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The impact knocked all the air out of Izuku’s already feeble lungs, adrenaline thankfully numbing the pain. He landed on his back harshly, limbs sprawled out in a vaguely uncomfortable way.
Izuku couldn't move as he watched the last bits of Shigaraki Tomura vanish above him. Not a thought crossed his mind for a long time, silence surrounding him and making his mind feel strangely distant.
And then, a sob. A wailing, heart wrenching, relieved sob that resonated like a cue.
The heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground reached Izuku through his daze, a fact his brain mechanically processed as adrenaline finally ran out for most of the heroes still standing. After all, there was no need of it. It was over.
It was over.
All For One was gone, taking Tomura Shigaraki and One For All with him. It was all over.
They had… won?
The thought settled uneasily in Izuku’s mind. He didn’t feel like a victor. He didn’t feel like much of anything, to be honest. That was fine, though. Lying there, watching the sun finally break through the heavy clouds that had weighed on the world for so long– it felt good enough for now. He would figure out the rest later.
Or so he thought until a sound registered in his brain much more clearly than the rest. A sort of choked groan. There was nothing particularly familiar about it, but the wave of dread it sent rippling through Izuku’s body awakened the last bit of strength he couldn’t believe he still had. It was just enough to make him turn his head, seek the source of it, figure out why it struck such a feeling of wrongness–
Kacchan was lying barely a few feet away from him, face down. He was heaving and shaking, breathing choked up and halting. He made another one of those groans, one of pure agony, before hacking out a mouthful of blood.
Izuku was over by his side before he even knew it.
“Kacchan,” he called, voice shaking so bad, he barely heard himself.
Against all medical advice he had ever received, he gently moved Kacchan around until he was on his back. He needed to see his face, see him, figure out what was wrong, fix it–
He regretted his action almost immediately.
Blood was gushing out of where Izuku knew a hole had been a mere hour – or lifetime? – ago. In fact, there was a small pool of it that had formed under Kacchan, marring his entire front. His breathing was wet, interrupted by coughs that let out red-tainted saliva.
Red. So much red. Too much red, just like before, just like on Kacchan’s All Might card that must still be back there, just like all around the hole in Kacchan’s chest, just like–
“Kacchan,” Izuku choked out, no other word seeming to exist in his vocabulary anymore.
He gently cupped Kacchan’s face, violently shivering when the sickening feel of blood immediately covered his palms. There was so much of it, God, so much, please not again, he couldn’t–
“Izu– Izuku.”
Every spiraling thought was wiped out of Izuku’s mind. He leaned in, eyes traveling up to Kacchan’s eyes. They were bleary, hardly-focused, but brimming with a fire Izuku couldn’t handle seeing put out a second time.
“Yes, yes, I’m here, I’m right here, Kacchan,” Izuku immediately replied, right thumb rubbing what he hoped was Kacchan’s uninjured cheek. He couldn’t tell under all the blood. “Hang in there, okay? It will be okay, you will be okay. W-We just need to wait for back-up, yeah? Medical help. They are on their way, they will fix you right up, everything will be–”
“’Zuku.”
Izuku’s mouth slammed shut.
A shiver wrecked through Kacchan’s body and it was all Izuku could do not to mimic it, a pain beyond anything physical taking hold of his heart and squeezing.
“’Zuku, there’s– no help.”
Izuku was shaking his head before Kacchan was even done talking, hating the tone of his voice. Too weak. Too calm. “No, no, there is, there will be, they are on their way, it will be fine. Just– Just you wait, just–”
Through some inhumane effort, Izuku tore his eyes away from Kacchan’s bloody face, latching onto the first person still standing he saw.
Aizawa. Relief washed through him like a tsunami.
“Aizawa-sensei!” He immediately called out, his frantic voice resonating across the wrecked battlefield, but he couldn’t care less. He didn’t acknowledge all the eyes turning to him, only caring about the one Aizawa had fixed unwaveringly on him. “Sensei, how long until medics get here? Kacchan, he– they have to hurry! O-Or maybe Kurogiri is still capable of opening one more portal? We have to get him to a hospital, to Recovery Girl! We have to hurry!”
Izuku’s voice became shriller the longer he talked and the less Aizawa reacted. Why wasn’t he moving? Why wasn’t he giving him a timeframe so he could reassure Kacchan that it would be okay soon? Why was he looking at him like that? Why was he looking at Kacchan like that?
Something snapped in Izuku.
“MOVE!” he roared, throat burning and blood coating his mouth.
Aizawa didn’t even startle, still staring with that awful, awful look in his remaining eye.
“Fucking DO SOMETHING! WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ANYTHING?!” And suddenly, Izuku’s anger was so fierce, so all-consuming, that just directing it at one person wasn’t enough. He turned to all the other people there, his classmates, his teachers, heroes he had spent countless hours studying and admiring. All of them standing there, doing nothing. “WHY ARE YOU ALL JUST STANDING THERE!? KACCHAN NEEDS HELP!”
He was fully prepared to continue yelling, profanities that would make even Kacchan blush welling in his mouth, ready to be unleashed if everyone remained silent and immobile for one more fucking second–
“Midoriya.”
Izuku’s gaze snapped back to Aizawa, who had teleported to Kacchan’s other side at some point. He wasn’t looking at Kacchan, though, instead staring at Izuku with a look that was so blank, Izuku nearly demanded he switch back to the grief-stricken one from before. There was something even worse about not knowing his thoughts, his feelings, how to disprove them.
“Midoriya, help won’t arrive any time soon. Kurogiri is gone. Every medic is slammed with all the other wounded–”
“I don’t care,” Izuku interrupted, the steadiness of his own voice after his outburst startling both Aizawa and a distant part of Izuku that had yet to be overwhelmed by the repetitive thought of Kacchan is hurt, Kacchan is hurt, Kacchan is hurt. “Get someone.”
Aizawa stared at him before his gaze drifted down to Kacchan, dragging Izuku’s own with it. Kacchan was in the same state, breaths erratic and body shivering, but eyes still alert if half-lidded. He was looking at Aizawa with an understanding that Izuku simply couldn’t make sense of.
Aizawa could, though. His mask shattered and his voice turned into a pained whisper. “I can’t… I can’t do anything.”
Before Izuku could tear into him for that unacceptable response, Kacchan murmured, “’S okay. You have… done enough, sensei.”
Izuku watched with bewilderment as his stoic, unshakable teacher choked out a sob, hands gripping the tattered remains of his clothes. But the sight could only captivate him for so long when Kacchan was still on the ground, bleeding out and shaking through pain.
His grip on Kacchan’s face tightened ever so slightly, bile rising in his throat.
“This can’t… No, this isn’t right, Kacchan, it’s not okay, we have to get you to a doctor, I–”
Every breath he took was a shallow one, his lungs refusing to accept any air tainted with Kacchan’s pain. Dots started swarming his vision, his body going from too hot to too cold incessantly. It wasn’t okay, none of this was okay, why is nobody doing anything–
A sticky but warm touch at the nape of his neck flipped back whatever switch had made his body feel ready to fall apart. Izuku’s vision didn’t so much clear as it narrowed down into a tunnel Kacchan occupied entirely. It took Izuku a long second to realize that the touch – Kacchan’s touch – had made him lean impossibly closer. He could see every twitch in Kacchan’s face, every twinge of pain, every shaking breath, every difficult swallow.
