Chapter Text
Smoke filled his senses, it was everywhere: his nose, his eyes, his tongue. It flowed with him, spinning in line with Katsuki as he tried to locate the villain. A fuzz of light shone past the darkened ash, a blur of heat scaling the buildings, the cars, the entire street.
Katsuki was in his zone.
Pushing aside the faint feeling as he continued to breathe in the toxins, he continued to throw himself towards the villain, crashing against her as if she was the shore. He’d spent enough time playing around, enough time trying to figure out a plan, he was only attacking now.
The rush of adrenaline felt thrilling as his explosiveness coursed through his veins, his body popping with small explosions as if he himself were a firecracker. The palms of his hand shot him forward as he continued chasing behind her, the glow her quirk gave her being all he had to work with.
“You gonna fight me, or are you gonna keep running like a coward?” He taunted, smiling wide as he continued to push through the ash, eyes blinking rapidly to relieve him of the particles trapped.
His smile dropped as the sound of crackling came from beside him. Turning his head, his gaze landed on Izuku, eyes concentrated and teeth bared as he flew beside Katsuki. He tried to keep his mind on the villain in front of him, but he couldn’t seem to decipher where she was. The glow beside him knocked him off his radar.
“You’re ruining my goddamn chase, Deku!” He huffed out, pushing his quirk further as he tried to outrun the overpowered kid beside him.
Izuku turned his head to look at him, eyes widening as he identified Katsuki before a shy smile crept onto his features. “Ah! Sorry, Kacchan! I just thought you could use some support!”
Katsuki barely had time to respond as a building separated the two, Katsuki having to quickly maneuver to the side to stop his body from colliding with it. As his eyes were kept across the glass windows that lined it and on the green aura of Izuku, his focus fell onto himself.
There he was, flying beside a building, explosions blasting him through the air. He looked unreal. He felt unreal. His power seemed to push him further, he was stronger. Maybe it was the pressure of the fight, but his body maxed out his quirk as he flew through the air.
His quirk was his staple. It made him who he was. His whole life, all he had been was his quirk. His grades didn’t matter, his looks didn’t matter, hell, even his attitude didn’t matter, because his quirk manipulated the people around him. It made them drawn to him, expecting him to become so much more.
And, sure, the attention was nice at first. He was egotistical, he could admit that, and he liked the way everyone swooned over who he was. But, as the years passed, his need to socialise—to be admired—fizzled into being thrown into the spotlight without preparation.
He wanted to be left alone as he grew older. He didn’t care for anything other than working on himself, yet the crowd continued to swarm him. Good, bad, in between, they continued to judge each and every one of his movements. His anger, his power, his independence, his lack of respect, they criticised every step he took.
Sometimes he felt an intense need to be nothing. No matter the obsessive desire to be everything, the fame that came with it pushed him into a hole, his thoughts eating away at his burning corpse. He was ambivalent. He couldn’t decide between the former or the latter. To be all or to be none. Katsuki crippled himself with the decision each day.
Yet he continued to strive for the latter. He stayed with his school, pushed through the criticism, and continued to work to become the greatest. Because, as much as he liked the idea of becoming nothing, of leaving behind the crowd, he’d never known anything less. He wouldn’t know who he’d be without his quirk. His quirk was his staple.
As the building was left behind, his eyes locked onto the frame of the villain as she continued to sprint through the street. He let himself drop a few feet in order to get low enough to attack if needed.
“Oi, Needle Nails, what are you running for? Scared of me?” He laughed hysterically to himself as he started to spin around in the air, picking up more speed and reaching closer to the villain. Her eyes flashed back at him and then she left his line of vision.
His body stopped, little bursts of explosions keeping him in the air as he examined the area. He hadn’t been able to properly identify her quirk yet. At first, he assumed it was an enhancement quirk, but now, his mind went to teleportation. His eyes covered the area hastily, wide and ready. She could appear behind him at any moment. Her quirk must be related to teleportation, or maybe manipulation of atoms? Could she mutate the way her body functions?
“Kacchan, look out!” His head whipped around at the sound of Izuku’s voice before spinning around completely to come face to face with the villain.
Her body was pale, as if all the blood in her system had left her. Her veins were almost threateningly visible and lined with little dots, most likely courtesy to the needles that lined the nails of her fingers. Her hair was an awfully vibrant blue, almost glowing, whilst her eyes showed not even an ounce of soul—pure orbs of black covering the area of the iris and the sclera.
Katsuki jerked back but she was quick enough to grab onto his arm, stabbing one of her needles against his wrist’s vein. Before he could send an explosion her way, she twisted her body and sent him flying, rolling through the air until his back hit the concrete of a building, indenting it.
He slumped to the floor, body aching and wrist bleeding where she had punctured him. His mind was in immediate distress. Her quirk seemed to have been different from his past assumptions. Whatever she had stabbed in him must have done something. He didn’t know what though, that was what worried him the most. Would he die?
But as he continued to stay there, coughing on his hands and knees, all he felt was a surge of raw power. His body was itching to fight—to move. Maybe she had injected some type of drug into his body that caused him an immense amount of energy. But, no. It was different. All he felt were his explosions.
