. He cannot claim it’s the old hag’s fault and paint himself as a victim of his circumstances. He won’t. He’s not a coward. 

Speaking of cowardice, he really should just read through the 500+ notifications from Izuku. 

It’s doing him absolutely no good keeping them on his phone, a ghost haunting him every time he tries to look at the thing. He also needs to call Jaqie, but that one he’ll do next week. One trial at a time. 

Katsuki lies on his bed on top of the covers and unlocks his screen. It glows uncomfortably, making him squint a little. With a shaky finger, Katsuki clicks on Izuku’s name.

It’s a flood. 

Katsuki takes a deep breath, and begins to scroll through the messages, starting from the very morning he left. Based on the timestamp, it took Izuku a few hours to send the first text, but once he did, it looks as though he simply could not stop. 

The messages sometimes come all in rapid succession, sometimes have time stamps a few hours apart. It’s clear Izuku was constantly thinking, wondering, worrying. The texts form a heart-breaking stream of consciousness.

Katsuki knows he’s going to regret this, but he does it anyway. It’s one of the last things Izuku left him, and even if it hurts, he wants it.

Anything is better than the coldness in those green eyes and that Bakugo dropped like a stone into the sea. 

You left? 

I don’t understand why you left without telling me?

Why did you pack all your things?

Kirishima-kun told me you put them in storage. 

Kacchan, where are you? 

Where did you go?

Kacchan?

Did you turn off your phone?

Aizawa sensei said you went to fix your arm ??????

Did I do something?

Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you leave so suddenly?

Kacchan are you upset?

Is it because of what happened?

Because we kissed?

Talk to me

Where are you?

Kacchan? 

Please

I don’t like this. Please reply

It was just for practice don’t freak out

Come back

Call me

Where are you?

Kacchan are you in trouble? 

Do you need help?

Kacchan are you angry with me?

Did I mess up? 

I can’t find you

I think my messages maybe aren’t being delivered? 

Where are you? 

I need to know you’re okay please reply

Just tell me you’re okay

Kacchan i’m so worried

I can’t sleep

I’m having nightmares i’m so worried pls reply

Are you okay

Katsuki bites the inside of his cheek. His chest hurts. A headache is starting to build in his temples. It’s hard to read this, the evidence of Izuku’s spiral, of his panic. Desperation oozes from every message. 

Fuck. 

He really hurt Izuku, didn’t he? Maybe Katsuki underestimated how hard the sudden separation was going to hit him. 

Clearing his throat to try and swallow the lump lodged in his tonsils, Katsuki keeps scrolling. He owes the nerd at least this, no matter how hard it is to do. 

Kacchan, you’re not in Musutafu, are you? 

I can’t find you. I’ve looked everywhere.

Where’d you go

I miss you

This isn’t funny, kacchan. Pls reply

If you stole Kacchan’s phone you better give it back right now

I will be very angry with you if you took his phone whoever you are

Did you kidnap him?

I will find you and you will regret this

Give Kacchan back to me

RESPOND YOU COWARD

Kacchan, Aizawa sensei says no you aren’t kidnapped. I’m not sure I believe him but okay

If you are okay why aren’t you replying

If you’re safe, why won’t you talk to me

What did I do?

Do you hate me?

Kacchan please 

I think something is wrong with my phone or yours

My messages maybe are not going through

Are they

I can’t tell

Kacchan come back

Kacchan?

Are you underground?

I can’t find you underground either

Where are you

Did you leave Japan?

If you’re mad at me that’s fine we can fight

Come back and fight me about it please

Come back

Kacchan if you don’t want to be my friend anymore just say so

You can bully me again if you want

Just come back

I’m so worried

Please just be okay

kacchan

Kacchan?

Why did you leave

Why does it feel like you left me? 

After that one, there’s a gap. A week or so during which Izuku didn’t send anything. Katsuki checks the call log, and confirms that Izuku didn’t try to call him either. There are lots of calls, of course, but not for that week period. There are a couple of voicemails, too, but the first one wasn’t recorded until almost a month after Katsuki left. 

Katsuki wants to do this in chronological order, so he goes back to the texts. 

I miss you so much, Kacchan. 

Where are you? 

Please come back.

Come back.

Feels like it’s been forever that you’ve been gone

It’s been so long

I can’t sleep

I’ve been looking for you

I can’t find you anywhere

I’m going crazy Kacchan

Where are you

How did you vanish

Where did you go

Kacchan pls

Please come back home

Come home

Kacchan please 

Katsuki scrolls, and scrolls. Text after text of Izuku begging him to come back, telling him he’s missed. Telling him all the places Izuku has looked for him.

Fuck, Izuku spent weeks and weeks chasing shadows. Turning over every stone in Musutafu. Some messages are so late at night Katsuki knows Izuku didn’t sleep at all. 

It’s horrible. Katsuki can almost see Izuku, hunched over his phone, crooked fingers tapping away desperately. Perched on roofs, watching the city in ruins to try and catch a glimpse of Katsuki. 

Did he cry? Katsuki knows he did. It’s all over this timeline. The Izuku that sent these texts didn’t have piercings and a poker face. 

The Izuku that sent these texts was Katsuki’s Izuku.

He still called him Kacchan. 

That thought makes him slightly desperate to listen to the voicemails. He’s been starved of Izuku’s voice saying the nickname, and he bets at least in one of them he must have. 

Pressing his phone to his ear, Katsuki holds his breath and listens. 

And listens.

At first, there’s just silence. Then, there’s heavy breathing. Anguished, painful. It takes Katsuki a moment to realise he’s listening to Izuku having a panic attack. Something clatters loudly, like he bumped into a table and knocked something over. 

A thump.

“K–Kacchan…” 

His heart explodes. Katsuki sits up, heaving like he’s the one going through it. In his ear, Izuku starts sobbing.

“Please… please, I just—I wasn’t… I wasn’t ready to let you go,” Izuku weeps in between terrible, wet breaths. “I keep… I keep looking for you. I need to see you. Are—Kacchan, are you not coming back? I see you everywhere  but you’re not really there, it’s—” Izuku makes a keening sound so pitiful Katsuki jams his fist in his mouth to stop himself from crying out and waking his parents, “—I think it’s you but then it’s not you. It’s not you. It’s never you. You’re not here. You left me. Where are you, Kacchan? Kacchan. Come back. Come back.”

The abrupt tone marking the end of the voicemail is so unexpected that Katsuki jumps. He pulls his phone away, stares at it in horror. He breathes in, and it’s kind of wet and pitiful.

It’s only then he realises he’s crying. 

“Shit,” he mutters. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”

Katsuki doesn’t know if he can continue. But he has to. He did this to Izuku, and he has to face the consequences. The only thing Katsuki can do now for the person he loves most in the world is bear witness to the suffering that he caused him.

Bear witness and remember it forever. A penance for having failed. 

Trembling, Katsuki steels himself. 

More texts:

I just need to see you. Just for a minute. 

Please I’ll never bother you again.

You’ll never have to deal with me again

I won’t burden you with my shit ever

Pls i just need one more time. Just once

Just a minute. 

Just one more time.

I need to know. I need to touch you just once. 

One last hug

Kacchan pls i’d give anything

I wasn’t ready. 

Why did you leave me

What did I do 

Why do you hate me so much 

Kacchan please 

Come back.

Kacchan, are you alive? 

The next voicemail isn’t better than the first one. It comes immediately after that ‘are you alive’ text and it is as jarring as watching Izuku have a panic attack in person. Except, this time, Katsuki wasn’t there to ease his fears. He wasn’t there to hold him and remind him that yes, he made it. Yes, he’s alive.

“...Kacchan, I’m not doing so well. I feel insane. I’m hallucinating you, did you know that? Ochako keeps having to remind me you’re gone because I see you walking next to me. What is wrong with me? Is that why you left? Because I’m crazy? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m like this. I’ll be better, I promise. Please, I need—”

That voicemail ends with Shouto barging into Izuku’s room. 

To Katsuki, on the phone, he said, “I hope you know what you’re doing. I hope this is worth it, Bakugo.”

And that’s the worst of it, isn’t it? Katsuki made Izuku suffer like this for nothing. 

The embers faded faster than Katsuki expected, and it was all futile and useless. Pain for the sake of pain, with nothing to show for it. 

Katsuki has to put his phone down and do an emotional support lap around his room. He feels sick. 

So much for swearing to never hurt Izuku again. 

Fuck. 

It’s clear that after that episode Izuku’s friends monitored his phone usage, because the messages became more infrequent but also more unhinged. Like Izuku had to cram everything into a single line and send it. 

Half of them are almost intelligible: Ithurstthatyourenothereidon’tknowhowtodealwithitpleasecomebackifyouhatemejustcomebackandhatemewhereicanseeyou.

Some of them punch the air out of Katsuki’s lungs: i can’t breathe if you’re not here

And then, there’s a third voicemail that Katsuki notices was sent at the two month mark. 

Dread roiling in his gut, Katsuki sits on his mattress with his feet on the floor and his elbows on his knees, and presses play with the speaker on. He doesn’t have it in him to listen to this one close to his ear. It’s too much like having Izuku crying in his arms, but without the proximity and the comfort. 

“Kacchan—” Izuku’s voice floats in his room, and Katsuki has to clench his teeth and swallow. He’s crying again, but not in the desperate, desolate way of before. This is angry. This is hurt turned to rage and overflowing. 

“Kacchan, I—I need you. I don’t—I just ran away. I ran away, Kacchan. Not like when I went rogue, not like… I ran away from my mom. I yelled at her. And All Might. I—I hate him, Kacchan, and you aren’t here and I don’t know where to go. You—”

Izuku stops talking, but he keeps the call going so Katsuki can listen to him breathing heavily and agitatedly as he walks somewhere. It takes maybe a minute before Katsuki hears a zing, and his stomach falls to his ass. 

On the call, Izuku is using One for All. 

“Why?” Katsuki asks the empty room.

And, to his utter shock, Izuku says, “I just snuck into your room, Kacchan. Is that—I don’t think you care anymore. You don’t care about me. If you did, you would be here. Because I’m losing it and no one can help me. I’m insane. I’m broken. I’m alone. No one understands. No one gets it. They think I’m traumatised. They talk to me about healing. Fuck that. I don’t need to heal. I need you to not have lied to me. What happened to us? Why aren’t you here? My mom and All Might—I just need to not be alone right now. I need you to be here but you aren’t. How am I supposed to accept this? Why me? Why can’t I ever have anything for myself?”

A broken sob. A pause so long Katsuki thinks the recording has ended, before Izuku’s voice whispers, “I'm not going to be a hero, Kacchan. I’m not even going to graduate from UA. I used so much of One for All looking for you everywhere. So, so much. And then, I—there was an accident last week during recovery patrol and I had to use it again. The embers are dying. They’re almost gone. And you still won’t come back.”

There’s a sound that Katsuki registers as Izuku throwing himself on Katsuki’s bed. Without thinking about it, Katsuki’s hand slides over his comforter. He grips it hard, then pitches forward face first, searching for traces of Izuku on his bed. 

And then, “This is the last time I try. This is the last time. I am begging you, Kacchan. Wherever you are, please come back. Come back to me. I need you. If you don’t—I can’t do this. I can’t—please, if you ever cared about me even a little, please, come back. Come back before One for All runs out. Come back before I am quirkless again. Come back before it’s too late.”

Katsuki’s phone slides through his fingers, but he doesn’t have time to pick it up. Katsuki bolts for the bathroom, and throws up so violently he has to brace on the cold ceramic so he doesn’t crack his forehead against it. 

Cold sweat coats his skin, and he shakes, and cries, and throws up until he’s wrung out and empty. 

When he’s done, Katsuki rolls onto his butt and leans against the wall, heaving. He can’t move. He can’t think. He just—

Katsuki has never hated himself more ardently than in that moment.