Unconsciously, he mirrored it all, unable to stand the thought that he couldn’t share Kacchan’s pain, take it on.
“Izuku,” Kacchan called, voice unbearably soft. Izuku almost hated it.
Kacchan’s voice wasn’t soft, it had never been. Even when he was well-meaning, it remained rough, not used to a low volume. Izuku would give anything for Kacchan to be yelling right now, jumping to his feet and palms heating up, ready to strike down whatever had inconvenienced him.
But he wasn’t. Kacchan was lying on the cold, wrecked ground of a battlefield, voice soft and hand cold. Izuku wanted to throw up.
“Izuku,” Kacchan repeated, sucking in a shaky breath. “Do you… Do you remember when you turned six, and you… you got that All-Might poster?”
Reminiscing was the last thing on Izuku’s mind right now, but he forced himself to dig through his mess of a brain for the memory. He knew it must be there – he prized every and all pieces of All Might merch he had ever owned.
Finally, a hazy image materialized in his mind and he nodded. “Yeah, yeah I do. It was a special edition. My dad sent it to me.”
Kacchan’s lips ticked up in a mimicry of a smile. Still, Izuku hungrily took in the sight, engraving it in his memory. “Yeah, that’s what I told you, uh? I lied. I… I saved up for months to buy that shit. Even… stole money from the hag’s purse to have enough. I was… too chicken to admit it, though, so I said… said it was your old man ‘cause he wasn’t… ‘round to deny it.”
Izuku stared, mouth hanging slightly open as the haze in his mind cleared ever so slightly to allow him to file away that piece of information.
Now that he thought about it while much older, the idea that his father had sent that to him was ridiculous. He had never heard from the man in all of his birthdays or any other time, truly. It seemed even more unlikely that the one gift he would offer Izuku was a Japanese poster of a Japanese limited edition while overseas. The fact that he had never questioned that nearly made him laugh.
The urge died very quickly, though, leaving place to a warmth that stabilized Izuku’s still wildly fluctuating body temperature.
“I bragged to everyone who would hear it about the great gift my dad gave me for literal weeks. I can’t believe your younger self would let someone else take credit for what you did.”
“Fuck that s’pposed to mean…?” Kacchan attempted a glare but very quickly gave up when another tremor shook his body. “I was… embarrassed of how fucking invested I had been… Swore I would take that secret to my grave.”
Izuku very nearly laughed. How perfectly on par with six-year-old Kacchan it was to have such dramatic thoughts over emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.
But before he did little more than huff, Kacchan suddenly seized up, a pained whimper falling from his lip at a particularly strong wave of pain. Just as brutally, Kacchan’s words properly registered with Izuku and his body went cold.
“NO!” he found himself screaming, still gripping Kacchan’s face as it went slack in short-lived relief as the pain became manageable again. “No, no, I don’t wanna know, I don’t wanna hear it, don’t tell me that, I shouldn’t know, you can’t tell me, Kacchan!”
Because spilling out a secret he planned to die with could only mean one thing, and Izuku refused to so much as entertain the possibility. But before he could properly shoot down the mere thought, Kacchan’s grip on his neck tightened ever so slightly. So much weaker than what he was capable of, but it did the trick of getting Izuku’s full attention.
Kacchan’s gaze was roaming over Izuku’s face as if cataloguing each detail. All the intensity that usually filled his every look had been toned down into something softer, nearly mellow. Kacchan’s eyes were the only part of him that didn’t communicate the pain he was in.
“I… don’t want you to… beat yourself up over this. I made my own… goddamn decisions, ya hear me? Don’t you dare… take responsibility for… for any of it.”
Izuku shook his head, eyes wanting to close but unable to look away from Kacchan. He hated how the words sounded, how final they were.
“Then you have to stay and remind me not to, Kacchan,” he said – pleaded. “You can’t trust me alone with that task, yeah? You have to stay. Please stay.”
He didn’t even know when the tears started to fall, he only noticed them when they traced obvious tracks in the blood caking Kacchan’s face. The hand on his neck slowly made its way into his hair, and Izuku’s strength left him in one painful whimper. He rested his forehead against Kacchan’s and sobbed.
So close, the sadness he saw creeping into Kacchan’s eyes made his throat close up, but he forced himself to speak through it.
“Kacchan, please don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I can’t take this again, don’t do this again. I can’t lose you, please.”
Kacchan’s hand spasmed in his hair, a ghost of a smile on his face.
“You haven’t… lost anything today,” Kacchan whispered, his metallic breath puffing against Izuku’s face. “You won. We… all did. We saved the world.”
Izuku leaned back just enough to look Kacchan in the eyes as he all but snarled, “It doesn’t mean shit without you. I would let it all burn down if it meant you would be okay.”
Kacchan’s mouth twitched again, as if there was anything funny right now. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I will pick you over the world any day. I will always pick you, Kacchan, do you hear me?” And he wanted to stay angry, but the soft look on Kacchan’s face drained it out of him as fast as it came. Voice shaking, he went back to whispering. “You can’t leave me. I have to catch up to you, remember? You have to stay.”
“Chasing… me, uh?” Kacchan’s trembling hand moved to his cheek, smearing blood on his cheekbone. “You’ve been… leagues ‘head of me… for a while, ‘Zuku.”
Izuku nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement. Kacchan took All For One all on his own after sustaining life-threatening injuries and won. Had everyone else not showed up, Izuku couldn’t attest to his own victory. And now, with the loss of One For All, the gap would only get bigger. He could already feel the embers fizzling out, nearly entirely consumed from his fight with Shigaraki. He didn’t give it more than a month before he was fully quirkless again.
That wasn’t something he wanted to think about now, though.
“Then you have to keep chasing me,” he tried desperately. “It’s only fair, right? It’s your turn, now, you have to.”
Kacchan’s hand went back to his nape and stayed there, a weight that only seemed to grow heavier by the second. “I wish I could.”
“You aren’t the fucking wishing kind, Kacchan, put your damn money where your mouth is,” Izuku snarled again, going yet again through the endless cycle of denial, sadness, and anger.
The stages of grief, a little voice whispered, one that he viciously crushed down.
Kacchan was getting weaker by the second, the pull he intended on Izuku’s nape nothing more than a small pressure. But still, Izuku went down, forehead pressing onto Kacchan’s.
“Swearin’ now, nerd? That’s… my thing.”
“Please stay,” Izuku whispered, feeling more desperate the less regular Kacchan’s breathing got. Slower. “Please stay. Please stay. Please stay.”
“If–” a bloody cough, one that splattered even more blood on Izuku’s face. He had never cared about anything less. “If Edgeshot made it… tell ‘im ‘m sorry… ‘bout messing up his stitches…”
Izuku sobbed harder, softly shaking his head – a part of his brain careful not to jostle Kacchan. “Tell him yourself.”
“And… and the others too… my parents… my idiots… ‘m sorry to them too. Shoulda played that stupid game… with them last week… Wanted to but I felt… felt like it’d be the last time ‘nd… Didn’t wan’ it to be…”
Izuku couldn’t hear anymore. He couldn’t keep watching the light slowly leave Kacchan’s eyes, going back to that bleak, soulless, lifeless red he had seen all too recently.
