Scars Turn Into Butterflies - TayLunae - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Chapter 1: Late Night Walks

Chapter Text

Growing up quirkless wasn’t easy, Izuku knew that first hand. He had been diagnosed young, like most people similar to him. Then the real problems started.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, he thought, if not for the relentless taunting from his peers. He hated to admit that his former childhood best friend had been the ring leader of most of his abuse.

Bakugo Katsuki.

Kacchan, as he had called him back then.

When Izuku had tried and failed the UA Entrance Exam, he had been crushed. His only solace came from knowing that he would be starting in a new high school come Spring, and hopefully, he could start fresh and make new friends.

He endured the last few months of middle school, freed himself of his taunting peers, and looked forward to his break before school started up again.

Things were good...for a little while.

He had been lucky enough to have his application for the UA support course be accepted. He might not ever get to be a hero, but he was determined to still help people. He had always been good with his hands, and while he wasn’t as passionate as some of his classmates, Hatsume in particular, he was a fast learner.

The fact that he was quirkless didn’t really matter to the other support course kids, there were even a few others like him. He made friends, learned to be happy with where he was in life, and tried to focus on the bright side of things.

Did it hurt to know that he would never be the hero he had always dreamed of being? Of course. But he would make the best of it. He always did.

That was… until the bullying started again.

He had expected Kacchan to start up with bullying him again once they were both accepted into UA, but contrary to that belief, the boy rarely spoke to Izuku, let alone recognized his existence. It hurt a little, but if Izuku had to choose between being tormented and being ignored, he knew which one he preferred.

He still admired Kacchan, still thought the blonde was going to make an amazing hero someday, but leaving middle school and meeting people who actually wanted to be his friend had brought some things into perspective for him. He didn’t need to cling to Kacchan’s cruel form of friendship anymore. He had friends that were kind and treated him with dignity. He figured he could let Kacchan go, even if it hurt.

After the Sports Festival, where Izuku had unexpectedly made it to the tournament, he had garnered the attention of some of the hero course students. A short, brown-haired girl named Uraraka, and a tall, built boy by the name of Iida had come up to him after he lost out of the tournament to Hitoshi Shinsou - none of his inventions could counteract brainwashing - and congratulated him on making it so far.

They had hung out a few times after school following the festival, and now that there were student dorms, they spent more and more time together. Eventually, Izuku was spending most of his time in the 1A Alliance dorm house, surrounded by amazingly talented and kind people. He still saw Kacchan quite often, but they had made a silent agreement to stay out of each other’s way.

Everything in Izuku’s life seemed pretty amazing. He had friends, had found a place where he belonged. He was happy.

So when one night as Izuku was leaving the 1A dorm - choosing to walk along the side of the building instead of the well-lit path - and someone snuck up behind him and grabbed him, he froze.

It had been so long since he had needed to keep his guard up. Long gone were the days where he walked home, constantly checking over his shoulder. The hands grabbing him were strong as he tried to jerk free from their grasp. He felt himself being dragged to the woods and felt his heart seize in his chest.

Was he being kidnapped? Was this the word of villains? Villain break-ins were unfathomable, but not impossible.

A million scenarios were racing through his head as the light from the dorms faded, his body being pulled further and further into the trees. He was tossed harshly to the ground and Izuku tried to get up, scrabbling backwards. Before he could make it too far, hands grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him halfway off the ground.

It was too dark to see much, so when the fist glanced off his jaw Izuku gasped at the pain of it. He had been punched before, but he quickly realized that there was something about not knowing when a hit was coming that made it hurt more.

The tears started before he could even begin to try to stop them, welling up in his eyes for a moment before cascading down his face.

“Why…” he tried to speak, but was only rewarded with another strike, this time to his temple. The hands dropped him to the ground, where he curled up into a tight ball, his brain trying to help him protect his vital organs.

“God, you are pathetic,” whispered an angry voice above him. Izuku tried to focus on it, tried to recognize it, but his head was pounding with the beginning of a terrible headache already, his ears ringing loudly. “I can’t understand why someone like you would be so liked among your peers.”

Izuku rolled onto his knees quickly, trying to crawl away from his attacker, but was stopped short by a brutal kick to his ribs.

A dark chuckle came from above him, the voice twisting in the night’s air. “You are a nobody. You are all but useless. And yet they all like you. They chose you over others.” Another blow, this time a vicious kick to his back, causing him to drop flat against the ground again.

Izuku wheezed through the pain, trying to fight against the tears that were raining down from his eyes. Everything hurt so much, he could feel the bruises forming already.

He had been beaten up in middle school before, but it was never more than one or two hits, and he was always able to defend himself. This was so much worse, laying in the dirt, in the dark, waiting in fear for the next attack.

He tried to yell for help, his voice ragged from crying already, “Someone! Please -” A punch to his stomach, cutting off his pleas. How was this person landing such precise hits? Was it their quirk? Did they had night vision goggles?

Izuku didn’t have much more time to deliberate, as more blows landed on him, in his ribs, his face, his back and stomach, and one particularly hard punch to his kidneys.

Izuku just did his best to curl up into a ball, hoping that soon the attack would stop.

It was a few more minutes and then the punches and kicks ceased, ragged breathing above him telling him exactly where his attacker was.

“You…” heaved the person, a boy, if their voice was any indication “are disgusting. You are nothing. And when I’m finished with you, they will all see that. They will see that you are just a helpless lamb, that you aren’t fit for our world. I will make sure that every last one of them understands that you are unworthy of their attention. That you are inferior.”

They weren’ words that Izuku hadn’t heard before, which should have been enough to make him want to cry. But he didn’t cry about the insults. Those didn’t really bother him. He had long since gotten over the feeling that he was less than because he was quirkless. No. It was the promises that his attacker was making that caused the tears to trickle down his face earnestly.

He had finally found friends that liked him for exactly who he was, no strings attached, and this person was declaring that they wouldn’t stop until Izuku had nothing and no one left.

The thought was almost unbearable.

He sobbed, clutching his hands to his chest as he waited for the next bout of abuse, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was a sick laugh above him, the sound of someone spitting, and then a wet splash on his face. He winced at the realization that the boy above him had spit on him, but Izuku could barely move his arms at all, let alone enough to wipe the saliva away.

He heard steps retreat back through the trees and Izuku felt a surge of anger build inside him. He didn’t want to be a victim, if his attacker was done with him, the least Izuku could do was rebuke him.

“They won’t leave me,” he whispered, only realizing then that he was gargling on blood that had leaked into the back of his throat. Probably from his nose.

The steps stopped and the air was still. Silent.

“What did you say to me, maggot?”

Izuku took a shallow breath and gathered his courage. “My friends. They won’t abandon me. They care about,” he coughed, feeling blood spill out over his lips and down his chin, “they care about me. And they won’t just abandon me. They are good people.”

Before Izuku knew what was happening, hands were on him again, pulling him up until he felt hot breath against the skin of his cheek.

“You have a lot of faith in your friends. I guess we’ll have to see who is right.” Izuku was about to speak again, but he was being thrust back towards the ground at an alarming speed.

His head smashed against the hard dirt, stars sparking in front of his closed eyes, before he was brought up and slammed down once more. The last thing he thought of was how he was only just realizing how cold it was out, the breath on his cheek warming his freezing skin.

Then, blackness.

The air was brisk, but Katsuki didn’t really know what else he expected at six in the morning. He went for a run every morning as a way to wake him up and get his adrenaline pumping. He didn’t want to become dependent on caffeine like the nerd.

Katsuki always saw the green-haired boy running to his classes and labs with a cup in his hand, sloshing it everywhere, the floors, the tables, his clothes.

Caffeine addiction became a dependency, and Katsuki wasn’t dependent on anyone. Period.

He ran through the woods, focusing on his breathing, trying his best to keep a steady pace. Maybe he would stop by the support course labs and see what they had for fitness watches. He would love to have something that displayed his running pace in real-time to make his runs more effective. And to race against himself.

He flitted through the list of assignments that were due in the next few days, making a list of which were done and which weren’t. UA had a demanding hero program, both academically and physically. He needed to stay on top of his game if he wanted to be number one.

Katsuki ran into the clearing that marked the halfway point in his run and stuttered to a dead halt. There was someone laying on the ground, not moving at all. His training kicked in and he called out, voice gruff.

“Oi, are you alright?” Katsuki inched closer, fighting the urge to run up to the person on the ground. If there was one thing that being in the hero course had taught him so far, it was that things weren’t always what they seemed. There was a groan and a whimper, and it was only when Katsuki was a few feet away that he saw the hair.

He would recognize that hair anywhere. He had spent most of his life with his eyes trained on it obsessively, while trying to maintain an air of aloofness.

He sprinted the last few feet and dropped to his knees beside the boy, all thoughts of being careful gone. His hands reached out to grip a shoulder and he turned the body, trying to shift them on to their back so he could see their face.

“Please don’t be him… please… f*ck…” he choked out, his words lodging in his throat at the sight below him.

There, on the ground, lay Izuku Midoriya. His childhood friend turned bitter rival turned....nothing.

He had known Deku since they were kids, they had been best friends at one point. Then everything had turned sour. Katsuki had gotten a quirk, Deku hadn't. Back then, it seemed like the most important thing in the world.

When Katsuki had made it into UA he had been so excited, only more so after finding that Deku had failed his exam.

That would surely teach the self-righteous little nerd. He couldn't be amazing as Katsuki, certainly not without a quirk.

He had expected much the same out of UA as middle school. People would fawn over his awesome quirk, he would be popular, people would like him. He may be an ass but he was a confident ass. People respected that.

Except they didn't.

Everyone at UA had amazing quirks that were well-suited to hero work. He was no longer special, and that had been a hard pill to swallow.

He made a few friends, sh*tty Hair and Dunce Face, and kept his head down, striving to be top of the class while figuring out what it was about him that was unlikeable.

Eventually, he had asked Kirishima the same question, only to be told that his personality was a little… abrasive, as Kirishima had put it.

Katsuki had spent the next few weeks thinking about the way in which he carried himself, ruminating in his past actions, only then realizing how awful he had been back in middle school.

His classmates were right. He didn't act like a hero. He couldn't even blame the spectators from the Sports Festival. He had acted like a villain. Not at the Sports Festival, he had thought. Those people were idiots for expecting him to take it easy on Round Face just because she was a girl.

But he had acted like a villain when he was younger. Teasing, taunting, and putting others down wasn't how a hero acted. It wasn't how he wanted to act.

He had wanted to make things right with Deku. He really did. But every time he tried to gather up the courage to apologize, something ugly would slither in his stomach, gripping him tightly.

He would see Deku walking around with his support course friends, smiling and chatting animatedly. He would see the green-haired idiot in his dorm room, sitting and laughing with his classmates.

He wasn't proud to admit it, but jealousy had reared its ugly head. Here he was, trying to be better, and there was Deku, making friends and becoming popular without even trying.

Needless to say, he had some complicated feelings about his childhood friend.

But there was nothing complicated about the way he felt in the moment that he had found Deku in the woods. His stomach knotted, bike riding in his throat.

Deku lay in the dirt, lips blue from the cold, face bruised and bloodied, barely breathing. Everything in Katsuki tensed and he felt an overwhelming wave of panic crash over him.

He ran his hands along Deku's arm, grasping his wrist lightly. The soft thump of a heartbeat was there, but it was faint.

"sh*t," he spat out, worry coursing through him, "Deku, can you hear me?"

He waited for an answer with bated breath, letting out a whoosh of air when Deku cracked one eye, the one that wasn't swollen shut, open and looked at him.

"Ka-Kacchan?" His voice was weak, raspy from crying, probably.

Katsuki brought a hand up to feel Deku's forehead. He had no clue how long the boy had been like this, but from the chill on his skin he knew it had been more than a few hours. His heart shuddered at the thought that it was entirely possible that Deku had spent the entire night like this.

"f*ck… who did this?" he muttered, more to himself than anything.

Deku tried to sit up, gasping in pain at the movement and it was only then that Katsuki noticed how the boy was clutching at his side.

"I didn't...see them," Deku choked out, his face twisted in agony. He sobbed brokenly and Katsuki felt his worry wash away into anger.

Who the f*ck would do something like this? And to Izuku, no less? He may be annoying, but he was arguably the nicest person that Katsuki knew, as much and the blonde hated to admit it.

Deku gripped at his shirt again, trying to hold his ribs tightly. Katsuki furrowed his brow and debated for a moment. He didn't know how to be around Deku without being awkward, but he needed to assess the extent of his injuries. It was one of the first things they were taught in their first aid courses.

He reached for the bottom of the boys' shirt, gripping the fabric lightly before turning to look back at Deku.

"Can I look?" he gestured to Deku's torso. Deku froze for a moment before nodding, releasing his own grip on his shirt.

Katsuki gingerly pulled up the shirt, bile rising in his throat. There were bruises covering Deku's entire torso, black in some places, a mottled, bloody purple in others.

Katsuki wracked his brain for everything he had learned about injuries like these. Most of the attack had been concentrated on Deku's head and his upper body, which meant that a concussion and internal bleeding were the major concerns, as well as damage to vital organs.

Katsuki tried to swallow the panic that was attempting to slither up his throat.

“I… I’m going to go get help,” Katsuki stuttered. Deku needed to get to a hospital. Now. Katsuki moved to get up, but stopped when Deku gripped his arm. Despite how weak he seemed, the grip was as tight as a vice.

“No!” His voice rang out in the silence of the early morning stillness, echoing off the trees surrounding him. His green eyes were as wide as saucers, fear radiating from his very essence. Katsuki’s heart clenched painfully. If it were anyone else, he would let his practical side win out. He needed to get help. He couldn’t do that if he stayed.

But the way Deku looked up at him, like he was the boy’s lifeline. He couldn’t do it. How could he walk away?

He nodded and sat back down, grabbing the boys’ torso to rest in his lap. Deku was cold to the touch, shaking fervently on top of his legs. It was the first time he had touched Deku without the intention of inflicting some kind of harm since they were kids. The thought alone made his stomach twist unpleasantly. He reached over and grabbed Deku’s hands in his own, blowing on them gently to warm them up.

Deku’s hands were rough from working in the support labs, but that was fine. Katsuki’s hands were rough too. He watched as Deku relaxed back into the ground, sighing softly as he closed his eyes again.

Katsuki watched him. They needed help, sooner rather than later. Katsuki had only taken an entry-level first aid course, but they had been taught to recognize things such as hypothermia. With the way Deku was shivering, and the stupid smile on his face, coupled with how cold his skin was, Katsuki could almost guarantee that Deku was hypothermic.

UA had a strict “No Quirks” policy outside of their classes, but he didn’t really care at that point. He gripped Deku’s hand tighter, leaning down to whisper to him.

“Deku,” his voice was gruff, but Deku looked up at him and smiled. That definitely wasn’t a good thing. Katsuki knew enough to know that a sense of euphoria sometimes accompanied shock and hypothermia. Knowing that Deku was most likely suffering from both was terrifying. “I’m going to use my quirk to get someone’s attention, okay?”

Deku nodded, releasing Katsuki’s hand to cover his own ears. “Okay, Kacchan.”

Katsuki nodded and pointed his hands up at the sky, thankful that his hands were still sweaty from his run and the panic he felt. It was so cold out that without the extra help, there would be no way that his quirk would have been effective enough.

He let loose three explosions, each one louder than the last. He hoped that it would be enough to catch someone’s attention, and that they would be smart enough to bring a cell phone with them.

He grabbed Deku’s hand again, pulling it away from his ears, and waited. They weren’t forced to wait for too long.

Katsuki looked up as someone whooshed into the clearing, realizing after a moment that it had to be Glasses. The tall boy rushed over to them, concern painted on his face.

“Bakugou! What happened to Midoriya-kun?” his voice was laced with terror, but Katsuki didn’t have time to consider the other boys’ feelings.

“Call an ambulance!” Katsuki barked, glaring at the idiot in front of him. He watched as Iida patted his pockets, guilt marring his features. Katsuki scoffed, snarling, “You didn’t bring yours, did you?” Glasses shook his head, looking frantically around the clearing as if he’d find a cell phone lying on the ground.

Katsuki was about to shout at the boy again when he realized Deku’s shivering had stopped. He jerked his head to look at Deku, seeing that the green-haired boy was completely still, his chest barely moving with each shallow breath.

“sh*t,” he cursed, slipping Deku back onto the ground quickly. He leaned down to rest his ear again Deku’s chest, but heard nothing. He swiveled his head back up to the boy who was now standing right next to him, thrusting his hand out. “Give me your glasses!”

Thankfully, the extra didn’t argue with him. Katsuki grabbed them as soon as they were offered and held the lens directly under Dek’s noise, waiting to see if the glass fogged up.

He waited for one breath… two breathes.

Nothing.

He tossed the glasses back to their owner and moved to kneel beside Deku, stretching the boys’ arms and legs out so he was lying flat. “Go get Aizawa,” he barked, tilting Deku’s chin back gently. “Tell him that Izuku is in cardiac arrest, hypothermic, and needs medical attention, immediately.”

Katsuki leaned down, pinching Izuku’s nose and breathed air from his own lungs into the boy underneath him, watching to make sure that his chest inflated. When he looked back up he saw the idiot still standing beside him, shock blatant on his features.

“Iida! Go!” Katsuki shouted, his voice cracking with barely contained rage. Glasses was gone the next moment, the leaves and branches fluttering in his wake.

Katsuki put any thought of help arriving out of his mind. He had sent for help. Now he needed to focus on Deku.

He placed his hands in the center of Izuku’s chest and began to push. Counting with each one.

“One...two...three…”

Gods, how he wished he could take back every mean thing he had ever said or done to Deku. Maybe if he had been more of a friend, something like this would have never happened.

“Ten...eleven...twelve…”

He should have been there. How many times had he watched Deku walk back to his own dorm in the dark? If he had not been so proud, so afraid of apologizing, maybe he could have been there to walk the boy back to his own dorm.

“Twenty-two...twenty-three...twenty-four…”

Katsuki felt the all too familiar fingers of anxiety gripping him, wrapping around his neck, making it almost impossible to breathe. He clenched his jaw and ignored it, he needed to help Deku, and having a panic attack wasn’t going to solve anything.

He finished his round of compressions, tilting Deku’s jaw once more, delivering two breathes, and started another round. He had no relief, so even though his body was already aching from the panic, the adrenaline, and his training the day before, he kept going.

He had no clue how long he finished and started the cycle again, the only thing that mattered was to keep going.

“Bakugou -” Katsuki heard his name vaguely, but he was too concentrated on his counting to really understand what was happening. Then, someone was tearing him away from Deku, shouting right next to his ear. “Bakugou, stop!”

Katsuki tried to fight, tried to throw off whoever had pulled him away from Deku, but he found that his arms and legs were bound tight.

He looked down frantically and saw Aizawa’s scarf wrapped around his torso.

“Bakugou, it’s alright. You need to take a break. Todoroki, take over compressions.” Aizawa’s face filled Katsuki’s vision, and his teacher must have known that Katsuki was about to use his quirk to break free because when the blonde called on Explosion to escape his prison, there was nothing there to meet him.

He thought he might be angry at the realization that he had been stripped of his quirk, but instead, all that left him was a pathetic whimper.

“Aizawa...he...he’s not breathing...I…” Before he knew what was happening, there was a set of arms wrapping around him, and he didn’t have the strength to push them away. He couldn't even if he wanted to, he was still tied up.

He heard sirens the next moment, sending a silent thank you up to the Gods. The rest of the morning raced by in a blur of sprinting EMTs, flashing lights, and explaining what had happened over and over again.

It wasn’t until he had told Principal Nezu everything he knew for the second time that he finally snapped.

“I can’t be here wasting any more time!” he shouted at the small rat, seething at the calmness that exuded from the creature. “I have to go to the hospital! I should have been there hours ago!”

He watched as Nezu regarded him with that cryptic stare, giving nothing away. “Yes, I suppose you may go, Mr. Bakugou. Please give Mrs. Midoriya our regards.”

Katsuki was out the door the moment Nezu had uttered go. He didn’t need to be told twice.

He ran to the dorms, changing out of his workout clothes that he still had on, and raced to the train station, shrugging off anyone who tried to stop him to ask about what had happened.

He needed to be there when Deku woke up, because there was no part of him that believed the little nerd wouldn’t wake up. He was too stubborn for his own good.

Katsuki would be there when the sh*tty idiot opened his eyes. He would finally apologize.

Then, he was going to find whoever had hurt Deku.

And he was going to kill them.

Chapter 2: White Walls

Chapter Text

The blonde tried to calm his breathing. Keeping a level head was what he did. He didn’t freak out, he didn’t panic. He was chill. Always.

It was something he prided himself in. He was a disaster in most other areas of his life. He wasn’t adept at academics. He wasn’t the strongest, or the most powerful. He wasn’t charismatic or a leader.

The one thing he had going for him was that he was cool under pressure.

And yet…

When two men had shown up to class and requested for him to go with them, his heart had jittered a little.

“Mr. Aizawa. We are here for Denki Kaminari.”

Aizawa had simply sighed, jerking his head for Kaminari to go with them. He had gotten up and followed them. Normally, he would have tried to talk them up, to figure out what they wanted, or if he was in trouble (it wouldn’t be the first time - if Katsuki would just stop ratting on him for smoking in his room, he would have far fewer meetings in Nezu’s office) but there was something about these men that had silenced him.

They didn’t seem like the chatting type.

He had started to get nervous when they headed down into the bellows of the school, descending staircase after staircase. Truthfully, Denki hadn’t even been aware that the school had such deep foundations.

They had stopped in front of a large down, opening it and gesturing for him to enter. He didn’t. Something wasn’t right.

“What’s going on here guys? I promise it wasn’t me who gave Midoriya that pot. He, uh… found it,” Denki tried to explain. His hands shook slightly and he tightened them into fists. He furrowed his brow as one of the men sighed, turning to face him fully.

“Denki Kaminari,” the man ground him, his beefy hand lashing out quickly to grab the blonde’s arm tightly, “We have reason to believe that you are working for the League of Villains. Until we have processed all the relevant information, you will remain here.”

Denki’s mouth fell open, then slammed shut, repeating the process a few times. They thought he was the traitor? Before he could gather himself, he was being thrown into the room, the door slamming harshly behind him.

He stumbled and fell onto a plush floor, which was good because he would have definitely bruised his knees from the force of his knees hitting the floor if it had been cement. Denki raised his head and took in the room quickly.

There were no windows, every wall covered in thick, white padding. Denki rose and dashed to where he thought the door was. Now that it was closed, it was almost impossible to tell where he had entered the room from.

He felt a small hitch in his chest, something ugly sitting in his chest, restricting his airways. He gathered up some electricity and released it into the room, hoping that if he released enough then the mechanism locking the door would fail.

He pushed the crackling energy out of his body, feeling the telltale static rushing through his veins. Nothing happened. He tried again. Then again.

Sweat dotted his forehead, his body reaching its limit. The blonde closed his eyes and gathered what energy he had left, pushing it all out at once.

He felt his brain short-circuit, his knees giving out underneath him. Everything was fuzzy, the walls blindingly white in his vision. He tried to remember why he was in the room, but his memories failed him.

He just knew that he needed to get out. Some small part of him told him he should stop, before he really hurt himself, but there was another voice that screamed at him to keep trying. He stuttered a breath and tried to gather the static that buzzed through him, but before he could call any amount of it, there was a small pang of pain in his left arm. He glanced down and saw a cuff around his wrist that he didn’t recognize. Since when did he wear bracelets?

He swayed and felt himself fall over, the cushioned flooring catching him. He tried desperately to understand what was happening to him, but sleep was welcoming him with open arms, and he just couldn’t resist.

He woke up alone, curled into a ball on the floor. He was no longer wearing his school uniform, his clothes replaced with a stark white shirt and pants that matched the walls. His memories came back to him slowly. He had been in class. Some men had come and gotten him and brought him here.

Was that right?

The memory felt like a reflection in a lake. Crystal clear until he poked at it, then it shimmered and rippled into something indistinguishable. The last thing he really remembered was going to bed the night before. He pushed himself to his feet, his legs wobbling underneath him. The blonde placed an arm on the wall nearest him to hold himself upright. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but his mouth was as dry as cotton. He tried in vain to swallow, only able to wet his mouth a little.

“Is anyone out there?” he called, voice absorbed by the soft walls. “Can anyone hear me?!”

No answer.

The blonde tried to calm his breathing. Keeping a level head was what he did. He didn’t freak out, he didn’t panic. He was chill. Always.

It was something he prided himself in. He was a disaster in most other areas of his life. He wasn’t adept at academics. He wasn’t the strongest, or the most powerful. He wasn’t charismatic or a leader.

The one thing he had going for him was that he was cool under pressure.

He took stock of what he knew for certain. He was trapped in the room. His quirk couldn’t help get him out. Someone had taken his clothes and given him new ones, meaning that at the very least, someone was watching him. And something had made him pass out. His quirk hadn’t caused him to pass out in years. He ran his hands over his body, checking for injuries.

His mind immediately jumped to that time in second year, when Midoriya had been taken hostage and injected with quirk suppressants. If Denki had been given something to keep him asleep, then he should be able to find where it was injected.

His hand caught on the bracelet on his wrist, completely forgotten until that point. He brought it up to his face, examining it. Was this his?

It was like his memories of how he got into the room, clear until he really thought about it. He focused harder on the band. The longer he stared at it, the more he became sure that it didn’t belong to him.

But then where did it come from?

Tears gathered in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t cry. He was too laidback for that. But the ache in his chest was proving the contrary. He felt like he was being crushed, like something far too heavy was sitting right on his chest. His breath felt like it was being robbed from his lungs.

He couldn’t breathe, his throat constricting painfully. Nothing made sense, he was all alone, and he didn’t know what to do.

He sank back to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees while his hands came up to clutch at his hair. He curled his fingers into the locks and pulled painfully, frustration and despair leaking out of him.

He brought his gaze up and took in the room once again, hoping to find something that he had missed, but there was nothing. He was alone. There was no way out.

A sob escaped his chest and then the tears began to fall in earnest. Hopelessness consumed him, eating away at his insides. He cried until he couldn’t anymore, until his eyes were too heavy to keep open. Not even the blinding white lights above could keep him from slipping into a fitful sleep.

There were no windows. No way to tell how long he had been in the room. By the painful ache in his stomach though, he could guess at least twelve hours. The ache had started out harmless enough, but now had grown into full-blown spasms that brought him to his knees.

His mouth was parched and he desperately wanted water, or anything, to wash out the chalky taste in his mouth.

Although, he was almost glad there was no water. After he had woken up the second time he had done a more thorough investigation of the room, and had discovered a small hole drilled into the floor in one corner. At first, he had been confused, but once he had gotten closer and smelled the odor wafting up from the hole, it had become clear to him exactly what it was meant for.

So yeah. Maybe food or water wasn’t the worst thing to be without. He really wanted to avoid using the hole, if at all possible.

He sat on the floor now, in the opposite corner of said hole, staring at the wall. It was all he could do, really.

Denki had tried to pry the cuff off his wrist to no avail. And with no escape plan, he didn’t have many options. Instead, he was forced to sit in the room, alone with his thoughts.

At first, he had simply thought about his friends, and how they would react to the news of the accusation of his betrayal. He hoped they knew him well enough to know it wasn’t true. Surely, they would think the worst of him. They would have faith in him. Wouldn’t they?

He wasn’t sure if he had earned that kind of blind faith from them.