He’s a monster. 

Ashamed, and crushed by the weight of his own guilt, Katsuki crawls back to his room and picks up his phone. He’s not done. There’s one more message from Izuku he has to read. 

I will never forgive you for breaking my heart like this

He can barely see the screen, which is why he doesn’t notice when a call comes in just as he’s about to tap the text. For a moment, he’s confused as a female voice bursts from the phone, until he registers that he knows that voice, and she’s in an absolute panic.

And if there was ever going to be anything to break through Katsuki’s currently catatonic state, it was the sound of Nat—the toughest motherfucker he ever met—near tears. 

“Kats? Are you there?”

“Sorry,” he rasps, throat burnt by the acid of his bile. “Yeah. I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“James is dead,” Nat cries. “James is dead, and we’re wounded, and—Jaqie. They took Jaqie.”

“What?”

“We need help,” Nats says. “We can’t ask anyone else. Please.”

Katsuki is so disoriented the room is spinning, but he’s a hero. Down to his very core, despite everything else, Katsuki is a hero. 

He rises when other people need him, no matter what.

These are the people he betrayed Izuku for. The ones he had fun with while Izuku faced the end of his world alone. 

There’s nothing he can do for Izuku any more and that is going to haunt him until he takes his last breath. 

But Katsuki cannot bear to fail them, too. He’ll help Nat and her crew, or he’ll go out trying. 

“Can you send me the details? I’m coming for you. We’ll get Jaqie.”

##

The first thing Katsuki notices when he walks into the dorm building the next day is that Izuku is sitting with Round Cheek and Iida. They’re huddled close together watching a movie. Iida is stiff, because when is he ever not, but Uraraka has her arm around Izuku, and he’s not really watching the movie so much as just staring blankly ahead. 

There’s no sign of Plain McPlainface. 

Everything is quiet. A sort of lul that only a holiday break can bring to an otherwise busy dorm. Katsuki now knows that whatever happened with Auntie Inko and All Might—and look, he’s not an idiot, he can put two and two together but it’s too fucking gross to even give it thought—upset Izuku so much he refuses to go home. 

Curiosity prickles, but he knows better than to ask. He knows better than to break himself on the edges of this new version of the nerd, whom he really shouldn’t call a nerd anymore, because he no longer looks like one.

Katsuki cannot afford a distraction or any more weakness. Not right now. 

So, instead, Katsuki heads upstairs in search of Kaminari. 

He pounds on his door, uncaring of the noise. Most people won’t be back for a few more days, still at home after celebrating the New Year. 

It takes so long for him to reply that Katsuki knows Kaminari was still sleeping. Lazy fuck. It’s ten am.

“Hello?” Kaminari yawns widely, rubbing his eyes with his hands and squinting at Katsuki. 

“Wake up and meet me in the quirk training gym,” Katsuki says.

Kaminari pouts. His shirt falls off his shoulder, but he doesn’t fix it, instead choosing to look at Katsuki through his eyelashes. “Wouldn’t you prefer to come in?”

Katsuki shakes his head no once. “I’m not fucking around, Dunce Face. Gym. As soon as possible.”

Something on Katsuki’s face must be unusual, because Kaminari sobers up immediately and nods. He drops the cute act, the eyelash fluttering and the little smile. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Katsuki says, and continues down the hall without further explanation.

His boots are heavy on the floor because he didn’t bother taking off his shoes. A mortal sin, but one Katsuki will be forgiven for. He’s got no time to waste. Every minute could cost someone he cares about their life. 

Kirishima and Mina are on the way back from their families together, because Kirishima is too loyal to let Katsuki deal with this alone, and Mina is, apparently, too worried that ‘the two idiots’ will get in trouble. Katsuki thinks that’s rich, but he’s not going to say no to someone with such a useful quirk. So, he told them to meet him straight in the training gym when they arrive.  

There’s one more person he needs, but he has no idea how this is going to go. 

Because his friends’ lives are on the line, Katsuki knocks politely and not like he’d gladly punch a hole through the door. He waits for half a second, then the door swings open.

To his utter surprise, Half ‘n’ half stares at him. “Bakugo.”

“I need to speak to your boyfriend,” Katsuki says, cursing his bad luck. Todoroki must hate him for what he did to Izuku. It’s going to be harder to convince Shinsou to help with him here. 

Begrudgingly, Katsuki grunts, “Please.”

Immediately, Todoroki moves aside to let Katsuki in. Shinsou is sitting on the bed, looking bored. Katsuki would buy the act if it weren’t for the bruise blooming on the side of Todoroki’s pretty neck. 

“Something’s wrong,” Todoroki says. “Bakugo said please.”

Shinsou’s eyebrows climb to his purple hairline. “Is the world ending?”

Katsuki shoves his hands in his pockets and bites the bullet. “Someone I care about is in danger. I’m going after her. It would be helpful if you came with me, because of your quirk.”

Both Todoroki and Shinsou look at him wide-eyed. For a long moment, there’s only silence. Then, “When you say in danger…”

“She’s been taken,” Katsuki says. “And before you give me some bullshit, no. I can’t go to the teachers or the authorities. In fact, I ain’t telling you jackshit more than this until you agree so that you can’t narc on me. I’m going with or without you. But if you come, maybe fewer people will get hurt.”

Todoroki crosses the room, opens a closet, and puts on a jacket before throwing another Shinsou’s way. Katsuki watches him in shock, blinking fast. Surely not? 

Shinsou gets up, shrugs the coat on, and gestures towards the door. “Well? We going or what?”

“That’s it?” Katsuki asks, suspicious. “Why are you helping? And why are you helping?” He points to Shinsou first, then Todoroki. 

“Because you asked,” Todoroki says so plainly there’s no questioning it. That’s the thing about Half ‘n half, he’s earnest. “Technically, you asked Hitoshi, but this sounds dangerous and I’m strong. I’m not letting him get in trouble alone. Also, you and I work well together. So, I’m going.”

Katsuki whirls on his feet before his face betrays any sort of emotion. There are entirely too many of the pesky things buzzing between his ribs right now.

As they march down the hall, warmth spreads through Katsuki’s body. Things went to shit when he left, and he hurt a lot of people. Izuku most of all. He lost the one person he’s ever loved. But, it turns out, his friends don’t hold grudges. 

It’s more than Katsuki thinks he deserves, but he’s willing to try and make himself worthy of this. Because Shinsou and Todoroki marching next to him to go on a dangerous mission they know nothing about just because he asked is the kind of loyalty Katsuki is too smart to overlook. 

This is what makes or breaks teams. This is what makes or breaks heroes. 

They run into Kaminari downstairs, also looking determined and ready to go, if a little sleepy. Uraraka glances their way, frowning as they walk past the sofas. Katsuki refuses to make eye contact, but he can see in his peripheral vision that Izuku is watching them. They’re almost at the door when,

“Are you going somewhere?”

Katsuki doesn’t let himself stop. He grabs the knob, twists it. But Todoroki cannot ignore his precious Midoriya, so he says, “Bakugo is going to show us something.”

“Ah.”

It takes every ounce of willpower Katsuki has not to wince, but he manages it. He cannot afford to go down a mental spiral of how much Izuku’s indifference hurts him. Jaqie, Nats, Xhao and the others cannot afford for him to get distracted or fuck this up. 

##

“Alright,” he says without preamble the moment everyone is gathered in the gym. They’re all standing, like they understand the importance of the moment and want to do it justice. “What I’m about to tell you is one of the best guarded secrets in the world.” 

“How come you know about it?” Todoroki asks matter-of-factly. 

Katsuki bites his tongue so he doesn’t insult Half ‘n’ half right off the bat. If it were anyone else, he would feel insulted by the question, but Todoroki is just painfully literal. He’s not trying to undermine Katsuki, he’s just being his idiot self. 

Besides, he does have to explain some of this or else his friends won’t understand how dangerous this is going to be. 

“Right,” Katsuki says, and sighs to buy himself a moment for an extra breath. He anticipated this. He’s got an answer for them. Half lies always work best, Nati told him, because they’re grounded in truth. “You remember they said I’d never be able to use my arm properly again. The doctors wanted to amputate it, that’s how bad it was. ” 

Everyone nods. 

He continues, “I didn’t want to lose my arm, so I researched, and talked to people, and chased rumours until I found out that there’s a doctor who has a rare, very powerful quirk that can manipulate cells at the most microscopic levels. She can even affect DNA. It took me a very long time to find her because she operates in absolute secrecy, in a lab far away and isolated from the world.”

“That’s why you wouldn’t answer your phone!” Mina exclaims before slapping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Anyway. She agreed to meeting me because I beat All for One during the war. Also, because my heart exploded and that makes me scientifically interesting.”

“That’s fucked up,” Kaminari says, wrinkling his nose. 

“Yeah, well. The important thing is that she fixed my arm,” Katsuki explains, popping a couple of small explosions on his right palm for good measure. “Her quirk can be used for good, but also for evil. I got a call last night from the head of her security detail. Doctor Couvent has been kidnapped and her team is gravely injured, and I’m going to save her.”

“You said we couldn’t ask the teachers or the police for help,” Todoroki points out calmly. “Am I right in assuming she operates independently?”

“From every government,” Katsuki confirms. “Don’t forget that they are run by people, and people are greedy. Doctor Couvent doesn’t answer to anyone, and she goes to great lengths to keep her operations protected from any influence. She picks the cases she works on. No amount of money can persuade her to take on something she disagrees with. When I was with her, I learnt that there are lots of governments who have been trying to bully her into working for them. If we involve anyone else, they could rescue her only to try to force her into their service. I can’t let that happen. I owe her.”

His friends nod. Katsuki takes a moment to meet all of their gazes one by one. Kirishima will follow him no matter what. He would have volunteered even if Katsuki hadn’t given him an explanation. Next to Kirishima, Mina watches Katsuki with a soft expression of fierce protectiveness. She would fight with him no questions asked, too. 

Kaminari’s hands are in his pockets, which means he’s afraid. But there’s no hesitation in his sparkly eyes. Katsuki decides that if they pull this off and come back in one piece, he’ll make him dinner again. 

Shinsou and Todoroki stand next to each other, shoulders brushing. Katsuki meets a purple, tired gaze, and a mismatched one. They’re solemn and serious. Half ‘n’ half’s shoulders are straight, a readiness that Katsuki knows can be deadly oozing from him. 

Clearing his throat, Katsuki says, “This is going to be fucking dangerous. You don’t have to come with me. I won’t hold it against you. You’ve never even met the people I’m going to save.” 

“We’re not doing it for them,” Kirishima says. 

Todoroki nods. “We’re your friends, and we’re heroes. Innocent people are in danger, and they called. We answer.”

Warmth spreads through Katsuki’s chest. If he’s not careful, he’s going to do an Izuku and start bawling for no fucking reason. 

“Thank you,” he croaks, and the only outward sign of surprise is the twitch of Shinsou’s eyebrow. 

“Okay, so,” Mina says, clapping her hands in front of her once. “Where are we going and how do we get there?” 

Katsuki swallows, and rolls his shoulders back. “Natalie, that’s the head of security for Doctor Couvent, called in a favour. A plane will be waiting for us by the abandoned textile factory south of Musutafu. It’ll fly us to a private air base in the East Coast of the US. Doctor Couvent was attacked and went missing when she was en-route there. Her team is hunkered down in a safe house.”

“What happened to the person with the healing quirk?” Kirishima asks. 

“What?” Shinsou frowns.

“Bakugo told me there was someone with a healing quirk with him,” Kirishima explains, glancing at Shinsou, then at Katsuki. “I’m assuming she was part of the team, since you weren’t really at a health clinic.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue, amused. It’s not often Kirishima is this observant, but he’s been gushing over Katsuki’s tattoos since he first saw them. Leave it to him to remember every random detail about how he got them. 