And suddenly, Izuku realized something as his body shuddered in synch with Kacchan.
If Kacchan died again here, Izuku would too.
Maybe his body would still work. Maybe his heart would still beat, maybe his chest would still rise and fall, maybe his blood would still pump. But he would die.
His soul would never tolerate Kacchan going somewhere he couldn’t follow. He would go with him, and if his body couldn’t follow, that didn’t matter. It would just be an empty shell, the husk of someone who couldn’t exist without his other half standing by his side. Something to match the broken body Kacchan would leave behind.
Something to bury alongside it.
Rising the smallest bit, Izuku watched Kacchan properly. The hand on his nape wasn’t moving anymore, growing colder by the second, but the red was still shining.
And without thinking, Izuku lowered himself back down, foregoing their foreheads to fit their lips together.
It would be much too generous to call it a kiss, not when Izuku was pressing too hard, tasting blood and that unique taste death had - that he registered as the most foul thing he ever came in contact with. Kacchan couldn’t do much more than lightly jerk his hand, parting his lips in a poor attempt at reciprocating without being able to do it properly.
Izuku pulled back when he felt Kacchan’s body seize up with the need to breathe. For a second, he considered not to. He considered swallowing the last bit of life left in him, take it with him and carry it for the few seconds he would remain in this world before following Kacchan.
But Izuku came to a decision when he kissed Kacchan.
With steel lining his every word, he leaned back and stared at Kacchan, gasping and weak but still alive, “You are not dying.”
He stated it like a universal truth.
The sun rose in the east. The sky was blue. All Might was the best hero.
Kacchan would not die. Not again.
Before Kacchan could say anything to that – not that he could, Izuku detachedly observed, not with how shallow his breaths were, not enough to speak anymore – Izuku fully pulled back.
Kacchan made a protesting sound, eyes livening up just enough to translate a pain that had nothing to do with his condition. But Izuku hushed him, carefully pulling both of his arms to rest on his middle.
“Midoriya?” he heard, but it was distant, muffled, as if he was underwater. Izuku couldn’t tell who had spoken. He couldn’t see them.
All he registered was Kacchan and his goal.
“This is gonna hurt, but you have to hold on, okay?” Izuku said, slowly wedging his arms below Kacchan’s shoulders and knees. “Kacchan is really strong. You won’t have to be for much longer, but just a little more okay? I will take care of everything else, you just stay with me.”
The panic he caught in Kacchan’s gaze as he adjusted his hold shattered something in Izuku that didn’t feel physical. The shout when Izuku lifted him ground whatever was left into dust.
There were other voices resounding around Izuku. Hands and faces swarming in the edges of his vision. But they weren’t Kacchan, so they didn’t matter.
For a moment, as Izuku settled Kacchan’s head on his shoulder, mind-numbing fear coursed his body at how limp it fell against him, how empty his eyes were. He stared for one, two seconds before nearly stumbling in relief when those eyes slowly raised to meet his.
They were duller, not able to communicate much beyond the haze of agony that covered them like a veil. A countdown started in Izuku’s brain.
Ignoring all the shadows moving in his periphery, Izuku closed his eyes. Then, he called upon the flickering flames in his chest, breathing on them, fanning them.
One last time, he thought, trying to will the small rainbow light in the heart of the flames to grow brighter, especially the pink and orange ones. One last time, then you can go.
And even without the past users, even without the real One For All, Izuku was convinced he felt a gaze settle on him, sensed a tired nod.
He didn’t take the time to enjoy the feeling of green lightning wrapping around him. He didn’t pay attention to the black tendrils wrapping around Kacchan beyond making sure they held him properly without hurting him. He didn’t try to enjoy the power coursing through his veins, his limbs, making him feel as if he could take on the world.
What he did was flex his knees, pull up a map in his mind, and spring up into the sky.
Once he was high enough, he activated Float and started dashing through the air at a speed that made everything below blur.
The central hospital was not exactly far, especially not with how fast Izuku was going. But each minute it took, with Kacchan’s limp body resting in his arms, eyes slowly slipping shut before being forced back open in a half-lidded, pained look– they felt like centuries.
Not only that, but the still rational part of Izuku worried that the embers wouldn’t be enough. That they would fizzle out before he got to his destination, sending them both plummeting to the ground. The less rational part of him didn’t find the idea so bad.
Better to die together than getting to the hospital when it was too late for Kacchan.
But as if hearing his thoughts, as if sensing the urgency of the situation, the embers continued to burn bright, turning his chest into a furnace, and Izuku decided to trust it.
If Izuku had been less focused on getting to the hospital and monitoring Kacchan’s degrading condition, if he had continued to pay attention, he may have noticed it.
He may have felt that, if anything, the embers went from smoldering pieces of charcoal to a fire that looked nothing like it used to. He may have noticed that fire spreading from his chest to his stomach, his legs, his arms. He may have noticed how it merged with his body, his very core, awakening into something new and entirely his.
But Izuku had priorities, and all of them revolved around the dying boy in his arms. Everything else, good or bad, could wait.
Izuku nearly flew right by the hospital, focused as he was on screaming out Kacchan’s name. He barely restrained himself from shaking his broken, unconscious body.
But he caught its imposing shape in the corner of his eyes, and like a sinner’s promised salvation, he rushed toward it.
Only reflex softened his landing, Izuku already dropping to his knees, eyes riveted on Kacchan and the way his eyes were fully closed, face deathly pale. But before Izuku decided to give up right here and then, at the door of his goal, he caught the smallest rise and fall of Kacchan’s chest. The countdown was dangerously close to zero but it wasn’t there yet.
It wouldn’t hit zero. Kacchan was not dying.
Looking away from Kacchan felt as blasphemous as a believer turning its back on his god, but he needed to find the entrance, the doctors, anything that meant Kacchan was saved.
They had landed on the roof. Down below was an absolute mess. From the hundreds of injured being rushed in, to the groups of battered people spread around, and the occasional scream, a part of Izuku faintly remembered Aizawa’s words.
How slammed medics were, how unlikely they would have any time to spare for Kacchan.
Izuku promptly decided that if he had to kill every single patient in this place to free up a single doctor’s time, he would.
Jumping down from the roof, Izuku landed right at the entrance – or what remained of it – and rushed inside. It was even worse than out there, wails and blood and the smell of death creeping into every crevice of the place. But Izuku didn’t stop, pushing his way through, looking desperately for anyone, anyone–
A nurse.
She was rushing by, and had Izuku been in any regular state of mind, he would have noticed how terrible she looked. Harried looking, clearly on the verge of tears but pushing through with clinical determination, intent on fulfilling her duties.
All he did see, however, was a medic that wasn’t currently hands deep in anybody’s guts.
Izuku rushed to stand in her path, relief making his legs shaky. She would help him, she would help Kacchan, she would save him, unlike Izuku–
“Stand aside!” the nurse exclaimed sternly, barely glancing twice at Izuku before trying to walk around him. “The triage is down in the hall–”
Before she got even a single step away, a black tendril wrapped around her arm and yanked. The woman gasped, turning around with shock and the beginning of anger, and finally properly looked at Izuku. At the person he was carrying.