He felt the wind blow the right side of his hair away as Izuku landed next to him, hand grabbing onto his wrist and seeing if he could figure out what was wrong. “What did she inject into you? Are you okay? Do you feel normal?” He continued to launch questions at him as Katsuki’s breathing picked up, lungs almost popping with the amount of oxygen he was taking in, though he didn’t know whether his need to breathe was from his adrenaline, or the fact that he could barely intake anything with the ash creeping into his lungs.
His head turned to Izuku and he stared at the boy next to him. His eye was bruised and two of his fingers were broken from quirk usage. Katsuki’s eyes traveled to his hero costume, if he could even call it that anymore. All Izuku had covering him was half of his right arm’s fabric and a strip down his lower stomach, paired with half ripped pants, scorched and blackened. Katsuki had lost the boy for a few moments in the fight. He wasn’t aware what he had been through but, fuck, he looked like hell.
And yet, beside the obvious fact that Izuku shouldn’t be taking any more harsh movements his way, Katsuki whipped his wrist out of his grasp and stood up, head swinging back to stare at the villain, whose old, cowardly demeanor had been replaced. Her face was harbouring a terrifying grin that stretched uncomfortably wide. Her eyes, though they didn’t seem human before, grew even more alien. She seemed as though she was victorious in the fight. But, with the power Katsuki was feeling, he knew her victory would be short.
“I’m fucking great,” he responded to Izuku. “If I kill that asshole, you're my alibi.” Izuku tilted his head in response but Katsuki didn’t care enough to explain further, his body was urging him to fight.
He ran forward a few meters and then let his quirk take him off the ground, aiming to shoot himself towards her. But as he closed in on her, the explosions he was trying to simmer out were continuing to grow. He went to change his direction but it was too late, the right side of his body pummeled into another building opposite, sending him inside whoever’s office it was. He felt his body being pierced by the glass that had broken but he couldn’t care.
All he cared about was the fact that his quirk didn’t listen to him. Whatever drug she’d given him must have really fucked him up if he couldn’t use his quirk right. He gritted his teeth and sent himself back, making sure to avoid any further buildings. The villain seemed to almost find joy in the fact he was gaining on her, jumping around through the streets like a child.
“My, you’re explosions do seem dangerously strong, Hero!” She giggled, twirling around as she continued to skip away from him, as if it were any other day for her. “I wonder how long it will take…” she mumbled to herself, tucking her glowing hair behind her ears.
“I’ll fucking kill you with ‘em, villain!” He bit back, his confusion as to why the villain was talking about his quirk like that transforming into anger.
He pushed his quirk harder until he was close enough to the villain to tackle her to the ground. They rolled through the smoke for a short few moments, Katsuki struggling against this strange-as-hell woman as she continued to giggle with joy. His eyes widened as she managed to finally pin him down, one arm holding his hands behind his back as her foot pushed his cheek hard against the ground.
Her needle-lined finger came up once more and, again, she injected him with whatever drug she’d chosen. He struggled against her strength as she entered it, released the substance, and removed her finger, wiping his blood on her clothes. Katsuki screamed as he went to use more explosions, knocking her away from him until he was up in the air again, jumping towards her.
His hand came in front of him, his sweat building up and his explosion frittering, before he released it, a sudden rush of pain sending him flying back. He rolled against the floor until the momentum stopped, laying with his chest up. His right arm hurt like hell and the rest of his body ached with a dimmer sensation. The hell happened?
“It’s already turning on you!” He heard her voice surround him, echoing in his ears like he was in a goddamn cave. “Come on, get up! You’ve still got a lot of power left!” She laughed, voice loud and menacing for something so high-pitched.
Inhaling another breath, he went to lift himself up, but immediately fell back down at the sudden jolt of pain. His head turned to the side and he hesitantly looked down towards his right arm, immediately wishing he hadn’t.
Whatever had happened back there had burnt the skin of his forearm off, leaving a bubbling, bleeding mess of a body part staring back at him. Alongside that, explosions still burst from his burning palm, sending winces of pain at every beat. His breathing picked up again, but his adrenaline was not the case.
Biting on his lower lip to conceal the tremble that he knew would have coursed through it, he changed to his left arm, being able to actually pick himself up without harm, as his messed up one continued spraying explosions, forcing him a few steps to his left each time.
His eyes locked on the villain, who stood a few feet away as she watched him mockingly. She seemed so certain she was going to win. Katsuki was going to change her goddamn mind.
Pushing past the pain, he let his right arm blast with an explosion, sending him towards the villain as he turned to kick her in the cheek. He placed his left hand to help rotate him but as he pushed nothing seemed to come out. His eyes fell to his arm as he tried to focus harder on emitting explosions from it. It was drenched in his sweat, why wasn’t it working?