He had never felt the main character in his own life. He was restricted to the background, to sitting back and assisting the truly powerful. Maybe they wouldn’t really care, after all. It’s not like he ever stood out among his peers. Everyone else had someone to walk through their struggles with. Bakugou had Midoriya. Kirishima had Tetsu. Mina and Hagakure. Sero and Todoroki. Denki had no one.

Well… He had one person.

No.

He wouldn’t let himself think about him. If he started to think about what he was losing, then he knew he would break. Better not to think about anything.

“Please let me out.”

His whispers were sucked in by the plush material on the walls. The room quiet save for his soft sobs. He had no clue how long he had been there. The cramps in his stomach had dissipated, replaced by a hollow emptiness that he didn’t think would ever be filled.

His mind was foggy, unable to stay on any one thought for longer than a few moments. He knew that that was a bad sign, that he was disastrously dehydrated and most likely becoming delusional.

He couldn’t find it within himself to care.

He daydreamed of strong hands, long fingers, carding through his hair.

“Please...let me out.”

He dreamed of warm breath on his skin, sucking paths down his neck, over his chest. Whispers in the dark, hands roaming wherever they pleased.

“Shinsou?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you… do you think we could go out to dinner sometime?”

Silence. Denki shook his head, the memory stinging painfully.

“I...I’m sorry, Kami. I don’t do relationships.”

A tear slipped down Denki’s cheeks, his forehead pressed against the wall. He had fallen for the boy with the soft, purple hair and eyes that could write volumes. He had fallen even though Hitoshi had been clear from the beginning what he wanted. And foolishly, Denki had said that he was okay with that.

He had lied to Hitoshi. He had lied to himself.

A rasped chuckle crackled out of his throat, he pulled his head back from the wall only to knock it against the padding.

“Stupid… so stupid. He didn’t want me…” Denki’s eyes filled with tears and he laughed at the hilarity of his body producing tears despite the fact that he hadn’t had water in what felt like days. “Gods, who would want me?”

He looked at the ceiling, wondering if this was going to be it. He had known when he chose to be a hero that there was a good chance he would die young, but he had always imagined that it would happen during some epic battle, sacrificing himself to save someone else.

Never in his wildest nightmares had he even dreamed that he would meet his end in a small, padded room, painfully alone and forgotten.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“Please...Gods, please just finish it already.”

He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts anymore.

Denki spent most of his time sleeping. He didn’t really have the energy for much else. He lay on the floor, barely able to lift his head from the soft padding. He hadn’t had contact of any kind for so long. No getting knocked out by the cuff. No change of clothes. No food. No water.

He wondered deliriously if they had forgotten about him down here. Some part of his brain tried to remind him that this was inhumane treatment. They didn’t even treat villains like this. Why was UA doing this to him?

Surely, by now they either had found their evidence or hadn’t found anything to discredit him. Shouldn’t he be out, either on his way to jail or to rejoin his friends?

The thoughts never stayed for too long, his body too preoccupied with trying to conserve his energy. Every time he started to try to put his finger on what felt off , his mind would get fuzzy and he would recede into more pleasant memories.

They were mostly of Hitoshi.

He would have flashes of laying in bed, rays of sunlight warming his skin just as much as the body wrapped around him.

Hitoshi would reach out and rest a hand on his jaw, reassuring him that he was good enough. That he deserved to be with his peers.

Everyone thought Hitoshi Shinsou was a snarky, antisocial asshole.

Denki knew differently.

He got to see a side to Shinsou that no one else did, and it was a privilege that he clutched close to his heart.

Hitoshi had a big heart, and even bigger dreams. He spoke passionately about being a hero, about working hard to change the way certain quirks were viewed, about changing the quirk bias through hard work and simply proving people wrong.

He was amazing.

Denki’s eyes fluttered again, his body cold. A tiny voice in the back of his head tried to tell him it was because he was starving. His body was conserving energy and lowering his body temperature, but it was a tiny voice.

Shivers wracked his body and he slowly drew his arms around himself, craving warmth. He waited for it to be over. He would hold his memories close until then.

Loud. Something was loud. If he had been more alert, he would have recognized that hearing anything at all was odd. He hadn’t heard anything but his own voice in so long.

More noise, and he tried to lift his head but it felt too big. There was a whoosh of cold air that rushed over him, causing his stomach to constrict painfully.

He could vaguely make out voices around him, but his body wouldn’t obey him when he tried to open his eyes.

He felt hands on his chest, neck, jaw. They were soft and careful.

“Denki…ease… hear me? Kami...ugou, call...now…” Denki smiled. He would know that voice anywhere.

“Shin…” More hands on him now. That was funny. He thought that when his time came, it would just be him and Shinsou. He wondered absently what other friends from his memories were there for him in his final moments.

A smile slipped onto his face. He only wished that he could focus on the face attached to the voice above him. He really wanted to see Hitoshi one last time.

He drew a shallow breath and tried again, mentally fist-pumping when his body obeyed him.

That was odd.

He always had thought that his memory would conjure his favorite Shinsou for his last hurrah. The Hitoshi that laid in bed, a soft, sated smile on his lips, his eyes crinkling with poorly hidden laughter. The one that Denki had dorkily dubbed as ‘Sunday Shinsou’ much to the other boys’ chagrin.

The Hitoshi above him was decked out in full hero gear. His mask was obstructing Denki’s view, he grumbled inwardly.

“Hey, what’s with the ugly face?” Hero Shinsou chastised, his eyes bright and shining, “Not happy to see me?”

Denki gasped out a laugh, “Always happy to see you...wanted Sunday Shinsou...this is good too.”

“Can’t rescue you shirtless Kami, although I’m sure you love that.” Hitoshi murmured, his thumb rubbing along Denki’s jaw softly. The blonde hummed at the contact. It felt so nice. Almost real.

He didn’t realize that he had been speaking out loud, but then Shinsou’s face had twisted itself into a look of concern, brows furrowing together.

“I am real, Kami. I’m here,” the boy spoke, voice tight. Denki struggled to keep his eyes open, he wanted to drink in every last drop of Hitoshi before…

“Kami?” the voice got more shrill, causing Denki to wince. “sh*t.”

Denki felt his chest constrict, too tight, taking his breath away.

“Get the EMT!” Hero Shinsou shouted, his voice cutting through the pain in Denki’s chest for a moment before another caused his whole body to tighten up.

“f*ck...you’re okay...just hold on…”

There was a splash on Denki’s cheek. Wait. Where was the liquid coming from?

He forced his eyes open again, body relaxing slightly for a moment. There was a pair of violet eyes above him, wet and scared, and it was only then that things started to click into place.

“Shinsou?” he asked, confusion marring his features. “I’m not dead?” The boy above him choked out a wet laugh and shook his head.

“I’ve got you,” Shinsou whispered, pulling Denki into his lap. The blonde sighed. Warmth.

Finally.

If Hitoshi was there, he was sure everything would be fine. He felt his eyes falling shut again, fighting against the urge to sleep. Something was telling him to stay awake, but it was just too hard.

He would just take a short nap, then he could talk to Hitoshi.

Chapter 3: Reflections

Chapter Text

Izuku stood in front of the sink, warm water washing over his hands. The tips were still numb, but they were slowly prickling back to life as the water heated them up.

His mind was surprisingly blank, considering.

It was an odd feeling. He was so used to his thoughts running rampant at breakneck speeds, to be thinking of nothing felt foreign and unsettling. A tiny voice whispered that he was in shock, or possibly even denial, but he shoved it back down viciously.

Everything was fine.

He was fine.

Izuku turned off the tap and dried his hands, looking up at the mirror to check his hair one final time. His throat constricted painfully and he stumbled backwards, running into the wall behind him.

There was blood - so much blood - all over his face. How? He - he reached a hand up to trace his fingers along his cheek - he had washed it all away. He had to have.

He had stood in the shower for hours. Watched the water run from watered-down blood red to clear.

A choked noise escaped his mouth, watery and panicked. What was happening to him?

A knock sounded at the door.

“Deku, if we don’t leave soon we’ll be late.”

Izuku swung his head to look at the door, Bakugou’s voice momentarily pulling him from his panic.

“O-Okay, Kacchan. I’ll be right out.”

He turned to face his reflection again, and stopped still. The blood was gone, his freckles stark against the paleness of his cheeks. He brought shaky hands up to his face once more, pushing his fingers into his hair and gripping tightly.

He needed to get himself together.

He walked out of the bathroom, and took a steadying breath. It was just one night he had to get through, then he had a couple days off. He just had to make it through the next few hours, then he could start trying to put himself back together again.

He walked down the hall, pausing in front of the mirror that sat above the antique console that the Bakugou’s had gifted them for their wedding. His bowtie was slightly askew and he reached up to straighten it.

As he lowered his hands, he had another flash from the night before, the reflection of his in dress clothes morphing to one of his in all black, gun raised and pointing at him in the mirror, face set with determination.

He slammed his eyes shut and shook his head roughly. When he opened them again, his reflection only showed what it should. Him in a three piece suit, hair artfully tousled.

A hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder and he jumped away from the contact, calming only when he saw his husband looking at him, concern etched on his face.

“Are you alright?” his husky voice was soft and tender, so different from how it had been when they were kids. A lot had changed since then.

“Yeah,” Izuku answered, voice tight. “Just nervous.”

Katsuki chuckled and smiled widely, the one that usually made Izuku’s knees go weak, only now it just made his stomach twist nauseatingly.

“No one deserves this award more than you, ‘Zuku.” He wrapped his arms around Izuku’s middle, pulling him in to hold him close. “Except for me, but I can’t win every year.” The proximity made Izuku’s skin crawl. What would Katsuki think of him if he knew what Izuku had done last night? He tried to force a laugh at Katsuki’s joke, but it sounded strained to him.

Katsuki pulled away, still holding Izuku’s shoulders, regarding him with a soft smile, one eyebrow quirked up. “You ready?”

Izuku just nodded, smiling thinly.

The flashbacks didn’t stop. In fact, they only got worse as they got closer to the venue. Their town car was stopped at a red light, where Izuku had a perfect view down an alleyway. His mind conjured up the image of him standing there, gun still raised, as a body fell to the ground. He could hear the sickening thump of dead weight meeting the pavement.

The light changed to green and the driver took off, leaving the image behind.

He looked out his window and saw himself dragging the body down another dark alley, shoving it behind a dumpster, where it hopefully wouldn’t be found for weeks. Red feathers littered the ground.

Another flash of him wiping down the gun, then throwing it into the harbour.

Him standing under the spray of hot, hot heat, watching the blood wash down the drain.

Golden eyes, hard as flint, telling him that he was done for the night, to go home. And to act normal.

By the time they finally pulled up to the pavilion, Izuku’s nerves were shot. He could feel a panic attack coming on, but dug his nails painfully into his palms, swallowing the out-of-control feeling.

He just had to make it through the next few hours, he reminded himself. He could do this.

The party itself wasn’t horrible. Accepting the award for Hero of the Year had been awkward. He hated public praise and hated recognition even more. That wasn’t why he was a hero.

He scoffed at that. He wondered if he could even call himself a hero anymore after last night. He was floating through the party, smiling and chatting with all the right people, trying his best to act as though everything was fine.

It wasn’t until he caught a snippet of a conversation that everything started to crumble.

"Did you hear the news this morning? Yeah! Apparently some baker found a dead body behind his dumpster. The police said it was one of the villains from the League of Villains. Yes! The one who called himself Twice…"

Izuku stumbled, grabbing Katsuki's arm to steady himself. His mouth soured as Katsuki looked at him, eyebrows drawn down, asking him once again if he was alright.

Izuku waved him away, "I just need some air. I'll be right back." He took off before Katsuki could say anything else, heading in the direction of the door.

He pushed it open roughly, his legs feeling like jelly as he took off down the hallway. He only made it as far as the first corner, ducking around it quickly, before his legs completely gave out on him.

He reached out for the small table that was pushed up against the wall, a guttered chuckle rasping from his chest at seeing the mirror above it. He didn’t want to see his reflection ever again, terrified of what might greet him.

The eyes of a murderer.

“Great job last night,” a voice whispered, the breath hot on Izuku’s neck. Izuku jerked his head up, his eyes burning into the reflection before him. The man in question had golden hair, artfully messy, with golden eyes to match. His bright red wings were fanned out, curled towards Izuku as a sort of barrier around them. Izuku was sure that if anyone were to happen upon them, they would have no clue who the winged-hero was talking to.

“What do you want?” Izuku ground out, his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to talk to Keigo. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the man.

“Awe, Bunny,” Hawks pouted at him, “Don’t be mean. I just wanted to congratulate you on your achievement.”

Izuku shuddered at the double-meaning, hating that he knew exactly what Hawks was referring to.

“I know Kacchan is so proud of the man you’ve become…”

Izuku saw red, grabbing the blond by the collar before he could stop himself. He had pushed Keigo up against the wall, he feet dangling slightly, that infuriating smile carved into his face. Izuku’s heart thumped loudly in his chest as he tried to quiet his rage. He looked around, glad that no one had seen his momentary lapse in control.

He put Hawks back on the ground, the airy laugh that escaped the winged-hero grated on Izuku’s nerves.

“Stay away from me,” he growled, glaring at Hawks as though his gaze alone could make the man spontaneously combust. He pivoted on his heel, making to walk back to the party.

“We have another job.”

“No,” Izuku growled, “I am never doing that again.”

Keigo smiled sickly sweet, slinking up to Izuku, running his hands down Izuku’s cheeks, over his shoulders, as he came to stand beside the other hero.

“If you didn’t want to do it again, you shouldn’t have done such a good job,” Hawks’ voice was soft, the smile evident in his words. Two small pats on his shoulder, then the hand gripped his shoulder painfully. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Then Hawks was gone, leaving Izuku to stand in the empty hall by himself, the sounds of the party swelling and dying out as the door opened and closed.

Izuku tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t budge. He hadn’t wanted this.

He had just wanted to make the villains pay, his heart filled with pain and anger after losing Aizawa. He had been gutted, broken from the loss of his mentor, the man that had pushed him to be all he was today.

He had wanted to tip the scales in their favor, for once. Hawks had given him that opportunity. And he regretted taking it.

His heart raced as the walls closed in around him. He was never going to be free from this, was he? The same people who had their talons in Keigo’s back, now had control over him.

He would never be free again.

Chapter 4: Broken

Chapter Text

Katsuki Bakugo had been friends with the little, green-haired boy next door for as long as he could remember. Additionally, the boy hadn’t had a father for just as long. Katsuki could never remember a time when there had been a father figure at the Midoriya household. When he was younger he had just figured that Izuku didn’t have a dad and never thought of it further than that.

The two had lived on the same street for years, playing in parks, chasing frogs, running through the woods. When Izuku was diagnosed quirkless, things changed.

Katsuki felt something ugly take hold inside him, residing right behind the part of him that glowed from people telling him how amazing he was. It was like every time he saw Izuku smile, that little, black spot would grow, would threaten to take away some of his own happiness.

And so he had sought out to crush Izuku’s joy, if only to make sure that the boy truly knew his place. Because obviously, Izuku didn’t know his place. He couldn’t have, because no one who had been diagnosed as quirkless - useless, defective, nothing - could keep smiling like that.

He started to call the boy ‘Deku’, to serve as a daily reminder of his new station in life. That didn’t deter the boy. He was mean, meaner than he ever thought he would have to be, and still the idiot would talk about how he would become a hero someday.

It was enough to make Katsuki see red.

Then, suddenly, one day he didn’t have to worry about it anymore. The Midoriya’s were moving. Auntie Inko, his mother had informed him, was getting married to a nice man who lived across town. He had a daughter and two sons of his own, and the Midoriya’s would be moving to live with them.

Katsuki had expected to feel joyous over the news. He wanted to be happy about the daily reminder of Deku’s resilience disappearing from his life, but instead, the absence of the boy made his stomach cliche painfully.

None of it made any sense.

Katsuki spent the rest of his primary and middle school years preparing. He trained his body and quirk hard, he became the top of his class. He reigned in his abrasive personality now that he didn’t have someone constantly shoving their overzealous positivity in his face every five seconds. He often daydreamed about getting the chance to one day apologize to Izuku.

He made it into UA, and he was so happy he even let his parents buy him dinner, something that he would normally tell them not to bother with.

The first day of school brought many things. Nerves. Would he be able to maintain his position at the top of the class? Anxiety. He was getting a chance to start over fresh. He wanted to make the best of it. Excitement. He was ready to take the first steps on his path towards becoming a hero.

All that faded away into shock the moment he had stepped into the room. There, standing in front of him, was Izuku.

He was older now, his face less babyish, his hair longer. He still looked like Izuku, hair wild and untamed, eyes wide with wonder.

Then those big green eyes turned to Katsuki and passed over him, as if he wasn’t there. Katsuki stuttered a breath, unused to being ignored in general, but especially by the boy in front of him.

He entered the classroom when someone behind him cleared their throat, unsure of what to think.

He didn’t have to worry too much, as their homeroom teacher came in and gave them their seating arrangement. Katsuki cursed under his breath at the realization that Izuku was to be seated right behind him.

He stalked over to the desk and sat down roughly. He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, sitting in front of Izuku. He had wanted an opportunity to seek forgiveness. Maybe this was his chance.

It wasn’t going to be his chance. Especially if Izuku had anything to do with it.

They were a week into classes and the boy had barely made eye contact with him, let alone given Katsuki an opportunity to speak to him.

There were plenty of things about Izuku that were different now, the predominant one being that he had a quirk. The official story was that he was a late bloomer, but Katsuki wasn’t sure he bought that. Izuku’s quirk was incredibly powerful, and his body was maladapted to it, which didn’t make a lot of sense to Katsuki. It was like the smaller boy’s body was actively rejecting the quirk.

Another thing that had changed drastically was Izuku’s demeanor. The boy had always been a little shy, but had struggled keeping his exuberance to himself. Now, he was introverted and quiet. He barely ever raised his hand in class. He rarely spoke unless spoken to.

The other boy had also not mentioned that he and Katsuki had known each other as children, something that he would have bragged about endlessly when they were small. Katsuki wasn’t a fool. He knew that he had been awful to Izuku, but it was hard for him to come to terms with just how much the boy had changed in a few short years.

A lot of things happened in their first few weeks at UA.

The first was the villain/hero match-ups that All Might had them perform. Of course, he and Glasses had been paired up against Izuku and Round Face. He hadn’t thought much of it - it was just another battle for him to emerge victorious from - until the exercise had begun.

Izuku was...good. He knew how to use his quirk decently enough, but that wasn’t what had caught Katsuki off-guard. It had been Izuku’s combat skills that had surprised the blonde.

The green-haired boy was quick and deliberate in his movements, his hits never missing their mark no matter how well Katsuki tried to dodge them.

It wasn’t until after the fourth solid hit to his ribs that Katsuki broke, a guttural grunt escaping him. “f*ck, Izuku,” he panted, grabbing his side.

The boy in front of him morphed into someone that Katsuki had never seen before, his face twisted in anger, electricity snapping in his eyes.

“Don’t. Call me that,” he snarled. Katsuki hadn’t known what to do in the face of Izuku’s anger, he had never seen it before. To say it startled him would have been an understatement. “Call me by the name you gave me when we were kids, Kacchan,” his voice mockingly drawing out his own nickname for the blonde.

Katsuki simply shook his head, he wouldn’t call Izuku that ever again. He had made that decision a long time ago. Their watches beeped, signifying that they only had five minutes left to complete the exercise.

Another well-placed punch took Katsuki to his knees and he snarled. He wasn’t weak like this. He kept his eyes trained on the goal and he won, no matter what. He rose to his feet quickly, ignoring his pain, and fired a shot of Explosion off at the boy, hoping it would grant him some space to maneuver.

Except the next thing he knew, someone was grabbing his arm and viciously throwing his body to the ground, the breath knocking out of his chest. Izuku came into his line of sight and smirked at him unkindly.

“Still a f*cking bully, relying on your quirk to do all the work for you.”

Katsuki gasped through the pain and watched as Izuku jumped through a hole in the roof, created from his shot that had been meant for the other boy, the one that Izuku had anticipated and redirected. It was only another few seconds before Katsuki heard the bell ring, signifying the hero team’s victory.

That was also how everyone in Class 1A found out that Katsuki and Izuku knew each other from their childhoods and how the two obviously weren’t on the best of terms.

The next thing that happened was what Katsuki referred to in his mind as the Todoroki incident. Katsuki knew he wasn’t the only one to notice that Izuku and Todoroki were close friends from the first day of school. It was almost like they had grown up together, instead of Katsuki and Izuku. None of it made sense until one day round Face opened her huge mouth and finally asked the question that Katuski had been agonizing over for weeks.

“Deku-kun?” Katsuki winced at the nickname, hating that Izuku had chosen it for his hero name.

Izuku flashed his million-watt smile, the brilliance almost blinding Katsuki even though it wasn’t directed at him. “What’s up Uraraka-kun?”

“You and Todoroki-kun come to school and leave together every day, and I guess I was just wondering…” she paused and her cheeks flushed red before she plowed on, “Are you two dating?”

The words were rushed so it sounded more like areyoutwodating? but nevertheless Katsuki pricked his ears up, listening closely for Izuku’s answer.

“Oh!” the boy shouted, waving his hands in front of his face, which was now as red as Round Face’s, “No! Um…” Katsuki watched as Izuku looked to the other boy in question. Todoroki seemed to sigh and nod slightly, as if giving permission. “Shouto and I are actually...step-brothers.”

There were gasps throughout the room, with many people beginning to talk at once, crowding over to ask question after question. Katsuki ignored all of them and pretended to be bored, while waiting for either of the two step-brothers to say something.

Todoroki walked over to the green-haired boy and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s true,” he confirmed, “Izuku and I have been step-brothers since we were children.”

Katsuki tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t tell what was worse. The relief he felt to hear the two weren’t dating, or the dread that ate away at his stomach that the two people who trailed behind him for the second and third spot in class had been raised by the Number Two Hero.

Bakugou pushed his back against the wall firmly. He didn’t know what had possessed him to follow the two step-brothers after the cavalry battle, but now he was almost wishing they hadn’t. It had been clear to him immediately that he was listening in on something that he shouldn’t be. Endeavor’s voice was rough and harsh, growling at Todoroki for not using his fire, then snapping at Izuku for trying to speak up.

“Enji-san, I think Shouto…” Izuku didn’t refer to Endeavor as his father? Katsuki furrowed his brow in confusion, then jumped slightly when a harsh voice rang out.

“Quiet!” Endeavor’s voice was quiet but sharp in the echoing tunnel. “You will not speak unless spoken to.” Katsuki’s chest constricted at hearing someone speak to Izuku that way. He clenched his fists tightly to keep them from shaking. “Shouto, you need to leave this rebelliousness behind if you want to usurp All Might and be number one. I expect you to use your left side in the tournament. Is that clear?”

Silence. Then a curt answer of “Yes, father.”

“Good, you may go.”

Bakugou’s chest rattled with anxiety, hoping that Shouto left in the opposite direction of him. He would be mortified if he got caught eavesdropping on their unpleasant family meeting. He was about to turn away when he heard Endeavor’s voice call out softly, a hard edge to the sound.

“Izuku. Stay.”

Katsuki waited for the green-haired boy to speak up. He knew that Izuku didn’t take sh*t anymore, from anyone. There was nothing.

“I expect you to stay out of Shouto’s way. He is to win first place, and you will not interfere.”

A heavy pause.

“Yes, sir.”

Katsuki balked at Izuku calling this man sir. There was clearly something below the surface of their relationship, something less than kind and caring, but Bakugou couldn’t pin it down from just this one conversation.

“You know what will happen if you disappoint me, Izuku.”

Katsuki raised a brow at that. What kind of punishments would Endeavor hand out to his stepson if the boy managed to step a toe out of line? Take away his cell phone? Stop him from seeing his friends for a few weeks?

“Do you understand?” Endeavor’s voice growled out and it made the skin on Katsuki’s arms crawl with goosebumps. The heavy undercurrent of malice leaked out into the hero’s words, his voice low and menacing. Katsuki prided himself on not being afraid of anything or anyone, but even he wasn’t sure he would be able to withstand that kind of tone without backing down.

“I understand, Enji-san.”

Katsuki heard shuffling and took off down the hallway. His mind racing with the information he had just discovered. He wondered what would happen to Izuku if Shouto didn’t do well in the next round?

He shook his head as he rounded the corner, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. It didn’t matter. Neither of the two boys would have to worry about winning. Katsuki was going to take home first place.

Katsuki didn’t take home first place.

He had stood on the podium, seething with rage outwardly, insides twisting with anxiety, as Izuku stood just above him, accepting his first place medal from All Might.

The change room was generally noisy, filled with testosterone and the kind of idiocy that Katsuki had come to detest. It had already been four days since the Sports Festival and Katsuki jus twisted that the whole thing would fade from the collective memory of the country. He was stopped multiple times a day by fellow students, strangers, and neighbours, congratulating him. He had tried his best to hold back the snarls that wanted to rip from his throat the first day, but by the second day he was fed up with holding back.

Second place wasn’t anything to be proud of, especially when he had basically thrown the fight. Izuku wouldn’t have quit. He knew that for certain. The green-haired idiot would have kept breaking bones until he wore Katsuki down, and the blond was ashamed to admit that he had thrown the fight because of it.

He never wanted to be the reason Izuku was hurt again. He couldn’t stomach it. And so he had let one of Izuku’s flicks send him out of the ring.

It was after gym class, and a particularly brutal one at that, and they were all trying to get changed quickly for their next class. Most of the boys were already changed and heading out into the hallway. Bakugou wasn’t one of them. He had noticed when they had been getting ready for class that the nerd had gone and changed in the showers, something that he hadn’t done once all year.

Katsuki had thought about it all during class.

And now, Izuku had waited until almost everyone was gone before slinking back over to the same showers, his clothes gripped tightly in his hands.

“You coming, bro?” Kirishima asked, voice bright. Katsuki waved him off, muttering that he would change up in a minute.

Kirishima left, leaving only Izuku and himself in the change room. Before he could stop himself, Bakugou was floating over to the showers, intent on figuring out why now, all of a sudden, Izuku was self-conscious about changing in front of the other boys.

He was standing right outside the thin shower curtain when he heard a soft hiss of pain and a muttered curse.

His hand shot out and pulled the curtain back. He hadn’t known what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the sight of Izuku covered in ghastly bruises, his skin mottled black and blue. He sucked in a breath, bile rising in his throat. What the f*ck?

He snarled at Katsuki, “What do you want?”

Katsuki withdrew for a moment, before his face rearranged itself into a deep scowl. “Are those from the Sports Festival?” he bit out. He knew there was no way they could be. He knew that Izuku had been healed by Recovery Girl after their battle, had sat in the next bed over and watched it. The bruises should have been healed by now.

Which meant that they had happened after the festival. They hadn’t had any rigorous quirk training since the festival either, their teachers giving them a little time to recuperate. Someone had done that to the boy, and that thought alone stirred up a deep well of indignant rage in Katsuki’s stomach. “Who did that to you?”

The words came out softer than he intended for them to, and he could have thrown himself off a building from embarrassment, which only intensified when Izuku rolled his eyes and scoffed in Katsuki’s direction.

“Why do you care?”

The question was meant to hurt and it hit its mark. Katsuki’s throat felt like it was swelling shut Katsuki thinks to himself that they couldn’t be. Izuku had lost out in the second round of the tournament, but he had seen Recovery Girl afterwards, which meant those bruises had happened after the Festival, and they hadn’t had quirk training so that meant-

“Who did that to you?”