“Please,” Izuku said, voice weak and flat. “You have to help him.”
Izuku didn’t know what kind of picture he painted, standing there with a limp body in his arms that might be a corpse by now.
For a second, he thought about that Greek myth of a man who walked down to hell to get his deceased beloved back. He thought about if the man hadn’t turned back, if he had managed to get his beloved back in the world of the living when death had been so intent to separate them too soon.
The paintings he had seen of that scene had always been so… clean. The woman a ghostly, pure presence, the man, sometimes determined, sometimes desperate.
But always so spotless. So unruffled by the horrors they must have seen where no human should come back from. If that myth was real, Izuku was sure that neither the man nor woman would have walked out with pristine clothes and clear eyes.
Izuku thought that they would probably look a lot like he and Kacchan did at the moment.
He didn’t know what kicked the nurse into action, forgoing the triage that was supposedly happening elsewhere. If she recognized Izuku and Kacchan for who they were, if she recognized the gravity of the situation, if she realized that she wouldn’t walk out of Izuku’s grip alive if she didn’t help Kacchan. He didn’t know and he didn’t care.
“Come with me,” she ordered, leading him down a path he couldn’t recall for the life of him. He only registered the bed she pointed him towards. “Lay him down here.”
Izuku did, though putting any amount of space between him and Kacchan felt like ripping his heart out of his chest. But immediately after Izuku took a single step back, Kacchan was surrounded by five different people all dressed in hospital clothes – other nurses the first one had flagged down on their way here, he recalled.
They made quick work of the remains of Kacchan’s costume. Hands prodding and ears listening, they spoke fast and clipped, so much medical jargon that Izuku couldn’t understand for the life of him. What he could understand, though, was the worsening expressions of all five nurses as they uncovered more and more about Kacchan’s condition.
He stood to the side, eyes fixed on Kacchan’s chest. On that minute rise and fall, shaky and weak but still there. If he focused enough, he could even see the pulse in his neck, too slow, too weak but still fucking there.
After what was a minute or a year, a nurse turned toward him, face grim.
“It’s not looking good,” he said bluntly, forgoing the reassurances and careful wording Izuku had heard a thousand times during his countless stays. “He was undergoing surgery when he suddenly upped and left to join back the fight. He lost a lot of blood, his heart is ready to give out, his lungs are most likely punctured. It’s a miracle he is still breathing.”
Izuku stared. The words washed over him, slowly making their way into his brain but not able to get past the wall he couldn’t remember erecting. One that kept at bay what was sure to be a spectacular breakdown.
“So fix him,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because it was. “Kacchan isn’t dying.”
“Look,” another nurse said tightly, gauze in her hands as she wrapped it around Kacchan’s right leg. Izuku hadn’t even seen that huge gash. “I think you know better than anyone that we are stretched tight, okay? The surgeons are all busy with other people. If that friend of yours had stayed put, he would have had a better chance, but now, it’s unlikely we can get him to anyone on time. I get that you are heroes, but he isn’t the only one dying–”
“I don’t care,” Izuku interrupted, and something about his tone made all three pairs of eyes – two had run off to other people while he wasn’t looking – snap to him. “Kacchan. isn’t. dying. Get someone and fix him.”
“Listen, I get it, okay, I have heard that a thousand times today but–”
Looking back, Izuku would readily admit this wasn’t his proudest moment. Hell, he would spend countless nights replaying the scene in his mind, ugly feelings twisting in his chest. Not quite shame, not quite regret, because nothing he did in the name of Kacchan’s safety could be things he regretted, but something in between.
Moving much faster than he thought possible, he grabbed onto the shirt of the closest nurse, the guy who had first spoken to him, and dragged him forward.
There were protests and shouts around him, but Izuku didn’t hear any of it.
“Listen to every single word I’m about to speak because I’m not going to repeat myself,” Izuku snarled, anger coming back in full force, green lightning zapping his skin and making the nurse gasp. “I don’t care if every single person here dies. I don’t care if I have to kill them with my own hands. If Kacchan dies here because of you, I will rain hellfire on this place, do you understand me? I will turn this whole damn world into a wasteland and let everyone knows it was your fault.”
The nurse stared back at him, eyes wide. There was definitely fear in there, but there was also something else, something considering.
“You are Deku,” he stated, voice much calmer than the situation prompted. “You just saved the world. You wouldn’t sacrifice all of that.”
“I would sacrifice everything for him,” Izuku corrected immediately, the steel in his voice matching the one in his fist still bunching up the nurse’s uniform. “I don’t care about saving the world if he isn’t in it. So get to work and fix. him.”
The nurse stared at him some more, eyes unreadable and Izuku could feel his control on Blackwhip slipping the longer he took to fucking move–
“I’m training to be a surgeon, but I’m still a student,” he finally said, standing straighter. “I have no qualification, and only experience as an observant and background helper. An open heart surgery at the extent Dynamight needs isn’t one I have ever done more than reading on. But as of right now, I’m the only option. Is that a risk you are willing to take?”
Izuku finally let go of the nurse’s uniform, but he didn’t step out of his face. He looked down on him from his few extra inches with a blank face. “I already told you what would happen if I lost him because of you. I’m not the one taking any risk here. You save him or I’m burning this world down. Your choice.”
The nurse, however, was not shaken by the words. If anything, he stood straighter, determination lining his every trait. “Tanaka. Kasumi. Wheel Dynamight in operating room seven. I will be right behind.”
“Yoshihiro, you can’t–”
“It’s as Deku said,” the nurse – Yoshihiro – interrupted, gaze still fixed on Izuku, whose glassy eyes had already slipped back to Kacchan. The voices were slowly becoming muffled again, focus on anything that wasn’t Kacchan slipping. The last thing he heard was, “If we let Bakugou Katsuki die, we sign our death warrant.”
Everything went dark the instant Kacchan disappeared from his sight.
Izuku didn’t know how much time passed between the moment he brought Kacchan to the hospital and the moment he properly woke up. There were bits and pieces of conversation, of faces here and there, but nothing that gave him much of an idea of how much time passed.
All he knew was that by the time he finally opened his eyes, his room was bathed in the light of the golden hour.
It had also gained an occupant in the name of All Might.
The man was awake, humming a soft tune as he looked out the window. Izuku observed him for a long time. That was his lifelong hero, the one who embodied every ideal Izuku had. The greatest hero of all time, the incontestable Number One.
A man who looked so very frail as of right now. A man who had been helpless to save himself just a few hours – days? – ago.
There was this thing Izuku read once in an old piece of literature, something from the time before quirks.
Don’t meet your heroes. You’ll always wind up disappointed. They are never what they seem.
In the end, there was some truth in that. All Might hadn’t been the invincible, giant hero whose smile never left his face. He was as human as Izuku was, as prone to falling, as prone to sadness and despair and resignation. Wrapped up in bandages and barely filling half of the bed, he looked nothing like the All Might that covered every wall of Izuku’s room.
He looked small. He looked fragile.
Izuku looked inside himself for disappointment. He found none.