“Alice is missing,” he says gravely. “We don’t know if she’s been taken along with Doctor Couvent or if she died in the attack. If Alice had been with them, the team would be back in fighting form already. She’s very strong.”

The words feel heavy in his mouth. Alice isn’t just powerful, she’s a miracle worker. If it weren’t for her, Katsuki would be dead thrice over. Absently, Katsuki blinks a few times to remind himself that she did, in fact, grow his eye back and he has full use of his vision. 

“We don’t know anyone with a healing quirk, do we?” Kaminari asks. 

Todoroki shakes his head no. “We could ask Yaoyorozu to come with us. Creati can make anything, including medical equipment.”

“That’s of no use to us if we don’t know how to use it,” Shinsou replies, shaking his head. “I think Bakugo had the right idea keeping the team small. This is going to be dangerous and we’re going to need stealth.”

“It’s a rescue mission,” Mina says. “And we’re all attack heroes. Where is Sero?”

“I didn’t call him because he’s on holiday with his family skiing in Hokkaido,” Katsuki explains. He would have liked Sero’s tape. Or better yet, Izuku’s black whip. “It would have been too difficult to keep this secret if he’d had to convince his parents to let him come back all of a sudden.”

“So, it’s just us?” Kaminari says. 

“Nat and the team will go in with us, too,” Katsuki says. 

“You said they were wounded.”

“That’s not going to stop them.”

Todoroki looks impressed, which Katsuki appreciates. He checks his watch, then gestures with his head. 

“Alright. Let’s go and grab essentials. Hero costumes and any support items you might need, and food you can easily carry. I’ve no fucking clue what to expect. We should be prepared for anything.”

“We should all leave school separately to avoid raising suspicion,” Shinsou says. “Do you know the bakery three blocks from here that has the weird pink drink?”

Katsuki blinks. “No.”

“I do,” Kaminari jumps in. Kirishima and Mina are also nodding. “Bakugo and I will go together. We’ll meet you there.”

“One hour,” Katsuki says. 

##

It takes Katsuki less than fifteen minutes to change into the tactical gear James let him keep when he came back from Jaqie’s lab. Putting it on feels a little like donning armour. In a way, it is. When Katsuki puts on his hero costume, he’s telling the world he’s coming to do a job. To win so he can save people. 

His Dynamight suit is what he uses to fight villains.

This is different. 

On one hand, it’s feels like he’s honouring James’ memory by wearing it to go rescue his team. James would never rest until Jaqie was saved and Nat and the others were alright. Katsuki can’t do anything for him now, but he can put what James taught him to good use. 

On the other hand, these clothes represent the biggest sacrifice Katsuki has ever made. They remind him of how far he’s come. Of everything he learnt about himself in the throes of the worst torture imaginable. 

The black gear is what Katsuki wears when he’s fighting his own fears. 

It’s how he got through the most absolute darkness he’s ever known. They are the clothes he donned every day in the pit of Jaqie’s lab. Despite everything, they make him feel hopeful. Like he can do anything.

Like he could be one day worthy of Izuku’s forgiveness. 

Katsuki doesn’t sigh, because if he starts feeling sorry for himself, he’ll never stop. Instead, he takes one final look at his room and picks up his bag and the jacket. It’s still warm inside, so he should wait to put it on when he steps outdoors. 

His combat boots are heavy, but he knows how to walk almost soundlessly. He makes his way down the corridor, darkened despite the fact that it’s the middle of the day. No windows in the interior hallways of the dorm building. 

He takes the stairs to avoid running into anyone in the elevator. Unlikely, because almost everyone is still home after New Year’s celebrations, but Katsuki doesn’t want to risk it. 

Katsuki checks his watch when he’s standing outside Izuku’s door. He’s got twenty minutes, give or take, before he has to meet Kaminari downstairs. That’s more than enough time, he thinks as he knocks on the door. It’s not like Izuku lets him get more than a couple of words in edgewise these days. 

Inside the room, there’s a loud thump, then a little yelp. It sounds so much like the old Izuku that Katsuki has to work his jaw to ease the surge of emotion before the door opens just a crack. 

“Oh.”

“I need a minute,” Katsuki says. He’s learnt his lesson, and he won’t barge in anymore. He’s no idea if Background Character #19 is still here and he doesn’t want to find out. 

Izuku’s eyes dart around. “Okay.”

Instead of letting Katsuki inside, he steps out and clicks the door shut behind him. Katsuki frowns, confused, but he doesn’t know Izuku anymore. He has no idea what this means, or if it even means anything. Maybe, Izuku just doesn’t want Katsuki in his private spaces. 

“Right,” Katsuki says, feeling awkward all of a sudden. The fact that they’re standing in the middle of the corridor doesn’t help. “So, um… I’m leaving.”

Izuku’s eyebrow arches. 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I learn from my mistakes, okay? I fucked up by leaving without saying goodbye the first time, and you hate me now. Boo-hoo, good for you. But I don’t trip over the same rock twice, so, I’m leaving and I’ve no idea how long for. There, now you’re informed.”

I could die again. Maybe for good this time. 

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Katsuki admits, jutting his chin out in defiance. 

Izuku does that thing with the fucking piercing, trapping it between his teeth. Katsuki has to exert enormous amounts of willpower not to bite his own fist in despair. 

The fact that Katsuki could not come back from this mission is scary. The fact that he’ll never get to kiss Izuku again is scarier still. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving the first time?”

“Because you would have asked me to stay,” Katsuki says, and realises all of a sudden that it’s true. Yes, he didn’t want Izuku to know what he was doing. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and break his heart again if it didn’t work.

But most of all, Katsuki knew Izuku wasn’t in a good place. He needed Katsuki around. Izuku would have asked Katsuki not to go, and Katsuki isn’t sure if he’d been strong enough to do it anyway. 

Izuku’s eyes flash with something Katsuki can’t parse. It’s the first crack in the mask, thinner than a single hair. Izuku’s voice still doesn’t waver when he speaks. “That implies you would have listened.”

“Maybe.”

“I thought it was…” Izuku trails off. 

Katsuki knows what he means. It was all over the messages Izuku sent him and he got too late. Is it because we kissed? If only Izuku knew how desperately Katsuki wants to kiss him again. 

He’d probably run away screaming, but. At least he’d know the kiss had nothing to do with Katsuki’s abrupt disappearance and lack of communication. 

“Nah.” Katsuki shrugs. “It was bad timing, I guess. I got the call from the… the doctor that same night. Coincidence.” 

Divine punishment, maybe. 

“Oh,” Izuku says. “Yeah. I remember. I don’t… get why you had to just up and leave so suddenly, though.”

“The woman who fixed me is really hard to get to. I’d been trying for weeks. I sent hundreds of emails and called dozens of people just for a chance to talk to her,” Katsuki explains briefly. “When she finally called back, I had one shot. Treatment couldn’t wait. Every hour could be the difference between saving the use of my quirk in that arm or losing it forever.”

Izuku nods. “I see.”

“I thought about writing a note, but it felt stupid. I didn’t know what to say. Also, when I first left, I thought I’d only be gone for a couple of weeks max.”

“You were gone for six months,” Izuku says, and looks away. “Six months.”

“I know,” Katsuki replies. I’m sorry. “I—I didn’t have access to my phone. I… I got your messages only when I came back.”

Izuku grimaces, still looking down at the floor. It’s the closest Katsuki has been to the old Izuku. He’d give anything for the nerd to meet his eye, but he knows better than to push. This is already going miles better than any previous attempt. 

“Yeah, well,” Izuku says, swallowing hard. “It’s been a while. It’s fine. I don’t care anymore. You can delete them without reading them.”

Too late. 

“Are you ever going to forgive me?” Katsuki asks. 

At that, Izuku looks up. “Why does it matter?”

And Katsuki drags his courage from the deepest parts of himself, looks Izuku straight in the eye, and says, “Because I miss you.” 

Izuku softens. His shoulders relax away from his ears. His face loses some of the hard edge on it. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Izuku has always been gorgeous. The piercings and the haircut and the clothes add to it, but Katsuki never needed any of it to think Izuku was prettier than a starred night sky. 

“I’m quirkless now,” Izuku reminds him, and Katsuki understands. Izuku has better things to do with his time. 

He’s not a hero anymore. Katsuki heard it loud and clear. 

“Yeah, you mentioned,” Katsuki says. He shrugs, hitching his bag up a bit more on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath. “Alright, well. I’ve got to go. See you around, nerd.”

Katsuki turns. He takes a step. Then another. 

He doesn’t hear the door click shut behind him, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his ever fading hearing, or if Izuku is still standing in the corridor. Either way, Katsuki doesn’t look back. 

It’s only when he’s halfway to the bakery, Kaminari walking next to him, that Katsuski remembers Izuku never answered his question. 

##

The airplane is military issue but old, like it was retired from service and someone snatched it second-hand. Katsuki doesn’t know enough about planes to call it by its name, but he can tell it’s not really designed for passengers. 

A ramp at the back of it opens into a wide cargo area. It’s full of crates stacked and secured in place with black ropes. Two men haul more crates on board from a nearby truck. It’s slightly windy, cold air biting the tips of Katsuki’s ears. 

“Dynamight?”

“That’s me,” Katsuki says, stepping forward. 

The pilot is a thin man with blue skin and a long tail with a tuft of hair at the end of it. It hovers above them both like it’s keeping watch. Their breaths mist in front of their faces. 

“Show me,” the man says, and Katsuki shrugs off his jacket and moves his clothes to show him the tattoo that marks him as part of Nat’s crew. 

Behind him, he hears someone gasp. He’d forgotten that most people haven’t seen his tats. It’s the middle of winter, and he hasn’t been walking around in shirtsleeves. 

“Cool. This your crew?” the pilot asks. 

Katsuki nods, putting his jacket back on before he catches pneumonia. It’s fucking freezing. The sky is clear, a soft blue tone that indicates it’s mid afternoon. 

“Get up there. Left side. Buckle up,” the man says, gesturing towards the plane. “We’re almost done loading. Wheels up in twenty.”

They shuffle together from the dusty road to the back of the plane. The metal plates of the ramp rattle as they climb them to board the aircraft. Inside its belly, they find a row of seats by one of the walls. It reminds Katsuki of the plane they took during the mission when Izuku met the uncooked noodle. Well, except that plane was brand new and clean and modern, and this one is probably going to give him a rash. 

“I didn’t know you got all that under your clothes,” says Kaminari, taking the seat next to Katsuki. 

“Why would you know anything about what’s under Bakugo’s clothes?” Todoroki asks, confused.

Shinsou puts a hand on his arm and leans in close to whisper something just to his boyfriend. It’s disgusting to witness, so Katsuki turns towards Kaminari instead. 

“Dunce Face, if you don’t shut up, I will end you.”

“Nah,” Kaminari says, nudging Katsuki’s knee with his own. “You won’t.”

“Why is he so cocky?” Mina asks, leaning out from her seat. And then, her eyes go super wide. “Oh my God, so it’s true?”

“What’s true?” Kirishima asks. 

“Bakugo and Kaminari!”

Katsuki rubs his temples with his fingers. “Stop fucking talking.”

“No, no,” Mina says excitedly. “How did that happen? I want the details. It’s a long flight and we have nothing better to do.”

“I can still kick you off this plane,” Katsuki threatens. 

Kirishima laughs, slapping a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. From Katsuki’s other side, Shinsou’s voice proclaims, “I agree with Bakugo. This conversation is terrible and should end immediately.”

“You are so boring,” Mina complains. “And I don’t care what you want because I want to know what Kaminari did to bag one Bakugo Katsuki.”