He felt contact and flicked his eyes back to watch as a foot collided with his nose, sending him back with whiplash until he landed on his ass with a yelp of pain. His body ached. His right arm was skinned and broken and his left arm wasn’t listening to his brain. His quirk wasn’t working in his left arm. It wasn’t working properly. His quirk…
“This might be your last fight, kid—“ His eyes peered up to her as she strutted towards him, eyes staring soullessly into him. “—Make it worth it and give me all you’ve got!”
“Kacchan!” His head whipped over to Izuku who was struggling under a pile of rubble. When did that happen? “She’s taunting you! Don’t listen to her! Be smart!”
Katsuki needed to go and help Izuku. But that could lead to the villain destroying more of the area. Plus, his quirk wasn’t working properly, he wouldn’t be able to accurately reach him. But if he defeated the villain, then he’d be able to run over to Izuku without worry, help him without paranoia for who may be behind him.
“Kacchan, it’s not worth it!”
“You call yourself a hero?”
“You’re going to hurt yourself!”
“A boy known for his quirk, can’t even use it.”
“Kacchan, run! Backups coming shortly!”
“Let’s see just how much power you have left, kid.”
His body moved on his own. His right arm came up and sent her flying back, himself being blown closer to Izuku by the size of it. Whatever the hell was going on with him was making his quirk strong as hell. But it wasn’t right. He needed to think rationally.
“You’re not even scratching me with that pathetic attempt! Try harder, Kacchan.”
All sense of logicality left him as he propelled himself back up in the air. He heard his nickname being screamed out around him, but he didn’t know if it was Izuku’s voice or the villains. His mind warped completely as he spun in a useless circle in the air, screaming as he failed to control his quirk.
His eyes opened, tears springing from them—which he convinced himself were from the heat of his explosions—as he watched as a green aura flew towards him. “Deku, watch out!” He begged, his voice cracking as he continued to repeat orders his quirk wasn’t listening to.
Stop!
Don’t hurt him!
Just work normally, dammit!
Katsuki lifted his hand in the air, directing his explosions so he fell to the ground instead of circling the sky without a target. He crashed, causing a crater as his body hit the ground. Sweat, tears, blood all streamed down his face as his right hand continued to feed out explosions he couldn’t control. He wasn’t in control.
“Is that really all you’ve got? What happened to surpassing everyone?” He heard her mockery a few metres in front of him, but he could barely register it. His brain was too busy trying to get his sparking quirk under control.
He left his hand in the air, sending him deeper into the ground as he pushed to find a way to stop it all. “The hell did you do to me!?” He asked, voice trembling through each word like a scared child.
He heard a giggle before she shooshed him, a giant smile still planted on her face. “Tick, tick, tick, Kacchan. Make this next attack count, alright?” She was so soft spoken, and it sent shivers down his spine, his fear disregarding the overwhelming heat he was fighting.
Shoving any logical thought away, he quickly shot himself forward, blocking out anything Izuku said to him as his eyes stayed tight on the villain at hand. He let his mind fly on autopilot as his explosions ricocheted off her one by one, not stopping for anything.
“That’s it! Keep going! You’re almost there,” She sounded so genuinely encouraging that Katsuki almost forgot he was truly fighting a villain and not in a simulation at the gym. But as his focus fell back onto the fact his quirk wasn’t working properly, he remembered the reality.
He pushed himself further with every attack, burning her hair away, bruising her, trying to cause her as much pain as he was experiencing. He didn’t understand what was happening. And with that, he couldn’t make a plan. He didn’t know his future.
“This might be your last fight, kid.”
What was she talking about when she said that? Was she taunting him, or was she speaking the truth. What did she even mean? Was he going to die? His body didn’t feel as though it were in the stage of shutting down, but he also knew that his body was running on too much adrenaline to really even give a feeling of it breaking down.
He flew in front of her, grabbing hold of her shirt like he had with Izuku back when they fought in first year, and sent them both tumbling to the ground. He tried to hold her arms with just his left one—his uncontrollable right arm out of the picture—but she was able to shrug him off with ease.
She jumped away from him, waving her arms in the air as if she was begging him to catch up to her, and he followed like a trained dog. All he felt was hot, burning rage coursing through him. He felt explosive. He hadn’t felt so alive until then, and yet, his body seemed on the verge of death.
His eyes snapped away from the villain though as the feeling of a hand wrapping around his forearm forced him to look at the boy next to him. Izuku’s eyes were almost ghost-like with the amount of white showing. His pupils were dilated in fear and his lip trembled heavily.
Katsuki pulled away from him, cautious of his state and knowing he needed to keep away from anyone he didn’t want to harm. He stepped back a few times, his explosions forcing a few stumbles to come forth. His eyes remained locked on Izuku’s, though. He needed to focus on not hurting him.
“How the hell did you get out of the rubble?” He managed to get out as he continued to huff at Izuku.
“That doesn’t matter. What's wrong with your quirk?” Izuku practically cried, trying to step closer to Katsuki only to be met with another step back.
He couldn’t see the boy though. Katsuki couldn’t see Izuku as he stared at who was in front of him. He couldn’t hear Izuku when “Kacchan” came out of his mouth. His vision blurred as green turned to blue.