Izuku scoffed and threw his shirt on to cover the mass of bruises. “What do you care?”

Katsuki felt the breath suck out of him at the question. How can Izuku think he wouldn’t care? He knew he had been awful to him when they were younger, but Katsuki would never wish this on anyone. “I care.” he whispered. Izuku barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes, shouldering Katsuki out of his way, but the blonde caught his wrist as he walked by, tugging lightly to bring Izuku to a halt.

He looked down into those green eyes, so full of resentment that was all directed at Katuski in that moment. He sucked in a shaky breath, his voice soft and low. “I care about what happens to you, Izuku.”

Izuku ripped his wrist out of Katsuki’s grip, “I told you not to call me that.”

Katsuki furrowed his brows in frustration, “That’s your name.”

Izuku growled, f*cking growled, at him and he raised his brows. “You can not speak to me at all, or you can call me the name you gave me.”

Katsuki shook his head quickly, a scowl blistering across his face. “I’m not calling you that,” he said firmly.

“Then call me Midoriya!” the green-haired boy snapped back,

Katsuki didn’t know why he always needed to dig his heels in, he really wished that wasn’t the case, but he did it, clenching his jaw tightly. “I know you better than all those other extras,” he snapped.

Just as quickly as his anger came, it fled, leaving him feeling exposed. Izuku just shook his head and looked at the floor for a moment, his eyes speaking of an unbelievable sadness when he looked back up.

“You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

“Then let me try to,” Katsuki urged, hating that they were finally talking in the f*cking shower of all places. “I want to… I want to get to know who you are now.”

There was a silence where all Bakugou could hear was his own breathing. Then, as if by magic, all the anger seemed to drain out of Izuku in a rush, his shoulders slumping as he shook his head. “I don’t care what you do, Bakugou.” Izuku pulled his shirt on and pushed past the blond, leaving him alone in the room.

Katsuki watched as he left, the silence almost deafening. He made up his mind right then. He had failed to help Izuku when they were younger, but he would make up for it now.

“It’s Endeavor, isn’t it?” Katsuki leaned up against the wall, waiting for Izuku. Had been waiting for him for ten minutes now. He knew the nerd would walk by eventually, and that he would probably be alone. Which was exactly what he needed.

A sigh. Katsuki had come to anticipate those from Izuku since the locker incident three weeks ago. “What do you want, Bakugou?”

“Katsuki,” the blonde reminded him, continuing without stopping. “The bruises.” Izuku halted immediately. “They’re from Todoroki-san.”

Izuku turned slowly to face Katsuki, his face arranged into a carefully constructed mask of indifference. “Shut up.”

“No,” Bakugou snarked defiantly, not proud of himself for stooping to such immature levels.

A hand whipped out and grabbed Katsuki’s arm, pulling them into an empty classroom. The door slammed and he was roughly pushed against it.

“What the hell is your problem?” Izuku whispered, panic clear in his eyes.

“Currently? The fact that someone is beating the f*ck out of you and that you are stupid enough to be protecting them.” Izuku was silent for a moment, then his face twisted into that ugly scowl when he was about to say something cutting.

“You’re just so. f*cking. Perfect. Aren’t you?” Izuku seethed, his teeth bared.

“No, I-” Bakugou ground out, but Izuku began speaking over top of him.

“It wasn’t bad enough that you spent years torturing me for being quirkless,” Izuku raged, his voice low and harsh. “No. I have a quirk now and you still won’t leave me alone. You are the most self-centered, egotistical, narcissistic-”

“I’m just trying to help you, you f*cking idiot!”

“Help me?! By accusing the Number Two Hero of physically abusing me in the hallways where anyone could hear you?”

“Am I wrong?!” The words rang out loudly, ceasing Izuku’s tirade. He looked defeated, and Katsuki realized that he hated that look on the boy’s face.

“Leave it alone, Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” the blond reminded him again.

“Katsuki,” Izuku conceded, his voice was ragged with emotion, tears welling up his big, green eyes, “Please. Just leave it alone.”

Chapter 5: Remember Me

Chapter Text

Bakugou sat in the waiting room, his knee bouncing rhythmically as he clenched his jaw. This was the part he hated most about dating another hero. The times he put himself in the hospital weren’t nearly as bad as the times he had to wait at the hospital.

And of course, the nerd wound up in the hospital far more often than Katsuki did. It was like the idiot liked spending his time in an uncomfortable bed that smelled too much like bleach.

He looked out the window and watched as cars drove by below, wishing that he was anywhere but here.

He wished that they were at his apartment, lounging on the couch, taking lazy afternoon naps on their day off. Instead, he was here. Sitting alone, waiting for the doctor to come fetch him.

The doctor popped his head into the waiting room a moment later and Katsuki half-wondered if by simply thinking of the man he had summoned him somehow.

“Mr. Bakugou, thank you for waiting.” The man was clearly Izuku’s doctor, and Katsuki didn’t like the way his face was pinched. That kind of look only meant bad news. He moved quickly to stand, trying his best to hold back the anxiety that was coursing through him. It had a way of coming out as aggression, or so his boyfriend had told him… He was working on it.

“How is he?”

“He was hit by a pretty nasty quirk. And we aren’t sure how long the effects will last. Or if they’ll ever fade.”

Katsuki walked up to the doctor and motioned for the man to take him to Izuku. He had waited long enough. He wanted to see the little nerd.

“What kind of quirk?” Katsuki questioned as they strode down the hallway. Katsuki’s eyes drifted from room to room, unable to stop his hero training from taking over. It was second nature now to scan his surroundings constantly, to be always scouting for the next threat.

“...a memory quirk,” the doctor was saying, and Katsuki focused back in at that. “As far as we can tell, it erases all memories of the person you love the most.”

Katsuki sucked in a shallow breath. He went through the list of all the people that Izuku loved. “f*ck,” he cursed under his breath, watching as the doctor flinched form his foul language. “Who did he lose? His mom? All Might?”

They stopped outside a door and Katsuki knew that just beyond the pine of the frame was his boyfriend, waiting for him and probably confused about what the hell was going on. The doctor gave him a look that grated on his nerves. Pity. He hated that sh*t.

“Bakugou-san, Midoriya-san doesn’t remember you. We’ve asked him questions about every person in his life and the only one missing from his memories is you.”

Bakugou’s blood ran cold, his heart stuttering in his chest. “No,” he breathed, brow furrowing in confusion, “You said that it erased the person you love the most. We’ve- we’ve only been dating for a few months. I can’t be… that can’t be right.”

A soft hand on his shoulder squeezed him lightly, “I’m sorry Bakugou-san. You may go in and visit him, but I must warn you… it’s not promising.”

Bakugou nodded and swallowed thickly, feeling like there was a piece of glass stuck in his throat scratching and cutting all the way down.

Katsuki placed an open palm on the door and pushed lightly, the sun streaming in through the open window. He walked the two steps into the room and his heart leaped at seeing the man he loved sitting up and awake, a soft smile on his face as he looked at his phone.

Izuku must have heard his soft footfalls, turning his gaze away from the phone to take Katsuki in. He hadn’t been expecting the knife to the heart at the lack of recognition that was plain in Izuku’s eyes.

The same eyes that had watched him in wonder as kids. That had glared at him in defiance as teenagers. That had glassed over with tears every time he jumped into harm's way to protect the other boy. The eyes that had filled with love when Katsuki had finally confessed.

They were empty of any of that, and it made Katsuki want to run.

“You must be the boyfriend,” Izuku spoke, his voice light with forced humor. Katsuki nodded, not trusting his own voice. Izuku hummed, glancing back down at the phone. “I figured. I… um. I have a lot of pictures of us.”

Katsuki co*cked his head at the vibrant blush that rose in Izuku’s cheeks. He knew the nerd took pictures of him all the time, but why would Izuku but blushing?

f*ck. His heart stuttered. He had found those pictures. He drew a deep breath in through his nose and looked up at the ceiling. This day could f*ck off and die already.

“How long have we been together?” Izuku’s voice rang out, the question innocent in the way that only Izuku could be.

Katsuki walked another few steps, seating himself in the seat beside the hospital bed. He swallowed again, the feeling less harsh this time. “A few months,” he started, sighing slightly when Izuku’s big, green eyes bore into him. “Eight months on Tuesday.”

That seemed to satisfy the nerd. Katsuki should have known better. Just because the idiot had lost his memories of Katsuki didn’t mean he would stop being him. He was still the obnoxious, know-it-all nerd from Katsuki’s childhood.

“What’s your name?” Katsuki frowned at the man sitting beside him, the knife in his chest digging a little deeper. “You’re just Kacchan in my phone,” Izuku said by way of explanation.

“Katsuki,” he whispered, never imagining that he would have to reintroduce himself to the love of his life. “Katsuki Bakugou. But you always just call me Kacchan.”

Izuku nodded again, seeming to think to himself for a moment. Katsuki just watched him, taking in every freckle and scar while he could. There was no guarantee that Izuku’s memories would come back, which meant there was no guarantee that Izuku would even want him anymore.

Katsuki’s heart ached at the thought. He had only just finally gotten his sh*t together enough to finally tell Izuku how he felt. And now that was all being taken away.

Years of fighting, making up, sweating and bleeding together, all taken away in one fell swoop. He wanted Izuku more than anything, but the person in front of his wasn’t his Izuku anymore. He was a shell, a ghost, someone whose personality didn’t cantilever on a shared childhood with Katsuki.

He hadn’t noticed the tears that had gathered in his eyes until a rough hand reached over and took his. That almost hurt more. These hands that had fought him, held him, touched him. They were a stranger’s hands.

“I want to remember you,” Izuku whispered, his voice watery.

Katsuki choked out a laugh, squeezing his eyes shut. “And why is that, Deku?”

Izuku simply smiled, squeezing Katsuki’s hand in his, “You seem like someone worth remembering.”

Chapter 6: Stop

Chapter Text

Izuku gasped brokenly as the pipe swung down again, landing with a sickening thud. The sound alone made his stomach heave, but anything that had been in there from the day before had already been expelled.

He was tied to a chair, arms bound behind him, and chained to the floor, One For All suppressed by a set of cuffs that dug into his wrists.

“Tell me what I want to know,” a voice sing-songed, sending chills down Izuku’s spine. He opened his mouth, about to give in, when another voice rang out.

“f*ck...you…”

Another whoosh, another thud.

Izuku’s tears burned hot tracks down his face, cooling instantly from the lack of heat in the room.

“Please,” he whispered, voice broken from screaming, “please, stop. Stop hurting him. I’ll tell you. I can’t…”

“No!” Katsuki yelled at him from across the room, eyes blazing with fury, but they were dim from taking one too many lead pipes to the ribs. Blood was leaking down from his temple, probably burning from where it ran into his eyes.

Izuku knew he had to look just as bad. They had started the beating with him, after all. That was their first mistake. They had probably hoped that if they hurt Izuku enough, then Katsuki would talk, would tell them about One For All. They hadn’t been counting on Katsuki’s ability to keep a secret.

Katsuki knew that Izuku would rather die than tell that secret.

At least, that’s what he had thought.

Turned out, the only thing he couldn’t endure for All Might’s secret was watching the boy he loved get beaten to a bloody pulp.

A soft hand grabbed his chin tightly, fingers digging into the flesh there. His gaze was jerked up to meet with the woman standing in front of him, a deranged smile waiting there for him.

“Tell me about your quirk,” Himiko murmured, her tongue running along her teeth. “I don’t want to hurt Kacchan, but I will if you make me.”

Izuku sucked in a shuddering breath, his chest aching with the movement. He dropped his gaze from Toga’s and his eyes found Katsuki’s from across the room. The blonde was glaring at him, shaking his head minutely. Izuku felt like his heart was trying to rip itself in half inside his chest.

He refocused on Toga, the twisted smile morphing into anger in a heartbeat. Her eyes blazed with fury for a moment, then the too-sweet smile was back as she dropped his chin, his head bobbing heavily from the lack of support.

He watched as she grinned, backing up and giggling maniacally. “Maybe you just need some more motivation,” she smiled, turning to look at Katsuki again, her smile feral. “What do you think, Kacchan? Wanna play some more?” She reached down to stroke Katsuki’s cheek, but the blond reared up and snapped his teeth at her before she could make contact.

She tutted at him, playfully scowling, “That’s not very heroic of you, Bak-kun.”

“Shut the f*ck up,” Katsuki snarled, blood and spittle dripping from his mouth into the concrete floor.

“Tsk, tsk,” she laughed, taking a step back and lifting the pipe above her head.

Izuku glanced quickly from the pipe to Katsuki, “Wait,” he tried to speak, but the word caught in his throat. Himiko cackled out a laugh and swung the pipe down with her whole body. Izuku didn't care how tough Kacchan said he was, Himiko was going to break his ribs.

“Stop!” The scream ripped from his throat, tearing it to shreds. The pipe screeched to a halt just before it connected with Bakugou’s torso again. He watched as Toga lowered the pipe, looking at him expectantly.

“I’ll tell you -”

“No, Deku, you f*cking idiot!” Bakugou raged, pulled at the chains that tied him down. “Come on, bitch. Hit me with everything you got.” Bakugou’s eyes widened at Himiko dropped the bat altogether and began walking over to Izuku. “No! Deku, think about All Might! f*ck… he, he would want you to hold on! He-”

“Shut up, Katsuki!” Izuku barked, his voice menacing, eyes crackling with what little electricity was left in him. He took in Katsuki’s shocked face. When was the last time Izuku had raised his voice at the other boy? He couldn’t remember.

“All Might’s not here,” he continued quietly, all the fight draining out of him. “And I can’t… I won’t sit here and watch you take all the hits.”

Cold fingers trailed from his temple to his chin, down his neck, and across his shoulder. A mouth settled at his ear, hot breath ghosting over the skin there. “Smart choice, Izu-kun. I probably would have killed him… just for fun.” Sharp teeth clamped onto his earlobe and he jerked away, tearing the skin from between Toga’s lips. There was blood on her chin, and warmth trickling down his neck now.

She smiled with glee and reached down to unlock the bolt that held his chains to the floor, shaking them gently. “Come on,” she simpered, eyeing him up, “I have someone who wants to talk to you.”

Izuku moved to stand, his legs shaky from sitting for so long. Bakugou was rattling his own chains, pulling at them forcefully to no avail. Izuku took one last look at the boy, who had stopped struggling long enough to look up. His eyes were wild with panic and fear, chest heaving with labored breathing, blood smeared across his face.

He was still so beautiful, Izuku thought.

“I love you, Kacchan.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. He wouldn’t take them back anyways. They were the truth, his truth.

“Izuku,” Katsuki whispered, and something about Bakugou finally using his first name after so many years broke him. He slammed his eyes shut, determined this one time to stop the tears from falling. A harsh yank on the length of chain attached to his wrists pulled him back to reality.

He turned away from Katsuki, knowing that he was making the right decision. No secret was worth Kacchan’s life.

All Might would understand. And he would suffer whatever consequences came from his decision.

But he was not letting any more harm come to his childhood friend.

Not if he could prevent it.

Chapter 7: Clipped Wings

Chapter Text

“Keigo,” the voice slithered back over to him, breaking him from his thoughts. Hawks turned his golden eyes back to the Commissioner, eyes burning. They were sitting in a large room, at a table much too big for just two people. It was one of the conference rooms, Keigo knew, used for meetings and the like. There was a large window just off to the right of him, but the room beyond it was dark, although he could swear he saw something move in the inky blackness.

Keigo sat halfway down the table, feet thrown up on the polished mahogany, lounging back in the plush leather chair.

“What is it you want, Commissioner?” Hawks spoke confidently, not letting his anger or concern seep into his words. The Hero Commission had trained him to be aloof, to always hide his motivations, and he made a point of constantly throwing those lessons back in their face with as much force as he could. The man sat at the furthest end of the table, back ramrod straight, fingers intertwined and resting on the table.

“It is my understanding that your contract is due for renewal, but instead of signing the papers, you informed your handler that you wouldn’t be extending your contract.” Keigo nodded, another slight movement catching the corner of his eye. He ran his tongue over his teeth, making a show of looking around the room before training his eyes on the window. Still only darkness.

“That is correct, Commissioner. I wish to retire. I’ve served my contractual five years, and I want out.” He watched as the man before him, Commissioner Saito, smiled widely. There was nothing sincere or happy about the look.

“Keigo, I would love to give you your retirement, truly. You’ve done amazing work for us over the past five years, as I’m sure you’re aware.” Keigo nodded his understanding and agreeance. He had given everything to the HC. “But I’m afraid we just can’t afford to lose you. You’re our top agent.”

Keigo quirked a brow at the man and drew from the deep well of hatred he kept inside him, letting the cool waters of his rage wash over him. He pushed the rising anger deep down where no one could reach it. “Saito, you aren’t actually trying to convince me to come back for another five years, are you?” He kept his voice light, teasing. The Commissioner laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m not here to convince you, Keigo,” the man chuckled again, “I’m here for a signature. That’s all.”

Keigo swallowed the sneer that tried to escape him. “No.”

“We’ll give you more vacation days. Fewer check-ins. You’ll be promoted to Senior Operative. It’s a nice promotion, Keigo. And-”

“No.” Keigo barked, sucking in a quick breath. He wasn’t going back. He swore he wouldn’t. Not after Tsunagu. Or Jin.

Saito tsked a few times, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “I’m not asking you, Keigo.”

“I’m not signing that contract,” he spoke firmly, leaving what he hoped was no room for argument.

He should have known better. Things were never that simple with the Hero Commission.

Saito simply shook his head again, his hand rising slowly to show a small remote control. He clicked it once and the large window illuminated. His feet slipped off the table as he turned his chair to fully face the glass.

His stomach dropped down to his toes, but he refused to stand. There, chained to the floor, kneeled Enji Todoroki.

His hulking mass was wrapped in two-inch chains, secured to the floor, a strip of something shoved into his mouth and tied behind his head. Keigo had been forced to sit through this kind of thing before and had seen all kinds of reactions. Pleading, sobbing, fear. But nothing quite compared to the quiet rage that blazed through Endeavor at that moment.

Their eyes met and it sent an electric shock through Keigo. The man was fire personified.

Keigo tore his eyes away from Enji and glanced back at the commissioner, keeping his voice neutral. “Is this your pathetic attempt to blackmail me?” he teased, shaking his head softly. He reached up to push his hair out of his face, willing his pounding heart to shut up. He was surprised that Saito couldn’t hear it from where he sat.

“No,” Saito grinned, raising the remote again, “This is.”

Keigo furrowed his brow in confusion as the man pushed a button. His nonchalance slipped as he quickly rose to stand, taking two large steps to the window.

Enji’s body seized and a muffled scream shattered the silence of the room. It was loud, too loud to have been heard that clearly through the glass. Keigo looked up quickly and saw the small speakers lining the roof, amplifying the horrible sounds that were coming from the man on the other side of the glass.

The screaming stopped and Enji slumped forward, sweat beaded along his brow. Keigo sucked in a steadying breath, eyes roving over the man. They landed on a thick collar around Enji’s neck that he hadn’t noticed at first.

He clenched his jaw, chastising himself. A shock collar, the very same kind that had been used on Keigo and other recruits during their training. But to elicit that kind of response from someone the size of Enji? Keigo knew that the collar was probably turned all the way up.

He wheeled about to face the commissioner, who was now standing as well, his head tilted as he watched Keigo.

“He’s a big man,” Saito observed, “but even he could only take about four of those shocks before passing out. And who knows what kind of long-lasting effects there would be from that much electricity seizing his nerves.”

Hawks breathed out slowly, focusing on his training. This was a negotiation. He had graduated top of his class, and negotiating had been one of his best skill sets, among other things. He could deescalate just about any situation. He just had to focus and forget the fact that it was Enji.

“That was pretty unnecessary,” he tutted, crossing one ankle over the other as he leaned against the window. “Alright, Saito. I’ll sign your papers, after you let him go.” He was very careful to keep his tone neutral, his face closed off. He didn’t want to show his hand.

“Sign the papers, then he can go,” Saito answered back, gesturing to the pen on the table with the remote.

Keigo sighed and lazily pushed himself off the window, sauntering over to the contract that lay out for him. He grabbed the pen and bent down to scribble his name, his eye catching on the line that read: Contract Term: 10 years.

Keigo pulled back to stand at his full height, an unintimidating 5’8”. “The contract term is wrong,” he stated simply. He turned his gaze back to the man standing to his right, a fake smile resting on his lips.

“We didn’t want to have to renegotiate in five years again,” Saito shrugged, as if it were a minor inconvenience and not an entire decade of Keigo’s life that he was asking the hero to give up.

“I’m not signing up for another ten years,” Keigo growled. “I want this redrawn up. Change the term to three years.”

Saito didn’t answer, his finger merely twitching on the remote. Screams filled the room again, and Keigo snarled at the man, his blood singing with violence, his fingers itching to rip him apart. Every part of him vibrated with the desire to slash and tear and mangle until nothing was left.

He stayed where he was. He was trained better than to let his desires get the best of him.

“What do you want from me?” he asked again, jaw clenched painfully.

Saito tsked and furrowed his brow in what Keigo assumed was supposed to be disappointment. “We want another ten years of service, Keigo. Then you can be the free bird you’ve always wanted to be.”

Hawks wished that he could kill the man in front of him. Maybe one day, he would. But for now, Saito held all the cards, and Keigo knew when to fold.

“You and I both know that I won’t live through another ten years of service. I barely lived through the last five.”

Saito shrugged. “That may be true, but Endeavor-san isn’t going to live through the next five minutes unless I see your name on that dotted line.”

Keigo was tempted to grab a feather. It wouldn’t take much. Saito was old and slow. All Keigo would have to do is reach back, grab his longest feather, a flick of the wrist and it would all be over.

But then he reminded himself that it wouldn’t be over. The Hero Commission would never let him live if he killed the commissioner. They wouldn’t let Enji live, either.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, bending down the reach for the pen once again. He signed his name with a shaky hand, dropping the pen once again, listening as it clattered on the polished wood.

He looked up to see Saito smirking. The man gathered the papers and tucked them into a bag he produced from under the table. Keigo stood statue-still as Saito walked past him, dropping a key ring with only two keys on it onto the table.

“You are both free to go,” he spoke, his tone the definition of professionalism. “That you for being so agreeable, Keigo.”

Keigo simply nodded, grabbing the keys and gripping them tightly. His gaze turned back to Enji, who was now halfway slumped to the floor, his bindings not allowing him to completely fall over.

Another echo of screams filled the room and Keigo’s blood ran cold. His head whipped up to lock onto Saito’s gaze. The man was already watching him, eyes hard, finger pressing on the remote. Keigo’s eyes flickered from the commissioner to Enji, the man writhing on the ground, once, twice, three times before the finger was lifted and the screaming cut off immediately, replaced by gasps.

“Don’t forget your place, Keigo. You are our best, but no one is irreplaceable.” And with that, Saito left him alone in the room.

Keigo stood there for a moment before finally loosing the rage that had been simmering beneath his veins. A low growl built in his throat, gaining strength and intensity as he strode powerfully back to the window. He knew the key ring had a key for the door that lead to the room next to him. He knows that.

He grabbed the nearest chair and threw it through the window anyways, his angered screams echoing off the walls.

He didn’t waste a moment, leaping through the window and running to the near-unconscious man in front of him.

“Enji? Enji!” Keigo’s voice rang out in the silence, the only other sound was that of the hulking redhead’s gasps.

Keigo moved quickly, grabbing the small keychain from where he had dropped it. He hurried to unlock the chains that kept Enji in his half-slumped position, trying his best to help Enji lower himself slowly to the ground.

He ran his hands over every inch of skin and muscle he could reach, checking to make sure there were no other injuries. When his hands reached Enji’s throat he growled savagely and flicked the clasp at the back of it, throwing it viciously across the room once it was off.

“Keigo…” Enji rasped, his throat raw.

Hawks shushed the man, letting his hand drift over the high cheekbones, caressing the soft lips that sat there with his fingertips. A large hand came up and wrapped around his, stalling his ministrations.

“You...you didn’t, did you?” The words were soft, quiet in the empty room. Keigo hated how wrecked Enji sounded, like his heart was breaking right in front of the winged-hero. He knew that if he let him, Enji would blame himself for this whole mess. For not being silent, for not being stronger.

Keigo knew better. If they hadn’t used Enji, they would have found someone else to motivate him. Mirko, Edgeshot, hell - even the finger-breaking kid probably would have done the trick.

The thing was, he had been trained by the Hero Commission to be strong, to withstand torture, to be a hero. It was in his blood, they used to tell him.

Which meant that every time, without fail, if the choice came down to saving someone else or saving himself, he chose someone else.

He simply nodded to answer Enji’s question, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to flood his eyes. Enji slammed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched tightly.

“How long?”

Keigo lowered his head until his chin rested on his chest, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him. “Ten years.”

“No,” Enji gasped, his hands squeezing Keigo’s tighter now. “No. We’ll find a way out of this. I… I’ll figure something out.”

Keigo just nodded, all the energy draining from his body. He didn’t have it within him to tell Enji that he would never be able to escape the men who caged him. He had tried before. He had failed more times than he cared to admit.

He was a bird with clipped wings.

And they were going to keep him that way for the rest of his life.

He sighed as he moved to lay his head on the massive expanse of Enji’s chest. At least he had this. He had Enji, and he found himself hoping and praying that they wouldn’t take him away from Keigo.

Like they had taken Tsunagu. Or Jin.

Everyone was taken from him. No one was safe.

Keigo wondered if that’s why Enji had become so attractive to him. He was larger than life. The Number One Hero. He couldn’t just disappear. The Hero Commission couldn’t lose their best hero so quickly after losing All Might. Enji was safe. He was steady.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

There was something beautiful about that, Keigo thought as he listened to Enji’s breathing, his chest moving up and down rhythmically.

There was something beautiful about knowing that someone couldn’t be taken away from you.

That they were yours.

No matter what.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Enji was exhausted. He had just finished a long day mentoring his three problem children, which had included in-house training and a five-hour patrol, then had finished the day in his office, working through the stacks of paperwork.

He had just walked into his apartment - a penthouse, as Keigo had informed him - throwing down his suit jacket and briefcase on the couch before walking into the kitchen. The lights were all off, meaning that Keigo wasn’t home yet.

Enji knew, rationally, that the winged-hero might not come home at all, the nights that he was gone far outnumbered the nights that they got to spend together.

It had been a few weeks since the Hero Commission had forced Keigo to renew his contract, and to say the mood in the apartment had been somber was putting it lightly. The two had barely seen each other, but the nights that they did get to spend together were perfect.

Enji walked to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a cold bottle of water. When he turned back around there was a body, mostly hidden by the darkness of the room, sitting at the island counter.

He reached a hand out quickly to flick on the light, jaw clenching at the image of a man - no, a boy, really, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five - sitting in his kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” Enji asked, voice steady and powerful. He recognized the man from television, and from his boyfriend’s whispers late at night, when Keigo would share what he had learned while undercover.

He looked more closely at the villain. There was something so familiar about those eyes, burning an ethereal, bright blue. He shook his head, refocusing.

The villain - Dabi, Enji recalled - tilted his head to the side, a grim look on his face. “My, my. This is quite the spread,” he simpered, dragging a finger along the counter. “Although, I suppose it’s only the best for the Number One Hero.”

Enji forced himself to stay calm. This man clearly wanted something. He had to play the game, as Keigo would say, and play it smart.