At this, Kaminari immediately starts sputtering. “Wait, wait, no. I didn’t—it’s not like that. It was just… it was um… casual,” he says, blushing violently. 

“Casual,” Mina drawls. 

Something in her tone makes Katsuki stop avoiding eye contact. He finds her dark eyes already on him, piercing. Katsuki shrugs. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mina says quickly. “So, is it going to happen again?” 

Kaminari wiggles his eyebrows. “Well, now that I know all the ink Bakugo is hiding, I’ll probably deploy my best tactics to get an encore.”

One of the crates falls off the pile on the other side of the cargo hold. They can’t see it, but the resulting crash and rumbling sound is strong enough to momentarily drown out Mina’s hysterical giggling. 

“You are shameless,” Shinsou says, and he sounds mildly amazed by this fact. 

Katsuki must admit that it’s flattering that someone would so openly proclaim how much they like him. It’s the only reason he hasn’t blasted Kaminari into the stratosphere. 

“Cargo loaded!” comes a shout from the mouth of the hold. “Locking the ramp.”

The announcement of their imminent departure kills the conversation—thank god for that—and they all take a moment to fiddle with their seat belts. Katsuki puts the hood of his hoodie up and burrows inside the layers of his jacket. They don’t have proper temperature regulation inside this plane, so it’s going to get uncomfortable. 

“Nobody talk to me until we’re descending,” he grunts, and closes his eyes.

It might be the last sleep he gets until he’s either rescued Jaqie or died trying. 

Notes:

I love Shouto and Hitoshi more than life <3

We're heading towards less angst and more action... stick with me! The happy ending will come, promise. Trust the tags :)

Chapter 9: Of trust and luck

This has got to be the worst idea Izuku has ever had in his entire life, and that’s saying something. 

Why is it so cold in here? Izuku is seriously worried he’s on the verge of getting hypothermia and that will just not do. 

Kacchan will kill him if he dies in this airplane. 

He shouldn’t have snuck on board.

But there was no way they would have let him come along. Not quirkless. 

Also, not after the shit he’s been pulling. 

But he’s angry, okay? Izuku thinks that after saving the world, realizing he is sort of in love with his rival and best friend, and being subjected to the horrors of the past six months, he should be allowed to throw a tantrum or two. 

He’s not asking for a lot here, is he? Just the right to do stupid shit and get away with it. Isn’t that what being seventeen is supposed to be about?

Izuku can’t claim to have a normal development trajectory by a long shot. Most people don’t watch their own arms regrow after being decayed away at age sixteen. Most people don’t wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares about their best friend’s heart having exploded. Most people didn’t carry the weight of the entire world on their shoulders and stayed upright long enough to secure a victory. 

Isn’t that good enough reason to cut him some slack? 

He woke up after the best kiss of his life—at the time also the only kiss, but that’s neither here nor there—to find Kacchan gone. Vanished without trace. 

Kacchan left a hole so big in Izuku’s life he thought he’d be swallowed whole by it. It felt like dying of thirst out in the ocean, surrounded by people who loved him but could not quench the desperate need in Izuku’s heart. 

It felt like being carved out and emptied of everything warm and good and soft. Kacchan took his fire with him, and Izuku had no idea how to field the cold alone. 

At the time, Izuku wasn’t sure he wanted to. Post-war recovery had been going… not well, but at least somewhat alright. Or so he’d thought.

Izuku had to admit, when confronted with Kacchan’s absence, that he hadn’t been healing but rather ignoring all his issues. Having Kacchan near had been enough for Izuku to calm his fears, his memories, his pain. 

When Kacchan left, Izuku was forced—against his will—to confront that he hadn’t been healing. He’d simply been deflecting. And so Izuku had to learn again. He had to learn how to exist on his own. How to face the ruins of the battle and accept that destruction wasn’t the only thing left behind. He’d had to learn to look for positives, to fake smiles, to search for the light. 

Izuku also had to learn how to miss Kacchan. He’d been the sun to Izuku’s world, and he hadn’t known how much he revolved around him until Izuku was left floundering in the dark. It was so hard to learn to quell the instinct to seek Kacchan out every day to tell him about even the smallest development. He had to learn how to fill time he’d previously spent with Kacchan. It turned out to be a lot of it. 

At the time, Izuku thought it was sort of oddly fitting that Kacchan would be the one to teach him heartbreak. 

Izuku hadn’t been doing amazing, but he’d at least accepted that his trauma was forever but how he felt about it was not. He’d been making slow progress towards being able to stand on his own two feet. Towards accepting that he couldn’t depend on Kacchan to be okay.

It had been a hard lesson to learn that it wasn’t fair on Kacchan. Perhaps, that’s why he had left without saying anything. Izuku wouldn’t blame him if he simply got tired of holding him up all the time. 

But that was before his mother and All Might betrayed him. Izuku couldn’t deal with the subsequent crash out without Kacchan. He couldn’t. It was more than he’d been ready to face, and it had broken him anew. 

Izuku remembers crying on Kacchan’s bed thinking that everything would be better if only Kacchan was there. He would have understood. He would have listened. 

But he wasn’t there, and Izuku still hasn’t forgiven him for it. 

Izuku then had to learn how to forget someone he was only just getting used to really knowing. 

Suffice to say, it sucked. Still sucks. Majorly. 

It turned out that seeing Kacchan again hurt even more than having to forget him did. 

But Izuku is an idiot, and hopelessly in love with Kacchan despite himself, so here he is, hiding in the cargo hold of a military plane for God knows what reason. 

Trying to get sensation back into his limbs, he wiggles where he’s hiding amongst the crates, adjusting his position so he can see his friends through a narrow gap between two of the large wooden boxes. 

Izuku isn’t entirely sure what’s happening or where they’re going. He could only hear so much from his hiding place in the gym, and they haven’t discussed the mission again. All he knows is that Kacchan needs help, and his friends agreed to give it. Someone is in danger—Izuku suspects the doctor that fixed Kacchan’s arm, based on the snippets he caught earlier—and they’re going to try to save her.

Why they’re doing it with so much secrecy, Izuku has no clue. But he knows Kacchan and he knows Shouto and whatever they’re doing, there’s a very good reason for it. That’s all Izuku needs, truly. 

Well, that and also Kacchan saying I miss you.

None of the mental defenses Izuku built to stop himself from forgiving Kacchan as soon as he showed up were prepared for such a battering ram. 

Izuku wants to be angry and stay angry. He wants Kacchan to feel the way he did when he couldn’t find him anywhere. To struggle and cry and despair. To search endlessly and panic and wonder and… well. 

Izuku wanted Kacchan to miss him. 

He just never thought he’d get his wish. 

What does he do now?

In his determination to make Kacchan regret leaving, Izuku didn’t plan for after. How does he explain what’s been going on? 

The piercing on Izuku’s tongue clicks against his teeth. It makes him think of Kacchan’s ears and eyebrow. He looks so good, Izuku has been in actual pain for a week. 

The things his lizard brain has been conjuring in his dreams make him want to die from mortification. He truly didn’t expect to find out the extent of his horniness through wet dreams, but then again, it’s not like he really had time to even consider sex before. 

War will push even the most basic of needs out of the picture for a bit. Maybe that’s why Izuku has been so feral lately. Is he repressed? Or is he just… well, horny. Either way, Kacchan’s new look has been of no help whatsoever. 

It’s unfair, really. Kacchan didn’t need to look any better than he did before he left. Clearly, someone with higher powers really fucking hates Izuku.

He shoots one last glance at his friends, all settled in for the flight, and turns on his side to press his back against the crates. Biting his lips so he doesn’t whimper, Izuku curls into himself. 

Eventually, Izuku dozes off, holding his arms to his chest for warmth and comfort, and thinking about Kacchan, and how his new haircut makes him look like a rockstar. 

##

Sometime later, the plane bounces through turbulence, and Izuku returns to his own body with a nauseating roil of his stomach. Oh no. They’re falling, but he must float. He can’t touch the ground. The ground is dangerous. It’s decay and death. Izuku cannot let anyone fall. 

Where is everyone else?

He must—

Izuku tries to sit up abruptly and hits his head on the crate above him hard enough that his panic shatters. The plane dips again, and Mina shrieks something like ‘can’t he pilot better?’

The confusion in Izuku’s brain lifts. He blinks awake, then scrambles for purchase so he doesn’t fall out of his hiding place when the plan swerves again. 

He checks his watch and realises it has been at least four hours since they took off. They’re still flying at high altitude, which means they’re going further than mainland China. 

Through the gap between the crates, Izuku checks on his friends’ status. Kacchan is still asleep, leaning back, hood over his eyes and mouth slightly open. Mina’s head is on Kirishima’s shoulder, and she’s complaining quietly about the turbulence. Kirishima is playing a game on his phone. Shinsou and Shouto are talking to each other very softly, heads bent together. Every now and then, Shinsou kisses Shouto and it makes Izuku smile every time. 

At least someone’s love life has remained happy and steady. 

Then, there’s Kaminari. He’s restless, bouncing his leg and squirming in his seat. It’s obvious he’s struggling with the long, boring flight. He keeps glancing at Kacchan with a look that makes Izuku want to vomit. He’s been trying very hard not to engage with the part of his brain that houses the image of the two blondes together. 

He has no right to be hurt, even less to be jealous. But he can’t help it. 

It took every ounce of willpower he had to not give himself away when he walked into the kitchen and found Kaminari kissing his Kacchan. 

Ugh.

Anger can coexist with love, apparently. Being furious at someone doesn’t stop you from wanting them. If anything, it makes you more pathetic, because Izuku still doesn’t understand why his first thought when he saw Kacchan kiss Kaminari was: ‘all I ever wanted was for you to kiss me again.’

Izuku is never beating the Kacchan simp allegations. 

Annoyed, Izuku rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling of the airplane, fisting and unfisting his hands to try and get some blood back into them. His right one, scarred and awful, hurts in the cold. 

##

“We’re landing in ten minutes,” the pilot announces through an overhead system. 

Izuku tries to move and finds his body isn’t responding. Shit. He’s got ten minutes to get circulation back into his limbs and move to the back corner if he wants to make it off the plane without alerting everyone to the fact that they’ve got a stowaway. 

Knowing Kacchan, he’d force Izuku back on board and straight home to Musutafu. Izuku’s only chance of sticking around is to remain hidden until the very last moment.

Izuku still has no idea what he’s going to do or say to Kacchan when he inevitably finds him. He’s been swinging wildly between undiluted fury, choking despair, and overwhelming longing. It’s been one hell of a week, and Rody’s constant quips about Kacchan didn’t help one bit. 

Shit, Rody. Talk about messy. He hadn’t been expecting Rody to kiss him, even though he really should have. Rody was never shy about letting Izuku know how he felt. Izuku didn’t think he’d ever act on it, though. Not with how much Izuku whined at him about Kacchan once he taught himself enough English to be able to email independently.

It was a good kiss, though, but that might just be the beer he’d drunk talking. Or the fact that Kacchan looked absolutely livid. In the moment, Izuku thought it was worth it. 

Now, he’s not so sure. 

Before Izuku has time to stew in his contradictory feelings, the plane drops rapidly through the air, sending his guts to the roof of his mouth. Right, focus. Sneaking around first, despairing over the mess that is his life second. 

His watch tells Izuku they’ve been flying for twelve hours, which means they must be somewhere in the East Coast of the US or in Europe. Hard to tell. 

As his friends start to move and get ready for landing, Izuku decides to risk some noise and rolls himself out of the narrow space between crates. He falls to the ground with a thump, and winces as he hits his hip and shoulder. 

With a bit more room to move, Izuku begins the painful process of getting his blood into his hands and feet. 

He’s lucky he has an insane pain threshold, because it hurts so much. Like someone is stabbing knives through his hands and feet. Izuku bites his tongue hard enough to taste metal, but manages to keep himself quiet. 