Instead, warmth and relief bloomed in his chest at the sight of All Might’s emaciated but very much alive form. So what if he wasn’t the seven feet tall hero who always laughed and saved everyone? To Izuku, he had become so much more than that.
A mentor. A guardian. A friend.
All Might the hero had fallen to reveal the sickly figure of Yagi Toshinori, and Izuku couldn’t love him more.
“Midoriya-shonen, are you all right? Do you need me to call the nurse?”
Izuku could barely see All Might’s worried frown beyond his tears. He shook his head, quickly giving up on wiping his eyes when he caught sight of the white casts encasing his arms – definitely something he would have to worry about in a minute.
“N-No, I’m okay. I’m sorry, I’m just so glad you are okay.”
All Might smiled. “You and me both. I have Bakugou-shonen to thank for that.”
And just like that, everything crashed back into Izuku.
Kacchan.
Kacchan who had stood back up from literal death to save All Might.
Kacchan who flew across kilometers to save Izuku.
Kacchan who was on the verge of death the last time Izuku saw him.
Izuku was sitting up before he even properly thought about it.
“Midoriya-shonen!” All Might cried out, panicked as Izuku fought through his casts and the IVs to stand up. He could vaguely hear his heart monitor going crazy. “You mustn’t get up yet, at least wait for a doctor!”
“I can’t,” Izuku says, cutting himself off with a growl when he couldn’t push himself off the bed completely. Pushing the IVs stand would be a pain without his arms, but he would manage. “I need to see Kacchan. I need to make sure he’s all right.”
Because he had to be. Izuku couldn’t possibly wake back up in a world that Kacchan had left. That meant he was okay, he was alive, and he had to be in Izuku’s immediate line of sight for approximately the rest of their lives.
Izuku tuned out All Might’s protests as he used his mouth to rip off the electrodes. Within seconds, nurses burst through the doors but that too was secondary to Izuku.
Despite their endless objections and threats to knock him out – during which he learnt he had been out for three days – he continued to try and wiggle his way out of his bed, miserably failing and working up quite the sweat all throughout.
In the end, though, Izuku won.
“Alright!” A dark-haired nurse with eyebags that could give Aizawa a run for his money exclaimed, positively enraged. “I will bring him to you, okay? We will wheel him in, just– stay still, goddamnit.”
Izuku frowned but paused in his movements. “Is it okay to move him around? He sustained awful injuries, he must be careful.”
He ignored the incredulous looks he got with remarkable assurance.
The nurse sighed exasperatedly. “It would be best if the both of you stayed put, but he’s just as bad as you. Might as well hit two birds with one stone.”
And with that, she motioned at her colleagues and they filed out of the room while grumbling about stubborn heroes.
Izuku didn’t lie back down, positively vibrating as his eyes remained fixed on the door.
He’s just as bad as you.
Not only did that confirm that Kacchan was awake and healthy enough to be a menace, but there was also the implication that he couldn’t stay still. Had he been wanting to come see Izuku, too?
As if reading his mind, All Might sighed from his side of the room. “Bakugou-shonen woke up yesterday and he already dropped by twice. Nurses had to physically drag him out.”
Butterflies took flight in his stomach, his face warming up from more than exertion.
Just as he was about to ask more about Kacchan’s state, the man himself appeared.
Kacchan was sitting in a wheelchair, pushed by a loudly complaining Auntie Mitsuki and a flailing Uncle Masaru.
Most of his face was bandaged, only leaving his eyes and mouth uncovered. Izuku could peek more gauze around his chest, making his heart squeeze. Kacchan’s right arm was encased in a very stiff-looking cast, reminding Izuku of how shattered it looked when he last saw it. How Blackwhip wrapped around it without Izuku even calling on it when he grabbed Kacchan, giving him the boost he needed to reach All Might.
Would he be able to use it again? How would that impact his quirk? What about his heart? Would it cause lifelong problems? How long until he could go back to training? Kacchan’s workout regiment was very harsh, Izuku would have to think how they could lighten the load while still allowing Kacchan to–
One arm wrapped around him and pulled him in. Suddenly, Izuku’s face was pressed up against warm skin. He didn’t even think before inhaling deeply. The antiseptic smell inherent to hospitals was strong, but under all that, there was that burned caramel and smoke smell that immediately made a lump form in Izuku’s throat.
He couldn’t use his arms to hug back, but he made up for it by pressing his whole body against Kacchan’s. A hand came to rest on his nape and Izuku broke.
He had come so close to losing this. He had come so close to losing Kacchan.
For a moment there, he had. Because he had been too slow, too careless, Kacchan had died. His heart burst and his blood spilled and his chest stilled and his eyes dimmed and–
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m alive, ‘Zuku. Everything is okay. We won.”
And there was wonder in his voice, a bone-deep relief so unlike the cockiness he usually claimed victory with.
But Izuku couldn’t agree with that. “I don’t feel like a winner. I didn’t save Tenko. I didn’t save you.” His voice broke on the last word, his mind flashing back to Kacchan’s lifeless body, to the broken one Izuku dragged painstakingly to this hospital.
“You did, though.” Kacchan’s voice was steady, as if he didn’t doubt his own word for even a second. “You freed Shigaraki. You brought me here and saved my fucking life.”
“I’m the reason you lost it in the first place.”
Kacchan made an unhappy noise at the back of his throat. He went to pull back, and panic immediately seized Izuku. He tried to keep him in place but his casts kept slipping along Kacchan’s waist.
In the end, Kacchan didn’t go far, backing up just enough to look Izuku in the eye, scowling. “What the fuck did I tell you, asshole? Don’t you dare take responsibility for my choices. I did what I wanted to do and I don’t regret shit. Especially when I’m standing right here, alive and fucking kicking.”
Izuku studied Kacchan’s face. He wasn’t surprised to not see so much as a shadow of doubt in his eyes, gaze steady and honest. Kacchan always said what he meant.
Now, whether it was the objective truth…
Probably able to read Izuku’s thoughts on his face, Kacchan sharply exhaled. He tugged sharply on Izuku’s hair, smirking when that earned him a yelp.
“You are a stubborn asshole. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got all the time in the world to convince you.”
Tears immediately gathered in Izuku’s eyes, making Kacchan scoff and pull him back for another shitty but oh so warm hug.
Because yeah, he didn’t believe Kacchan. He probably never would. Because if he had been faster, stronger, better–
But he could believe that.
All the time in the world. He liked the sound of that.
In the end, Kacchan moved to his room when All Might was transferred to a private clinic.
“Nothing to worry about, Midoriya-shonen, Bakugou-shonen!” he had immediately reassured after dropping the news, the twin worry on their faces unmistakable. “This clinic is held by old friends who treated me for most of my major injuries. They will be able to fix me right up, and that will free at least one spot here.”
And so, about as soon as All Might was wheeled out, Kacchan left for his room and stomped back in with his heart monitor and IV in tow. The nurse checking over Izuku’s headwound only sighed before plugging everything in. Izuku grinned like a fool.
The following days were as peaceful as the immediate aftermaths of a war could be. They knew things hadn’t been magically fixed overnight just because the great evil had been vanquished. Lives had been lost, cities destroyed, criminals freed.