“I’ll ask you again… What are you doing here?” Enji let his voice rumble deeply in a way that he knew was intimidating… At least to most people. The man in front of him didn’t seem intimidated at all. He almost seemed indifferent. Something ugly twisted in Enji’s gut. If this man was here, standing in front of them, then something had happened with Keigo. He only hoped that he would be able to get the young hero out of whatever mess he had gotten himself into.

Enji watched as the man brought the hand that wasn’t resting on the counter up, a square of paper gripped in between his fingers. He tossed it lightly on the counter, and Enji’s heart clenched as it spun, coming to a stop right in front of him.

It was the photograph from his nightstand, the only one he had of Keigo. It was from a few months ago, when the sun had been shining and it was one of the rare days that they both had off. Keigo had been beaming, the sunlight catching in his hair, painting it gold.

“Your bird is in trouble,” Dabi licked at his teeth, feigning boredom. Enji snarled, unable to push down his rage. Before Dabi could move, Enji was in front of him, picking him up by the collar and slamming his back down on the counter.

His chest was heaving as he tried to restrain himself, “Talk. Now.”

Dabi laughed, although the sound was the furthest thing from joyful. “That is quite the reaction for someone who has no affiliation to Hawks outside of work. Although… if that were true you wouldn’t have a picture of him on your nightstand.”

Enji pressed his arm firmly into Dabi’s throat, cutting off whatever the villain was going to say next.

“What do you want? Money? Information?” He was aware of the desperation in his voice, but his heart was pounding out of his chest. He needed to make sure Keigo was safe.

He had already lost so much in his life, most of it due to his own failings.

He couldn’t lose Keigo, too.

“Tell me where Keigo is,” Enji demanded, feeling Dabi jolt underneath his arm, his eyes widening.

A scowl crosses the young man’s face, but Enji doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about anything other than finding Keigo.

Dabi brings a hand up to Enji’s arm, the palm heating his skin painfully. Enji stood to his full height and stepped back, eyes narrowed at the villain.

Dabi didn’t speak, just turned his back and walked to the window, throwing one last look over his shoulder before stepping out and dropping into the empty air below.

Enji rolled his shoulders and grimaced, walking over and peering down at the sidewalk.

Dabi was waiting for him.

The warehouse was empty, pattering of water droplets echoing off the expansive concrete.

The two men hadn’t spoken at all on the way over, but that was fine with Enji. He wasn’t here to talk. He was there to get Keigo and run. As far and as fast as he could.

The large room was dark, save for one beam of light, trained on a thin man, hanging from the ceiling by his wrists, his feet barely touching the ground.

Enji couldn’t stop himself from running up to the hanging body, every part of him terrified that it would be cold, lifeless, that he would be too late.

He ran his hands over every inch of skin that he could touch, letting out a breath that he hadn’t known he had been holding when the man coughed and growled lowly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Keigo murmured, anger seeping into his words.

Enji shook his head, jaw clenched tightly. “Neither should you, we’re going home.”

A laugh rang out behind him, the sound dark and menacing, “Home? You live with him?”

The question is pointed at Keigo, the hurt overpowering the disgust. Enji reached up to the thick leather cuffs that were holding Keigo up and opened them, catching the blond hero as he slumped against Enji’s expansive chest. Enji grunts at the sudden addition, his attention immediately brought to the small flutter of wings and a broken gasp. Keigo’s wings often had a mind of their own, but they were hanging limply from the hero’s back at a grotesquely odd angle. He brought up his hand to the base of one and stroked the wing, stopping at the sound of a pained whimper.

There was a flare of blue light that Enji noticed out of the corner of his eyes and when he turned his head he saw Dabi with his hand out, blue flames licking at his palm, eyes filled with rage.

Enji looked at Dabi defiantly and brought his chin up in a swift jerk. Dabi narrowed his eyes at the two, seeing the answer he sought in Enji’s eyes.

“You knew,” he scoffed, laughing without humor. Enji simply nodded, taking a step towards the door slowly. Dabi’s fire flared up again, his eyes blazing with unbridled hatred, “Did you know he was f*cking me too? Did you precious little bird tell you that?”

Enji felt Keigo suck in a breath, his chest stuttering over the action. He had known the whole time. He knew everything about Keigo’s mission. The undercover work. The lying. He knew about Tsunagu, about Jin Bubaigawara.

He hadn’t wanted to, not if it would have put Keigo in danger, but the blond had insisted. Had pushed and demanded that Enji know everything.

“Yes.” The answer was quiet, barely heard over the crackling of Dabi’s flames, but the word makes the blue fire die out. He looked like a broken man, like everything he knew had just shattered around him. He looked like he had nothing to lose. And a man with nothing to lose was the most dangerous one.

“I know you care about him,” Enji spoke slowly, his voice low. “I know you do. So, please. Let me take him out of here. He needs help.”

“Why?” The question was ground out from a tightly clenched jaw. Keigo opened his mouth to answer, but winced with pain. Enji shushed him and made to answer for him, but Keigo talked over him.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. But you aren’t the only caged bird, Dabi. They wanted information, and they’ll get it any way they have to.” A cough, a smattering of blood on his hero costume. Enji gripped Hawks closer to his chest, hating that the body he held tightly against himself was becoming colder with each passing minute.

There was a moment of silence, and Enji watched as the scarred villain thought for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly.

“The Hero Commission?”

Keigo simply nodded, his head thudding weakly against Enji’s chest. “They told me to find out everything I could about the League of Villains and it’s members,” a gurgled chuckle rang darkly from the normally happy man’s throat, his eyes drenched in hatred. “If I didn’t comply…” a shuddered gasp of pain as Enji tried to shift him carefully, “They were going to kill Enji.”

Dabi’s eyes blow wide open, stretching the scars under his eyes grotesquely. “You’re lying. They would never kill their Number One Hero, not after All Might’s fall.”

Keigo simply laughed again, his chest wheezing with the effort, “They would do anything to get what they want. No one is safe.”

Enji holds Keigo a little tighter to his chest. He wants to leave, needs to get Keigo somewhere safe, preferably to a hospital and then into a safehouse. With new identities, possibly a fake death. Whatever it would take to keep the Hero Commission away from him.

“Dabi,” his voice echoed across the empty warehouse, bouncing off the concrete. “We need to leave.” Enji doesn’t say anything else. He won’t try to plead to the villain’s sense of empathy, or even to the connection that the boy clearly has with the man that Enji loves.

He had known since Keigo’s first day undercover what this mission would probably entail. He had known what Keigo had done with the boy, and how much it had killed the winged-hero inside. He had been trained to be clever and skilled, to be deceitful when it served a greater purpose, but that didn’t mean that the acts he had to perform had no effect on the younger man.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Enji had watched Keigo tear himself apart for weeks, coming home - when he could - and falling into a sobbing heap on the floor. It had been all Enji could do to just hold him, to try to keep him in one piece so that the man that he loved could go out again the next day and continue to pretend well enough to keep himself alive.

So, no. Enji won’t plead to the villain, because he knows in the end that he will raze the building to the ground if he has to. He will scorch every villain who stands in his way. He will burn the Hero’s Commission to a pile of rubble and ash.

He will rain hellfire down on anyone who tries to take Keigo away from him, so help him Gods.

He won’t hesitate.

There will be only death and destruction.

Chapter 9: Take Me Home

Chapter Text

Bakugou watched the screen in front of him carefully, waiting. They had tried to get him to leave, to sleep, to eat. He wasn’t moving. Not until he understood.

He watched as the small boy sat in the cell, humming to himself, head rhythmically swaying from side to side.

Katsuki didn’t understand. He needed to understand.

***

The villain attacks had gotten worse over the last six months. They were becoming more targeted, more deadly - it was a miracle that no one had actually died yet - and it was becoming infinitely clear to everyone at UA that there was a traitor amongst them. Someone feeding information to the League of Villains. That was the only explanation for the League to have some of the kinds of information that they had.

Someone had switched teams, and they had needed to find out who.

Really, when Bakugou thought about it, the school had pulled a fast one on all the students. They had claimed there was a gas leak somewhere on school grounds, sending all students home for the week without allowing them access to their dorms after classes.

They were all just sent home.

And that’s where they had gotten lucky.

They had searched every student's room, going through every drawer, every notebook, every nook and cranny in search of anything that would point to a traitor.

In the end, they had only found one race of evidence that pointed to who the traitor was.

One small notebook, tucked between a mattress and a bed frame.

In it were the details of every hero on campus, along with some of the stronger students, strengths and weaknesses, points of entry on the grounds, security rotations. Anything that the League of Villains would have wanted to know, everything that they had known, was detailed in one little Campos.

***

They had been sitting in class when it happened. Aizawa-sensei had walked into class, his hair already floating, quirk in use. No one had understood, or been able to guess, whose quirk the teacher had been canceling, but the answers became clear when Izuku burst from his seat, body heading for the door.

He hadn't made it far before EraserHeads' scarf was wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms and legs tightly to his sides. Bakugou had watched in muted horror as Deku turned to face their teacher, a cold smile on his face. He had never seen such a look on the boy’s face before, not once in over ten years of friendship had he ever seen Izuku look so… cold.

They hadn’t been told anything as UA security guards had come into the room, grabbing Deku and leaving with him and Aizawa.

It hadn’t been until much later, back at the dorms, that Aizawa had called them all into the dorm’s common room and told them that they had found the traitor, and that it had been Izuku.

Bakugou remembered vaguely hearing people gasp, Round Face breaking down into tears, Glasses shouting about how Izuku would never betray them, IcyHot demanding to know what evidence they had.

All that was happening around him, but his mind just kept circling, trying to make sense of the information that had just been thrust upon him.

It’s not true, Bakugou thought, it can’t be. He… He’s always wanted to be a hero. He can’t be helping the villains.

Aizawa pulled Bakugou from his thoughts with a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. Bakugou jerked away from the contact, every nerve ending in his body singing to let an explosion go. To blast the feeling of uncertainty clean out of his body.

“He’s asking to see you,” Aizawa murmured, voice only loud enough for Bakugou to hear. The blond simply nodded, not trusting his own voice to carry words.

They let quietly, letting Present Mic take over the explanations and reassuring of the rest of Class 1A.

***

Aizawa took him to the school, but once they arrived they started down. Bakugou had never known that UA had such an impressive underground network of tunnels and hallways, and he was sure that if he hadn’t had Aizawa guiding him he could have gotten lost and stayed that way for days before he would have been able to find his own way out.

They turned one last corner and Bakugou was greeted with the sight of All Might in his small form, the former Number One Hero unable to hold his muscular form for even ten minutes now. The man was pacing, hands pulling roughly at his hair.

Bakugou had never seen his mentor so rattled before. As they got closer, their steps echoing off the cement walls, All Might ceased his pacing, turning to face them quickly. His eyes fell on Bakugou and he rushed over to the blond, muscles ballooning to three times their regular size, two hands grabbing him and pushing him against the wall.

“Did you know anything about this?” All Might’s voice was ragged and desperate, eyes searching into Bakugou’s very soul. He gasped at being handled so roughly by the normally kind teacher. He had never seen All Might look panicked, but that was all he saw now. He shook his head emphatically, eyes wide, unable to make his voice obey him to answer.

A strong hand came down on the arm that pinned Bakugou, a stern voice snapping the tension. “That’s enough, Toshinori. Let him go.”

The hands pinning him disappeared, and Bakugou’s feet returned to the ground. He hadn’t even noticed that All Might had picked up clean up off the ground until he was set back down on solid concrete.

The two teachers in front of him were having a whispered argument, one that Bakugou couldn’t care less about listening to. He needed to see Izuku. Maybe this was all some trick. An entirely unfunny practical joke.

“I want to see him,” he whispered, but neither man heard him. He scowled and cleared his throat, not used to going unheard. “I want to see him!” His shout echoed off the walls, and both men stopped their conversation and turned to him.

Aizawa stared at him for a moment, almost like he was sizing Bakugou up then jerked his head towards the door. Bakugou followed him quietly, looking at All Might with big eyes.

He felt more and more like this wasn’t a joke. Like it was the furthest thing from.

Aizawa held the door for him and Bakugou walked into a small room. It was dark, the only light coming from a bright bulb in the center of the room. There was a metal grating that split the room in half, like prison bars in a cell.

There, on a chair in front of said bars, sat his childhood friend, looking scared. Bakugou turned to face Aizawa, keeping his voice low.

“What has he said so far?” He kept his head tilted down, not wanting Izuku to see his lips moving. As much as he wanted to believe this was all a big misunderstanding, he needed to be careful not to cause any further damage.

“He hasn’t said anything. He said he wouldn’t talk to anyone before he spoke to you.” Bakugou nodded, then drew in a deep breath before turning to the green-haired boy sitting in front of him. Aizawa closed the door, and then they were alone.

Katsuki walked to the steel bars, sitting in the chair opposite of Deku. He looked down at the floor between his legs and let out a long breath before bringing his gaze up to meet emerald eyes.

There was so much innocence there, the same eyes he had been looking into since he was a kid. He scowled deeply and crossed his arms over his chest. “Talk.”

“It’s… it’s not true,” Izuku whispered, his eyes darting around the room, fingers curling around the iron separating them.

Bakugou quirked an eyebrow, scoffing lightly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m going to need more than that, sh*tty Deku.”

“Someone planted that notebook, Kacchan-”

“It was the same exact notebook that you always carry around.” Katsuki interrupted.

Deku licked his lips quickly, words leaving his mouth faster now, “Yeah, and everyone sees me with my notebooks all the time. Don’t you think I would choose a different kind if I was keeping secret notes about UA?”

Katsuki barked a laugh, shaking his head. “The handwriting is yours, idiot. How the f*ck do you explain that?” The words came out harshly at the end, hissed between clenched teeth. He watched Izuku carefully, trying to decipher if the boy was lying.

“It was a quirk.” Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Kacchan -”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” Deku cried, tears filling his eyes. Katsuki paused for a moment, his anger subsiding for a moment. “Please, Kacchan,” Deku’s words got thicker, his throat closing with held back tears. “I wouldn’t do this. You know I wouldn’t. I have wanted to be a hero my whole life, I wouldn’t throw it away like this. You know that.”

Bakugou bit his bottom lip, confusion racing through his mind. The green-haired boy was right. As long as Katsuki had known Deku, the boy had dedicated every waking minute to becoming a hero.

Him being a villain made no sense. Deku reached through the bars completely, grabbing one of Katsuki’s hands that was hanging off his knee. The boy’s hand was cold from the lack of heat in the room. Katsuki frowned at the realization that Deku had probably been in the room all day with nothing to keep him warm. His hand heated up without consciously trying to do so.

“I need you to believe me,” Deku whispered, his fingers wrapping tightly around Bakugou’s. The blond looked into Izuku’s eyes. Really looked.

He searched for even a trace of dishonesty, but was only met with the truth. He sucked in a breath, letting it out with a shudder. “What do you need me to do?”

Izuku let out a breath that Katsuki hadn’t known that boy had been holding, a shaky smile curling his lips, then falling away just as quickly.

“We don’t have much time,” Izuku spoke softly, his eyes darting around the room again. Katsuki looked into the corners at the ceiling. He didn’t see any cameras, but that didn’t there weren’t any.

“They’re going to take me away soon -”

Katsuki clenched the fingers that still rested in his palm, loosening his grip when he saw Deku wince, “What? Where?”

Izuku looked at him, eyes looking defeated.

Oh, he thought.

“You’re going to have to figure out who set me up,” Deku explained, leaning in closer.

Bakugou felt a wave of helplessness wash over him, the feeling foreign to him. He whispered brokenly, “How?”

“Start with the Quirk Database. Look for something about a quirk that allows the user to copy another person’s writing. Get Todoroki to help you, or Tenya. They both are from hero families and have access to agencies that would be able to complete the search.”

Katsuki was about to cut Izuku off, but the boy spoke over him. “I know you don’t want to ask for help, but you have to, Kacchan. You’re so amazing, and there’s so much that you can do, but I don’t think you can do this on your own. You’re going to have to lie to everyone. To keep secrets.”

A bang on the door caused them both to jump. Katsuki whipped his head around to glance at the door, but turned back to Izuku when the boy squeezed his hand. “We’re out of time. Okay,” Izuku took another deep breath, nodding more to himself than anyone else. “Someone set me up, Kacchan -”

“Yeah, I believe you-”

“No.” Izuku said firmly. “Someone at UA set me up. Think about it. The League of Villains can’t get on campus. That means that there’s still someone here who planted that notebook. You have to find the quirk user, and find the traitor. You need to have evidence, Katsuki, or else I won’t get out. And-”

The door opened before Izuku couldn’t finish, a burly security guard standing in the doorway.

“Time’s up,” the man rumbled, scowling. Bakugou stood and looked at Izuku one last time, eyes wide. This was so much. Everything was resting on his shoulders.

He had let Izuku down in the past, but he wasn’t going to fail him this time. He would save him.

He took a step towards the door, then his heart stuttered. He turned on his heel, mouth agape. “You called me Katsuki,” he uttered, the stillness of the room threatening to swallow him whole.

Then Izuku smiled. It was the same smile he flashed when he learned a new combo move, or when Lunch Rush served katsudon.

A genuine smile.

A hand wrapped around Bakugou’s upper arm, pulling him gently towards the door. Katsuki let the man pull him, he was so shocked at Deku’s use of his first name. Had he ever heard the nerd say his given name? He didn’t think so.

“You can do this, Kacchan.”

Bakugou set his face into a look of determination and nodded curtly once.

He left the room, walking swiftly down the hallway. He felt more than saw a set of footsteps fall in beside him, knowing it was his sensei from the soft footfalls.

“What did Midoriya say?”

Bakugou was about to tell his teacher to back off, but remembered what Izuku said about asking for help. He could trust Aizawa. He took a deep breath.

“He says he didn’t do it.”

“And do you believe him?”

Katsuki stopped walking, looking up at his teacher as the hero turned to meet his eyes, searching Katsuki’s eyes the same way Katsuki had searched Izuku’s. “Yes.”

Aizawa seemed to contemplate that for a moment, then sighed and dragged a hand down his face, sighing softly. “Come on, Problem Child. We have work to do.”

Chapter 10: Calm Waters

Chapter Text

Izuku thought of a poem he had learned in English class. He couldn’t remember the lines, but the author had waxed on about how death by drowning was a peaceful way to go.

Izuku, respectfully, disagreed.

He hadn’t really wanted to go on the boat ride with the rest of their class. He wasn’t the biggest fan of deep water and while he knew how to swim, it definitely wasn’t his favorite activity. Sure he went to the beach with his friends, or to the pool oh hot summer days, but that was predictable. That was safe.

Cruising across heaving waves out in the open ocean was decidedly unsafe.

The day had started out nicely enough, but by the afternoon the winds had picked up, pitching the bow of the boat up and down on five-foot waves. Then the waves were eight feet. Then ten.

Captain Selkie had ordered them all to tie themselves off to the railings, and the students of Class 1A had hurried to do so.

Izuku had been about to tie himself off when he looked up and saw Ochako slip on the deck, falling painfully on her knees. He had unclipped himself and rushed to her, picking her up and carrying her to the railing. -

The waves had beaten down on them, causing him to slip and slide on the metal deck. He finally got Ochako strapped and locked in, smiling at her and gasping out a laugh. She motioned for him to tie himself off.

He nodded and grabbed his carabiner, about to lock himself in, when it hit. A wave, bigger than anything that had washed over the deck, slamming into his back full force. It had knocked him to the floor of the boat and pushed him across the deck. Izuku’s eyes widened as he neared the edge of the boat, the water still rushing him along. He had scrambled desperately to grab hold of something, knowing that the force of the water was going to push him straight overboard.

A hand stretched out and he reached hard to grab it, gripping it with all his strength. He looked up and choked out a laugh. It was Kacchan who had grabbed him. Of course.

He was about to stand up when Kacchan’s voice rang out, urgency laced with panic, “Deku!”

Another wave grabbed hold of Izuku, ripping Kacchan’s hand away from him.

He hit the water hard, the wave pushing him under deep beneath the surface. He clawed at the water, desperately trying to fight his way back to the surface, but he had spun too many times, the water too dark, for him to even begin to guess which way to go.

His heart tightened in his chest, a sense of overwhelming panic ripping its way up his throat to escape. His body wanted to draw in a deep breath so badly, but he stopped himself, knowing there was no way he could let the salty ocean water into his lungs.

He tried to open his eyes, the salt stinging harshly, but still couldn’t decipher which way to swim.

There were dark shapes flickering at the edges of his vision, and his thoughts started to run into one another.

It was mostly memories that came to the forefront of his mind. His first day at UA and what it felt like to actually have friends.

Having Kacchan recognize him as a true rival.

Becoming close with All Might, realizing that maybe this was what it felt like to have a father.

Watching dero documentaries with Kacchan on the weekends.

Saving Eri, the feeling of putting his life on the line for someone else, and knowing that it was the right thing to do.

Kacchan teaching him how to cook his own katsudon, so that he could have it whenever he wanted, not just when Lunch Rush made it.

Kacchan smiling at him for the first time in years.

Kacchan wrapping him up in a tight hug after a particularly rough villain battle.

Kacchan...Kacchan...Kacchan.

More and more memories flicked before his eyes, his eyes spotted with blackness. He knew in the recesses of his brain that he needed oxygen, that his body was fighting tooth and nail to stop itself from sucking water into his lungs.

His vision blacked out completely for a moment and he just felt so tired. He tried to move his limbs, but they didn’t obey him.

He thought he saw a flash of blond hair in the water, but when he tried to open his eyes again there was nothing there.

No one was there. He was all alone, drifting in the vast abyss of the sea. Floating unnoticed and drifting closer and closer to unconsciousness.

His chest was screaming with pain, then his whole body tightened, every muscle rigid. The tension released, followed by a feeling of utter exhaustion.

His throat hurt, his thoughts were fuzzy, and all he could think about as the darkness completely claimed him was Katsuki. About how he had never told the blond how he felt, truly.

About how much Katsuki’s friendship meant to him, but how he wanted more, so much more.

He drifted to sleep thinking of blood red eyes piercing into him, telling him to be strong.

I can’t, Kacchan, he thought, mouth opening, letting the water rush in.

His body tensed again, and then there was nothing.

Chapter 11: Breathe In Breathe Out

Chapter Text

Bakugou sat on his teacher’s couch, taking in the sparse decor. It looked like a hotel, complete with weird abstract art and no personal touches whatsoever. He would have laughed at the thought of Aizawa picking out the artwork if he wasn’t so horrified at his actions.

“Kirishima! I’m sorry! I… I don’t know… I can’t…”

“Kacchan? Are you okay?”

“Bakubro? I...f*ck… Mina, can you take me to Recovery Girl. I think my nose is broken.”

***

It had started small.

Despite his mother’s outward indifference, he knew the old hag was worrying over him after the Sludge Villain incident. He has heard her talking with his father late one night, discussing whether he should go to therapy. He had scoffed and continued on his way to the bathroom.

He didn’t need to see a shrink. He was fine.

His life carried on as it always did. He had laser focus on his goals and he wouldn’t fail.

***

Everything had been going fine until the Sports Festival. Not only had Deku beaten him in the obstacle course, but that idiot IcyHot hadn’t brought his A-game while fighting him.

Of course, he had been furious. He didn’t want anyone to think that he had won simply because his opponent wasn’t trying. He wanted to show everyone just how amazing he was. That he would always win.

The teachers had tried to get him to calm down enough to accept his first-place medal, but he was too worked up. They chained his hands and slapped a metal mask on him to go to the awards ceremony.

It hadn’t bothered him at first, too wrapped up in his own anger to notice how the mask made it harder to breathe. It wasn’t until about halfway through the ceremony that Katsuki started to get short of breath. The mask bounced his hot breath back at him, choking him and making him gasp for fresh, cool air.

All he got was another mouthful of stale, hot breath.

He had started to shake and pull at the chains holding his hands. His heart beat wildly, like it was trying to rip its way out of his chest. What was this feeling? His mind got fuzzy and he felt like he was going to pass out.

When All Might finally pulled the mask off, Katsuki gasped greedily for air, clenching his jaw tightly. He plastered an angry snarl on his face to hide the fear that was coursing through every nerve ending in his body.

He tried to regain control of his breathing, his chest heaving with the effort. That was horrible, he thought. I never want that to happen again.

***

It happened again…

They were fighting in the forest and the next thing he knew he was gone. The forest had disappeared, all he could see around his was a distorted view of trees and dark sky through thick glass. The space was small, he could touch both sides if he spread his arms wide. He was trapped.

He was jostled around in the small prison, trying to keep his breathing even as he waited for someone to help him. The faster he breathed, the hotter the small bubble got. It raised goosebumps on his skin and made his heart rattle uncomfortably in his chest. He could feel it coming on again, the same as the Sports Festival.

His chest was rising and falling too quickly, his breathing starting to stutter in his rib cage.

He clenched his hands into fists, trying to remind himself to stay calm. Just because he felt like he couldn’t breathe didn’t mean he was suffocating. He kept telling himself that. There is air in here, Katsuki. You can breathe.

Then he was out, stumbling onto the ground and crashing to his knees. He took in a deep gasp of clean air and coughed raggedly. They had gotten him out of there, somehow. Surely everything would be okay.

He pushed himself to stand, his legs wobbling slightly but he ignored it. He would be strong. Then a hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly as it pulled him back. His entire body seized, the feeling of his airways being restricted sending him into a state of panic. He looked up and saw Deku running for him, arms flapping behind him in their damaged state.

All he wanted was for someone to help him, for someone to get the hand off his throat. He hated that he wasn’t strong enough to save himself. That he was asking for someone to help him at all.

The hand pulled him back and he knew without a doubt that he was being taken by the villains. He saw the desperation in Deku’s eyes and was able to pugs away the panic enough to know that they both couldn’t get captured.

“Stay back, Deku,” he whispered, his heart continuing to slam against the cage of his ribs.

Everything around him got dark, and it felt like all the air was sucked out of him, leaving him empty and fighting for oxygen.

The world exploded into color and he crashed to the ground. He knew in his mind that the hand around his neck was gone now, but it seemed it was too late for him. He tried to suck in air but it wouldn’t go past his throat, wouldn’t enter his lungs. Each suck of oxygen was painful and unsatisfying.

He heard murmurs above him but couldn’t make out the words. He was pretty sure he was dying. Is that what dying felt like?

He tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees but his limbs shook and gave out under him. Blackness encroached on the edges of his vision as he still tried to gasp for breath.

You’re passing out, some part of his brain that was still capable of rational thought informed him.

He hoped that it would happen faster. Anything to make the ache in his chest go away.

***

It had been months since he had been kidnapped and he was a shell of his former self. It was a wonder that nobody had noticed yet.

Shortly after moving into dorms, Bakugou had started to have nightmares. He would be asleep, then his dreams would become plagued with slime monsters and drowning. He would always wake up quickly, jolting to sit up, chest heaving as he struggled to suck down as much air as he could.

At the beginning, he had suffered alone. He didn’t need help. He was strong. The strongest.

Then it got worse. Where he used to only get the nightmares a couple times a week, now he was plagued with them every night. He was afraid to fall asleep, afraid to close his eyes.

He had spent some time one night trying to figure out exactly what the hell was wrong with him. He had typed his symptoms into the search bar of his phone and greedily read everything that came up. He typed in a follow up search and repeated the process, searching and devouring information as quickly as he could.

By the time the sun was rising over the horizon, he had learned a few things. The first was that he was clearly suffering from panic attacks. The second was that it was most likely a form of post-traumatic stress.