He needed to get away from him. He was going to hurt him. He needed to hurt her, not Izuku. He’d done that enough. Now wasn’t the time. But that fucking nickname continued to echo around him and he grew less comfortable with the stranger in front of him.
He blasted from his spot, trying to reach his target instead of hurting anyone else, but the boy couldn’t seem to take a fucking hint. He felt his presence behind him as he creeped up to fly beside him, but he couldn’t let that happen.
He tried to use more force on his quirk to send him further away from Izuku, but his body was once again thrown away to the side as an explosion broke out from both his hands, shaking the area around it, scorching his costume.
His body was propelled backwards, heaving any oxygen from his lungs as he hit the ground once more. With his eyes wandering down, he stared at the state of his right hand as the underlayer of skin bubbled up, blisters covering the area.
Without warning, bile rose from his throat and spilled from his mouth, both choking and coating him in vomit. He rolled himself over, his knees holding his body up as he coughed out the remainder, knowing damn well he wasn’t going to die from choking on his stomach acids.
He felt like hell. He knew he looked like hell. But he needed to push through. Izuku said backup was coming soon, Katsuki had to trust him on that. Just a few more minutes, and he’d be saved. Just a few more minutes, and they would figure out what was wrong with his quirk. Just a few more minutes…
“Kacchan.”
His body stilled at the nickname. It wasn’t Izuku. Was Izuku alright? Katsuki had hurt him with that explosion. Why did that nickname bring him so much fear? He needed to run. He needed to find Izuku and hide until backup arrived. Backup. Wait for backup.
“Come on,” she whined, though her voice held nothing but amusement. “Go out with a bang. Isn’t that all you’re good for?” Her giggles echoed through his ears, but he couldn’t process it. His body was urging him to kill. He wanted her dead.
Hastily picking himself off the floor for what he knew to be the last time, he slowly turned around to face her, eyes on the ground until her voice echoed towards him once more. “Let go, Kacchan. end it big.”
He raced forward, blasting himself toward her and spinning on his heel. He grabbed the crown of her head with his right hand and let the explosion blow her back, her grunts only pushing him further.
Before she even turned her head in his direction, he was already in front of her, ricocheting explosions one after another, the street lighting up from the glow of them. He listened to her words, as much as he didn’t want to. He let himself go as he continued to attack, watching as the villain became weaker from every hit.
He was losing his values the further he let himself derail. Every hit, every blast, heroism wasn’t his main thought as he chased her once more. She had damaged his quirk, she had hurt him, she had taunted him. He felt no sympathy as he pushed himself.
His vision was blurring up. His lungs were heavy. He could barely deal with the heat he was experiencing. He should have retreated. He should have ran away. But his survival instincts had long since left him.
The villain spun around, jumping off in another direction for Katsuki to follow. She seemed to be enjoying the chase. It was strange to him. She was so certain she was going to win. Maybe she had already. Maybe Katsuki hadn’t realised it yet, but he sure as hell knew he’d continue fighting until his body gave out.
His quirk quickly burst, leaving him skidding across the ground, trying to stabilise himself as he saw where the villain had ended up. He hadn’t realised they’d done a full circle. But there he was, standing there, helpless, as she hovered over a sputtering Izuku. She was whispering something in his ear, one of her needles pressed against his neck in warning. Izuku wasn’t using his quirk. He wasn’t doing anything but the involuntary shaking happening throughout his body.
The villain's gaze rose to meet Katsuki’s, her grin still intact. “You know, your quirk is already failing you, imagine what would happen to poor Deku here if he lost control?” Katsuki went to take a step forward but didn’t when her grip tightened on Izuku, needle straining against his neck.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” He barked, hands shaking and heart racing. Katsuki wasn’t stupid. As much as he distanced himself from Izuku, they’d grown close enough for him to know the dimensions of his quirk. One For All was strong—too strong. If it exceeded the limit Izuku was comfortable at, the energy could burst Izuku from the inside. He could die. She would kill him if he let her inject him.
Whatever her quirk was forced the victim’s quirk to become out of control and dangerously powerful, Katsuki had worked that much out. Katsuki knew that Izuku’s quirk being dangerously powerful would result in fatality. Katsuki could handle whatever that villain gave him—he had for the past couple minutes—but Izuku couldn’t. As strong as he was, he’d die at the hands of her if Katsuki didn’t save him.
“Why shouldn't I?” She let her finger move from his neck up to his face, stroking his jaw like a goddamn dog. Izuku’s eyes were shut, his breathing was unrhythmic: he’d be hyperventilating, and then get a hold on a few controlled breaths before going back to the former.
Katsuki knew that if he moved, she could kill him. If he moved, it would be his fault Izuku died. So he had to watch as she ran her hand over his bloodied face as if she owned him. Katsuki was useless. His quirk wasn’t working properly, he had to put Izuku’s safety before the villain's demise. He was utterly helpless.