The plane touches down and Izuku is jostled against the corner where he’s hiding, crouching in the shadows. He isn’t sure if it’s best for him to get off first or wait to see where his friends go. He’ll have to play it by ear.

The back of the plane opens as soon as they stop moving. Izuku holds his breath, straining to listen to what his friends are doing. 

“Come on,” Kacchan says, putting his hood up and rubbing his hands together against the frigid air sweeping into the plane from outside. He pulls out gloves and puts them on as he starts moving down the ramp. “It’s a long walk to the safe house from here.”

Izuku lets out the breath he’d been holding. If they’re walking, it’ll be easier to follow. He’d been worried about how he’d sneak onto another vehicle unnoticed.

He watches everyone get off the plane, and decides to wait for a minute or two to be safe. Unfortunately, the back gate starts to close almost immediately.

Crap! 

Izuku lurches up onto his feet and launches himself off the plane, rolling as he lands. Thankfully, it’s dark outside and the ground is covered in snow, which muffles the noise. It presents a new problem, though. Izuku didn’t bring his coat, only the thick hoodie he’d been wearing. 

When he comes to a stop, he’s in the middle of a small airfield surrounded by woods on all sides. His friends are at the forest line, disappearing into the trees. Alarmed, Izuku scrambles upright and sprints as fast as he dares so he doesn’t lose track of them. 

He absolutely cannot get lost in the snow. It’d be a death sentence. 

Deciding that it’s probably too late for his friends to send him home even if they discover him, Izuku follows them at a shorter distance than is advisable. Fortunately, they’re in a hurry and distracted. No one glances back. 

The good thing about the long trek through the dark forest is that Izuku’s blood has to keep pumping, so he doesn’t die from the below freezing temperatures. The downside is that he’s exhausted by the time his friends reach a nondescript wooden cabin. 

Kacchan raises a fist to knock, but before he makes contact, the door swings open and a woman with a mohawk and a black eye grins at him. Her lip is split, and as it stretches with her smile, blood beads on it. She doesn’t seem to care. 

“Kats! Thanks for coming, dude,” she says, and to Izuku’s absolute shock, tucks him in for a hug. Even more surprisingly, Kacchan hugs her back.

Izuku blinks twice in rapid succession, trying to process the scene. Kats? Really?

“I brought reinforcements,” Kacchan says when she releases him. He glances her over, up and down, like he’s searching for injuries. Izuku’s heart squeezes in his chest. “How are the others?”

Entranced by this interaction, Izuku slips out from behind the tree he’d been using for cover and moves closer to the cabin, crouching behind a large bush between two trunks right by the edge of the clearing. 

“We’re okay,” the woman says firmly, and Izuku gets the impression she’s trying to convince herself as much as Kacchan. “The others are inside, I’m on the night watch. Xhao is—ah. There.”

She points towards somewhere in the forest to the right of Izuku. Way too close for comfort. Alarmed, he ducks even lower, burrowing himself into the bush as much as he can. It’s hard to see through the tangled branches, but he gets enough glimpses to follow the scene.  

A slender man decked out in an outfit identical to what Kacchan is wearing steps out of the tree line two metres away from Izuku’s hiding spot. He crosses the small clearing in three elegant strides, and salutes Katsuki lazily before tilting his head and saying, “I thought we taught you better than to let a trail get this far.”

Immediately, the woman at the door of the cabin and Kacchan stiffen. They whirl around, faces set and determined. The woman is now holding a gun—where did she get it?

Wait. A tail?

Izuku barely has a moment to process that the man meant him before he’s being dragged from behind the bush. Despite how lean he is, the man—Xhao?—is absurdly strong. He hauls Izuku by the collar of his hoodie and drops him, horrifically, at Kacchan’s feet. 

“Figured he was one of yours because he’s a kid, was I wrong?” 

“Izuku?” Kacchan half groans. “What the fuck?”

Izuku clears his throat and dusts himself off as he stands, doing his level best to salvage some dignity. 

“I was curious,” he says, trying to hold on to the neutral face he practiced for hours and hours on end day after day so he could interact with Kacchan when (if?) he came back without breaking to pieces. 

“Midoriya-kun,” Todoroki says. “If you wanted to come, you could have just asked.”

“You wouldn’t have let me.”

“Of course I—” Shouto is interrupted by Shinsou, who puts a hand on his boyfriends’ shoulder and shakes his head. 

Kacchan swears a string of words that would get him in detention for a month if he’d been anywhere near a teacher. “You can’t be here. This is dangerous.”

Izuku cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“Do not fucking sass me right now, Izuku,” Kacchan says. “Fuck. Shit.”

“Wait, Midoriya Izuku?” the woman asks, squinting towards Izuku. “Oh. You’re Deku!”

“Not now, Nat,” Kacchan growls. “Don’t say another word. He’s going home.”

Nat frowns, but relents. It really doesn’t sit right with Izuku that Kacchan seems to have a sort of close relationship with this woman. First of all, she’s a full adult. Second of all, she’s incredibly cool and strong and everything Kacchan finds attractive so absolutely not. Izuku cannot handle this right now. If Kacchan has a crush on this Nat person, he will end it all.

It’s bad enough that Kacchan is now kissing other boys. Izuku cannot handle him liking adult women, too. No matter how cool. 

“I’m not going home,” Izuku protests. “You can’t make me. I want to help.”

Kacchan grinds his teeth so hard Izuku can see his jaw working. He turns, leans in and whispers something to Nat. Izuku wants it on the record that he shows absolutely no reaction even though he’d very much like to Wyoming Smash his way between them. 

After the brief exchange, Kacchan runs a hand over his hair and steps back. Nat and Xhao exchange weird glances. Then, without warning, Xhao says, “Everyone let’s get inside. It’s freezing.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look, letting a slow smirk spread over his lips. 

“Don’t look so smug,” Kacchan says. “You and I are staying out here until you pull your head out of your ass.”

“It’s freezing!” Izuku protests. 

“Then we better keep it short, right?” Kacchan retorts, throwing Izuku’s words back at him. 

Shit. 

He knew he’d taken it too far the moment he’d called him Bakugo. It felt so weird. So wrong. 

But Izuku was so angry! How dare he show up looking like that? Without warning! He’d panicked, and Rody had kissed him, and Kacchan had looked so unsettled that Izuku had just wanted to twist the knife.

He’d gone a bit overboard, and he is still trying to figure out how to come back without making an absolute fool of himself. 

The door shuts behind Kacchan, leaving them alone in the clearing. It’s dark, middle of the night if Izuku had to guess. His phone’s battery is dead, and his watch doesn’t adjust to timezones automatically. The downside of analog. 

Their breath mists in front of their faces. Kacchan rubs his hands together—he’s wearing gloves, Izuku realises, which meant he knew he was landing in a cold climate—and then shoves them in the pockets of his trousers. 

“Just accept that I’m not going anywhere,” Izuku presses, jamming his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, too. He does not have gloves, and his fingertips have lost all circulation. “The plane’s gone. I’m only going home when you guys are.”

“I’ll find a way to send you back,” Kacchan says aggressively. “Fuck, nerd. This is not what I need right now.” 

Izuku shivers. Kacchan notices. He rips the beanie he’d been wearing off his head and shoves it at Izuku. 

“Embarrassingly unprepared. Should have thought about it twice before you decided to sneak onto a fucking military plane with no idea of where it was going or why!” Kacchan’s distress is palpable, but Izuku is distracted by the woollen hat in his hands. 

The beanie smells like Kacchan. Izuku can feel his cheeks heating as he puts it on. He hopes Kacchan will think it’s just the cold blistering his skin. 

“Why the fuck are you here, Izuku?”

“I’m not sure,” he replies more or less honestly. “I guess I wanted to know what was so important you had to leave again so soon.”

What was more important than me. 

“This is an off-the-record rescue mission,” Kacchan says quietly, soft in a way that makes Izuku’s arm hairs stand. “A very dangerous one. You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am,” Izuku replies with a shrug. “Can’t change that now.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Kacchan grunts. He leans back against the wall of the cabin, tilting his head towards the dark sky. There are no stars to see. It’s too overcast. 

Izuku clicks his piercing against his teeth. It’s a nervous habit, but it makes him look cool so  he hasn’t tried to stop it. “I can help.”

“No,” Kacchan says immediately, sharply. “No, you cannot. You know nothing about what’s going on here.”

“Then tell me,” Izuku demands, stepping closer. “Just—tell me who these people are. Why does she call you Kats? How do you know her? Why do you care so much that you flew halfway across the world for her?”

Kacchan shakes his head, looks away. To Izuku’s surprise, his eyes glisten with unshed tears. Kacchan clicks his tongue and rubs his gloved hand over his face aggressively. 

“It’s none of your damn business.”

“It could be,” Izuku tells him. “If you told me something, for once. Didn’t you ask me to forgive you?”

“What’s that got to do with anything!” Kacchan snaps, breathing hard and fast. A tear escapes the corner of his eye, leaving a shining wet track over his cheek. “You don’t—you don’t get to do this to me! You can’t decide you hate me only until your curiosity gets the better of you.”

“You keep saying that, but I’ve never actually confirmed it for you,” Izuku points out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to try and stay a bit warm. “I don’t hate you. I just realised you didn’t care about me as much as I cared about you, and decided I had to learn to be my own person.”

“You—fuck that. You were your own person before, Izuku,” Kacchan says. “You were just traumatised because of the fucking war.”

“You left me anyway,” Izuku spits back. “So I had to learn to stand on my own two feet without you there to support me, because you disappeared.”

“It was important!”

“I thought that I was important, too!”

Izuku’s chest is heaving. Kacchan’s eyes are wide, like Izuku slapped him. Gods, he wants to. He wants to hit him, grab him by the shoulders and slam against the wall. Izuku wants to break Kacchan’s nose then kiss him to taste his blood.

He’s really gone full insane in the last few months, but losing your quirk, your mentor, your mother, and the guy you’ve been in love with since you were four in the span of a few months will do that to a guy. 

What’s worse, Izuku only realised he was full in love with Kacchan because he left. 

How was he supposed to react? It felt like having his lungs ripped out of his chest. He suffered more than when he lost both arms to Shigaraki. 

“You were important to me. I wouldn’t have left you. Not for anything in the world. But you did! You did. You left me.”

Kacchan looks positively stunned. Izuku glares at him, trying to bring himself back under control. If he lets his emotions go too wild, he could have an episode or he could ruin everything even more. 

After a long moment, Kacchan grunts and drops his head forward. “Fuck. Fuck. FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.”

Izuku has to admit that does sort of summarise their situation. Not the most eloquent of phrases, but certainly heartfelt and accurate. He watches Kacchan go through some sort of decision making process, talking himself in or out of something that Izuku cannot guess. It’s infuriating. 

He used to think he knew Kacchan better than anyone. He really, really didn’t like finding out that he’d been mistaken the entire time. 

Are they really broken beyond repair? 

“Are you at least going to tell me who that Nat woman is?” Izuku asks in a small voice. “I… just tell me something. Anything.”

“Her name is Natalie,” Kacchan mutters. “She’s the head of the security team of the doctor that fixed my arm, alright? She’s in trouble.The doctor, I mean. Her quirk is kind of special, and we think she’s been kidnapped for it. They killed James, who I was sort of friends with. He… he taught me some stuff while I was in treatment.”

“You met these people when you were gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Izuku says, and he isn’t even surprised by the jealousy that coats the back of his mouth. Par for the course, really. “So, you want to help them rescue the doctor. That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“And why can’t I help?”

Kacchan gives him a look. “Because I don’t trust you right now, Izuku. I don’t know you. I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been up to. And yell at me all you want, I don’t care. It might be my fault for leaving, but the fact remains I’ve no fucking clue who this person standing in front of me is. I don’t know where the nerd went, but until he comes back, I don’t trust you.”