Despite the smiles, the relief on all his classmates’ face when they visited – either as outsiders or as fellow patients – it was hard to miss the bags under their eyes, the countless bandages, the jitteriness. All of their injuries would take weeks, if not months to heal.
Some were lifelong. Jirou had well and truly lost one of her earlobes. Yaomomo had some nerve damage from how far she pushed her body. Izuku messed up a lot of his muscles with how he used Blackwhip at the end of the fight. Kacchan’s heart and arm would never quite be what they used to.
And that was talking about the purely physical aspects of their wounds. The ones in their mind… Izuku didn’t really want to think about that right now.
All in all, the world – or at least their world – was bound to be quite a mess for a while.
It wasn’t that Izuku wasn’t aware of all that. He thought about it, especially when sleep was hard to come by. With one ear pressed to Kacchan’s chest, the other counting the repetitive ‘beep’ of his heart monitor, it was hard to act as if nothing had happened. As if it didn’t matter anymore just because it was over.
But still. There was this silent agreement among all of them that for just a few more days, they would allow others to deal with the aftermaths. There was this thought that kept popping up in Izuku’s head whenever he was updated about what was going on out there. A selfish, shameful one that didn’t make it any less true.
They had done their part. Others could handle things for a little while.
The night before their discharge, Izuku squeezed his way into Kacchan’s bed.
There was nothing extraordinary about it, he had done that pretty much every night. He knew exactly how it would go.
Kacchan would pretend to sleep then grumble about Izuku disturbing the sleep of a wounded man. Then he would scooch over, let Izuku get comfortable, head resting on his chest. And with one more complaint about being crushed under the weight of Izuku’s big head, Kacchan would wrap his arms around him and sigh contentedly.
Usually, Kacchan drifted off to sleep soon after.
Not tonight.
“’Zuku,” he called, voice barely above a whisper.
Izuku didn’t move, eyes closed and half of his focus on the regular heartbeat under his ear. In moments like these, where only the silvery glow of the moon intruded the sacred space of their room, it felt like the world had paused just for them.
“Yes, Kacchan?” he replied, just as quietly.
Kacchan didn’t speak right away. Izuku waited, counting in his head.
Thump, thump, thump. One, two, three.
“Back there, before you brought me here… you kissed me.”
Any sleepiness Izuku felt vanished. His eyes slammed open, but he still didn’t move.
Thump, thump, thump. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.
“Y-Yeah. I did.”
He cringed at the way his voice broke over the words, but he didn’t try to backtrack. He had, hadn’t he?
In that moment, it had felt right. It had felt like getting close to Kacchan in a way that would bound them forever. It had felt like anchoring Kacchan to this world, to him. It had felt like preventing him from leaving Izuku behind again.
He didn’t regret it. He didn’t want to take it back or lie about it. But without the adrenaline, without the urgency of the situation, without a dying Kacchan in his arms and a worthless future ahead of him–
Fear could rise and make itself comfortable in his chest. It could whisper in his ears about how he had ruined his fragile friendship with Kacchan again, how he was foolish to ever hope Kacchan would want this, how he had taken advantage of him at his most vulnerable.
It could wrap its cold hand around his throat and squeeze, grip tightening with every second Kacchan remained silent, heartbeat kicking up.
It could–
“Why?”
The word was whispered, barely audible. But Izuku caught it. He caught the raw tone, the shaky voice barely gotten under control, the doubt, the confusion.
And for a second, he wanted to laugh. Because how could Kacchan ask him that? How could he not know?
Thump, thump, thump. One hundred twenty six, one hundred twenty seven, one hundred twenty eight.
Making sure that his ears never left Kacchan’s chest, Izuku slowly looked up.
Kacchan was already watching him, intense and vulnerable.
He had been letting his guard down a lot more recently. It gave Izuku the shameful urge to slip under his skin and make a home for himself inside his ribs. He wanted to be buried so deep into Kacchan, there would be no dislodging him even when Kacchan inevitably put his walls back up.
He knew this was wrong. He knew this need to eradicate any distance between them, whether Kacchan liked it or not, was wrong. He knew this entitlement to Kacchan’s attention and acceptance and love, was wrong. Too intense, too demanding, too greedy.
Izuku had known that all the way back in middle school. But it didn’t stop him from looking at Kacchan and still call him his best friend, even when it only got him explosions blasted in his face. It didn’t stop him from hoping he would earn his place back to Kacchan’s side, even when the rift between them seemed to grow wider every day. It didn’t stop him from kissing him, still taking something from Kacchan when he had already given him so much.
And all of this for a single reason.
“I love you,” Izuku said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Because it was. He had loved Kacchan since a feisty blond child kicked down his sandcastle and said he would show him how it’s done. He had loved Kacchan through the insults and punches, through the explosions and the mocking. He had loved Kacchan at his worst, and he would love him at his best.
If Izuku had to be reduced to something, it would be love with Kacchan’s name branded all over it.
ThumpThumpThump. Two hundred forty two, forty three, forty four–
“You love me,” Kacchan repeated, breathless.
Izuku frowned, eyes sliding over to the heart monitor. His heartbeat was way too elevated. Kacchan’s heart shouldn’t be put under any stress, not when it was still healing from the abuse it had been put through.
“Kacchan, maybe we should talk about this later–”
Before Izuku could finish, he was yanked up. He threw his arms on either side of Kacchan’s head to avoid crushing him, though he quickly lost balance when Kacchan huffed and dragged him down.
His startled yelp didn’t have time to leave his mouth before it was swallowed by Kacchan.
Their first kiss was much like their first meeting. Sudden, rough, clumsy. Izuku kept his eyes wide open, watching Kacchan’s face scrunch in focus, eyes screwed shut and cheeks flushed. His mouth didn’t land entirely on Izuku’s, a bit too low and definitely too still.
Kacchan, uncertain about what to do but determined to take the lead.
Izuku adored him.
Relaxing in Kacchan’s white-knuckled hold, Izuku smiled – which definitely didn’t help improve the kiss – before bringing his recently unbandaged hands up. With a delicateness meant for the most precious of treasures, Izuku cupped Kacchan’s face and tilted it up.
Izuku didn’t have any kissing experience either, but what he did have was unmonitored access to the internet since he was six years old, and a habit of making note of everything Kacchan liked so he could always give him exactly what he wanted.
Put two and two together, and within seconds their innocent lips-against-lips turned much wetter. His tongue pressed against Kacchan’s lips, demanding access. As soon as that was granted, he explored every corner of his mouth, tasting and licking and dragging out the most delicious sounds from him. He swallowed them down like a parched man finding an oasis in the desert, pushing Kacchan’s face further back for a better angle.
Heat started pooling in his lower stomach. There was a buzzing all over his skin that was slowly clouding his thoughts, making him forget everything but Kacchan’s trembling body and urging hands.
Just as his free hand started traveling down, eliciting full body shivers that nearly dislodged him, Kacchan suddenly pulled back.
“Izu– fuck, wait–”
It took herculean effort to not immediately dive back in, the noise he made between questioning and protesting.
“Fucking– look down.”