Backup had to come soon. It was the only way they’d be saved. If Katsuki could just bluff until they arrived. If he could bear to watch her toy with his classmate, then they would be saved. He just needed to wait it out—
He was blown off kilter when his right hand unceremoniously let off a giant explosion, sending him stumbling to the floor, eyes kept down, hoping that she didn’t take that as him moving for her, hoping she hadn’t hurt Izuku.
Slowly, his head turned back in their direction, any ounce of hope he had pushed to help him. His eyes fell on green hair as Izuku laid with his head pressing into the ground. Katsuki felt a gasp tear from his throat, the words he needed to call out—to know if Izuku was okay or not—not appearing on his tongue.
The villain wasn’t in sight. It was just Izuku. But Katsuki knew better than to think she ran. As he felt a needle jab into his neck, his body twitched as he tried to pull away. He shoved himself away, hand coming up to cover where his neck had been stabbed as he tried to figure out what he could do next.
But he didn’t get a chance before she was up close to him again, punching at him like he was nothing. Realising there was no time to make plans, he resorted back to his quirk, knowing that if it was powerful—especially after she’d injected him once more—then he needed to use it to its full potential before it returned to normal.
Letting his quirk take over once more as it had again and again throughout the fight, he threw himself at her, his explosions rocking the earth beneath them. He vocalised the pain he was experiencing as he screamed through each blast, sending her backwards over and over.
The pain he felt though didn’t come close to the satisfaction as he heard each grunt of pain coming from her. Watching as her skin was scorched and her clothes were blackened. Watching as her hair went from a glow of long blue to brittled shoulder-length hair. It drove him to push harder, to reach his full potential.
The next explosion he sent out threw him off his radar, forcing him back a bit from the shock of power emitted. His head spun as he tried to get a grip on what had happened. He couldn’t see anything past the smoke that had thickened from the amount of his quirk used, but he knew that she was somewhere in front of him.
His body twitched with each muscle that he moved, his shaking becoming as uncontrollable as his quirk was. With every step, he became more disoriented. He started to forget what was happening, sounds were fading in and out—his vision was fading in and out.
Only when he heard that damned laugh again did he fully start to concentrate on his surroundings once more. Her shrill voice banged against his eardrums as he continued stepping forward even though his body was urging for him to run back.
His attention forced him to recognise the glow of blue as her voice rose again, getting closer and closer to Katsuki with each terrifying step. “Prove my words right,” she smirked. “Be the dumb hero who goes boom.”
Katsuki fought against the pain as he picked up his speed, his only intention being to hurt the villain until she stopped talking like she was victorious. She seemed to have realised his plan, but instead of running, she let herself skip forward happily, brows knitted together in concentration.
Jumping in unison, the villain held her fist up, ready to hit Katsuki back to the floor, whilst Katsuki took all the strength he had to focus on his quirk. It had to work properly. He couldn’t mess up. If he did, he didn’t know whether the backup Izuku had sent for would be taking their bruised bodies away or their corpses.
Straining out a final scream, he watched as the palms of his hands—his left hand seeming to finally listen—burst with energy he didn’t think possible. His eyes shot up to see the villain—for the first time since their fight began—drop her smile. As he released the explosion, he felt the painful sensation of burning reach his skin as he was carried backwards by the blow.
His body hit the floor like a ragdoll, rolling around limply until he was splayed out on the ground, choking on his breath, staring at the grey sky. He tried to pick himself up, but he couldn’t get his right arm to move. It was paralysed. He stared at it a few moments before turning back to face the sky, huffing out a sigh.
Only, he couldn’t hear his breath leave him. He felt liquid he knew would very possibly be blood dripping from his ears, and, from the realisation that nothing around him was audible, made the assumption that the explosion had ruined his hearing.
With his right arm unable to be moved and his sense of hearing no longer available to him, he laid there like a damn corpse, any adrenaline he had dissipating. Lolling his head to his left side, he scanned the area until his eyes landed on Izuku who seemed to be coughing against the ground, the skin on his bicep burned off.
Katsuki let his eyes stay on Izuku, for some reason needing the reassurance that someone was near. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to die and Izuku had the chance to get help quicker. Maybe it was for the selfish reason of continuing to have Izuku by his side as he always had. Or maybe he just wanted to focus on something other than the pain.
He felt the bile rise in his throat once more before his vision fell blurry, and it all went dark.
The first thing he registered was that he could hear a beeping sound from beside him. His subconscious seemed to have grappled with that fact before he awoke as it played as his alarm in his dream.
The rhythmic pace of it copied his heart beat as he slowly worked his way into full consciousness. He went to open his eyes but slowly shut them again after the harsh light attacked him. He let out an involuntary groan as he squeezed his eyes closed, gritting his teeth.
Everything was hazy as his brain stayed in a half-working state. He couldn’t pinpoint how exactly he had gotten to where he was. It smelt like a hospital, and the beeping that matched his heartbeat gave away the hospital machinery, but he didn’t know why.
Deciding that having the visuals of where he was was best, he forced his eyes open against the light, squinting as he adjusted to it. The roof above was white and tiled. He couldn’t register much but a small but powerful light above him and the railing holding up what he assumed was a curtain for him.