He had angrily pulled on his uniform and stomped to class, anger and shame coursing through him. He was supposed to be a hero, one who wasn’t afraid of anything. How was he going to protect others when he couldn’t even control his own damn emotions?

***

Things got a little better, for a while, after that. He did more research, looking up ways to stop the panic attack before they got out of control. It had worked… for a little bit.

Then he had watched Deku fight Shigaraki, and everything got so much worse. He realized that he couldn’t control anything. There was no way to keep the people he cared about safe, let alone himself.

Everything felt out of control, entirely too much, and hopelessly unfixable. He went back to having nightly panic attacks, then they started to creep into the day time. They were unpredictable, and he never knew what was going to set him off. Sometimes it was a loud bang of a door slamming, sometimes it was the playing of the news in the commons area, the reporters talking about horrific events in other parts of the world.

The only person who seemed to notice that he was fading away was Deku. The green-haired nuisance had cornered Bakugou one day, demanding to know what was wrong.

“f*ck off, Deku,” he growled, trying to count to three in his head as he sucked in a hasty breath.

Izuku had just scowled, grabbing Bakugou’s shoulders and pushing him back into the wall of the hallway. “I’m not leaving you alone like this! Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew it was going to happen the minute his back hit the wall. His throat closed off, stopping all oxygen from getting to his lungs, his knees going weak immediately.

They gave out under him and he felt Deku’s small, compact body lower him gently to the floor.

Arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tightly. They rocked him back and forth, a scarred hand rubbing small circles into his back.

Despite being squeezed so tightly, he actually felt like he could breathe again. After a few moments, he pulled away from Deku, wiping quickly at the hot tears on his face. He sighed heavily, not wanting to answer the millions of questions that were in Deku’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” Deku asked quietly. Bakugou almost barked a laugh, but swallowed it. He didn’t have the energy to push people away from him right now.

“I don’t… I don’t think so.”

***

That was how Deku came to be the only person beside Katsuki himself that knew about his panic attacks. The next few weeks the small hero kept a watchful eye on him, and even though Katsuki knew he should hate having someone watch after him the way Deku was, it was nice to know that someone could help him if he needed it.

Whenever an attack came on, Deku would jump in and come up with an excuse for them to remove themselves from the situation. It didn’t matter if they were in class, doing hero training, or just sitting in the common room. Deku would see Bakugou struggling to breathe and would jump up and grab the blond, spouting off some bullsh*t excuse about needing to do homework or go for a run, and then they would be gone.

Deku would take him somewhere quiet and hold him tightly, helping Katsuki count his breaths until he calmed down enough to gain his bearings again.

Katsuki thought he would hate it, but it was… nice. It was comforting to know that there was someone looking out for him.

He should have known that it wouldn’t last though. He hadn’t had a release in weeks and he was like a bottle rocket. The more shook up he got, the more explosive he would be.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when it happened. He was in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for himself and the idiots he called his friends, when Kirishima stepped up beside him, nudging him softly.

“So… you and Midoriya?” Bakugou looked up from the pan where the vegetables were frying, shock written plainly on his face. “Hey, it’s okay man. I don’t judge people on their preferences. I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

Bakugou shook his head, setting down his wooden spoon on the counter. “What are you talking about, sh*tty Hair?”

Kirishima scowled slightly at the nickname and sighed, “You and Midoriya are together… aren’t you?”

Bakugou sucked in a breath, his mind whirling at a thousand thoughts per second. Did Kirishima know about how Deku helped him? Did he know about the panic attacks? Did f*cking Deku tell him?

“Whoa, Bakugou. Are you okay, you-” Kirishima reached a hand out and placed in on Katsuki’s shoulder, and then the bottle rocket exploded.

Bakugou slapped the hand off his shoulder, his chest heaving painfully. His fist was flying before he could stop it, connecting with Kirishima’s face. He knew it must have been quick, because the redhead didn’t even have time to harden his face before Bakugou connected.

The room exploded into chaos, so many different voices were shouting and too many hands were pulling at him. It took a moment for him to realize that they were pulling him away from Kirishima, as if the redhead needed to be protected from him.

The gravity of what he had done set it, crushing the oxygen out of his lungs. He had just hit his best friend. For asking him a f*cking question.

“Kirishima! I’m sorry! I… I don’t know… I can’t…” he gasped, a hand fisting in his own shirt. Kirishima was holding his nose, blood gushing from it, as Mina and Round Face ran to get the first aid kit.

“Kacchan? Are you okay?” Deku’s voice was just to the left of him, soft and probing, like he was talking to a cornered animal. Bakugou choked out a laugh. He might as well be an animal for how unleashed he had become.

“I… I didn’t mean to,” he stuttered, eyes blurring with unshed tears that he tried to hold back. A gentle hand on his arm was pulling him out of the kitchen.

“I know, Kacchan. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He let Deku pull him along, his ears just barely catching Kirishima’s voice drifting from the kitchen.

“Bakubro? I...f*ck… Mina, can you take me to Recovery Girl. I think my nose is broken.”

Bakugou clenched his eyes shut and sucked in a breath that caught in his throat. The hand on his arm trailed down until it found its way into his hand. He was too tired to tell Deku not to touch him.

He just wanted to sleep and forget everything.

***

He hadn’t been allowed to sleep.

Deku had taken him down the first-floor hallway, all the way to the door at the end. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Katsuki knew that this was Aizawa’s apartment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to ask Deku what they were doing there.

Deku knocked at the door and it swung open, a heavy sigh coming from behind it.

“What now, Problem Children?” Bakugou kept his gaze trained on the ground as Deku informed their teacher of what had just happened.

He was being pulled inside and gently pushed down into a couch, left alone to ruminate in his destructive thoughts.

There was no way he could be a hero like this. He had just attacked his best friend over nothing. He was undisciplined, unstable, and a liability. Deku and Aizawa were probably discussing whether or not they should just send him home now or wait until morning.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, counting the seconds as he inhaled and exhaled. There was a soft hand on his forearm again and his eyes snapped open to see Deku standing right in front of him, green eyes wide with concern.

“I’m going to go check on Kirishima, okay Kacchan? You can stay here with Aizawa-sensei.” Bakugou nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He heard the front door open and close and then he was alone again.

A few minutes later a cup of hot tea was pressed into his hands, and his teacher sat down in a sofa chair across from him. Bakugou mumbled out a thank you for the drink and sipped at it slowly, ignoring the feeling of the liquid scalding his tongue.

It was quiet for a long time before Aizawa finally broke the silence.

“You know I watched Present Mic get tortured once?”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow and shook his head. He didn’t know that, but didn’t really blame himself. Not many people knew much about their teacher.

Aizawa leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees, his hair hanging in his face. “It was right after we graduated from UA. We both had a day off and had decided to get coffee. On our way back from the cafe, a couple of villains grabbed us. They knocked us out and took us back to their base.”

Bakugou watched as Aizawa reached up to push his black hair, only for it to immediately fall forward again.

“When I woke up, Hizashi was tied to a chair across from me, our quirks suppressed. They had wanted to know how to break into Ua. They had figured that as recent graduates, we would know how to bypass the security systems. We didn’t, but that didn’t stop them from torturing us.

They had figured out fairly quickly that I wasn’t going to give them the reaction they were looking for, so they started doubling down on Yamada. His quirk was gone so it wasn’t even like he would call for help. I just had to sit there and listen to them beat my best friend to a bloody pulp.”

Bakugou widened his eyes at the horror that his teacher had endured. He couldn’t imagine watching Kirishima being tortured without wanting to burn the world to the ground. An image of Deku tied to a chair, crying out in pain, flashed into his mind. He shook the thought away quickly, his breathing speeding up.

A hand landed on his knee, gripping it tightly, and the action seemed to bring him back to the present. He sucked in a breath and counted to three, letting it out slowly as he counted to five, and repeated the process until he felt like he could breathe normally again.

“What happened?” He asked quietly, shame creeping in that he had almost had a panic attack in front of his teacher from nothing other than a thought. There was no doubt in his mind that this problem was getting out of control.

“We got rescued after a couple days. We both went home after the hospital discharged us, and I thought I was fine. I thought that as a hero I should be able to put the whole thing behind me, that I would be able to move on easily,” Aizawa said, soft and quiet in the silence of the room.

“And did you?” Bakugou breathed out, hoping upon hope that it could really be that simple. That maybe Aizawa would have some kind of remedy for what was happening to him.

“No,” the teacher huffed, a strained chuckle leaving him. “It got worse, actually. At first it was just an unsettled feeling. I would feel wrong if I didn’t check in with Hizashi a couple times a day. Just to make sure he was okay. Then it progressed to not just feeling unsettled. I felt like I couldn’t breathe if I didn’t know where he was.

After a while, I was showing up at his house at all hours of the day and night. I needed to see him to make sure he was still there, still alive. I started having panic attacks shortly after that. They were unpredictable, strong enough to bring me to my knees, and the only way around them was for someone to bring Hizashi to me. It was unsustainable, and it affected both of our jobs in a big way.

Eventually, I had to move in with him. It was the only way that I could get through even one day without breaking down. It took a long time to admit that I needed help. In the end, I wasn’t even the one who could admit it. Hizashi had found me on the floor of our kitchen, curled up and gasping after a particularly bad attack. He sat on the floor of the kitchen and held me until I could breathe again, and when I asked him to never leave our apartment again was when he suggested that I start seeing a therapist.”

Bakugou soaked in the story, his mind rapidly cataloging the information. He had thought that he was the only hero to ever struggle with something like this, and that that had made him weak, less than.

He let out a sigh of what could only be considered relief, tears burning his eyes. He heard a shuffling and then Aizawa was right in front of him, wrapping his arms around Katsuki’s shoulders.

“I thought… I thought I was the only one… I thought I was weak,” he sniffled raggedly.

Aizawa squeezed him tighter, which actually made his breathing easier for some reason, and sighed heavily. “You are far from weak, Problem Child.”

Bakugou looked up at the ceiling, snuffling a laugh through his tears. Maybe things could be better. Now that he knew he wasn’t alone, that there was someone there to help him, someone who had struggled the same way he was.

For the first time in a long time, Katsuki had hope that his future might not be filled with fear or pain. He had hope that things could be better again.

Chapter 12: Fallen

Chapter Text

He was so tired.

It has been so long since they had landed themselves in this mess, and Katsuki had been running the numbers on their chances of survival. It didn't look good.

***

It had been his idea. He wanted a break. It was their last year at UA, and he knew that after they graduated free time would become a thing of the past. They would all be too busy turning their dreams into realities.

It was their last summer break before they entered the real world, and Katsuki Bakugou wanted to go hiking. He was finally eighteen, and had gotten this license as soon as they would let him take the test. He was going to spend five glorious days camping in the mountains, surrounded by nothing but silence.

Well, maybe not silence.

Considering that he was taking the sh*tty nerd with him.

It was his last summer break with Izuku, and his last chance to make something happen between them before they both moved on. He had no clue what Deku was planning to do, if he was even planning on staying in the country, and he had waited too long to do anything about his feelings for the smaller boy. He knew that.

This was his last chance to confess.

***

Things had been going fine. The drive up to the mountains had been filled with arguing over the aux cord, discussing strategies and combo moves, and Izuku dreading their hero licensing exam coming up in the winter. About an hour away from their trial head, the road began to climb, lush forests and outcroppings of rock taking over the landscape.

“This is amazing,” Izuku breathed, his face and hands pressed against the windows, smudging them. Katsuki normally would have barked at the idiot to not get his greasy forehead on the window, but he was too busy smiling at the wonder in Deku’s voice. He kept his eyes on the road, his smile to himself, and sighed happily.

Every moment with his childhood friend felt like a blessing. There had been a time where he hadn’t been sure how much time he had left with him, especially when Deku insisted on throwing himself head first into every fight they encountered. It wasn’t until Deku faced off against Shigaraki that the green-haired boy had begun to reevaluate the way he fought.

That there were other options, that throwing himself into a fight with no regard to his own safety wasn’t a battle strategy, it was a death wish.

Like he said, he was glad things had changed.

***

Their first day had been amazing. They spent most of it hiking out to their camping spot, a heavy backpack strapped to each of them as they trekked up the trail. Izuku wanted to stop every ten feet and take a picture of something he had found, and Katsuki found himself indulging the other boy, even stopping a few times to pose for a picture with the little idiot.

They had reached their camp site by dusk and had set up their tent - they had opted to share one to save room for more food, and Izuku had pointed out that it wasn’t much different from when they used to have sleepovers as kids. Katsuki wasn’t about to argue with him, the thought of sharing a sleeping area with Izuku waking hordes of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

They had cooked an easy meal of vegetables and sausage, then settled in for the night. Both of them sat around the campfire, talking about nothing and everything.

When the time came to sleep, Katsuki gave Deku as much space as the tent would allow, not trusting himself to sleep close to the boy. Everything he wanted was so close now, and he was terrified to ruin everything by doing something rash.

They woke up in the morning, limbs tangled together, and Katsuki had to beat down the smile that threatened to take over his entire face. He had just cuddled with the guy he liked, and it had been amazing.

***

They spent the next couple days hiking and exploring, coming back to camp at the end of each day to rest and eat together. Each night they would fall asleep separately, and each morning they would wake up wrapped around one another. Katsuki felt like he was walking on air. He hadn’t worked his way up to confessing yet, but they were leaving tomorrow, so he needed to do it soon.

They were out on the trail, exploring a route that wasn’t well-maintained. The brush had grown over the path, making it hard to find their way in some places, but they were both stubborn. The map had promised a gorgeous waterfall at the end of the trail, and both of them had wanted to see it. They were about halfway there when things started to fall apart, quite literally.

The path had narrowed down to a couple of feet across, the area to their right going straight up, and straight down to their left. There were anchors tapped into the rock face, with steel cables ran through them for hikers to hook their carabiners to.

Both of them had come prepared for trails like this and slipped on their harnesses, hooking onto the cable before slowly continuing onto the ledge. The path curved around the side of the mountain and neither boy could tell how long they were going to have to go for like that, but neither of them were afraid of heights, and so they marched on, tossing jokes back and forth as they went.

They were just around the first bend when it became apparent that the ledge was eroding away, becoming unstable in some parts. In the end, all it took was one misplaced footing from Izuku, his ankle twisting as he cried out in pain. Katsuki watched in horror as the scene played out in slow motion. Izuku’s foot slipped, the ground beneath it giving way. The anchors should have stopped Izuku from falling too far, but it wasn’t a well-maintained trail.

The anchor pulled from the rock face, anchor after anchor ripping out as Izuku’s body disappeared over the ledge. Katsuki scrambled to back away, grabbing the steel cable out of panic. Maybe if he could hold the cable tight, the anchor would hold.

They wouldn’t.

Instead, the anchor nearest to him popped out, the sudden slack causing him to lose balance. Then… he was falling. The air rushed by him audibly, and he reached out wildly to try to grab onto anything to slow his momentum, his hand grazing the wall of the mountain a few times. He thought about letting off his quirk, but he had no clue where Izuku was and he didn’t want to risk injuring the boy.

All thoughts came to a shattering halt as his descent stopped quickly, his body slamming up against another, their grunts sounding simultaneously. Katsuki opened his eyes slowly, not knowing when he had slammed them shut. His breath was coming rapidly and he swung his head around to try and assess their situation. They were both dangling from their harnesses, about seventy-five feet from the ledge. The cables must have finally caught an anchor that was drilled in deep enough to hold them. Katsuki loosed a shaky breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

He looked down at the boy beside him, heart stopping altogether when he saw blood dripping from his temple. “Deku?” No answer. “Deku!”

The boy below heard groaned and Katsuki started breathing normally again. Until Izuku turned to look at him, that is.

Katsuki tried his best to hold in the gasp that was itching at his throat. Izuku’s face, not just his temple, was bleeding heavily. Katsuki could only assume that it had been from hitting it against the rock as he had fallen.

Most of the cuts were superficial, but there was one on the side of his head, so deep that Katsuki could see the gash even through Izuku’s thick hair.

“sh*t,” he mumbled, trying to move his arm to push the hair out of his way. They were both pressed against the rock face, making it easy to gain leverage to move. Deku was hanging in his harness, his body limp and lifeless save for the occasional groan. He looked at the wound and cursed under his breath. It was really deep, definitely needed stitches, and was still gushing blood. Bakugou looked around them, trying to find anything he could use to staunch the bleeding.

He had a first aid kit in his backpack, but didn’t trust himself to take it off and not drop it. Their packs held all their food and water for the day, and Bakugou knew that they would have to ration it. He had no clue when help would come, or even if it would come. It was late in the season, and they hadn’t seen too many other hikers out, and definitely hadn’t seen any on the trail they had taken today.

Izuku stirred again, his head lolling up to look at Katsuki, a grimace marring his features. “You ok?”

Bakugou scoffed and growled at the boy, “Typical Deku, always worried about everyone else instead of himself. I’m fine, idiot. You are the one who’s hurt.”

Deku squinted at him, bringing his fingers up to gingerly touch his scalp, pulling them away with a hiss. “f*ck,” he breathed. Katsuki’s eyes widened. He knew it was stupid, but Izuku never swore, and the fact that he just had only added to the gravity of their situation.

“What do we do, Kachan?”

Katsuki looked over at Izuku again, shaking his head. I have no clue, he thought.

***

He let them hang there, silence between them, for a half hour before Katsuki shifted into hero mode. They needed to move. They couldn’t just hang there until someone found them. That could take days, and their harnesses would cut off circulation long before that. He glanced down, looking for an outcropping that would fit both of them. There was one about fifteen feet down and a couple feet to the right of him.

He looked up and then down again, calculating how to get there.

“Izuku?” The boy hummed softly, and Katsuki clenched his jaw. Deku’s head was still bleeding, although the flow had slowed down now. He still needed to administer first aid, or else Deku would get too weak from blood loss. “We are going to drop down a bit further, okay? Onto that ledge just below us. Do you see it?”

Izuku cracked an eye open, glancing down before nodding. “How do we get there?” he whispered, turning to look over at Katsuki.

That was the part that Katsuki wasn’t sure about. He had a plan, but it was entirely too dangerous. It was also their only plan.

“I’m going to pull myself up on the cable as high as I can, then let my weight back down quickly. Hopefully, that’ll knock a few more anchors loose and we will drop far enough to get down there.”

Izuku nodded, his hands gripping the cable tightly. “I should be the one to climb up,” he shuddered, “That way you can focus on grabbing the ledge.”

Katsuki shook his head. “No. You’re hurt. I’ll do it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Kacchan. We only have one shot at this. You need to make sure we get to that ledge.”

Katsuki sighed. He knew the nerd was right, but he hated the thought of Izuku trying to help and only hurting himself more. He nodded his head at Izuku. He knew the green-haired boy was right. They couldn’t afford to f*ck this up.

Izuku nodded back and started to pull himself up the cable. He could only manage to pull himself up a few feet before his foot slipped, his body slamming back down into Katsuki’s. The blond grunted with the impact, clenching his jaw tightly. None of the anchors had broken loose. They would need to try again.

“Again,” he gasped out, “try to go higher.” Izuku nodded and started to climb again, making it a little further this time.

He looked down at Bakugou and he jerked a nod back in response. Izuku let go of the cable, his body falling quickly to meet him. Katsuki knew it worked the minute Deku’s body hit his, the impact only there for a moment before they were free falling again. Bakugou stretched as far as he could to his right. He wasn’t going to make it, he realized, fear gripping him.

He made a snap decision, reaching out to grab Izuku and firing off a shot of Explosion out of his empty hand. The blast propelled them upwards for a moment, then he fired off another shot to get them to the ledge.

They crashed down onto the rock in a heap, and Bakugou heard an audible and bone-chilling snap. Someone was screaming, and it took him a moment to realize that it was him.

He tried to focus on Izuku in front of him, the nerd saying something about holding still and let me look at it, Kacchan. Katsuki didn’t know what happened after that, everything went black.

***

When his eyes opened again, the sun was mostly gone, darkness beginning to creep down into the valley. His ankle throbbed painfully and when it looked down he could see a small splint there. The rigid part seemed to be made out of a rolled-up map, with a tensor bandage wrapped tightly around the bottom portion of his leg. Izuku was leaning against the wall beside him, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

“Hey,” Katsuki whispered, nudging the other boy with his uninjured foot. Izuku jumped and gasped, eyes wide with panic.

“Oh, thank the Gods you woke up.” Izuku rushed out, tears filling his eyes immediately.

Katsuki smiled despite himself, then the smile slid off his face. There was a bandage wrapped haphazardly around Izuku’s head. Had he done that before he passed out? He didn’t think so. His backpack was gone from his shoulders, sitting against the rockface beside Izuku.

“How long was I out?”

Izuku rubbed at his head, or tried too before he remembered his injury, pulling his hand away with a wince. “A couple hours.”

“Jesus, ‘Zuku. You should have woke me up,” he growled at the boy, frustrated at the time they had lost.

“I tried to, Kacchan. You wouldn’t move. I thought…” tears started to well up in his green eyes and Katsuki only then realized how terrified Izuku looked. “I thought you were dead. You were so still after you passed out. Your chest was barely moving. I…”

Without thinking Bakugou reached forward and pulled Izuku against his chest, shushing him softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into matted green hair. Izuku clutched at his shirt, twisting it tightly in his fists.

“What are we going to do, Kacchan? It’s getting dark. We have no way to start a fire, no blankets, only enough food for one day, and no cell phone service.”

He could feel Izuku starting to spiral and grabbed the boy’s head, placing one hand on each side as he pulled his head back so he could look into his eyes.

“We’re gonna be fine,” he reassured, never feeling less sure about anything before in his life. “We are going to get out of this, okay?” Izuku nodded, biting his lip and letting the tears fall from his eyes silently.

Bakugou pulled his back into his chest, holding the smaller boy tightly. He buried his nose in bloodied hair, whispering softly, “I promise.”

It took four days for them to be rescued, the sound of the helicopter blades beating furiously against the air loud enough to shock him awake. That was how the last day and a half had been spent. Sleeping.

True be told, they were both far too hungry to do much else. With all their food and water having been consumed their second day on the ledge, they had had to resort to sleeping to conserve their strength.

When the rescue party finally made it to the trail above them, Katuski could have started sobbing right then and there. Fortunately he was too dehydrated for his body to try and make tears.

When the rescue team started mobilizing, Katsuki had been surprised to see Uravity’s hero costume lower its way down to them. The girl stepped down lightly on the ledge, flicking her visor up to meet Katsuki’s eyes. He was laying on the ledge, Izuku’s head pillowed on his chest. The boy hadn’t woken up from all the commotion, and Katsuki’s heart was hammering in his chest.

“Take him first,” he rushed out, moving to sit up and help her. She seemed to pause for a moment, but snapped out of it when he growled, “Ochako! He needs you.” She seemed more shocked by him using her first name than anything.

She reached out and pressed all five fingers to Izuku’s chest, his weight immediately lifting off of Katsuki. She touched her own chest and pulled Izuku into her, pushing off the ledge to send them upwards. Katsuki sat back and watched them rise up to the trail, then watched as she bobbed along, taking Izuku’s limp body with her.

He had to remind himself that she was coming back for him to calm the panic that started up in his chest from being left alone. He couldn’t quite convince his brain that he wasn’t being left for dead, and by the time Uraraka floated back down to him he was mid-panic attack. He gasped and gulped at the air, never feeling like he was quite getting enough.

A hand was laid on his shoulder and he whirled his gaze up to meet whoever it was. Uraraka stared at him, fear in her eyes.

“Is he alright?” Katsuki gasped out, clutching at her offered hand as she pulled him to stand. He couldn’t put any weight on his broken ankle, but she was sturdy and held him up.

“He needs you,” she whispered, hovering her hand above his chest. “Are you ready?”

He grit his teeth and nodded, already knowing that their ascent would hurt like a bitch. He kept his jaw clenched as Uraraka removed his gravity, bringing him around to wrap his arms around her neck, holding his legs carefully.

She removed her own gravity and pushed them off, landing on the ledge softly before bouncing back to solid ground as she had done with Deku.

As they turned the corner, Bakugou was shocked to see just how many people were part of the rescue crew. He saw all of his friends, and all of Deku’s, as well as Aizawa, All Might, Endeavor, and Hawks.

They were all standing on the ledge, seeming to be waiting for something. When he and Uraraka came into view, Kirishima let out a loud whoop, and it was only then that Bakugou realized they were waiting for him.

He normally would have been horrified at all the attention, but as they landed on the grassy ground, he found that he was too tired to feel anything other than relief.

He sunk to the ground and sighed, staring up at All Might and Aizawa who were now kneeling over him.

“Where is Izuku?” he whispered, eyes squinting in the afternoon sun. All Might smiled at him, while Aizawa just sighed.

“The other Problem Child is already on his way down the mountain. He needs immediate medical attention, as do you, it would seem.” Aizawa turned his head and shouted, “We need another gurney over here!”

There was some discussion that went over his head, his mind starting to feel fuzzy again, then he felt weightless. Uraraka was floating him again, he realized, as the gurney was placed underneath him. An EMT strapped him to the board and then Uraraka was floating the entire set up, walking alongside him as she pushed him back down the trail.

Friendly faces kept popping up in his periphery, but he couldn’t focus on any of them. He was so tired, and hungry, and thirsty.

He needed Deku.

“I know, Katsuki,” a voice whispered above him, the sound familiar. “We are going to see Midoriya right now. Just hang in there.”

Bakugou nodded as sleep took him. He tried to fight it but a gentle hand on his arm reassured him. He was safe now. So was Izuku.

He could sleep.

At least for a little while.

Chapter 13: Escape

Chapter Text

Bakugou let a small explosion crackle in his palm as the cuffs clicked into place, the sound echoing too loudly in the thicket of trees. There was a small trickle of blood that was running down Izuku’s temple, and Katsuki’s heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Eijirou, but I will,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. Kirishima widened his eyes, hurt emanating from him, before he returned the scowl.

“What are you thinking, Bakugou? Do you have any idea how bad this looks? The League of Villains broadcasts that Midoriya is working for them and then I find you trying to help him sneak off campus, bags packed?”

Katsuki watched the boy, assessing his stance and how tightly he had Deku gripped in his hands. They needed an escape route. “Let him go, and I’ll explain everything.”

Kirishima shook his head, adjusting his grip on the green-haired boy, pulling him firmly into his hulking chest.

Katsuki let out a frustrated sigh, looking up at the sky for a moment. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was supposed to help Deku get out, then they would figure out what to do next. He glanced down and saw a hostile glare that made him clench his jaw. Of course, Deku was pissed at him. Katsuki wasn’t supposed to have come back for him at all.

The plan was to work with IcyHot and Glasses, find proof that Izuku was innocent, and then legally get him out of jail… emphasis on the legal part.

Patience was never a virtue that KAtsuki valued.

And so here they were, two hundred meters from the wall that separated the UA grounds from the rest of the city, with a choice to make.

Two best friends, neither one he wanted to betray.

He counted his breaths, in and out.

Katsuki looked down at the ground, making up his mind. He let out a huff of hot air, looking back up at the two boys. Izuku seemed to know what decision he had made, if the look on his face was any indicator. He shook his head slightly, as though to beg Katsuki not to do what he was thinking. Katsuki just smirked, plastering on his best arrogant smile.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ei, but I sure am going to enjoy it.”

Chapter 14: Listen

Chapter Text

“Katsuki, you aren’t listening,” Izuku choked out, a hand clenched in his shirt tightly. There were tears rolling down his face, sobs held back painfully.