Izuku doesn’t know what to say to that. 

It never crossed his mind that Kacchan would even… was this a possible outcome? When he decided to cut his hair and pierce his body and drink and do stupid shit just for the hell of it, Izuku never once thought he was doing something that’d break them beyond repair.

That had already happened when he let the embers fizzle out.

Was he wrong?

“Are you just saying that to spare my feelings?”

“Hah?”

“Look me in the eye and swear to me that the reason you don’t think I can help is because you don’t know me anymore,” Izuku demands, stepping closer to Kacchan. “Look at me and tell me it’s not because I am quirkless now. Because I am useless.”

Kacchan’s head whips up so fast Izuku briefly worries for the integrity of his neck. Red eyes flash in the darkness, pining Izuku with a glare so fierce it warms him up from the inside. 

“I don’t want you to help because I don’t trust you,” Kacchan repeats, holding his gaze defiantly. “I just don’t believe you’ll do what I tell you, or that you won’t go running to your boyfriend and tell him about the doctor when this is over.”

“Rody isn’t my boyfriend,” Izuku says, because it’s easier to latch onto that than the rest of it.

He’s spent so much time preparing himself mentally for Kacchan to not want anything to do with him after he lost his quirk, that he has no idea how to cope with the fact that he’s lost Kacchan for another reason entirely. 

What would have happened if Izuku hadn’t crashed out so hard? If he had gone to Shouto’s house instead of Kacchan’s that night? If Izuku had stayed miserable and sad for six whole months, would he still have Kacchan now?

That’s not fair, he thinks, but he wonders. And a part of him regrets the choices that landed him on top of that table with Rody next to him the night Kacchan finally came back.

“I’m not talking about this with you,” Kacchan says, shaking his head and pushing himself off the wall. “I have a rescue mission to plan. We’re on the clock here, Izuku. This isn’t a joke.”

“I know,” he says quickly, looking up at Kacchan. Did he get even taller? “Sorry. Maybe another time. Just… I am so angry at you.”

Kacchan stops just short of touching him. “Okay. I deserve that,” he says. “Be angry. But don’t interfere with this, Izuku. You can’t go home? Fine, then sit in a corner and wait until I unfuck this situation. Do not try to intervene.”

“Oh my God!” he says, throwing his arms up. “Will you just—don’t you need a lookout? I can be your guy in the chair. I won’t go rogue. I won’t do anything unplanned. I am not a hero anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything.”

“What the fuck ever,” Kacchan says, grabbing the door knob to the cabin. “You’ll do whatever Nat and the guys need you to do. Comms or whatever. Just—stay out of trouble.”

“Okay.”

Kacchan doesn’t open the door immediately, which Izuku thinks is weird. Also, he’s cold, and this conversation was incredibly strange. Izuku has no idea where they stand. Did they make progress? In what direction?

He’s not even sure what they’re trying to solve or how. Kacchan can’t take away the six months he left, and Izuku cannot get over how it felt to be alone through all that. 

Without warning, Kacchan turns back and grabs Izuku’s face between his gloved hands. For a wild second, Izuku thinks he’s going to kiss him. Instead, Kacchan says, “I don’t think you’re useless. I never have. I never will. That’s not it.”

He releases Izuku as suddenly as he grabbed him, leaving him reeling as Kacchan finally opens the door and steps inside. 

##

That Nat woman is making Izuku nervous. 

They’re all gathered around a table that Izuku hasn’t been allowed to approach—he thinks Kacchan is just being petty, which is pissing him off, but fine—discussing the mission. As far as Izuku is concerned, Nat should be leading the meeting. Instead, she keeps sneaking glances in his direction. 

It’s weird. 

Izuku pretends not to notice and does his best to focus on following the conversation. 

Kacchan looks so good in the golden light of the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The black clothes he’s wearing are some sort of tactical gear. Xhao, Nat and the other people Izuku doesn’t know are wearing very similar outfits. The rest of his friends brought their hero costumes, but Kacchan is telling them to change. 

“We don’t want to be identified if we can help it,” he explains. “Our quirks are already enough of a giveaway on their own. Let’s not make it easy for the bad guys. Half ‘n’ half, you need to wear a beanie.”

Shouto blinks. “Okay.”

“Zoulfa will give you uniforms in a moment,” Kacchan says, gesturing to one of the women gathered around the table with them. She’s wearing a black hijab and has a gun at her hip. Badass.

They’re all so incredibly cool. Izuku sort of wants to interrogate the entire team about what they do, and how. Do they have quirks? What sort? 

Where did Kacchan meet these people?

Something about his whole ‘fixing my arm’ story isn’t sitting right with Izuku. A simple doctor doesn’t have a team of this calibre. Look, Izuku has always been obsessed with heroes but he also just generally likes knowing things. And he’s watched enough hero and military team up movies to recognise special forces when he sees them.

Star and Stripe worked alongside the US Navy! 

The doctor—Jaqie, Kacchan said earlier—must be important. But why? Izuku cannot deny that Kacchan’s arm is well on the way to being fixed, which lends credibility to his story. So, okay. Jaqie fixed his arm. But why the special ops guys? 

“Izuku, shut the fuck up,” Kacchan grunts from where he’s standing, flicking a pencil at him. “Your mumbling is distracting.”

Izuku rubs his forehead with his hand where the pencil hit him. “Ouch. Fine. Would be better if you let me help, though.”

Xhao is talking with Shinsou, pointing at something on the table. Shouto is leaning over his boyfriend’s shoulder, watching intently. Kirishima hovers behind Kacchan, who is glaring at the documents on the table like he wants to burn a hole through them. He’s crossed his arms over his chest, which is doing nothing to help with Izuku’s volatile emotions at the moment. 

He forces himself to look away and finds Nat is now blatantly staring at him. Just straight up studying him, no shame, no subtlety. 

Izuku squirms on his chair. What has Kacchan told this woman for her to watch Izuku like that? 

He glances away, cracking under the pressure of the woman’s stare and finds instead that Kaminari is checking Kacchan out shamelessly. Izuku’s nostrils flare in annoyance, even though Kacchan isn’t giving Kaminari any attention. 

In fact, Kacchan has the little wrinkle between his brows that means he’s struggling with something. 

He won’t ask for help, though. He never does. 

Izuku has had enough. He cannot take another minute of being in the corner like some naughty child in school. 

He gets to his feet and elbows his way past Kaminari and Ashido. “What is it?”

Everyone turns to look at him, minus Nat who was looking at him already. Izuku rolls his eyes and clicks his piercing against his teeth. “Come on,” he insists, putting his hands on the table. “Tell me what’s tripping you up.”

Kacchan swears under his breath. “This,” he says, and points at the blueprint of a building. “Something’s not right.”

“Make way.” Izuku moves until he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with Kacchan, then bends over the map and puts his entire soul into reviewing the blueprint. 

Everyone gives him room to work. He hears Kirishima explaining to Xhao that Izuku is a genius and he blushes violently, but he keeps his eyes on the documents and pretends he hasn’t heard him, or Mina agreeing vehemently. 

Shouto’s cold side bumps up against him, and it’s kind of weird to have Kacchan’s warmth vs Shouto’s ice. It helps, though. At least this way, Izuku doesn’t get distracted by Kacchan’s proximity and he can truly analyse the blueprints. 

The problem jumps out at him immediately. It’s hidden in the patterns of the lines that outline the different floors. Kacchan must be really stressed to miss something like this—his attention to detail is better than Izuku’s by a mile. 

“Look at this,” Izuku says, running a crooked finger over the outline of the second floor of this building. “And now, look at this.”

Kacchan narrows his eyes, following Izuku’s finger as he points at the third and first floors. “Clever,” Kacchan says, and Izuku isn’t sure if he means the system of hidden rooms built into some of the floors, or Izuku himself. 

His heart flutters anyway. 

“Floors two, four, and seven have hidden rooms built into them,” Izuku announces to the rest of the table.

“That’s a problem,” Xhao says, leaning over Kaminari to glance at where Izuku is pointing out the discrepancies that betray the trick. “The building is underground. That is not up, but down.”

“What?” Izuku asks, alarmed. That makes this mission ten times more dangerous. It also means Kacchan can’t go berserk with his explosions. 

“You didn’t mention the rescue required an underground incursion,” Shinsou says, narrowing his eyes. “That changes things.”

“Not really,” Kirishima says with a shrug. “I’m still going to help Bakugo rescue his friend no matter what.”

“Kirishima-kun is right,” Shouto says. “It makes things more dangerous, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re going in. We just have to plan properly.”

“How do you know where the doctor is held?” Mina asks the security team. 

“We got the intel thanks to Zoulfa’s quirk,” Nat explains. “She can share eyes with a person of her choice, provided the other person has allowed the transfer. For safety purposes, we always do that with Jaqie before she heads out of the lab. The connection has now expired—Zoulfa can only hold it for about a day—but we saw where they took Jaqie and went from there.”

“That’s kinda wicked,” Kaminari says. 

“We hacked our way to the blueprints,” Xhao informs them, grinning in a way that tells Izuku he had a hand in the hacking. Again, super cool. 

Absently, Izuku wonders how La Brava and Gentle are doing. He should maybe message them when he’s back in Japan. 

The next several hours are spent in one of the most exciting brainstorms Izuku has ever been a part of. It’s incredibly motivating to be working with a team of real-life security experts. They think of things that Izuku wouldn’t have taken into account, all of which he absorbs like a sponge. He’ll never be a hero, but he cannot help the way his brain wants to latch onto the new skills. 

They discuss the plan of action, assigning careful roles and responsibilities depending on people’s strengths. Kacchan and Kirishima are the muscle, supporting two separate teams as they head into the facility. Xhao and Nat lead one each. Mina goes with Kacchan and Kaminari with Kirishima to prevent conflicts of interest. This doesn’t sit right with Izuku, because it implies Kaminari is as important to Kacchan as Mina is to Kirishima.

He pouts about it for a full thirty minutes. 

“Alright, final decision,” Nat says, rubbing her eyes. She looks tired, like she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since doctor Jaqie was taken. She probably hasn’t. “Shinsou.”

“It’ll be a fuck up if the team that reaches Jaqie first doesn’t have Shinsou in it,” Kacchan says tiredly. “If they’ve left guards in the room with her, Shinsou’s quirk will be the difference between getting her out alive or not.”

“But we don’t know which room she’s in,” Izuku mutters, running his hands over the blueprints for the thousandth time. “And you’re taking the floors independently. There’s a fifty fifty chance… hold on. What if Shinsou doesn’t go in with either team? He could wait here,” Izuku points at the ground level, near the elevator shaft, “and then get down to where he’s needed.”

“That’s not a bad idea, kid,” Xhao says, nodding. “We’ll disable the electricity anyway, so the elevator shaft will be a feasible route. Can you use that support item to climb down?”

“Yes,” Shinsou says. “I can move pretty quickly.”

“Then we just have to make sure the comms are working, and have back ups just in case,” Izuku says. “Shinsou will wait up here, and meet the team that reaches Jaqie quickly. There’ll be a short window of risk, but I don’t see any other way. It’d be quicker than making his way back from the second team, in any case.”

“It also means he should be able to get Jaqie out through the same route,” Nat comments. “Opens a faster exit for her. The rest of us fight our way out, but I want Jaqie brought to safety as quickly as possible.”

“I can wait upstairs and—” Izuku starts.

“No,” Kacchan cuts him off. “You’re here. You have to keep track of progress, monitor comms, and watch the cameras. Nat, you’ll assign someone on your team to wait on ground level and help Shinsou complete the extraction.”

“Pietro will take that role,” Nat says quickly. “He’s still badly injured from the initial attack and wouldn’t be able to go in anyway."