Izuku really didn’t want to look away from Kacchan’s face, not when the sight was making his pants feel ridiculously tight. His skin was sweaty and flushed bright red, matching the color of his half-lidded, hazy eyes. His swollen lips were calling to Izuku like a siren, glossy and red and just begging to be bitten raw. Izuku’s mouth flooded with saliva.
For a second, Izuku completely forgot about what Kacchan had asked or why he even pulled back in the first place. All his mind could process was that he going against the natural order of things by not kissing Kacchan again right this second.
He was snapped out of his haze when Kacchan abruptly inhaled, throwing his head back. Focus broken, Izuku frowned and opened his mouth to speak. At the same time, he looked down.
He choked on his words.
Blackwhip was out. It had wrapped itself around Kacchan, slipping under his clothes, toying with the edges of his bandages. It was skittering across his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. In the places where Kacchan wasn’t injured, it was holding him tight enough to bruise.
It was doing everything Izuku had been wanting to do. Touch Kacchan, hold Kacchan, overwhelm Kacchan, brand Kacchan.
Just as the thought crossed his mind and went straight to his dick, Blackwhip moved in a way that made Kacchan gasp. And just as this sound reached Izuku’s ears, another one also registered in his mind.
BeepBeepBeepBeepBeep.
Izuku’s head swiveled around, landing on the heart monitor.
The numbers were high. Too high.
The beeping was loud enough to drown out Izuku’s depraved thoughts, making his head pulse.
It kept hammering into his brain a single thought: he was putting Kacchan in danger.
His heart was beating way too fast when he had had two open heart surgeries back to back. The doctors, the nurses, their friends and families– everyone had told Kacchan to rest. To take it easy, to not put any strain on his miraculously beating heart.
Izuku jumped back, horror making everything else disappear.
“Oh no, no, no, Kacchan, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”
Izuku’s vision blurred almost immediately with tears, even more so when no matter what he did, he couldn’t call back Blackwhip and get it off Kacchan.
That’s exactly why Izuku had kept quiet on his feelings for so long. Why he had never said anything, never acted on them.
Because when it came to Kacchan, he didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t know how to hold back, how to draw the line between intensity and downright obsession. He didn’t know how to love Kacchan right.
All he did was hurt him, and upset him, and fail to save him, and take a mile when he was given an inch, and hurt him and–
A warm hand cupped the side of his face, so gentle Izuku could barely believe the touch was meant for him. A thumb rubbed under his eyes, catching the tear trying to make its way down.
Izuku stilled.
“You know, it’s not the first time it’s done that.”
He rapidly blinked, trying to clear his vision enough so that Kacchan wasn’t just a white blob. “What?” he croaked out, trying so hard to stay still while Kacchan’s thumb continued to pet his cheek. He could do this. For once, he could take what he was given and just that.
“Blackwhip.” Kacchan said, looking down on the writhing tendrils still tightly holding onto him. “Since you came back from your little vigilante stunt, it keeps doing that. It took me a while to realize you didn’t notice.”
For a long moment, Izuku’s brain refused to process the information. It simply didn’t make sense.
“It… it grabs you?”
And you let it?
There was simply no way. He had heard wrong.
Yet, when his vision finally cleared, Kacchan didn’t look like he was joking. If anything, Izuku could hardly remember seeing him so open, vulnerable. Trusting. As if Izuku deserved that, to be handed this precious and honest part of Kacchan and trusted to handle it with care.
How could that be when he was proving right now how unreliable he was? He hadn’t meant to call on Blackwhip, he hadn’t meant to send Kacchan’s heart racing, he hadn’t meant to get Kacchan involved again after his fight with All For One–
Kacchan made a considering sound. Izuku’s focus zeroed back on him.
He watched with fascination as Kacchan didn’t react when a tendril reached up, gently caressing the curve of his cheek, trailing down his neck. How many times had this happened for Kacchan to seem so used to this?
How did Izuku not notice?
“More like holds,” Kacchan eventually said, nodding once. “It only pulls when I try to leave.”
And there it was. Of course Blackwhip, a part of Izuku, couldn't just take what it was given. Always so greedy, so demanding, as if it had any right.
Swallowing, Izuku shrunk on himself even more. “Kacchan, I’m so sorry–”
The gentle hand on his face suddenly disappeared. Before Izuku could mourn its absence, a finger made contact with his forehead.
Painful contact.
Izuku yelped, pouting when all Kacchan did was glare at him.
“Did you hear me complaining, nerd? What the fuck are you apologizing for?”
“I– But it’s not…” Izuku trailed off, wincing when Kacchan’s gaze turned positively scorching.
“Finish that thought.”
And who was Izuku to deny him anything?
“Don’t you mind?” he rushed out, eyes flickering to Blackwhip before quickly looking back up. Seeing the way it was pulling up Kacchan’s shirt and spreading over every inch of skin was not helping him stay clear-minded. “That it does– that?”
Kacchan scoffed. “Why would I? You are filthy little liar, I can’t trust a fucking word out of your mouth. I prefer your freaky but honest quirk. Just don’t let it grope me in public, you pervert, there have been a few close calls.”
Izuku violently choked as Kacchan laughed, mean and loud.
Disregarding that last sentence for now, Izuku looked down, picking at his pants.
“I’m not a liar.”
“Yes, you are,” Kacchan shot back immediately. “You never say what you think. Always fucking downplaying everything, or just straight up deflecting. Only time you have ever been honest with me is when you thought I was going to die.”
Izuku violently flinched, screwing his eyes shut and trying desperately to chase off the thoughts that brought.
He had nearly lost Kacchan. He had nearly lost Kacchan.
Twice.
Distantly, he heard Kacchan sigh. Then, as in apology, a hand slid over Izuku’s tense fists, hold firm and grounding.
“Hey. Breathe. Come back to me.”
Simple instructions. Izuku could do that.
It took a few tries, but eventually, the sudden buzzing in his ears calmed down enough that he could hear everything else again.
Kacchan’s soft breathing and strong heartbeat, rhythming Izuku’s own. The regular beeping of the heart monitor, back to normal. The distant sounds of the city, quiet but still there.
They were still there. Both of them. They had made it. It was over.
By the time he opened his eyes again, Kacchan had somehow moved him. Izuku was back to his original position, head resting on Kacchan’s chest with his arm thrown over his waist. He stayed there for a long moment, bathing in the moment, before looking up.
Kacchan was observing him, something soft and tranquil in his gaze. As soon as Izuku settled, he started tracing his face, delicate fingers skirting the edges of Izuku’s bandages, barely applying any pressure.
It was fascinating, to know the power those fingers held and watch them choose gentleness instead.
Izuku sighed.
“Did you mean it?” he finally asked, small but serious. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
Handing to Kacchan the part of him he had tried so hard to hide was terrifying. He had sworn years ago that he would always do what was best for Kacchan, always choose his safety.
There was nothing safe about Izuku. There was nothing safe about the way Blackwhip was still out, still wrapped around Kacchan like a makeshift cage.
And so, he kept their eyes locked, needing to make Kacchan understand that if he agreed to this, there was no going back. If he allowed Izuku to love him the way he had always wanted to, true and unrestrained, Izuku wouldn’t know the first thing about stopping.
It wasn’t something he could have a taste of, then back out if he didn’t like it. If he let Izuku in, he would dig a hole in Kacchan’s soul and have it take his shape. He would bound them in a way that no capricious god could undo.