Wanting to see more clearly, he tried to sit up, only to be held down by something. Lifting his head to get a better look, he was met with a full body restraint holding him down.
Why was he held down like that? Had something happened? It could have just been a safety protocol in order for him to not tear any of his stitches, but it still felt a little unconventional.
His thoughts were cut off by the sound of the door he wasn’t able to see opening, the light from the hallway bypassing the curtain around him and forcing his eyes back shut, temple swelling with a headache. He was surprised he wasn’t more heavily medicated. He was gonna damn well complain about it to whoever it was behind the curtain.
Hearing the screech of the curtain reeling back, he pushed his eyes open once more to act properly alert in front of whoever it was that was there to see him. What he didn’t expect was his teacher to be in the mix.
Along with Recovery Girl, there Aizawa stood, goggles covering his eyes as he kept his arms folded which Katsuki knew was his attempt at stabilising the shakiness he was experiencing. The monitor next to him sped up a few more beats as he tried to figure out why it was seen that his teacher seemed so mournful.
Katsuki opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a raspy groan, his try at speech failing him and bringing heat to his cheeks. Recovery girl circled around his bed, checking all the monitors and placements of wires sticking out from his body, as well as finally undoing the goddamn restraints that dug into his skin.
He huffed out an angry sigh as he went to push himself out, only for a hiss to emit when the pain rose from the palms of his hands and through the rest of him. His teacher was quickly by his side, lifting him carefully as if he was fragile. He probably was fucking fragile, his body felt like broken glass with a withered blanket over top of it.
Before he could try and even clear his throat, Recovery Girl’s voice sounded. “Are you able to hear us alright, Bakugou?”
Katsuki turned his head in confusion at that question. Why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to hear them? Knowing his voice would let him down again, he nodded his head a few times, ignoring the intense dizziness and pulse following it.
“Good. And are you feeling calmer than when you first woke up?” She continued on, confusing him more and more with all her nonsense questions. This was the first time he had woken up since whatever the hell happened.
“I—“ His voice sounded like gravel. It crunched as he tried to form a sentence. Aizawa turned to a little bedside table beside him and picked up a paper cup, handing it towards him. Katsuki went to grab it, only to be met with a sling over his left arm. His right arm wasn’t even complying with him.
“You’re not gonna be able to use your arms for a while, kid,” Aizawa admitted. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at him for a moment before realising that he’d have to have everything done for him and letting a hoarse sigh slip.
Bringing his lips to the cup, he tilted his head in unison with it and chugged the water down, mild content washing over him as the soreness in his throat cleared slightly. He gulped down every last drop before abruptly clearing his throat, wanting to ask his list of questions.
“The h-hell do you mean ‘f-first woke up?’ T-this is the first t-time I’ve woken up t-today.” Either he was hallucinating the entire interaction or Recovery Girl was lying to his face. He hadn’t woken up before that moment. What did she mean by “calmer?”
Recovery Girl furrowed her brows, frown lines showing as she took in Katsuki’s words. “Do you not remember when you first awoke?” She tried again.
“No! I-I-I don’t even know w-why I’m here for fucks sake! C-can you tell me what’s g-going on?” He demanded, his eyes moving between the two. He knew he wouldn’t like to know. He could feel the tension in the room. But the need outweighed his fears.
Aizawa opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Recovery Girl. “I think it’s better to hear it from a doctor’s perspective.”
Aizawa nodded at the old woman and took a step back whilst she walked closer to Katsuki’s bed, her cane bumping the floor with each step. “You were injured in a villain attack about a day and a half ago.”
Katsuki stared blank for a moment before, like a damn explosion, everything hit him again. The villain, the pain, Izuku. It all came back to him. Recovery Girl seemed to take notice as her mouth closed at his realization, backing away from him—he didn’t know whether it was to give him space or to protect herself for any outburst he may have.
“Bakugou, I’m not sure how much you know from your fight, but you’re healing surprisingly well for the amount of injuries you’ve sustained,” Recovery Girl explained, trying to make light of the situation.
Katsuki couldn’t hear her though. He stared down at his lap, body stiff, eyes wide as he relived the events in his head: He was back there, smoke was filling his lungs as he tried to properly fight back. His quirk was out of control and he hadn’t had a rational thought since the start of battle. He became paralysed, his body went limp, Izuku dropped to the floor, Izuku…Izuku—
Katsuki flinched as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, his head spinning around to see who was touching him. Aizawa gave a reassuring nod, patting him twice before pulling his hand away.
“May I tell you the list of injuries?” He heard Recovery Girl ask—this time not blocking her voice out—and nodded his head.
“You received a severe concussion to the head, which would most likely explain why your thoughts aren’t coming back to you as easily—as well as your difficulty speaking and headaches I'm sure you’re experiencing. Your right arm has been partially paralysed, and both arms have suffered major burns and muscle damage.”
Katsuki couldn’t take all of it in. He needed to go out again. He didn’t want to have to sit there and listen to her talk about his post near-death injuries. But he couldn’t work up the strength to talk, it may have been from the fact his body could barely operate on its own as he sat there, but he also felt a mental restraint as he continued staring down blankly.