Izuku swallows his disappointment and resigns himself to the chair at the desk pushed against the corner. 

##

They agree to resting for a while. No one wants to head into a dangerous mission severely sleep deprived, but they also don’t want to wait. Time is of the essence. The planning took them well into the afternoon, which means it’ll be night again soon. 

Nat and her team want to go in at the witching hour. She said that waiting for dawn was too cliched and she’d be damned if she was going to do anything the way other people might expect her to.

That’s how Izuku ends up on the floor of the cabin, lying inside a sleeping bag borrowed from the security team, and staring up at the dark ceiling. There’s no way he’ll fall asleep. He won’t risk having a nightmare here. These people don’t need to know how broken he still is. 

Kaminari is snoring. Kirishima is awake, but Mina is fast asleep in his arms and he looks so peaceful he might as well be dreaming, too. Shouto and Shinsou are across the cabin, and Izuku isn’t going anywhere near there. Not even to confirm whether they’re asleep.

He turns on his side and stares at the empty bag that’s supposed to be Kacchan’s. 

So much for resting. 

At least, he slept on the plane here so Izuku supposes he should be alright. But what is he doing right now? 

After a moment’s hesitation, Izuku gets up. He tip toes across the cabin and slips into the bathroom to wash his face. He feels weirdly sticky and sweaty even though it’s freezing outside. 

When he’s done, he wanders to the small kitchen and makes a cup of tea for something to do. Izuku doesn’t love tea, but that's all that’s available. He wraps his hands around the cup and sighs, unsure of what to do. He supposes he could just hang out in the kitchen, but he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s acting strange. 

Is it strange? 

He just can’t sleep.

“Hey.”

Izuku startles so bad he spills tea over his hand. The scarred tissue has lost a lot of feeling, so it doesn’t hurt much, but he shakes it out quickly for the sake of appearances. 

“Hi,” he says awkwardly, and turns to face Nat. “Where did you come from?”

“There’s a back door here.”

It takes Izuku a moment to realise she’s speaking to him in Japanese, which surprises him so much his mouth hangs open for a moment. Nat laughs quietly. “I’m half Japanese. Tokashiki Natalie.”

“Midoriya Izuku,” he replies automatically, then wants to smack himself in the forehead. 

She hums, amused. “Kats talks about you a lot. I was curious to meet you.”

“He does?” Izuku asks.

“Aren’t you best friends?” Nat challenges, cocking an eyebrow. “It would be weirder if he didn’t.”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right. I just… I don’t know. Kacchan isn’t the type to… he’s amazing, don’t get me wrong. But he’s just a bit different. Friendship means something different to him so I didn’t—what did he say about me?”

Nat watches him in silence for so long, Izuku begins to squirm. “He said good things,” Nat answers eventually. “He admires you a lot, you know. When we were… when he was with us, and we did training to help with his arm and stuff, he thought of you to push himself harder.”

Izuku’s throat closes up. Damn it. He’s really been trying not to cry so much. It’s all part of this ‘new Izuku’ thing he’s been trying on for size. But there’s something about the mental image of Kacchan training to fix his arm and using Izuku as inspiration that slices through him more effectively than a sword ever could. 

He’ll never be that for Kacchan again.

Not without his quirk. 

“That’s… yeah,” Izuku says thickly. “It used to be our thing. Rivals. Surpassing each other all the time. We… wanted to compete for the top spot.”

“Not anymore?” Nat asks him, tilting her head. 

“I’m quirkless now,” Izuku tells her, bracing for impact. 

Nat shrugs. “And?”

Izuku blinks. What does she mean ‘and’? Did she not hear him? He’s quirkless. Useless. Not a hero anymore. Never again. Izuku cannot keep up with Kacchan, so he won’t even try. If Izuku insisted on completing his hero education, if he tried to go out in the field properly… he’d hold Kacchan back. 

He could be the reason he dies again. 

No. Izuku understands the dangers now too well to delude himself into thinking he can be a hero without a quirk. 

“I can’t compete with him anymore,” Izuku says slowly, and the first tear spills. “I would drag him down. Put him in danger. A quirkless person cannot keep up with a hero no matter what. I’m useless.”

Nat punches him in the face. 

It’s a clean, precise hook. It breaks his nose so perfectly, Izuku barely even feels it until blood starts gushing over his mouth. 

Alarmed, Izuku stares at her, bringing his hand up to cup his nose. “What—I—why?”

“Well, you just insulted me to my face, kid,” she said, showing absolutely no remorse. She does, however, open the small freezer under the counter and throw him a pack of ice. “I don’t take kindly to that.”

It takes Izuku an embarrassingly long time to understand. “You’re quirkless.”

“And also the best damn Navy SEAL the United States of America ever fucking had,” she says, baring her teeth at him. “I have kicked your Kacchan’s ass so many times I’m surprised he doesn’t have the print of my boot permanently etched onto his buttcheek.”

Izuku blinks really quickly, completely at a loss. He’s hurt, and upset, and embarrassed, but also sort of… in love? With Nat? Wow. 

“You… I mean—” Izuku stops, trying to make sense of the jumble of his thoughts. “How?”

“Training. Guts. And a little bit of crazy,” she says, smiling at him. 

“I—I’m sorry if I offended you. I just… I don’t think I can be a hero without my quirk,” he explains slowly, wiping blood off his face. “I guess… I guess it’s hard, you know? I could—I used to be so strong. And now I’m not.”

“It’s okay to not want to be a hero anymore,” she tells him. “But don’t say you can’t. That narrative is a lie. It’s an excuse. Just… if you’re done, own up to it. It’s okay to be tired, you know?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because Kats believes your lies,” Nat says very, very seriously. 

Izuku drops the ice, mouth agape. What? What does that mean? What is she saying? “But—”

“Nat?” the back door opens, and the stench of cigarette smoke hits Izuku like a freight train. Xhao blinks at Izuku’s bloody face, then shrugs. He waves a cigarette in the air. “You coming or?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait!” Izuku says, chasing after her. “I—can I come?”

“Sure,” Xhao replies, and Izuku finds himself standing behind the cabin with a cigarette between his fingers. He’s smoked before. It’s part of his rebel phase. He has never liked doing things by halves, so he really did commit to the full aesthetic. To his dismay, he sort of kinda likes the taste. 

“What did you mean?” Izuku asks Nat. “That he believes my lies.”

“Who is he?” Xhao asks.

“Kats.”

“Ah,” Xhao says, then blows smoke out of his nose. “You’ve been lying to him? What for? Poor kid deserves better. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but—”

“I haven’t been lying to him!” Izuku protests, a little panicked. “Not… not specifically. I mean—I just… you don’t understand.”

Nat and Xhao exchange glances. “I was once a teenager, too,” Xhao tells him. “It gets better. I promise.”

“What part?” Izuku asks. 

“All of it. The heartbreak, and the confusion, and the anger,” Xhao says. “Growing up isn’t easy, but it’s gonna get better. You’ll be alright, kid.”

Izuku sniffles, looks away. Maybe it’ll get better, but it’ll get better without Kacchan and that’s not really better at all. Even if he gets used to it, missing Kacchan is like having had his heart carved out of his chest. There’s a void, and Izuku has no idea what to fill it with. So far, alcohol, cigarettes, piercings, random kisses with strangers, none of that has worked. 

And that’s the part they don’t understand. 

They won’t ever, though. Not because they’re adults. Not because Izuku is some angsty teenager having an emotional crisis. They don’t get it because no one expects Izuku to feel this way. 

It’s not a very hero-like way to feel, and even though he’s been forced into early retirement, he was for a moment the greatest hero of all. 

No one will ever understand that Izuku yearns for all the wrong things so deeply, it’s eating him up from the inside out. 

“Sure,” he says weakly. “It’ll be alright.”

Izuku doesn’t want it to get better. He wants it to be the same way that it used to be. He wants the quirk, and the dreams, and Kacchan next to him. 

Too bad heroes don’t get happy endings. 

##

“You stink,” Kacchan says the moment Izuku finds him sitting on a crate by the front door of the cabin. 

The team will be heading out on the rescue mission in half an hour. Izuku has spent the last sixty minutes setting up the computer and checking the comms. Everyone has their earpieces ready and mics glued to their molars. 

“Geez,” Izuku protests. “Put these on.”

Kacchan looks at the earpiece and the mic. He takes them, but instead of attaching them to the right place, he puts them in his pocket. “I don’t want to hear what everyone is up to just yet.”

“They’re not on,” Izuku tells him, rolling his eyes. 

“Where’d you get a cigarette out here? Did Xhao give it to you? I’ll kill them.”

“Oh,” Izuku says, immediately feeling terrible that he has been using the wrong pronoun for Xhao in his mind this entire time. “You should have told me.”

“What?”

“That they use they pronouns! I’ve been so disrespectful!”

Kacchan looks momentarily stunned. “And they didn’t correct you?”

“I was disrespectful in my head!”

Kacchan snorts, then says, “They’ll forgive you.”

Izuku smiles, then leans against the wall next to him. Kacchan stands, shakes out his legs. “I fucking hate the cold.”

“Why are you outside, then?”

“Just thinking,” he replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. The black gear looks crazy good on him. Actually, Izuku is pretty sure Kacchan would look amazing in a potato sack, but that’s beside the point. 

“Are you afraid?” Izuku asks quietly.

“Are you stupid?” 

Izuku shrugs, then fixes his gaze on the forest. It’s easier if he’s not looking at Kacchan. “I haven’t forgiven you—”

“Izuku, now is not—”

“But I want to,” Izuku insists, speaking over Kacchan’s attempt at cutting him off. “I will. Someday. But that means you’ve got to come back. Promise me that you’re coming back so that I can continue to be angry at you until I’m ready to forgive you.”

Kacchan swallows. He takes a deep breath, then lets it go. It mists in front of his face. He’s so beautiful. “It’s a dangerous mission.”

“Promise me.”

“Izuku—”

The door of the cabin opens. Shinsou and Shouto walk out together, so wrapped up in each other they don’t see Kacchan and Izuku standing to the side. Shinsou pins Shouto to the outer wall, leaning in very close. “Good luck kisses, Shou.”

Shouto grins, and tilts his head. “Do they actually work?”

“Do you want to risk it?”

“No,” Shouto says, then throws his arms around Shinsou’s neck. 

Izuku almost yelps, but holds it in at the last minute as Kacchan grabs him by the arm and hauls him around the corner to give the couple privacy. It’s actually quite thoughtful of him.

“There’s a door through the kitchen,” is all Kacchan says.

“I know. That’s where I was smoking with Xhao and Nat.”

Kacchan grunts his displeasure. Izuku follows him around the cabin to the back door. They’re almost there when Kacchan stops dead in his tracks, eyes trained on the cigarette butts littering the snow. 

“Disgusting,” he mutters. “What did you talk about?”

“Huh?”

“With Nat and Xhao.”

“Not much,” Izuku says, shrugging. “Mostly about being quirkless. I didn’t know Nat is, too.”

Izuku doesn’t want to revisit that conversation, so he tries to move past Kacchan. He cuts him off with an arm against the wall, blocking his path. Izuku makes a face that the hopes conveys ‘I am not amused’ to Kacchan. 

“She’s pretty strong,” Kacchan says.

“Yeah I know,” Izuku says. “My nose didn’t break itself.”

Kacchan cocks an eyebrow, watching Izuku’s face closely. “I’m sure you deserved it.”

“You’re so mean.”

He shrugs. “You know, she’s taught me a lot of things. Maybe—”

“No,” Izuku cuts him off this time. “Don’t. I’m not a hero anymore, and that’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it.”

Kacchan clicks his tongue, looks away. “And yet, you wanted nothing more than to come on the rescue mission.”

“Old habits and all,” Izuku says dismissively. He cannot have Kacchan analysing his behaviour too closely. Izuku is not so good a liar yet that his actions don’t betray him. 