Maybe it was selfish to shove that power in Kacchan’s hands. Maybe, even if Kacchan agreed, it still wouldn’t be right. It still would be too much. Too intense. Too dangerous.
But when Kacchan’s gaze remained unperturbed, lips curling up in a ghost of a smile, Izuku decided that maybe it didn’t matter.
If Izuku’s love was a challenge, Kacchan would take it head on.
The day of Izuku’s discharge, he scoured the hospital in search of a specific person. The face was blurry, as was most of his arrival here, but he knew that as soon as he saw him, he would recognize him.
And he was right.
The nurse – Yoshihiro – was just on his way out of a room when Izuku spotted him. A lump immediately formed in his throat, but he refused to let it stop him. Hurrying after him, Izuku called out, “Sir! Excuse me!”
Yoshihiro turned around, eyes immediately latching onto Izuku. Izuku stopped a few feet away, searching for any sign of fear or anger. Hell, he even expected a good beating, if that’s what he deserved.
However, Yoshihiro’s face didn’t so much as twitch upon seeing Izuku, eyebrow only raising in question.
Izuku startled, as if he hadn’t been the one to speak first. “Uh, hi– I mean, good morning! So, well– I have to– I wanted to–”
Izuku swallowed thickly, lost for words for a moment. God, he should have thought more about what he would say. He gaped like a fish for a moment, the weight of Yoshihiro’s neutral stare growing heavier by the second.
In the end, Izuku went for a bow. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also – and mostly, he must be honest – as a way to escape those sharp eyes.
“I owe you an apology. I really am sorry about my behavior when I brought Kacchan in.” Izuku bowed even deeper, bending at a perfect ninety degree angle. “I was beyond disrespectful. I have no excuse for blatantly threatening you and physically assaulting you. If you want to press any sort of charges, I will be fully cooperative.”
For a long moment, Yoshihiro said nothing. Izuku didn’t stop bowing however, if anything, his head seemed to get closer to the ground the longer the silence went on.
Eventually, Yoshihiro spoke, voice as calm and unreadable as still waters. “Stand up, Deku.”
Reluctantly, Izuku straightened up, meeting Yoshihiro’s just as cryptic gaze. He observed Izuku for a long moment before speaking.
“Please know that as a nurse, dealing with disoriented people bringing in half-dead loved ones is unfortunately not as rare of a situation as we would like it to be. You are hardly the first person to lash out at me and I hold no grudges about it, though I appreciate the apology.”
Izuku nodded, shoulders sagging in relief. Well, that was one thing done. Now, he had to find the two other nurses and–
“However.” Izuku’s eyes shot up, dread crawling up his spine. Yoshihiro didn’t seem to care. “If you are intent on making it up to me, I would like you to answer a question.”
“O-Of course?” Izuku replied after a beat. He could handle a question. That was definitely the least he owed him. He didn’t regret doing what he did, not when Kacchan’s life was on the line, but thinking back on it with a clear mind, he… may have been a bit intense.
Yoshihiro observed him for a moment before quietly asking, “Did you mean what you said?”
Izuku blinked once, twice, words not processing. “Uh?”
“What you said,” Yoshihiro clarified, voice thoughtful. “The threats you made.”
There was something utterly disturbing about the way he was casually bringing up Izuku’s unhinged ultimatum. Izuku swallowed, torn between defensiveness and guilt. In the end, he chose silence, letting Yoshihiro finish talking.
“I have had countless people threatening harm on us or others if we failed to save the person they brought in. It’s usually all empty, things said out of worry and desperation. No real weight to it. You, on the other hand…” He watched Izuku like he was a particularly fascinating bug. “In that moment, I really felt like you meant every word. As if clarity returned to you for the moment it took you to formulate those promises. So what I’m asking is whether I’m right to think that.”
Izuku gaped for a moment, positively speechless. His first instinctive response was that obviously he didn’t mean it. He threatened to kill injured innocent people, for God’s sake, what kind of hero would he be if he admitted to that? It shouldn’t even be in the realm of possibilities.
Kacchan was the most important person in his life and he did genuinely believe that were he to die, Izuku would follow him right out. But taking some sort of revenge? Bringing harm on thousands because he had lost Kacchan? That was…
…not as unlikely as you think.
Quite the opposite. The thought of losing Kacchan, of having the world take him away, never to be given back–
Izuku’s hands curled into fists at the thought, pushing it back into the dark locked room where he shoved thoughts like this. Only the moon was allowed to bear witness to that side of him.
And Kacchan, he reminded himself.
‘I’m tired of your bullshit’, Kacchan had said last night. ‘Enough of always making me guess what is going on in your fucked up head. I want the fucking truth, I don’t care if you are embarrassed about it.’
Embarrassment. As if that could even begin to encompass what Izuku felt at this moment, under the watchful gaze of a nurse he felt ready to kill mere days ago. As if that could define the churning in his stomach at the fact that yes, he had meant every single word. And he hated himself for it. Hated that he took love, twisted it beyond recognition, and shoved it in Kacchan’s waiting hands.
However, that wasn’t something for a complete stranger to know.
And like Kacchan had said, Izuku was a liar. So, he bowed his head, hiding his eyes from view as he quietly said, “I don’t know.”
Yoshihiro hummed.
Something about it sounded knowing in a way that made Izuku feel like his very soul was bared to the eyes of the man for a brief second. As if that dark room in the corner of his mind full of thoughts that would probably get him locked up was flooded with light for a second, peered into.
It took an inhumane amount of will to not bristle.
“I see,” Yoshihiro finally replied. The irony of the phrasing wasn’t lost on Izuku. “Thank you for your honesty, Deku, and your genuine worry for my well-being. Please ask for me if anything comes up with Dynamight.”
Izuku took it as the out he was desperately looking for. Bowing and blubbering his way through some more apologies and farewells, Izuku only straightened back up when Yoshihiro was out of sight. He sighed deeply, rubbing his hands on his face.
Well, Izuku would have to make sure to never run into this nurse again.
Going back to his room, he found Kacchan sitting on the bed, kicking his feet impatiently. His eyes narrowed on Izuku as soon as he stepped in.
“Fucking finally! Where the hell were you?”
Izuku stopped and watched him.
They hadn’t properly talked yet. Only vaguely alluding to things and exchanging way too heated kisses for two people still in recovery.
Someday, he would have to tell Kacchan.
Not only about what he did – what he said – to Yoshihiro, but every time before.
The training camp. Jaku Hospital. The coffin.
Not just some vague allusions, an actual retelling of what happened. Of how his control shattered the instant Kacchan was in danger. How his morals were flung out of the window, how his focus narrowed on Kacchan and only Kacchan, no matter how many other people were in danger.
How willing he was to hurt and maim and kill for Kacchan.
Because if they were doing this, if they were finally putting a label on all that they were, he had to be honest. Kacchan had to know who he was choosing to love, what Izuku was ready to do in the name of that love.
But, as he watched Kacchan slide off the bed, grumbling about his – his – useless Izuku and how he was letting him starve, before loudly demanding that Izuku carry his bag as punishment, he decided they had all the time in the world for that.
For the rest of our lives.