Bakugou stood in front of him, hands tightened into fists at his side, jaw working. Izuku had been trying to leave their apartment for a half hour, but the blond wouldn’t move out of his way.

“I know you think you know best, and sometimes you do, but I have to do this. I can’t turn my back on him… he’s my friend and he needs me. You can’t just -” A large hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him forward into a solid chest.

Izuku looked up at the man looming over him, staring daggers down at the green-haired hero.

“I can’t just what, Deku?” Bakugou snarled, low and menacing.

Izuku swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the way his heart raced at the depth of Bakugou’s voice. He placed a hand on the taller boy’s chest and tried to pull himself away to no avail. He was trapped.

“You can’t just hold me hostage like this,” Izuku murmured, gaze dropping to the floor. “Tenko needs me, he sent the SOS. I… we have a deal. When someone sends an SOS you have to respond, no questions asked.”

Bakugou hummed and loosened his grip on Izuku’s wrist, letting the shorter boy back up from the oppressive heat of his body. Izuku brought his other hand up to rub at his wrist, not because Bakugou had hurt him, but because he could still feel the phantom fire of Bakugou’s hand.

“Do you remember the last time you ran out of here to save him?” Bakugou asked softly, staring out the window behind Izuku.

The green-haired boy nodded, knowing where this was going.

“You left - in the middle of the night - to go help him out of a mess that he got himself into, and then came home covered in blood and bruises.”

“I remember,” Izuku breathed, memories flashing in his mind. Tenko had hustled the wrong Yakuza out of his pay cheque that night, and had called Izuku as he ran down alleys, asking the boy to come and save him. And Izuku went. He always did whenever Tenko needed him.

“I can’t…” Bakugou words choked off for a moment before he swallowed thickly and continued. “I can’t keep being the one who puts you back together after he breaks you, Izuku. It’s killing me.”

All the air in Izuku’s chest left him, tears clouding his vision again. He knew Katsuki was right. That his friendship with Tenko was toxic and dangerous and a million other things that the blond had pointed out. He knew all that. And yet… He just couldn’t let the older boy drown himself in his own mistakes.

He was one of Izuku’s oldest friends, besides Katsuki, and they had been together through everything. Every happy memory, every devastating loss, was attached to Tenko.

He shuddered as he sucked in a breath. He loved Katsuki. They had been together for two years, sharing their lives. It hadn’t always been easy, but it had always been worth it.

But if the blond was asking him to choose between that love and the friend who had helped put him together when he was falling apart… He knew which one he would choose.

He needed to leave, every moment spent explaining himself to Katsuki was a moment that Tenko spent evading whoever he had pissed off that night. There was only one way that he could think of that would allow him to slip out, and the thought cracked his heart in two. Katsuki wasn’t going to forgive him this time. Wasn’t going to be waiting to stitch him back together. This was the line in the sand, and Izuku was poised to jump over it.

“I won’t go,” he lied, sliding up close to Katsuki, bringing his hands up to wrap around the taller boy’s neck. Bakugou let out a sigh of relief, a small smile gracing his features and the action tore Izuku to pieces.

Katsuki leaned down, bringing his arms around to circle Izuku’s waist, as Izuku whispered softly, “I love you, Katsuki.” Their lips met, nothing like the desperate and needy kisses that Katsuki would give him after he got home from a night out with Tenko. “I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki tensed up at his apology, already seeming to know what was about to happen. Izuku pushed him away, driving a forceful kick to the knee that Katsuki had injured in their third year at UA. It was a dirty trick, a soft spot that only Izuku and Kirishima knew about. Katsuki collapsed to the ground, but Izuku didn’t wait around to see the betrayed look on his face. He wheeled about and headed to the glass doors leading out to the balcony.

He slipped through the opening and hopped up to crouch on the ledge, looking back for a moment. Katsuki sat on the floor of their apartment, face screwed up in anger and pain, shaking his head at Izuku.

Whatever was left of Izuku’s heart crumbled away. He could see it on Kacchan’s face. This was his last chance, and he was making the wrong choice. Katsuki wouldn’t be home when Izuku returned, that he was sure of.

Tears filled his eyes as he mouthed I’m sorry at the blond. He turned and leapt off the balcony, using his quirk to lower himself gently to the ground before he took off running towards the address Tenko had sent him.

He couldn’t breathe, tears slipping off his face and landing on the pavement as he ran.

He had just ruined everything.

Chapter 15: Drop in the Bucket

Chapter Text

Deku walked into the empty apartment, the door shutting softly behind him. He set the bag of groceries down on the counter, then stood at the sink, staring down the drain.

He would have loved to say that there was an ache in his heart, but truthfully, he felt nothing. He was empty, barren, void.

Nothing had been okay for days now, and he was starting to think that this was his new normal.

***

It had started with that day. Escaping their apartment to run to Tenko’s aid. He had known he was breaking them before he even reached the ground. And yet he still went. In that moment, making sure Tenko was okay had been all that mattered.

When he had arrived at the texted location, Tenko had been waiting outside, sitting on the curb with a wide smile.

Izuku had stuttered to a stop, his mind racing to catch up to what he saw.

“What...what’s wrong? The SOS…”

A simple smile and bright eyes greeted him.

“I found a place that lets you smash things up… legally. Like, they give you a sledgehammer and safety glass, you go into a room full of sh*t, and just start swinging. Isn’t that -”

“What about the SOS?” Izuku interrupted, his heart still pounding in his chest from running the whole way there. Tenko laughed and stood to his full height.

“This is an emergency. We need to get in there right now!”

“Tenko, I… I thought you were in trouble. I thought you needed me. I...ohmygod, Katsuki. I left him… I-”

Steady hands grabbed his shoulders, grounding him. His gaze snapped up to red eyes, the shade so similar but still different. He stepped away from the hands, shaking his head and gasping.

“Izuku, what’s wrong?”

“I walked out on him...because I thought you needed me. Gods, I… I need to go. He’s never…”

A disgruntled sigh sounded in front of him, “Tch. Explosion boy will be fine. Come on, ‘Zuku. Let’s go have some fun -”

Tenko reached for him, but Izuku jerked away. His anger snapped through the air before he could reign it in. “It’s not fine! This was my last chance, Tenko. I… I have to go.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Izuku. He’ll come back. He always does.”

“He shouldn’t have to! He shouldn’t have to ask me to pick him over you!” Izuku exploded, throat raw with emotion. He shook his head, looking down at the concrete at his feet. Everything was ruined, but one thing was becoming perfectly clear to him. “You don’t care about me.”

“Izuku, I-”

“You don’t. Because if you did, you would care about who I cared about. You would care when I’m hurting. You wouldn’t brush the things that are important to me aside…” He took a breath, breath hiccupping as the tears started again. “Katsuki was right. You need me, but you don’t care about me. I can’t…” Tears fell in rivers down his cheeks, his heart aching. “I can’t do this anymore, Tenko.”

Izuku turned and ran. He didn’t stop when Tenko called out after him, or when he felt like his chest was about to give out. He didn’t stop until he got back to their apartment, not surprised to find it empty.

***

It had been three days now, and he hadn’t heard a word from Kacchan. The boy had packed up his entire life in the span of an hour and disappeared. He wanted to call Kirishima, if only to ask the redhead if Katsuki was okay, but he didn’t feel like he had that right anymore.

Katsuki wasn’t his boyfriend. He wasn’t allowed to check up on him.

Izuku tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing. He had gone to work that day, completed his patrol, finished his paperwork, successfully dodged all his friends' inquiries into his emotional well-being.

He didn’t want to think about it.

He had left work as soon as he shed his work clothes, not bothering to shower like he usually did after work. A quick trip to the grocery store to buy food that he didn’t intend on eating. He sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to remember what he was supposed to do when he got home.

He walked away from the kitchen, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung in the living room. He was shocked to see the spatters of blood on his cheeks and arms. Had he gone to the grocery store like this? Perhaps that was the reason he had gotten so many funny looks.

He sighed and walked to the bathroom, turning the water on to let it warm up. He shucked off his shirt and shorts, turning to look at himself in the mirror. He took in his sunken eyes from his insomnia, the pallor of his skin. There was a small, faded bruise on his collarbone, the last thing he had left of Katsuki. In a few days, it would be gone, and then Izuku would be left with nothing at all.

Steam fogged up the mirror and Izuku took that as his cue to step into the water, the hot spray scalding his skin. He could turn it down, but it felt nice to feel something. He stood under the pounding water and soaked up the warmth, remembering what it felt like to have Katsuki’s arms wrapped around him.

The tears start slowly, but with every emerging memory of what he lost, a sob catches in his throat.

Katsuki lying on the couch with him in the dorm common room, sleepily watching an old All Might documentary. His hand resting lightly on Izuku’s hip, trailing delicate patterns over the sensitive skin. Every one in a while, Katsuki would bury his nose in Izuku’s curls, inhaling deeply before pressing a chaste kiss on his neck.

Izuku leaned his back against the cold tile, reveling in the bite of discomfort on his back. He slammed his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears that threatened to choke him.

They were laying on the grass outside of the dorms, sneaking out past curfew to lay under the night sky. It was cold and Izuku hadn’t brought a sweater. Katsuki had unzipped his and gestured for Izuku to come inside. They laid on their side, wrapped in one hoodie, staring at each other more often than the stars.

Izuku brought a hand up to his throat, feeling like he was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. He tried desperately to suck in a breath, but his lungs weren’t working. Was he dying? He was sure this was what it felt like to die.

The first time they had sex was so different from what Izuku had thought it would be. Katsuki was efficient and no-nonsense, even when it came to Izuku. The boy had definitely learned how to soften in the few months that they had been dating, but this was one thing that remained constant. Izuku had no unrealistic expectations about sex. He was sure it would be nice, but he wasn’t expecting romance.

Leave it to Katsuki to prove him wrong.

The blond had taken Izuku to his childhood home, his mom and dad were away on a business trip. Katsuki had lit candles and even went so far as putting rose petals on the bed. Izuku was speechless. Katsuki had held him close, saying that he wanted to give something to Izuku, something special, that would only ever belong to him. Izuku nodded, quickly drawing in a breath.

Even after seeing the effort Katsuki had put in, he had still thought it would be rushed, calculated. But then again, Katsuki really liked to prove him wrong.

His boyfriend had laid him on the bed, trailing kisses up and down Izuku’s body as he removed each item of clothing. When Izuku was finally free of his clothes, Katsuki had started kissing lower, until his nose was nestled in the small patch of green hair.

Then there was the sound of a cap flicking open and something cold around his entrance. Katsuki took his time working Izuku open, pressing open mouth kisses to the smaller boy’s co*ck, licking along the underside.

When Izuku was writhing with need, begging for more, Katsuki finally lined himself up, pushing in slowly. He rocked in, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside Izuku.

Izuku stared at the ceiling through teary eyes, sucking in small, stuttered breaths. He had never, in his entire life, felt so perfectly whole.

He would never be whole again. Would never feel Katsuki on top of him, or his hands traveling the expanse of his skin reverently, like he mattered, like he was important.

All he had were the memories of arms he can't really feel and quiet tears in the shower. Izuku didn’t know what else to do. Everything hurt. He couldn’t suck in oxygen and when he finally got enough air into his lungs he just… screamed.

He screams and screams and screams.

His throat felt bloodied and raw, and when he finally stopped to drag in a shaking suck of air, it felt wet and gurgled. Maybe his throat actually was bleeding.

He sunk down the tiles and curled into a ball in the corner, knees against his forehead, arms wrapped tightly around them. He sat like that for a long time, sobs pulling so harshly at his chest that it ached.

He thought at some point he might have heard the front door of his apartment open, but he ignored it. They could take anything he had. The only thing that mattered in this apartment was gone now. He’s gone, Izuku chokes.

The bathroom door clicked open and a body appeared in front of the glass of the shower. Izuku didn’t move. The shower door opened and the person walked in, shutting off the water that had long since gone cold, not that he could feel it anymore.

The man came to squat in front of Izuku, a soft voice ringing out in the quiet, “Oh, Midoriya.”

Izuku knew that voice, but it wasn't the one he wanted to hear. He buried his head deeper into his arms, unable to stop the choking gasps that leave him.

“Come on,” Shouto whispered, placing an arm behind Izuku’s knees and across his back, lifting him easily. Shouto is so warm, and it was then that he realized he was shivering from the cold.

Shouto carried him into his room, gently sitting him on the edge of their bed, his bed now, he supposed. He’ll be the only one sleeping in it anymore. The taller boy left and Izuku crumbled at the thought of being alone.

He still couldn't breathe. Would he ever be able to take a full breath again?

Shouto came back with a towel, gently drying his body and hair. The drag of the towel on his numb skin reminded him that he still existed, he was still there. He almost wished that he wasn’t.

Shouto disappeared once again and returned with a fluffy sweater and sweatpants, and Izuku could have laughed at the fact that Shouto had obviously been careful not to grab anything of Katsuki’s. The thought made him want to rip out his own heart.

He might try to do it anyway. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore. This deep well of pain and regret. And knowing that it was his own fault for feeling this way. He had made a choice. And now he wanted to feel nothing at all.

When he was dressed, Shouto helped him crawl under the covers, tucking him in. Shouto moved away from the bed and Izuku’s heart jumped, his hand snaking out to wrap around Shouto’s wrist tightly. Izuku looked away from the inquisitive look his friend gave him.

“Please don’t leave,” Izuku whispered, hating how ragged his voice sounded.

Shouto nodded and pulled back the covers to lay beside Izuku, wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him into his chest. The warmth is nice, but it’s not the same.

“He’s gone,” Izuku whispers, tears threatening to fall once again.

Shouto raised a hand to brush through Izuku’s curls with his fingers, and again, it’s nice but not the same. Shouto buried his nose in Izuku’s hair and the movement makes Izuku’s heart clench in pain. There’s no way for Shouto to know that this was exactly how Katsuki used to hold him when he came home from a bad day of work, feeling helpless against the evil of the world. There is no way for his friend to know that in his attempts to comfort Izuku, he is only reminding Izuku of what he will never have again. Izuku’s shoulders start to shake at the thought. He had thought that maybe he had cried enough to run dry, but he hadn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Midoriya,” Shouto whispered, bringing his hand down to rub soft circles into Izuku’s back.

Izuku just shut his eyes, focusing on the soft rise and fall of Shouto’s chest, trying to convince his body to follow the pattern, to keep breathing.

Eventually, his breaths became deeper, and he fell into a dreamless sleep, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want to dream, because he knew who was waiting there for him, and he couldn’t face him.

Chapter 16: Help

Chapter Text

It was his twentieth birthday and he was trashed. Ochako and Tsu had insisted on taking him out to celebrate and celebrate they had. A whole host of old classmates had shown up at the bar, much to Izuku’s surprise.

He hugged them all with enthusiasm, reminiscing about their UA days and letting them buy him round after round of shots. He was starting to feel nice. Warm, like he was being heated from within.

They talked about life, what everyone was getting up to. Most of them were still in university, chasing after degrees that would launch them into the next phase of their lives. Izuku gushed to Kirishima for ten minutes about the redhead’s program, congratulating the boy on his upcoming graduation. He had already received more job offers than he thought possible, he explained to Izuku with a laugh.

They all were moving on, Izuku realized, growing up.

He glanced around the large table, taking in the smiling and laughing faces. He had missed them all, more than he could have realized. It’s just that life got so busy. Between trying to manage classes and work and everything else, keeping up with his old schoolmates had sort of fallen to the wayside.

He supposed that was part of growing up.

He hated it.

He glanced around the table again, looking for him, but not finding him.

“He couldn’t come tonight,” a voice sounded in his ear, breath warm and too close, “You know Bakugou. He takes school so seriously.”

Izuku nodded and huffed out a laugh, turning to face the blond behind him. He had become unlikely friends with the blond during their third year at UA, arguably the best finishing school in Japan.

“Well, he wants to get into law school a year early, I should hope he takes it seriously,” Izuku smirked back. Teasing Bakugou was something they all did, the explosive teen had made himself an easy target when they were in high school. One perfectly placed insult and the blond would cause a ruckus.

He didn’t confirm Kaminari’s sly jibe at who he was looking for, preferring to ignore it, instead. He sighed more to himself than anyone. He wished that Kacchan would have come out, it had been so long since he’d seen the boy.

He lifted his drink to his lips, chuckling and rolling his eyes at the girls from their place on the dance floor. He shook his head, but they simply redoubled their efforts, screaming his name while whooping and hollering about getting his juicy ass out there.

He smiled and tossed back the rest of his drink, standing to head out to his friends. You only turn twenty once, and he wanted to make it a night to remember.

***

Izuku stumbled into the bathroom, his knees wobbling with uncertainty underneath him. He tried to grab the sink to hold himself steady and almost missed. How many drinks had he had?

Certainly not enough to cause this kind of reaction. He tried to look at himself in the mirror, but there were three of him and he didn’t know which one to focus on. A warm hand slid up his back, coming to rest on his neck as a soft voice whispered in his ear.

“You don’t look so good, buddy. Do you need a ride home?” Izuku retched into the sink, nodding his head. He felt awful. He needed to go home.

The man behind him helped Izuku stand up, and the green-haired boy caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, but again couldn’t tell which reflection to focus on. Izuku knew enough to know that this person wasn’t a friend from high school, or from his university. He was tall with dark hair and a wolfish grin. Izuku had no clue who he was, but he found that he couldn’t stop himself from being led from the bathroom.

“I need to find my friends,” he whispered, panic trying to creep up his throat. Hot breath ghosted over his ear again as he was led down the hall in the opposite direction of the dance floor, the sound getting quieter as they went.

Something was wrong. Izuku knew that much. He just couldn’t get his body to cooperate. He couldn’t pull away, couldn’t raise his voice. He was soft and pliant in the stranger’s hands. Izuku realized with dread that he had been roofied. It was the only explanation.

A door slammed open and the cool night air wrapped around Izuku, making him shiver. He was shoved against a wall harshly, his skull cracking against the cement in a way that made his stomach heave. Then there were hands everywhere. On his thigh, his stomach, his chest. A mouth landed on his neck sucking a hot, wet line up into his hairline. He felt warmth in his stomach but he didn’t want it. Not like this.

“Stop,” Izuku whimpered, trying to bring his hands up to push the man away. Those wandering hands just grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall. “Please, stop.”

The man shushed him, biting down on his neck painfully, “You’re fine. We’re just having a little bit of fun.”

Izuku shook his head, his mouth tasting of bile. He gasped a breath through the sobs that were now wracking his body. He couldn’t do anything to stop this, he realized. This was going to happen. No one knew where he was, he couldn’t shout for help, could barely keep his eyes open.

This man was about to take something from him that no one had ever gotten to have.

The man continued his ministrations, one of his hands eventually floating down Izuku’s stomach to palm roughly at the unwillingly bulge in his pants. Izuku just cried harder.

He tried to think of something else, of someone else. Anything to make the horror subside just a little. He imagined large hands and blond hair, a deep voice and growled half-insults.

The oppressive heat bearing down on his body was removed suddenly, the alleyway exploding into a cacophony of noise. Izuku slumped to the ground, realizing a moment too late that the only thing that had been keeping him up had been the man pinning him to the wall. His head was spinning, but he could still hear what was going on.

He heard the voice from his imagination, shouting and screaming with rage. Had Izuku summoned him somehow? The alley went quiet, then there were hands on his face again.

Izuku flinched away, grimacing and sobbing anew, until the voice above him spoke.

“‘Zuku… Izuku… can you hear me?” Izuku tried to stop his tears. He knew that voice. “God-f*cking-dammit. Who the f*ck was looking out for him tonight, huh?! Someone call an ambulance, and the police!”

Izuku was fairly sure the ambulance was for him, but he wondered why they needed the police. He cracked open an eye to see backlit blond hair, crimson eyes burning into him.

He gasped brokenly. “Kacchan… I-”

“Shut up, Deku,” Kacchan growled, then suddenly Izuku was being pulled into the boy’s chest. It was so unlike being pinned underneath the stranger. The heat was still oppressive, but it felt safe, like home.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but Izuku decided that he could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in Kacchan’s embrace, groggily counting their breaths. It was a wonder to him that he was still awake, but a small part of his brain told him that it wouldn’t last too much longer.

His fight or flight response seemed to be slowing down, and his eyes stayed shut for longer and longer after he pried them back open each time. Katsuki didn’t speak, didn’t do anything other than hold him.

After a while, he vaguely heard the sounds of sirens, more voices coming into the alley and asking for someone to explain what had happened.

Against his ear, he heard Kacchan explain softly, “The man lying on the ground needs medical attention. I… I hit him pretty hard. He…” There was a pause, someone whispering softly in a way that Izuku couldn’t make out. It didn’t really matter to him anymore. He was safe. He was with Kacchan.

“What about your friend?” The disambiguated voice asked.

“I think I was drugged, Kacchan,” Izuku managed to get out, not recognizing the sound of his own voice as it slurred.

“Yeah, no sh*t,” Katsuki answered, before directing his answer back to whoever was asking the questions. “He was drugged.”

“We better take him in too, but he can ride in the police car to the hospital. I don’t want him to have to share with that asshole, and I don’t think he should wait for another ambulance to come.”

Izuku felt a nod against his shoulder and suddenly the warmth was gone. Then there was a feeling of weightlessness that he knew came with being carried. Was Kacchan carrying him?

No, he decided. He must have fallen asleep finally. This was a dream. Or a nightmare. Either one.

A door popped open and he was deposited on a soft, leather seat, his feet and arms tucked in. He was cold again, now, and he couldn’t help but whimper at the loss of comfort.

He heard another door open, the seat he was in jostling slightly, and then the sound of a door closing. Suddenly, his body was pulled towards something, there were dual clicks of what sounded like seatbelts, and the warmth was back. This was the oddest dream he had ever had.

Never before had he experienced a dream where he had all his senses except sight.

“You’re not dreaming, idiot, but Gods I wish you were.” That voice again, so familiar and soothing. Izuku snuggled down into the body underneath him, soaking up the heat. “Go to sleep, Izuku. I’ve got you.”

The green-haired boy sighed and let his body relax into the body underneath him. He tried to stay focused on the sounds around him, but they all became muffled and faded.

He finally drifted off as the car began to drive, the bumps in the road lulling him to sleep.

Chapter 17: Don't Move

Chapter Text

Ground Zero stood in the darkness of the warehouse, allowing himself to blend in with the shadows that coated everything around him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, bringing his focus back to the mission.

He was here for recon and to collect data. He was to infiltrate the villain's hideout, gather intel about their future plans, and get out. He had begged to be on this mission, wanting to prove to the higher-ups that he was good for more than just showy explosions.

The people up in design had given him completely new gear just for the mission. Instead of his usual black, orange, and green suit, he was now styled in something tighter and entirely black. Gone were his gauntlets, but the fabric covered his entire arms all the way down to his wrists, small pieces of fire-retardant fabrics looping between each of his fingers.

When he had first tried on the new suit, he had questioned their purpose, thinking they would get blasted away the first time he used his quirk, but was assured that they could withstand his explosions. They also held his sweat over his palm, their absorbance higher than regular fabrics. They would serve as a replacement of his gauntlets while on recon missions, storing his sweat right over his palms for when he needed it.

They also gave him a new mask, this one form-fitted to his face. It was made from some kind of new material that was breathable and light, but still had the ability to filter out poisonous gases. A new invention of Hatsume Mei’s, someone had informed him.

Lastly were his hearing aids. He had specially made ones for normal missions, ones that wouldn’t fall out and auto-adjusted to the sounds around him, but these ones were different.

They could pick up a whispered conversation fifty feet away, and had the ability to record and replay audio back to the base remotely. He would be able to contact his support team back at the agency at a moment's notice, something that he was glad for.

This mission was delicate, and while that wasn’t usually Katsuki’s specialty, he was desperately trying to branch out. He didn’t want to be a one-trick pony. He was more than just a flashy quirk.

He heard footsteps across the concrete and flattened himself against the wall, pressing the small button on the device in his ear. There were two sets of footsteps that he could hear now with the device turned onto its highest setting.

“I don’t know why you insist on making Father mad, Nii-chan,” a high, clear voice rang out, a hint of annoyance layered under it. There was a scoff that reverberated in his ear loudly, making him wince.

“I don’t know, why are you his favorite?” That voice was definitely Shigaraki. The Hero Commission had taken a special interest in the villain after a series of attacks in Bakugou’s first year at UA. He recognized the rasp from his nightmares. The lanky man had disappeared off the radar in Bakugou’s second year of high school, not showing up again until last year. It had been five years since there had been any activity from the League of Villains.

Their resurgence had been quite the public affair, complete with mass destruction of public property and a new frontrunner as the leader of the group.

He was shorter than Shigaraki, who had ditched the blueish-grey hands that had once graced his body, but stocky through the shoulders and hips. They had stood shoulder to shoulder on top of a pile of rubble, energy crackling around both of them. Katsuki had watched the news in muted horror, his stomach dropping at the thought of Shigaraki coming back more powerful than he had been before, with a new right-hand man by his side.

A sigh. “I’m not his favorite, you just piss him off more.” That voice, Katsuki tried to zero in on it. Why did it seem so familiar? Something pulled at the back of his mind, just out of reach. He peered around the corner, unable to see the people the voices belonged to. There was a stack of large wooden crates and he slunk over to them quietly, hoping to get a better look at the two villains.

“I don’t blindly accept everything he says. I’m not obedient.” A heavy pause hung in the air. “Not like you, Otoro.”

So they were brothers. He tried to think of what he knew about Shigaraki. Not much was known about the villain. There was no mention of parents or siblings in his file, the Hero Commission was fairly sure that his name was not even the one he had been born with, but he had heard whispers of his birth name. Bakugou had never been content with not being the smartest person in the room.

He had done his research.

Tenko Shimura, son of Kotaro and Nao, grandson of the Nana Shimura. An older sister, Hana. All dead. No mention of a younger brother. Katsuki’s mind raced trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, but he was missing too many of them to see the big picture.

There was a low growl that echoed through his device, “I am not blindly obedient, Tomura. Maybe if you follow direction better, you would be leading the League still instead of me.”

Bakugou sucked in a quiet breath. The HPSC had it all wrong. This new villain wasn’t Shigaraki’s right-hand man. He was the leader. He clicked the button in his opposite ear, speaking no louder than a breath.

“Are you getting all this, base?” He waited a moment, then heard a soft crackle.

“Base to Ground Zero. We got everything. Proceed with recon. Over.”

Bakugou nodded to himself, focusing back in on the two voices, only to notice that they were strangely quiet now. sh*t. What had they been talking about just a moment ago?

“Do you have a cell phone on you?” The higher voice asks, voice quieter now. The only answer is a soft rustle, and Bakugou clenches his fists tightly, waiting.

There was a sharp snap of electricity in his ear, and he held back a gasp at the quick shot of pain on the sensitive skin. Something happened to his hearing aids, his hearing back to a normal level again. He quickly raised his hand and tapped the button, hissing, Base? Base, come in.”

No one answered. He cursed internally again, realizing that this must be the other boy’s quirk at work. Something that had to do with sensing and controlling electronics, maybe.

Then, there was a crack of sound right in front of him, his eyes bulging at the sight of a person appearing out of thin air only inches from him. Before he could react, a tight grip wrapped around his wrist, and then suddenly the world around him disappeared, as if it all had just fallen away.