“Stupid.”

“Jerk.”

Kacchan grins. Izuku looks up at him and his heart flutters again. “Promise me.”

“Alright,” Kacchan agrees with a sigh. “I promise.”

Izuku sags in relief, then taps the arm Kacchan still has on the wall, effectively caging him in. “Let’s go. You’ll be late.”

As though on cue, the back door opens and Kaminari pops his head out. “Bakugo! I was looking for you, don’t leave me alone again, everyone is making out and—“ Kaminari spots Izuku and winces. He blushes, rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, we’re almost ready to go, so we should really… you know.” He pauses, eyes swivelling between them. Yeah, Kaminari, you’re not subtle. Izuku glares at him, and he blanches. “You… yeah. We’re ready to go.”

Kaminari disappears back inside. Something flashes across Kacchan’s face, too quick for Izuku to catch it, and then he pushes himself off the wall.

Izuku has no idea what possesses him, but doesn’t second guess himself as the impulse takes over. He throws his arms around Kacchan’s neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Good luck kiss,” he says quickly, detangling himself as fast as he humanly can. 

No way in hell he’s gonna let Kaminari get away with trying to trick kisses out of Kacchan while he’s around.

Nuh huh.

Kacchan stares at him, eyes wide, then slams him back against the wall and growls, “What the fuck, Izuku?”

Izuku could fucking die from how turned on he gets by the angry expression on Kacchan’s face at such a short distance. He looks confused, flustered, and unless Izuku is very much mistaken, a little hopeful. 

The air shifts between them, and Kacchan’s wide, wild eyes drop to his mouth for a second. Izuku catches on fire like he was doused with gasoline. He simply cannot help himself.

“I’m still angry at you,” Izuku declares because it feels important that he establishes some sort of barrier, mostly for his own heart’s protection. 

Then, Izuku hooks his hand in Kacchan’s neck, yanks him in roughly, and kisses him like it’s the only chance he’ll ever get. 

Kacchan makes a sound like a wounded animal, presses himself against Izuku and says fucking nerd before giving in and kissing Izuku back. 

Izuku’s soul exits his body, braincells shuting the fuck down. Izuku is all relief and sensation and heat. God, for a while there he thought Kacchan would never come back, but he’s here now, and they’re kissing. 

Izuku goes all in. Mouth open, teeth bared, tongue darting out to taste Kacchan. 

It feels like the fight they’re still having. Like neither of them knows very well what to do with the other while there’s so much hurt between them. Their lips slide and their tongues meet. Kacchan goes straight for the piercing and Izuku fists a hand in his hair. It’s hot and heavy and it lasts only for a few seconds, but it’s enough for Izuku’s soul to start singing. 

When Kacchan steps back, eyes wide and ears red as Izuku’s shoes, he wants nothing more than to reel him back in.

But he can’t, because Kacchan doesn’t love him, and they’re not in a good place. There’s no trust. The friendship is broken. Izuku cannot just…

He breathes deeply and digs up every ounce of willpower he’s ever mastered to say, “Good luck. Come back alive. You promised.” 

Kacchan gives him a stiff nod, and that’s that. 

##

Izuku would like it on the record that he is never ever running point for comms on a mission of any kind again.

Watching his friends enter the monster’s den through a screen feels so profoundly wrong, Izuku barely manages to stave off a panic attack.

He hasn’t had one of those since the day he pierced his tongue, but this whole situation threatens to throw him back a couple months in time. 

He watches with bated breath as both teams make their way through the labyrinth that is the compound where Doctor Jaqie is being kept. 

“Comms check. Team Alpha. Base do you copy?”

“Base, copy,” Izuku confirms.

“Comms check. Team Bravo. Base do you copy?”

“Base, copy,” Izuku says into his mic. “Shinsou?”

“Copy.”

Izuku swallows, then gets a little closer to the screen with the camera from Kacchan’s team. Shouto is wearing it, because he drew the short stick. 

They clear two floors without finding resistance or trace of the doctor. Izuku starts to get nervous. Something is off.

Just as he’s about to suggest they call this off and rethink the operation, a group of armed, masked bodies ambushes Kacchan’s team.

Izuku gasps and helplessly watches as a battle breaks out. 

The other team has also encountered resistance. There’s fighting on all fronts and Izuku cannot keep track of what’s happening through the shaky video feed. It’s making him motion sick so he looks away from the action and forces himself to do a quick sweep of the other cameras. 

Xhao had managed to hack into some of the security loops, so Izuku has partial views of some of the compound cameras. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. 

The stationary cameras show Izuku some movement, but it’s hard to guess what’s going on. He glances back at the battle. There are minor injuries on both sides, but his friends are holding their own. 

Kacchan’s team is moving deeper into the compound, managing to push back the enemy. Izuku grins, then tries to keep track of what the hacked security footage is showing him.

He makes a few notes then runs to the big table to compare with the blueprints and gasps. Tapping the comms, he says, “Team alpha, do you copy?”

“A little busy, nerd!”

A gunshot. Grunting. 

Izuku sprints back to the computers and watches Kacchan slam someone against a wall. He’s bleeding from his shoulder, and the sight of Kacchan’s blood makes Izuku clam up. 

Izuku blinks the overlapping images of the coffin in the sky away and forces himself to stay in the cabin. His friends need him to stay in control of himself. 

A deep breath. Hands on the rough wood of the desk. 

“I think I found the doctor,” Izuku says when he’s stopped shaking.

“Should have started with that,” Nat says. The entire team is on comms. 

“Keep going down the corridor, make a right, then a left. Down the stairs. First door on your right,” Izuku says.

“Roger that,” Nat replies at the same time Kacchan says, “Genius fucking nerd.”

Izuku smiles, then tries to relax as he watches them advance. “Shinsou,” he says to him on the channel. “Team Alpha. Fifth floor. Go.”

“Moving.”

Things are going relatively well. They’ve taken heavy fire, and there’s a lot of blood hidden by the black uniforms, but no one is seriously injured.

Nat and her team—Kacchan’s team—move steadily but carefully. The fighting is serious. The enemy has a lot of firepower and h like Kacchan’s explosions, guns won’t bring down the entire compound.

Still, they make progress. They’re like a tide, surely and steadily rising. Unstoppable. 

“Is the doctor alone?” 

“I can’t tell, but Shinsou is on the way.”

“Roger.”

Kacchan blows in the door. Nat goes first, and she finds Jaqie. Shinsou captures the man before he can put a gun to Jaqie’s head, and Kacchan knocks him out cold with a punch. It’s glorious to watch. 

The doctor is ready, and it’s clear to Izuku that they have practiced rescue scenarios. Jaqie knows what to do, doesn’t hesitate as she gets in the formation Nat is ordering her team into.

“Team bravo, do you copy?” Izuku asks.

“Copy,” Xhao replies. 

“Doctor secured. Team Alpha moving up,” Izuku exhales, and says. “Get out of there.”

“Roger that!”

Through the screens, Izuku can see there’s still quite a bit of fighting to be done. Mina’s acid has turned out to be really helpful in melting guns. Kaminari is also being annoyingly effective, so Izuku grunts and checks back on Kacchan’s team.

He notices a flicker in one of the hacked cameras and turns fully, curiosity getting the better of him. 

In the compound, Kacchan’s team makes it to the ground floor. They’re almost out, 

Izuku tilts his head, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing on the screen. It hits him just as Nat says, “Extraction complete, Alpha heading to base.”

“Bravo one floor down, moving.”

“There’s someone else,” Izuku says, and the comms crackle like lightning.

“Say that again, base,” Nat barks.

Izuku bites his tongue. They’re out. They got the doctor. What if—

“It’s Alice,” Kacchan says. “It’s got to be.”

“Kats do not—stop!” Nat says. Izuku begs Shouto to move so he can see what’s happening, but all he’s got is audio. Shouto is standing at the wrong angle.

“I won’t leave her behind.”

“It’s too dangerous. She knows the risks.”

“She saved my life, Nat!” Kacchan shouts. “I’m going in alone. In and out, shit hits the fan, I’ll blow a hole and fly myself right up. The whole thing can collapse for all I care.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kirishima says. 

“No,” Kacchan replies. “It’s safer to go alone. I mean it. If things get ugly, I will blast myself through the ceiling. I can’t do that if any of you are inside.”

Izuku scrambles for the blueprints, trying to calculate whether that’s even possible. The body on the security camera is only one floor down. It’s a normal basement, not deep in the compound. 

“I am giving you an order to stay put,” Nat insists. “You’re not going back in, soldier.”

Izuku closes his eyes, because he knows what Kacchan is going to say before the words are even out. 

“I’m not a soldier. I’m a hero.”

Nat swears, but Kacchan is already running. Izuku’s guts are in his throat. He’s so proud of Kacchan, but also so scared. The bad feeling coating the back of his mouth like acid won’t go away, and Izuku knows better than to ignore his instincts. 

Chewing his cheek to try and keep the stress at bay, Izuku runs his fingers over the building schematics over and over again. The person that Kacchan believes to be Alice seems to be in a normal room, not a hidden one. But why? Why in such a random place?

Izuku checks the blueprints again. Something is bothering him. 

He runs his hands through his hair, heart thundering in his chest. What is it? Find it.

Find it, Izuku.

Kacchan’s life might depend on it.

“Nerd,” Kacchan says in his ear.

“Copy,” Izuku replies immediately, heading back to the computers. He can taste blood in his mouth from having chewed through his flesh.

A few of the people they knocked out are coming back around, but they’re a few floors below Kacchan. There doesn’t seem to be any activity near him. Izuku can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad sign. 

“Where is she?”

“First floor down, take the first corridor. I’ll guide you.”

Izuku racks his brain again.

Think, think, think. 

The first floor isn’t deep underground. It's a standard basement location. A trap is unlikely. It’d be better to set that up further down, so getting out is harder. Unless that’s precisely what they want. If escape seems easy, then someone is more likely to take the bait. 

But what is the trap? The room looks normal on the screens. Izuku can’t spot any red flags in the schematics.

And yet, he can’t help but to feel like Kacchan is heading straight into trouble. 

“Alpha and Bravo are together now. We’re en route to base,” Nat confirms on the communal channel so everyone can hear her. “Kats you better come back in one piece or else.”

“Get off my comms. You’re distracting,” he says, but they can all hear the smile in his voice.

“Bring her home, Kats,” Nat says, and disconnects.  

Izuku swallows. On his little control panel, he sees everyone’s comms go dead one by one, and suddenly it’s just Kacchan and Izuku. He minds being the man on the chair a little less like this. 

The silence is focused. Comfortable. 

“First floor clear,” Kacchan says. “Which way?”

“Take a right,” Izuku says, and glances up at the security again to be safe. The body is prone on the floor of the room. Unmoving.

Izuku checks the other cameras and freezes.

What?

Izuku squints. Gets closer. Two people appear out of nowhere on the camera one floor right below Kacchan. They’re carrying… what is that? What are they doing?

“Which door?”

“Wait—” Izuku says. “Wait, I think—”

But Kacchan doesn’t listen. He opens a door and steps into the room. Izuku hears him swear through the comms. “Shit. Alice?”

He moves deeper into the room, and the people on the screen right below him attach some strange looking devices to their ceiling. 

Izuku puts it together one second too late. His brain processes what’s about to happen, but he can’t stop it. Can’t do anything but slap a horrified hand over his mouth as he watches Kacchan throw Alice over his shoulder just in time for the floor to collapse under his feet, swallowing him whole. 

“KACCHAN!”

Notes:

nothing to say for myself

Notes:

I will never have enough words to thank Foon because he doesn't even go to the Bakudeku camp, and yet he's beta-ing this for me. A saint. Truly.

I love you <3