“You also have heavily bruised knuckles and ribs along with a broken nose and cheekbone. You lost hearing in your ears but we’ve been able to heal them to the best ability—you might struggle a bit if you are not paying attention though. The shock you endured caused your heart pressure and rhythm to exceed, but, luckily, your body was able to slow your heart down to a regular beat.”
He listened to all the injuries and tried to pinpoint which one was the cause of the difference in body sensation. He couldn’t figure out why it was that everything felt so much slower. His eyes came to meet with Aizawa’s, knowing there was something else—something they were afraid to tell him.
“W-what else?” He stuttered, cursing himself for sounding so damn stupid. He bit his tongue, anticipating something that would damage him permanently.
Letting out a sigh, Aizawa softened his eyes as he looked at Katsuki almost pitifully. “Bakugou…”
Katsuki waited, brows furrowing at whatever it was that was so hard to say. “Sensei,” he pushed, unable to hide the tremble in his lip.
“We’re not sure exactly how the villain’s quirk works. Don’t assume this is permanent, because we haven’t found much on the villain yet. But, also don’t set your expectations too high. We don’t know the effects or why it—“
“G-get on with it!” Katsuki cut him off, not wishing to be eased into whatever it was that his teacher was too scared to spit out.
Aizawa nodded his head before admitting the very thing that brought Katsuki’s world down.
“Your quirk is gone.”
Perhaps it was his hearing loss, but as he processed the words Aizawa said, a ringing deafened him. His eyes fell from his teacher to the floor, mouth open but nothing coming out.
His quirk.
No. No, it couldn’t be gone. It had been getting more powerful during the fight. How the hell could it be gone? They were liars. The moment he was able to use his hands again, he’d prove them wrong.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Recovery Girl moving her lips, but couldn’t pick up anything audible. Everything was fuzzy. It was blurry. They were lying. Recovery Girl was wrong.
Without meaning to, a sob tore from his throat, his breathing quickening as Aizawa’s words broke through him.
“Your quirk is gone.”
“Your quirk is gone.”
“Your quirk is gone.”
His head shook from side to side, denying it with all his heart. Because, if it was true, if he didn’t have his quirk anymore, then who was he?
Katsuki’s eyes came up to Recovery Girl to try and make sense of the situation, but as they flicked from her eyes, to the tool she was holding, horror struck him.
“Get t-the fuck away!” He cried out, trying to scramble away only to fall off the bed, landing painfully on his ass. His body didn’t seem to care though as he continued to pull himself away from her.
All he could hear was her laugh as he backed into a wall, back stiffening at the realisation of no escape. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t get away from his fate. She had come back to kill him. She had come back to finish what she started, because he knew that she was aiming for his demise.
He could feel the smoke constricting his lungs, but he had to yell. He had to try and get her away with whatever he could do.
“I’ll f-fucking kill you!” He repeated, over and over again, as if saying it would make it come true. But nothing happened. Her smile didn’t falter and her black eyes continued to stare through him.
He felt bile rise in his throat. It was so dizzying. He thought he’d ended her with his last explosion. He thought he really killed her. But she was there, carrying out her revenge, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
His head snapped as he felt hands wrap around his biceps, and his panic grew so much worse. She must have brought help. She would pin him down and kill him, inject him with the last dose. She would watch as he suffered. He had to get out. He had to fight.
He collided his head with one of the villains restraining him, ripping himself free from his hands whilst he was disoriented. The jolt of pain his head received did not feel pretty, but he had to push through, he’d rather endure the pain and survive than submit and die.
It took him a large amount of effort, but he was able to get himself standing without the use of his hands, his legs already moving to the door he’d spotted. He went to move, but had to stop at the first step, nausea becoming present as his head spun rapidly.
No. No, dammit. He had to get out. He couldn’t faint. Not when he was so close.
Katsuki felt something wrap around his body, the move causing him to lose his footing and fall to his knees. He wriggled in the grasp, trying to loosen the ties that held him down.
But it wasn’t enough.
He sensed someone coming close to him. Her. He knew it was her. But there was nothing he could do. He was trapped. He’d lost. His eyes followed as a hand squeezed his paralysed arm—his body too weak to fight it off—and placed the needle over a vein.
She was being careful with it. She was making sure she was able to hit a fatal artery, so that she wouldn’t have to hunt him down again. He choked out a scream of cusses, his voice cracking as he tried to yell for help but it was no use. The needle pushed down, injecting her weapon of choice into him, molding into his body forever.
He tried to cry out once more, but all that came out was a hiss of air. He’d lost his voice. He’d lost everything. He’d be dead in minutes, seconds if it was fast-working. He couldn’t even say goodbye.
Whatever was wrapped around his body was pulled back, but before he had the chance to try and stand again—to try and get help—hands grabbed him, holding him from his upper-back and his knee pit. He was carried away from the door, his eyes too blurry to make out who was taking him.
But it was all slowing down. He couldn’t move anymore. His eyes were heavier, his body felt heavier. The lights became too much as he continued his fight for consciousness. He had to shut his eyes.