He felt the ground under his feet again a moment later, but now he was standing under a halo of light, two men in front of him. He looked around quickly, spotting the stack of crates he had been hiding behind, trying to reconcile how he had ended up fifty feet away from there without moving on his own. The boy… once he had grabbed Katsuki they had f*cking teleported, he realized quickly.

That didn’t make sense. What had happened to his hearing aids if the younger brother hadn’t fried them with his quirk?

He took a step forward, preparing for a fight, when the smaller boy spoke sternly, “Don’t move.”

Bakugou almost scoffed - was completely prepared to, even - when he realized that he couldn’t move his body.

This didn’t make sense. That was three quirks that it seemed the younger boy possessed. Unheard of in their society. People didn’t just have multiple quirks. It didn’t happen.

Katsuki focused on the boy in front of him. He was slighter than his initial impression. Short, lean, but muscular. He was wearing a mask that covered the bottom half of his face, the material carrying on downwards to wrap around his neck. He was wearing a black, baggy hoodie, paired with dark skinny jeans and red Chuck Taylors. He didn’t really look like a villain, he looked like a hipster, Bakugou thought absently.

The hood of the sweater was pulled up, covering any hair and shadowing the rest of his face. The only thing that Bakugou could see was the hint of freckles across the boy’s cheekbones and glinting red eyes.

“Let me go,” Bakugou growled, not because he thought they would listen, but he needed to buy himself time. The people at base knew where he was, as soon as they realized that they had lost contact, they would send in backup. He just needed to stall until then.

There was a laugh that echoed through the room, and the sound knocked loose a memory that Katsuki had buried deep in the back of his mind.

A small boy, they couldn’t have been older than four years old, with bright green hair and eyes. They were running through the park, chasing butterflies and laughing out of sheer delight. He shook his head, trying to clear away the memory. The boy from his mind had green eyes. The one in front of him had red ones.

But that laugh…

It sounded identical.

He tried to remember what had happened to that boy, what his name was, but he couldn’t recall. He had been too young, it had been too long ago. The boy in front of his had stopped his laughter, his eyes now trained intently on Katsuki. The blond repressed a shiver at the intensity of the stare.

“Deku…” Shigaraki whispered, his voice raspy in the quiet of the warehouse. The boy held up a hand, stalling the older boy’s speech.

“I know you…” the boy stated, tilting his head and he came closer. He reached a hand up and pulled down Bakugou’s mask, and although Bakugou tried desperately to move his body, he didn’t budge an inch.

There was a soft inhale, then a chuckle as the boy in front of him took in his face. “Kacchan.”

Bakugou sucked in a breath, hearing the name ring through his ears in a slightly different voice. More childish, shrieking with glee, but the same voice nonetheless.

The boy reached behind his neck, unclasping his mask with one hand and pushing back the hood with the other. Verdant hair sprung up wildly, a soft mouth with a hint of a smile appeared. Katsuki knew that face, a name falling onto his lips without his permission, and he whispered it softly into the room.

“Izuku.”

Chapter 18: Kacchan

Chapter Text

Katsuki looked around frantically, checking to make sure he hadn’t been followed, that there wouldn’t be any surprises waiting for him inside the room.

The room in question was completely empty, save for a body lying on the floor in the middle of it. His heart clenched tightly, the body too still for comfort. But then there was a whisper that echoed through the air.

“Kacchan…”

The uttered name released Katsuki from his horror, his body jolting forward to come crashing down on the concrete beside the only boy that he had ever loved enough to hate.

“Deku, I’m-” He sucked in a shaky gasp, eyes roving over the various bleeding wounds on the green-haired boy. “M’here. f*ck. We’re getting out of here.”

Katsuki gently grabbed Izuku’s shoulders, attempting to roll him onto his back from where he had been lying face down. His stomach clenches and his throat burns with bile at the sight of Deku’s face, broken and bloodied, his eyes unfocused and half-lidded.

“sh*t, Deku. What the f*ck did they do to you?” he asked, voice lanced with rage and unshed tears. He noticed a collar around Deku’s neck, a short chain attached to both it and the floor. There was no way that the boy even could have sat up with the short chain. He had been lying on the ground for the better part of a week.

“Kacchan…”

Bakugou slammed his eyes shut before remembering that he needed to keep watch for villains. The warehouse hadn’t been cleared when they had snuck in, which meant there was a very real possibility of some less-than-savory characters stumbling upon them. Bakugou just hoped that his crew was keeping the villains busy.

“Kacchan…”

He looked down at the boy who was now rested in his lap, heart stuttering. “I’m here, Deku,” he reassured. He waited for Izuku to turn to him at the sound of his voice, or to acknowledge his presence by anything more than murmuring his name. “Deku.”

He shook the boy lightly, but Izuku’s eyes stayed trained on the ceiling, unseeing.

“Kacchan…”

Katsuki grit his jaw tightly, laying Izuku back on the hard floor gently. He gripped the collar in his hands and tried to burn through it, but the heat from his hands only drew a pathetic whimper from the green-haired hero, his voice rising with panic.

“No! Kacchan!”

“sh*t, I’m sorry!” He cried out, removing his hands from the collar quickly. “f*ck, okay. Okay. Think, Katsuki.” He pulled his hands up to rest at his temples. He needed to get Izuku out of here, now. No matter the cost.

There was probably a tracker in the collar, but that could be dealt with later. Maybe Ponytail would be able to make something to cut it off, or Pinky could melt it off…

It didn’t matter. He needed to get Izuku out. That’s all that mattered.

Bakugou grabbed the length of chain in the middle, placing his body in between it and the boy on the floor. He let loose a small explosion, feeling the metal give way under his palm.

He turned back to face Izuku, once again taking in the glazed look on the boy’s face. It seemed like more than just torture, or even exhaustion. There was something vacant about Deku’s expression that sent chills down Bakugou’s spine.

“Kacchan…”

Bakugou scooted closer, his gaze roving over Deku, searching for something to explain what was wrong with the boy. There were cuts and pools of blood everywhere, but most of it was concentrated on Deku’s arms. Bakugou carefully grabbed one and pulled it up, gasping when Izuku began to cry out fervently.

“No! Please, no more! Kacchan! Kacchan, help!” The words ripped from Deku’s throat, making Katsuki’s heart break in two. He gripped Deku’s arm tightly, despite the boy’s struggling, and pushed the sleeve up.

There, dotting the expanse of soft skin, were multiple puncture wounds, some bruised, some still bleeding. Katsuki took in the sight, his stomach twisting violently.

They had been drugging him, probably to keep him from destroying everything. Katsuki shook with rage at the thought of Deku not even getting the chance to fight back, because he knew that if given the chance, Deku would have clawed his way out of here come hell or high water.

He released Deku’s arm gently, watching as the boy rolled to curl in on himself, whimpering softly.

“Kacchan…”

The word echoed in his mind, Katsuki bringing his hands up to clutch at his hair. He wanted to burn the warehouse to the ground, with every last villain f*cker still inside. He wanted to kick and punch and destroy until there was nothing left in his path.

He wanted to kill every last f*cking bastard that had dared to touch his friend.

But Izuku needed Katsuki more than Katsuki needed revenge.

More than he needed justice.

He rose to stand, bending down to scoop Izuku up in his arms. “I’ve got you, Izuku. No one’s going to hurt you ever again,” he promised, knowing immediately that in their line of work he could never guarantee it.

The boy tensed at his touch first, then seemed to relax into his arms, sighing softly as he finally turned his eyes to look up into Katuski’s face. Katsuki began walking towards the door, gait stumbling as a rough hand reached up to brush along his cheekbone.

“Kacchan,” Izuku sighed, a soft smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Katsuki let loose a huff of air, knowing that at least for now, this was his Izuku in his arms, not just a shell of a person.

He would get them out of here. He would get Izuku to safety.

And then he was never letting the sh*tty nerd out of his sight again.

Chapter 19: Deku

Chapter Text

Izuku tried to focus his eyes, blood mixed with saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth to trail down his bare chest. He watched as the mixture slid down to swirl with the rivers of blood that leaked from the wounds on his chest.

The chains holding him to the ground were tight, and he had long since given up the thought of pulling himself free. One for All was out of his reach, and the thick steel cuffs were holding him firmly where he knelt.

There was a steel plate bolted into the concrete, one large singular loop protruding from it. On the loop were hooked five chains, two shorter ones attached to cuffs on his ankles, and two more attached to his wrists. The last was attached to a steel collar clipped around his neck, chafing at the soft skin under his jaw.

He had no idea how long he had been there, his sense of time gone from the lack of windows and sunlight. There was just the low hum of fluorescents and the steady drip of water against concrete.

Izuku closed his eyes slowly and drew in a slow, shaky breath, trying to keep his mind focused. He was tired, hungry, and his body was aching from being forced to kneel for Gods-know-how-long. He needed to remember what he was protecting, to keep his mind sharp. If he let himself give in to the exhaustion - or the hopelessness - he was afraid he might give his captors exactly what they wanted.

***

At first, he had thought that maybe it was the League of Villains who had stolen him away in the dead of night from his apartment. He had waited for hours for Shigaraki, or even Dabi, to show up.

In the end, a man in a suit had walked through the door, sitting in the iron chair in front of Izuku. He didn’t look like a villain. Izuku had watched him carefully, having learned from his few years being a hero that things weren’t always what they seemed. He waited for the man to speak, every second dragging into hours.

The man glanced around the room, seeming to take in the plain walls and floor. Izuku never took his eyes off him. His gaze flickered over Izuku for a moment, trailed away, and then finally came back.

The moment Izuku locked eyes with the one in front of him, he knew the nonchalance was feigned. The stranger’s eyes were blazing with intent, focused and locked in on Izuku.

“What is Bakugou Katsuki’s greatest weakness?”

Izuku’s mouth dropped open against his will before he had the sense to snap it back shut. Never before had he been asked so outrightly a question of that manner. Usually, villains liked to monologue, ramp up to their nefarious plans. They didn’t just… jump to the final question.

“What makes you think I’d know?” Izuku frowned, co*cking a brow in confusion. “Why am I here?”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a lance of pain across his thigh, and when he looked down there was a small gash in his shorts, blood seeping into the fabric. How had that happened? The man in front of him hadn’t moved.

“What is Bakugou Katsuki’s greatest weakness?” he asked again steadily, as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn’t chained to the floor, blood trickling down the sides of his thigh. Izuku glowered and bared his teeth at the man.

“Go f*ck yourself,” he snapped, pulling lightly on the chains. He wouldn’t tell them anything about Kacchan.

***

Izuku heaved as his body collapsed forward, chest pressed against his knees painfully. All concept of time was gone now, he had no clue how long he had been there, each moment blurring into the next. The interrogation had been near-constant, the same question repeated over and over again.

What is Bakugou Katsuki’s greatest weakness?

Izuku had resisted answering for so long, each moment of defiance evident on the canvas of his skin. The cuts were starting to pile up on top of one another, and although they weren’t deep, the repeated slicing was agonizing. He had begun throwing insults and obscenities at the man in front of him, who he had started calling Suitman in his mind. He knew it wasn’t a very clever nickname, but he was exhausted.

Eventually, he had spat out an answer that deviated from the verbal abuse he was throwing.

“He doesn’t have any!” he shrieked, raw and manic. “Kacchan is the greatest hero of our generation. He doesn’t have weaknesses.”

Suitman smiled, the first time his face had shown anything more than indifference, then spoke softly into the silence of the room.

“Everyone has a weakness.” Another cut flashed across his skin, this time placed on his cheek, and Izuku whimpered. He knew he was a hero, and a damn good one at that, but in that moment, he felt helpless and hopeless, desperately waiting for someone to save him.

***

“What is Bakugou Katsuki’s greatest weakness?”

Izuku hesitated, but by now he could tell when it was about to happen. The man in the suit would tense just before a new cut would form, the only indication of what was about to happen.

“His friends,” Izuku heard the words echo in the silence and wondered for a moment where they had come from. The voice had been rough from disuse, unfamiliar to him.

It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he realized the voice belonged to him. He sobbed quietly. He hadn’t been able to do it. His focus was finally collapsed, or maybe his sense of self-preservation had finally kicked in.

“Which friends?” Izuku could have screamed. Days of hearing the same question, and when he finally answered, there was only another one waiting for him. Same monotone, same apathy, same blank expression.

“I’m not telling you anymore,” Izuku gasped, pulling harshly on the cuffs around his wrists, hissing as they dug into broken and raw skin. Izuku glared at Suitman darkly. There was a flash of something equally angry across the man’s face, then the pain in his wrists was forgotten as a flash of agony washed over his chest.

He gasped a breath and looked down frantically, searching for the new wound. It stretched from the top of his chest to his hip, and even from the poor vantage point, Izuku could see that it was deep.

It was the first display of emotion from Suitman, and Izuku chuckled wetly through his tears. Did that mean he won? Probably not. This definitely didn’t feel like winning.

“Which friends does he value the most?”

Izuku ignored the man, eyes glued to the gash across his chest. I’m going to die here, he finally realized. He took a shaky breath and clenched his eyes shut tightly.

He couldn’t even be proud knowing that he was going to die without giving anything to these people. He was weak, undisciplined. A deku.

His chest stuttered as his tears flowed freely. All his life he had fought tooth and nail to prove that he was worth something.

And in the end, he had been wrong. He had failed. Had betrayed Kacchan.

He just wanted it to be over.

He wanted it all to be done.

Chapter 20: Control

Chapter Text

Shinsou sucked in a rattled breath, the oxygen never quite feeling like it was making it all the way to his lungs. Dabi stood before him, flames licking at his fingertips.

When Aizawa had asked Hitoshi to do some sleuthing around some shadier parts of town, he had never imagined that he would get himself in this kind of trouble. He had been assigned to look for traces of the League of Villains, listen to whispers on the street, gather intel.

It was entirely bad luck that Dabi had recognized him in a dark alley one night, claiming that he was the ‘brainwash kid’ for UA.

Shinsou had known in that moment that he was royally f*cked.

He had tried to use his scarf on the older man, but there was only so much he could do to outrun the blue flames that had encompassed him.

And now he was here.

Arms chained above his head, forced to stand, skin broken open and singed beyond his own comprehension. He hadn’t said a word though.

He wouldn’t let his sensei down. Aizawa had placed his faith in Hotishi, and he wouldn’t fail his teacher. When Aizawa had come to Hitoshi after the Sports Festival in his first year, saying that he saw potential in Hitoshi, offering to train his one-on-one, the boy had known that he would do anything to make the man proud.

He wanted to be an undercover hero, like EraserHead, and part of that job was rubbing elbows with the worst of the worst, knowing how to take a hit, and knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

Hitoshi had no doubt that if he had spilled his guts, then he would be dead already. He had suffered every punch in silence, swallowed down every scream that ached to erupt from his lips as the villain pressed his flaming hands against Hitoshi’s bare chest.

It had been hours since someone had come to check on him, and he was starting to wonder if Dabi had forgotten about him. Maybe he was going to leave Hitoshi strung up there to die from starvation, or asphyxiation. He was trying so hard to stay on his feet, knowing that the moment he let his legs collapse the pull of his arms would be enough to choke him slowly.

His body was shaking from exhaustion and his various wounds and his vision swam, creating a sea of doubles and triples before him.

He was so tired, he just wanted to lay down.

He felt a pull on his shoulders and startled back awake, realizing that he had started to pass out where he stood. He needed to stay focused. Someone would come for him soon. He just needed to hold on.

He heard a door slam from down the long hallway, followed by footsteps echoing off the bare concrete. Hitoshi stood up straight, taking a deep breath to steel himself for the next round of beatings. It wasn’t until the footsteps were nearly at his door that he recognized a second set. Someone was with Dabi. His jaw clenched tightly, wondering what the man could possibly do that would be worse than what had already been done to him.

The heavy steel door slammed open, Dabi’s feral smile ever-present as he peeked around the corner.

“I brought you a present,” the villain simpered, eyes glinting widely. Hitoshi held back the sneer that wanted to curl at his lips. He forced himself to be indifferent. He wouldn’t give this motherf*cker anything.

Dabi stepped into full view, pulling something with him, and Hitoshi’s heart crashed to the floor. Dabi held a small, struggling blonde around the neck, laughing as the man tried to twist away from his iron grip.

Hitoshi couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t f*cking breathe. What was he doing here? How had the League gotten their hands on him? He knew his face was betraying the turmoil that swirled inside him and he tried his best to reign in his terror.

He watched helplessly as Dabi tightened his grip around the man’s neck, hauling him into the room and throwing him into the chair that sat in front of Hitoshi. It was usually reserved for Dabi as he questioned Hitoshi, and the hero’s gut rolled at the sudden realization of what was about to happen.

There was a click and snap of restraints being closed and when Hitoshi looked up into those golden depths, he only saw strength and determination. He wanted to sob, just barely managing to stop himself. At least one of them was keeping it together. Despite what everyone else thought, Denki always was the stronger of the two of them.

“You guys are no fun,” Dabi muttered from beside Hitoshi, running a hand roughly through the hero’s hair. Hitoshi winced as the man grabbed a handful of his hair tightly, pulling his head back to stretch out his neck. He felt a finger trace along his throat, the tip of it beginning to heat up. “I was hoping for more of a reaction, Mindfreak. You really are dull.”

Dabi released his hair and pushed his head forward harshly, causing his chin to bounce painfully against his chest. “Sorry to disappoint,” Shinsou growled back, keeping his eyes off the blonde in front of him. He heard Dabi tsk from behind him, then watched as he came around the stand behind Denki.

“Why were you sneaking around back alleys?” The question is familiar. It’s the one that Dabi always starts with, the one he always circles back around to. He wanted to know about Shinsou’s mission, his orders, anything that he could get about why the agencies were sending undercover heroes into the slums of Tokyo. Hitoshi hadn’t given him anything yet, and he didn’t plan to. “Still don’t feel like talking, hey?”

Hitoshi was about to tell the villain to go f*ck himself, but before he could Dabi was bringing a flaming hand to grip Denki’s arm, fire licking at the exposed skin there. A scream echoed through the small room, ringing in Hitoshi’s ears as it went on and on. He held his breath as the smell of burnt flesh wafted towards him.

Suddenly, Dabi was at his ear again, whispering softly against his skin. “I don’t think your boyfriend has been trained as well as you. Only the first burn and he’s already screaming for me.”

Denki’s scream had dulled into shaky breathing, his head bent forward to rest against his chest. Hitoshi reared back and smashed his forehead into Dabi’s, pain buzzing pleasantly along his temple at the solidity of the connection.

“You little motherf*cker,” Dabi snarled, gripping his own bleeding forehead and raising a lit hand to strike out at Shinsou.

That’s right, Shinsou thought, satisfied. Give it to me, not him. Dabi wasn’t very hard to figure out. Shinsou knew that if he kept the attention on himself, the villain might forget about Denki altogether. He was a cat playing with a mouse, and if Shinsou offered himself up as the better playmate, Dabi would take the bait.

Shinsou braced himself for the burn, but it didn’t come. Instead, he saw Dabi standing beside Denki again, eyes blazing with fury. Another hand came down, this time on Denki’s thigh, and his scream rang out again.

Hitoshi watched as the flame burned through the jeans covering the blonde’s thigh, the skin sizzling as the fire burned him. He pulled at his chains, snarling savagely before he could stop himself.

Dabi lifted his hand, eyes lighting up as he looked at Hitoshi. “Finally! I was wondering when you would give me something.” Dabi moved to stand behind Denki, grabbed a fist of his hair and lifted his head up from where it had rested on his chest.

“What. Were you doing. Sneaking. Around. Back. Alleys?” Dabi asked again, punctuating each word with a seared fingertip pressed to Kaminari’s throat. It wasn’t enough to burn him, but clearly enough to make the blonde uncomfortable, if his hissed wince was anything to go by.

Hitoshi stopped himself from letting everything spill out of his mouth. He tried to remember his training. He knew that Dabi wasn’t going to just let them go, regardless of if he talked or not. The quicker he gave up answers, the quicker they would be dead.

He just didn’t know how long he could watch Denki be in pain. It felt like a knife in his chest, being twisted and pulled in every direction, carving up his insides worse than any actual blade ever could.

“You’re boyfriend sure doesn’t care about you very much,” Dabi leaned down to loudly whisper into Denki’s ear. “Otherwise, he would tell me what I want to know.”

“Shut the f*ck up,” Hitoshi snarled, lip curling over his teeth. He was going to kill him. Shinsou had never felt hatred like this before. Black, sticky, oily tar that sat in his chest, sticking to his ribs and lungs, boiling in his gut as it coated him from the inside out.

He knew with all certainty that despite the fact that he was a hero, he was going to watch Dabi die by his own hands. The thought alone was enough to calm the tidal waves of rage crashing within him.

He needed to be patient. He needed to be calm.

He would wait until help arrived.

Then he would kill Dabi, by any means necessary.

No one could hurt Denki Kaminari and live.

Hitoshi simply wouldn’t allow it.

Chapter 21: Fog

Chapter Text

Rage blinded him, making it difficult to think anything beyond kill whoever hurt him. Deku lay on the ground at his feet, blood oozing out onto the pavement. The villain wasn’t even that strong. He wasn’t part of the League, or any other major crime organization. He just had an unexpected quirk. And that had changed everything.

Bakugou let small explosions crackle in his palms, lowering himself into a fighting stance. He would kill this extra. He tried to still his shaking as he narrowed his eyes at the cackling villain.

“So this is the great Wonder Duo? The next generation of Pro Heroes? I have to say, I'm underwhelmed.” Bakugou clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the shaky gasps that sounded just in front of his feet. In the back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t engage the villain himself. His quirk was unknown and clearly powerful.

He knew that he had backup coming from a few streets away, Deku putting in the call over their headsets the minute they had met the villain.

He knew that he should use their training in de-escalating situations. He knew all of this.

He just… couldn’t.

Deku was dying. He knew that in his heart. There was nothing okay or natural about the way the small hero was laying on the ground, clutching the various cuts that had appeared spontaneously across his body, the only running up the side of his neck deeper than the others.

“I’m going to f*cking kill you,” Bakugou growled, poised to jump at the man who was simply chuckling now, an eyebrow quirked upwards infuriatingly.

“That’s not very heroic, Ground Zero-sama,” the villain mocked, pouting and placing one hand over his chest.

Bakugou snarled and launched himself forward, feeling several small cuts burst across his body. He grinned wide, sure that the expression was stretched horribly over his manic face. He had been right in assuming that if he moved at high speeds, the villain's quirk would be less effective. He propelled himself forward faster, waiting until he was only a few feet away before he loosed an explosion right at the villain's chest. He watched in satisfaction as the man was blown backward, his body crumpling against the wall behind him.

Bakugou stalked over to the man lying on the ground, a pained moan escaping him. Bakugou raised a hand, anger swirling around darkly in his mind. This man tried to take something from him. Bakugou was going to return the favor.

All thoughts about heroics and right and wrong fled him. There was only one thing that kept replaying in his mind. Izuku, standing with his hands held out, voice soft and placating, trying to talk the villain down, when suddenly his words gurgled in his mouth, a hand coming up to clamp down on the large gash across his neck. He lithe body falling to its knees, then all the way down to the ground. The wide look in his eyes and he realized what had happened. The way he turned the green depths up to Bakugou, as if begging him to help. To do something. To not just stand there and watch him bleed out on the ground.

Bakugou held his palm directly over the villain's face, a horrible grin stretching his visage.

More slices of pain bloomed across his body, but he ignored them, along with the frantic muttering of the man below him, who had finally seemed to realize he had bit off more than he could chew. He was begging for his life, Bakugou realized belatedly, and something about that made a feeling of pride swell in his chest.

He wasn’t to be trifled with, he was powerful, intimidating, a winner. And he wasn’t about to be best by some second-rate extra.

He heard voices at his back, yelling and commanding words being thrown around, but he didn’t turn himself around to investigate. He only had eyes for the man beneath him. The one who had hurt Deku. The one that was about to die.

“Bakugou, stop,” someone softly called out behind him, the closeness making the hackles on his back rise up. He shook his head, focusing on what he was about to do.

Deku was everything that was good and kind about the world. No one who would dare to raise a hand against him deserved to live. He believed that to his core.

He let another round of small explosions ripple across his palm, relishing in the way the villain flinched against the stone at his back.

“Bakugou!” The voice was closer still, words sharp and clipped. “Midoriya needs you, let me take care of this.”

Bakugou shook his head, bouncing on the tip of his toes, “No, I-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a wall of mist clouded over his mind. It felt like everything he had been feeling and thinking was still there, but just out of reach, like trying to grab fog. He tried to grab onto why he had been so angry only a few moments ago, but the thoughts slipped through his fingers.

A mesmerizing voice floated to him, the sound of it causing his muscles to relax. “Go to Deku, Bakugou. He needs you.”

Bakugou turned away from the man cowering at his feet, his body heading back down the alley towards the street. He saw more people gathered around someone on the ground. Deku, his mind supplied.

That’s right. Deku had been hurt. A small wave of anger crashed back over him, but it wasn’t enough to break through the mist of calm that surrounded his thoughts. He walked slowly to the small group, seeing people that he recognized.

A boy with half-white, half-red hair was hovering over Deku, hands pulling medical supplies from his belt. A lanky black-haired boy with odd-looking elbows, eyebrows drawn together tightly with concern.

Bakugou came to stand beside Izuku, taking in the pool of blood underneath him. He lowered himself to the ground beside the boys’ head, pulling it up into his lap as he began to gently stroke his fingers through the lush green curls there.

Something about the action felt foreign, and there was a twist in his gut that told him this wasn’t something he should be doing in front of others, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. The boy on the ground was beautiful and obviously hurt.

Izuku, your best friend, his mind supplied. That’s right, he remembered. He knew this boy. Had loved him for years. Loved him but never told him.

The events that had taken place only a mere five minutes ago replayed in his mind again, this time without the overlay of grief and anger. That was what had caused him to fall into such a deep well of rage. He loved this boy. Desperately.

But had never told him. And when he had laid on the pavement, watching Izuku’s life force leak out of him, he understood that he might never get the chance now. He had wasted so much time trying to prioritize being a hero, being the best, that he had pushed aside every feeling he had ever had for the boy, all of it coming to a head when that choice was almost taken away from him.

His fingers continued to stroke through the curls, soft and lush on his skin. He could hear people talking around him, but their words barely reached him. Something about moving, and a hospital, he thought absently.

There was a loud shout and a bang from somewhere at the end of the alley, and then suddenly the world rushed back to him at full speed, the panic and anger almost choking him and it gripped him again.

He whipped his head back and forth, trying to understand what had happened. His eyes locked on a purple-haired boy dragging a limp man towards them. The villain, Katsuki recalled. A scarf reminiscent of EraserHead’s was wrapped around the man’s torso, his face soft and lax in the telltale way that showed Shinsou had used his quirk on the villain.

The quirk that the freak had been forced to use on Katsuki.

“f*ck,” Bakugou gasped, his body curling in on itself for a moment.

“There you are,” a calm voice drifted to him, Shouto’s, he realized after a moment. “I was beginning to think you had completely disappeared.”

Bakugou didn’t respond, taking in the carnage that was Izuku’s body. There were cuts everywhere, most of them had stopped bleeding but a few of the deeper ones were still oozing. He took in the sight of his fingers twined in green hair and began to pull them away, stopped when a hoarse voice gasped from the ground.

“Kacchan, please…” Deku rasped, bringing a hand up to grip at the one that Katsuki had rested on the smaller boy’s head. “Please, stay with me.”

Bakugou could only bring himself to nod, his chest constricting painfully. “Yeah,” he breathed, horror beginning to creep up on him as he ran through the events of the last five minutes. “I’ll stay with you.”

He brought his other hand up to grip Izuku’s tightly, feeling his rough and scarred hands. He had almost killed someone. If Shinsou hadn’t shown up when he did, Bakugou probably would have killed the villain, no questions asked.

His heart thumped painfully in his chest, shame washing over him.

How could he call himself a hero now, knowing that he would do anything to protect Izuku?

How could he have that kind of weakness tied to him and still want to call himself the best?

He heard sirens in the distance and he let out a shaky breath. He didn't know what was going to happen to him, but he did know that he had f*cked up. There was be consequences for his actions.

At least Izuku was safe, an ambulance on it's way to them at that very moment.

He would take whatever punishment came his way. He knew he deserved whatever was coming to him. He had acted rashly, leading with his heart, not his head.

He had abandoned Izuku when he needed Katsuki the most, and for what? Vengeance? Revenge? Some misguided sense of justice?

Tears pooled in Katsuki's eyes as he leaned over Izuku's head. He had f*cked up, in more ways that one, and he had almost lost Izuku, mightstilllose him.

He sat there on the pavement, tears falling from his face onto Deku's, for once not caring what anyone thought about him. He needed to fix this, he thought, and he would.

He had to.

Chapter 22: Izuku Rising

Chapter Text

Izuku was running on little to no sleep. His body shook with insomnia, his mind raced a mile a minute, and his heartbeat in time with his thoughts.

Kacchan was gone. Izuku had woken up Saturday morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes but ready for his morning training session with the blonde. He had knocked on the door once, having made his way to Kacchan’s room after realizing that the boy wasn’t waiting by the elevator for him like usual.

There had been no answer. Izuku raised his fist and rapped his knuckles again, listening closely. No cursing, no scoffs, no just wait a f*cking minute, impatient nerd.

Izuku had gripped the doorknob and twisted, opening the door to reveal an empty room. He huffed, surmising that Kacchan had obviously left without him.

But he hadn’t been at the training ground either. Or the gym. In fact, the blonde was nowhere to be found, and no one had heard from him since the night before. After confirming that the boy wasn’t just looking for alone time, the teachers had declared him missing, and that’s when Izuku had stopped sleeping.

It was Tuesday now, and there was still no sign of Kacchan. Izuku couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t pay attention to his school work. The teachers kept saying that Kacchan would turn up, that he was a temperamental teenager with a mind of his own. He had probably just taken a few days off.

But Izuku knew better. Kacchan would never skip class unless it was important. Something sticky and poisonous swirled in his stomach, growing with each passing day. Something was wrong, and nobody seemed to care.

Izuku walked through the Shibuya shopping district, absently watching as people passed by on the street. He had skipped his afternoon classes, his mind unable to focus on the material for even a moment. His fingers shook with inaction, and he had hopped the first train out of Musutafu.

The rain ride had been quick, but quiet, giving Izuku time to run through all the possibilities of where Kacchan could be. He hadn’t come up with anything promising, and any answers that did come to him were too horrifying to consider for too long.

He walked through the side streets, his eyes unconsciously searching for blonde spikes and a catlike gait. He had been pacing and walking for the better part of the afternoon, the shop lights beginning to flicker on around him.

His stomach grumbled at him angrily, and he had begun a search for something to eat when the main street went dark. Izuku watched as the streets around him flickered out, screams echoing through the night air.

The crowds began to shift, people clumsily trying to find their way in the dark. Then, the light flickering back into the main square. People started drifting to the walls of skyscraper-tall screens, like moths to a flame.

Izuku let the crowd carry him forward, watching the static-filled screens with caution.

A voice sounded in the air, a hush falling over the thousands of voices.

“We have him, Midoriya.”

A chill ran down Izuku’s spine, an icy hand gripping his heart painfully. He knew that voice, it plagued his nightmares and his worst thoughts.

The screens flickered, an image focusing on them of a boy with blonde hair tied to a chair, head hung low. The screen flashed a few times before whiting out to static once again. Izuku already had his phone out, opening his camera quickly to start recording.

“You can still save him.”

Another image appeared on the screens, a hand reaching out to roughly grab the back of the boy’s head, ripping it back viciously. Izuku had known it was Kacchan already, but his heart clenched regardless. Kacchan’s face was cut and bloodied, a deep purple splotch purpling beneath one eye. Izuku sucked in a shaky breath at the look of defeat in Kacchan’s eyes.

He would have expected rage, anger, or defiance. He would have accepted determination. But the hopelessness. It was enough to make Izuku’s heart crack in two. The hand released Kacchan’s hair and his head flopped forward, chin bouncing harshly against his chest.

“Meet me where this all started.”

Kacchan’s face took up every screen now, eyes scrunched in pain, cuts and bruises missing. It was obviously earlier footage, based on the lack of injuries. Izuku watched in horror as Kacchan opened his mouth, a gut-wrenching scream escaping the one person who Izuku believed to be stronger than anyone. Stronger than him. Than All Might. Than anyone that Izuku had ever known.

And he was screaming in pain, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth, unabashed in his agony. The video cut out again.

“Hurry, hurry, little hero. I don’t think Kacchan will last much longer.”

Izuku was already heading out of the square, pushing people aside as he ran for the train station, mind racing.

He needed to save Kacchan. He thought of where it was that Shigaraki could possibly be talking about. Perhaps the USJ? That’s where Izuku had first ever crossed paths with the League of Villains leader. Or maybe he was referring to Takoba Beach, where Izuku had trained with All Might. It wouldn’t surprise Izuku to find out that Shigaraki knew about that.

Maybe it was back in Shizuoka, where the Sludge Villain had attacked Kacchan, where he had first met All Might.

He arrived at the bus station and hopped on a train back to UA. He needed his hero suit before going to meet Shigaraki. He was naive enough to think that Shigaraki simply wanted to talk. It would come to blows, and Izuku planned on winning.

He would do anything to protect those he cared about.

And he cared about Kacchan more than he cared to admit.

Chapter 23: Follow the Rules

Chapter Text

Kirishima watched as the point of the knife pressed deeper in Bakugou’s neck, the blonde grimacing with rage. Anyone else would look at the boy and think that he was ready to rip the throat out of his captor, but Kirishima knew better.

There was a hint of fear in his eyes, and a look that conveyed he didn’t want to hurt the person threatening him even if his life depended on it. Kirishima took a step closer to Bakugou, raising his hands in a placating motion. The knife dug in, a thin trickle of blood running down the column of Bakugou’s neck.

“That’s close enough, Kirishima-kun.” The words came out shaky, wavering slightly in their intent.

“Midoriya, you don’t want to do this. Please. Just put the knife down and we can-”

A loud laugh echoed through the night, bouncing off trees and causing a few birds to flutter away.

“Talk? You think we can talk, after everything that’s happened. Kirishima,” the green-haired boy shook his head, looking down at his feet. His voice was quiet, but his words were as cutting at the knife in his hand. “I never pegged you for an idiot, Eijirou.”

Kirishima tried to keep his face neutral, not letting his face betray how much those words hurt coming from the smaller boy. This wasn’t the Midoriya he had spent the last three years going to high school with. His Midoriya would never willingly hurt someone trying to help him.

No, this was a completely different Izuku. One filled with rage and grief, who had been spurned by the heroes that he had idolized so dearly.

“Izuku,” Katsuki gasped, wriggling slightly in the other boy’s grip. “We can help you if you just talk to us.”

Another bark of laughter.

“You’ve never been one for talking, Kacchan.” Kirishima looked up at Bakugou, seeing the look of shame that resonated throughout him. Midoriya wasn’t wrong. In all the years that the two had known each other, Katsuki had never shown that enjoyed conversation. The boy barely tolerated it.

“I want to talk to you,” Katsuki continued. “I want to know what happened. I want you to tell me what happened.”

Izuku chuckled, but it sounded far from joyous. It was manic and laced with anxiety, and Kirishima watched as Izuku swallowed it down, nodded softly. He seemed to make up his mind about something, then began talking softly.

“The Hero Commission gave me an assignment last year. They put me undercover with the League of Villains after Shigaraki died. They figured that with the loss of their leader, they would be tossed into turmoil. It was a good opportunity to get close to them, to try to flush out All for One.”

Kirishima saw the shock on Bakugou’s face and assumed his own expression mirrored it.

“I’ve been with them for over a year. Watching, waiting, gathering information. I gave everything to the HSPC, I played my part.”

Izuku was notorious for being unable to keep a secret, and now he was telling them that he had been undercover with their biggest adversaries for a year? The thought had trouble finding a home in Kirishima’s mind, as if the information was too outlandish for him to even consider.

“They wanted to set up a raid, to arrest the remaining members. I told them that it had to be peaceful, that they had to let me organize it so that they could get in and get everyone without anyone getting hurt.”

That sounded like Izuku. Working hard to keep everyone safe, regardless of if they were a villain or not. Making plans and strategies. Kirishima tried to imagine what it would have been like to lie to his friends and teachers for a year. To pretend to be someone he wasn’t. It sounded like hell.

“They jumped the gun, they came in too early and everything exploded into madness. They arrested almost everyone, and after the dust settled there were two bodies lying on the floor. Toga and Dabi. They both had fought back and were shot by uniformed officers. I… I watched them bleed out on the floor. I held their hands as they died and had to accept that it was my fault.”

Kirishima gasped softly, taking another step forward. “Midoriya, It wasn’t your -”

“It was!” The knife pressed in deeper, halting Kirishima’s forward progress. “It was my fault! I should have made a better plan, I should have told the Commission to not allow any weapons, I should… I should have done a lot of things.”

“But you got the bad guys…” Kirishima whispered softly, knowing how naive it sounded even to his own ears. It just didn’t make sense. They were the good guys. The villains were the bad guys. It seemed so straightforward to him.

“That’s what I’m starting to realize, Kirishima. There are no good guys and bad guys. There are the people on top, and the people fighting to get off the bottom. I know… I know Himiko and Dabi weren’t good people. But they weren’t all bad either. Himiko would patch me up after every fight we got into with other villains. She would tell me how well I did and make sure that I would be okay to go back to school the next day. She cared about me, and I let her down.”

Katsuki breathed and tried to bring a hand up to rest on the green-haired boy’s wrist. “Izuku -”

“Dabi was rougher,” Izuku continued, once again pushing the knife harder until Bakugou lowered his hand, wincing. “But he had to be. Did you know that his dad was a hero?”

“No,” Kirishima whispered softly, confusion slinking through his veins.

“Yeah,” Izuku nodded, “His dad was a hero, who kept having kids until he finally made the right one. His dad beat his mom and his youngest brother. He sent their mom away to a mental hospital when she fought back. He… he tried to kill Touya.”

“Who’s Touya?” Kirishima asked, trying desperately to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Touya Todoroki. Dabi. He was the eldest Todoroki child, and he tried to stand up to his father to protect Shouto. And Endeavor-san tried to have him killed. He w- he was just a kid. He was just trying to do the right thing. Th-the number two hero beat his children and his wife, tried to have his son killed, and is somehow still celebrated in our society. Meanwhile, his son that he threw away had to turn to stealing and swindling just to survive! He didn’t have a choice, he-”

“We all have a choice, Izuku,” Katsuki breathed.

Izuku withdrew the knife so quickly that Kirishima panicked, thinking that Izuku may have actually dragged it across the delicate skin of Katsuki’s neck. The blonde stumbled forward and Kirishima rushed forward to catch him, sighing with relief when he found no blood pouring from his neck.

He helped Katsuki stand and they both turned to face Izuku together.

“You’re right, Kacchan. We do all have a choice. And this one is mine.” Izuku reached two hands up, wrapping blackwhip around both of the boys tightly, lifting them from the ground. Kirishima couldn’t breathe, the black tendrils around his middle so tight that he was starting to see spots.

Izuku stalked closer until he was only a few inches away from both of them, eyes blazing green with anger and agony.

“You can tell the Hero Commission that I’m done being their puppet. I didn’t sign up to be a hero to mindlessly kill villains. I- I want to do the right thing.”

“Deku,” Katsuki choked out, chest tight from the pressure, “Please, just come back with us. Talk to Aizawa. W-we can figure this out, I promise.”

Kirishima watched as Izuku’s eyes filled with tears, his own fear following. There was so much pain in the look Izuku gave them, as if this choice was literally tearing him in two.

“I can’t, Kacchan. I won’t be a part of a system that’s designed to fail.”

“Then help fix it!” Bakugou screamed, “You’re running away because you’re hurt and scared. How is anything going to get better if we lose our best heroes?”

Silence dropped on them like a heavy blanket, Bakugou’s words echoing in the clearing. They all understood the implication of Katsuki’s words. Thirteen years of on and off friendship, three years of rivalry, countless fights and arguments, and never once had Katsuki admitted out loud that Izuku was one of their best.

Izuku sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes softening as he spoke. “I am going to fix this, Kacchan. But I’m not going to play by their rules. I’m making my own from now on.”

Kirishima felt a chill run down his spine at the determination that laced the green-haired boy’s words. He saw something akin to resolve take over Deku’s face, something solid and tactile clicking into place for the smaller boy. Kirishima knew that they wouldn’t be able to change Izuku’s mind. He had decided what he was going to do. There was no stopping him now.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku breathed, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before snapping them open again. Before Kirishima could react, he and Bakugou were being tossed back by blackwhip, both of them crashing into trees harshly.

Kirishima groaned and pulled himself up to stand, looking around the clearing for Izuku, but it was empty save for Bakugou and himself. The boy had disappeared into the night, and despair curled painfully in Kirishima’s chest.

“God,” Katsuki whispered into the night air from beside him. “We are so f*cked.”

Kirishima nodded, unable to speak, unable to move.

Chapter 24: Broken Bones, Broken Boys

Chapter Text

Izuku sat in the small room, water dripping on the concrete form somewhere in the room, although he had yet to locate the source of the sound. He had woken up in the room, the last thing he remembered was the fight in downtown Tokyo.

He had been called to the scene to assist, and when he arrived the League of Villains were already there, causing mass destruction and chaos. Izuku had been about to jump into the fray, then everything had gone black.

The next he remembered was waking up in the room. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Obviously, Shigaraki had employed someone to help capture him, as none of the villains in the League had a quirk that could make someone pass out at will.

What was confusing him was the silence. He had been there for hours without a word from any of them. It was unlike Shigaraki to not take an opportunity to gloat, and in all their years of battle, the villain had never managed to capture Izuku. Surely, this was an event worth being obnoxious over?

He waited.

And waited.

Finally, after the rumble in his stomach was beyond painful and the scratch of his parched throat was insistent and never-ending, finally the door opened.

Shigaraki walked in, same back t-shirt, stretched tighter over muscles now than it had been four years ago. Same black jeans. Same red converse.

The look in his eye, though. That was different.

Izuku was no longer looking at a child playing dress-up. He was looking at a leader. Someone who was respected among his peers. Someone who knew how to get what they wanted.

“Midoriya. I hope you’ve made yourself comfortable. Sorry for the wait, I was preoccupied with some...business. I hope you can forgive me.”

Izuku scowled, not deigning to answer. He wouldn’t play games with the villain. Shigaraki had never been hard to figure out, usually giving away his plan without any prompting. He would wait patiently, and hopefully, Shigaraki would just tell him everything.

He watched as the older man floated into the room, glancing around as if he had neer been there before and found it immensely interesting. Maybe he hadn’t ever been in that room before, Izuku conceded, but the hero knew that the game was already afoot. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the man in front of him.

“Don’t feel like chatting today?” Shigaraki asked, finally turning to look at Izuku. His eyes were glittering, and there was the faintest smile on his face. Izuku didn’t like that. He felt like he was already two moves behind in their mental chess game and was now scrambling to catch up. “That’s alright, I suppose. I don’t really need you to talk for this next part.”

The door swung open again, a man hanging limply from another villain’s arms. His head was down, handing between his shoulders, but Izuku would recognize that shock of ash blonde hair anywhere.

“Kacchan,” he breathed, heart lodged in his throat. He took a step forward as the villain tossed Bakugou on the ground, but something stopped his forward motion. He looked around frantically, seeing no one and nothing holding him back.

“Do you like my new quirk?” Shigaraki intoned, bored. “I took it off a man up north, who was using it to herd sheep, of all things.”

Izuku tried to move, but his body was frozen save for his face. “What do you want?” He spat out, watching as Kacchan tried to pull himself up to sit from where he had been dumped on the ground. He managed to lean against the wall, lifting his face enough for Izuku to see that he was bloodied and bruised, red leaking down his face in rivers.

Shigaraki didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge him. He walked to Kacchan and crouched beside him, grabbing his chin roughly with one hand. He spoke softly, just loud enough for Izuku to hear him. “I told you once that you would be sorry for turning down my offer to join us. I brought you here to collect on my promise.”

Izuku choked on air, all of the puzzle pieces beginning to fit together. They hadn’t taken him hostage to take One for All. Or maybe they had, but that wasn’t the only reason. They were going to use him to hurt Kacchan. Which meant…

Shigaraki was beside him now, his breath hot on Izuku’s ear. "You like breaking bones, Midoriya?” Panic welled up in him, but he pushed it down. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t scream. He would be strong for Kacchan. He glared at Shigaraki, clenching his jaw tightly. “Perfect. I'll help."

Shigaraki flicked a hand out in Katsuki’s direction, the blonde’s head lifting to press into the wall firmly. His eyes were wide with fear, but his mouth was twisted into an ugly snarl. “Shigaraki, I swear…If you hurt him, I’ll-”

There was an audible snap that cracked through the room, followed by agonizing pain that whited out Izuku’s vision. He gasped, trying to hold back the scream that almost left his lips. There was a sharp knife of agony that was shooting through his arm, and he wished so badly to grab it, to hunch over, to be able to move at all. But he couldn’t.

Another crack, this time the pain radiating from his leg. He fell to the ground, his body unable to remain upwards. He refused to scream. He was encompassed by the pain, and he hated that he was already sweating from the effort of holding in his wails.

This hurt more than any broken bone he had ever had before. A hundred times worse, and he couldn’t explain why. Maybe because it was against his will. Maybe because it was being used to hurt Kacchan.

He sucked in a gasp of air, lifting his head to lock eyes with Kacchan, whose crimson eyes were already wet with unshed tears. Izuku shook his head slightly, trying to convey that he could take it. That Kacchan didn’t need to worry.

“Poor little Izuku Midoriya. Kacchan’s favorite toy. I’m going to have so much fun breaking you,” Shigaraki hissed, a tinkling laugh echoing through the room.

Another white-hot iron of pain flashed across Izuku, his other arm this time, and his mouth opened on its own accord, a guttural scream ripping from his throat. It was too much all at once. His other injuries barely had time to become numb before Shigaraki used his new quirk to snap a new bone.

He screamed for what felt like hours, but logically knew was probably only a few minutes. When his lungs finally gave out, he sobbed into the floor, ashamed that he hadn’t been able to last longer.

He heard twin sobs from across the room and knew that Kacchan was crying too without having to look. He couldn’t have looked anyway, his body already so tired from the effort of staying awake through the pain.

“I’ll let you sit with this for a while, Bakugou. Then I’ll be back. Hopefully, your answer will be different next time.” Shigaraki floated out of the room, and with him his quirk.

Izuku cried out again as his body relaxed, each break now blazing with newfound pain as his muscles relaxed around the carnage.

There was shuffling from across the room, but Izuku couldn't focus on anything but the way his body screamed in protest. There were hands on him, soft and hesitant, then suddenly he was flipped over. Izuku bit his lip in an attempt not to cry out, the tang of copper filling his mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Izuku. I’m sorry. I-I’m gonna get us out of here. I pr-promise. f*ck. I can’t,” Katsuki was talking fast, sucking in short gasps of air irregularly. A panic attack, Izuku’s brain informed him. Katsuki had those sometimes, he remembered.

“It’s okay, Kacchan,” Izuku whimpered, wishing that he could wrap his arms around the blonde. “I’m okay.”

Katsuki just shook his head violently, tears falling in earnest now.

They both knew Izuku was lying.

He wasn’t okay.

Neither of them were.

Chapter 25: Double Vision

Chapter Text

His feet pounded the pavement loudly, his steps sure and confident. Normally, Bakugou wouldn't pursue a villain on foot, flying by way of explosions was certainly much faster. However, he was chasing a villain through narrow back alleys and small side streets, and his quirk was ill-suited to small spaces. Running it was.

He had split off from the rest of the group, yelling over his shoulder that he would handle this f*cker and be back shortly. He truly hadn’t been expecting the villain to be as fast as she was. Every time he turned a corner, he would see the ends of her long, brown hair flick around the corner, or catch a glimpse of her shoe before she disappeared again.

He was only focusing on catching up, the chase taking up every fraction of his attention. So when he turned the next corner, he failed to see the small woman tucked into the alcove there. Failed to see the hand that reached out, only noticing it when it delicately slapped his upper arm.

Immediately, he felt unmoored, like he was a ship left to drift out at sea. The waves of nausea weakened his knees and turned his stomach. He sucked in a breath as he sunk to his knees, the world going fuzzy around him.

He tried to remind himself to breathe.

Then, a familiar voice sounded from above him, washing away the panic.

“Kacchan?” Bakugou released the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, letting his head hang between his shoulders. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t grateful for Deku showing up.

Usually, Katsuki hated admitting that he needed help, but whatever the villain had done to him was strong. He had no control over his body and he would welcome the assistance happily.

“Deku,” Bakugou choked, air still struggling to enter his lungs. “The villain...she’s nearby. You… be careful.”

Katsuki pushed himself back to lean against the brick wall behind him, trying desperately to catch his breath. He glanced up and furrowed his brow at the look on the boy’s face in front of him.

Izuku’s smile was twisted into something cruel and dark, the sight of it unnatural and unsettling to Katsuki.

“Me? Deku? Who’s the one lying on the ground, Kacchan? I hardly think I’m the useless one here,” Izuku utters, soft and sweet even though his words were anything but. Katsuki was still trying to regulate his breathing, but that was quickly forgotten when he processed what Izuku had said.

“I didn’t- it doesn’t mean that anymore. You know that,” Katsuki gasped, bringing a hand up to clutch at his chest as his eyes slammed shut.

“I know that you think you’re better than me,” Izuku said calmly.

Katsuki forced his eyes open, taking in the soft smile that now graced Izuku’s lips. It seemed so out of place as the malicious words slipped from his mouth. Katsuki tried to think about what the f*ck he might have done to cause this. Had Izuku finally realized that Katsuki was irredeemable? Unforgivable? Unlovable?

“Izuku, I-”

“I know you think that you’re better than me, but deep down, we both know you’re wrong,” Izuku declared. “You will never be as good as me.” Katsuki knew that. It was the one thing that echoed in the back of his mind daily.

Try as hard as you can, but you will never surpass him.

“You are a selfish,” Katsuki winced. That was true. “conceited,” True. “resentful,” Also true. “monster.” Izuku growled as he drove the last nail into the coffin. Katsuki flinched away, hating that he knew all this to be true. It was like Izuku had seen into his mind and knew all of the awful things that he thought about himself.

“Izuku, stop,” Katsuki choked, wincing away from the words as they cut him more deeply than any knife ever could. He thought they were past all this. They had worked so hard, both of them, to mend their friendship over the years.

Katsuki had proved time and time again through his actions that he had changed. That he was different now.

Katsuki had thought that their friendship was changing for the better, heading in a direction that was more than he could have ever hoped for. He had been infatuated with Izuku ever since he had seen the green-haired boy knock a villain out with one kick back in their third year at UA. Watching the boy's thigh muscles flex, the look of sheer determination on his face, the way his chest heaved as he stood over the villain's limp body, triumphant. Katsuki had been a goner.

At first, he had thought his feelings would be unrequited. He didn’t expect Izuku to ever feel that way about him, but lately the smaller boy had been touching him more, a soft hand placed on his arm, a firm press against his sore muscles at the end of a long day.

Katsuki had thought that they were moving towards something more, but as he looked at the man that he had been in love with for the last three years, a hot spike of doubt lanced through him.

“I know you’re in love with me,” Izuku simpered, one hand slowly reaching out to touch Katsuki, only to pull away at the last moment. “That you even thought I would ever consider you after everything you did to me just proves how egotistical you are. As if no one could ever turn down the favor of the great Katsuki Bakugou.”

Katsuki shook his head, a stray tear leaking out of his eye. “No, that’s not what I think. I-”

Izuku dropped down to the ground in front of Katsuki, eyes glinting with malice. “As if I could ever let the man who told me to kill myself to ever touch me.”

A gasp of broken breath drug through Katsuki’s lungs as Izuku sneered, bringing up the one thing that still haunts him to that day. He had worked hard to move past all his other misgivings, but that mistake was one he would never let himself forget. He thanked the Gods everyday that Izuku didn’t act on his demand, that the green-haired boy had been smarter than that.

He had apologized to Izuku for his words after they graduated, after a night out on the town with the rest of the idiots. His stomach had been full of tequila, his head pleasantly fuzzy, as Izuku walked him home. The smaller boy had maneuvered Katsuki into his bed, bidding him goodnight and making to leave, but not before Katsuki grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, whispering apologies about that day all those years ago, almost a lifetime ago, it seemed like.

Izuku had just smiled, running a hand through Katsuki’s hair, and told him that he knew Kacchan hadn’t meant it for one second, and that he had forgiven him a long time ago.

Katsuki sobbed now, realized that that had been a lie, one told to him to spare his feelings, to absolve his guilt. He should have known it was too good to be true. Izuku, the self-sacrificing bastard, would say just about anything to make someone else feel better, even if it wasn’t how he truly felt.

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki cried, not even trying to hold back his tears anymore, grief flowing through him like a raging river. “I’m so sorry, Izuku. I didn’t-”

There was a loud crash that interrupted his apology, pulling his gaze up from where it had been fixed in his lap. Katsuki watched as a green flash blasted into his field of vision, knocking the Izuku that had been crouching in front of him to the side.

“Kacchan?” Katsuki opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them. Big, green eyes stared down at him, filled with concern. Katsuki flinched when a hand reached out to help him, mind racing to catch up with what was happening.

“Deku,” Katsuki coughed, finally taking a look around them. There was a woman collapsed in a pile of garbage just to the right of them, her chest rising and falling softly.

He looked back to Izuku, furrowing his brows.

“Hallucination quirk,” the boy offered, reaching out a hand to Katsuki once again. This time he took it, letting the nerd pull him to his feet.

Katsuki took a breath, trying to regulate his breathing again after his near panic attack. It hadn’t been Deku saying those things. Just an illusion of him. “It has to be activated through touch,” he responded, sensing a thousand questions poised on the tip of Deku’s tongue.

“There were things she knew that no one else does. She must have to touch you to know how best to manipulate you,” Katsuki continued, hoping that his tone was enough to ward off the avalanche of queries that Deku would certainly want to bury him under.

Bakugou shook his head lightly, taking a moment to look at the boy standing next to him, who was in turn observing the villain on the ground.

They had looked the same. Same hair, same eyes, same mannerisms.

It had been horrifying to hear Deku say those things to him, almost enough to stop his heart in his chest.

He knew he wasn’t the best at talking about his feelings, but after an encounter with a villain like that, he knew that he needed to talk to Deku and lay everything out on the table. The boy deserved to know how he felt, and Katsuki had been waiting for the perfect moment for long enough to realize that when you were a hero, the perfect time never came.

One moment you were on top, and the next you could be in the grave.

He didn’t have time to waste.