Going against everything he stood for, what he built himself off of, Katsuki gave up and let himself become familiar with the darkness.
He was up once more, the sedative he realised he’d been given finally wearing off. He’d remembered everything Recovery Girl had said to him about his injuries, and what Aizawa said about…
But after that, he couldn’t recall anything. It was blank. Maybe his goddamn concussion was fucking him up. He understood memory loss was common for the injury, but he didn’t realise how damn much he would forget.
He didn’t know what time it was exactly, but the light that shone through the curtain before had left, meaning it must have been in the evening. How long had he been knocked out?
He hated it. He hated not knowing anything. He hated not having anything. He didn’t. He had nothing. His quirk was gone. Everything he had was gone.
And he could feel it. He could feel the difference in his body. The moment his quirk left him, the rest of him collapsed. He was something he never imagined himself being.
Useless.
His eyes darted to the curtain as it pulled back, getting a shock as his ears hadn’t registered the sound of people entering. He shuffled himself into a sitting position as he looked at the people staring back at him. Everything dropped.
“Mum,” he croaked out, voice barely audibly. He was never too honest with his parents. He didn’t know why, he just knew that they already dealt with one of his emotions enough, it would be too much for them to handle anything else.
But, as he stared at both his parents—his mother’s hand held over her mouth and his father trying his hardest to hold it together—he let himself break in front of them. His mum rushed to him first, holding his face in her hand for a moment before pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder as she hugged him.
He muffled his sobs in the fabric of her cardigan as she brushed her hand through his hair, eyes squeezed shut. He felt a boxier hand rest on his back, rubbing circles into it comfortingly. His father always used to do that when he was little. He always craved it when he was dealing with shit.
The usual bickers or comments they made never came. Apart from his parents' shaky breaths and his strained sobs, the room was quiet. And, god, did he want to stay there forever.
His body, always so rigid and sure, shook with all his fears in their arms. His tears, never usually shed around them, came pouring out. He was a mess in front of them, and yet they stayed.
He sat there with them for what felt like hours, so silent and comfortable, but once his mother pulled away to look at him and his father gave two reassuring pats before receding his hand, it seemed to be over so quickly. When he was let go from the hug though, he was able to properly take in his parents. And, fuck, he was scared he’d start crying again.
His mother, sitting next to him on the bed, had darkened circles under her eyes. Katsuki almost wondered whether she’d been punched twice. Her clothes were not as fashionable as normal—one of his dads shirts was thrown on with sweats and a giant cardigan—and her hair was lacking the usual styling she normally spent her mornings doing.
As for his father, who stood awkwardly to his other side, arms crossed with a hand resting on his chin, he didn’t look much better. His clothes consisted of plain black and white, and he’d forgotten to shave his stubble. He shared the similarity of eyebags, which confirmed to Katsuki his mother most likely didn’t get punched.
Katsuki decided, knowing looking at either made his heart tighten painfully, he’d look to his lap and wait for them to say something or leave. He wanted the former. He wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t want them to leave.
“Oh, Katsuki…” His mum—Mitsuki—choked out, hand coming back to stroke through his hair once more. “You’re so strong.”
No, he wasn’t.
His quirk was gone.
He wasn’t anything but weak.
Katsuki kept his mouth shut, but his mother must have realised his body stiffening as she withdrew her hand. He didn’t want her to pity him. It would make it all real. It couldn’t be real. He didn’t need her to call him strong.
“You’ll always be our little boy,” His dad—Masaru—promised, walking over to the end of the bed and finally sitting down.
Katsuki narrowed his gaze in his lap, wanting to tell them both to shut up, but no words came. He just sat silently, refusing to acknowledge either of their tries.
His voice hurt anyway. He didn’t want to ruin it further than he already had. So, he continued to sit there, motionless, eyes cast down and face blank of any emotion. He felt like an ass, but it was all he felt like doing. He couldn’t talk—that would just result in an argument. He didn’t want to argue. Why was he always arguing?
He heard his mother take a deep breath, and waited for whatever it was she wanted to say. “Hun, we need to make a plan going forward.”
Katsuki’s brows furrowed slightly, already wishing his parents would leave him alone. He was still drowsy from sedatives, he couldn’t make any damn plans.He couldn’t say that though, because she was already continuing on.
“Your teacher has recommended that you stay at UA until they can properly evaluate the villain's quirk and figure out whether the effects are permanent or not.” The hell did she mean by recommended? He’d stay at UA regardless. “But, if you feel like home would be a better place to rest up for the next few months, we wouldn’t mind you coming back with us once the doctors discharge you.”
Katsuki had to turn his head to properly look at his mum. He couldn’t fathom why she was talking like he wasn’t at UA anymore. Her gaze was soft, nothing but sympathy etched on it, but he still felt threatened.
“Why would I g-go home? We’ve got goddamn d-dorms back at U.A,” He snapped, his voice coming in and out as he barely had any of it left. “W-why are y-you acting like I-I can’t stay here?”
“Well, it may feel overwhelming having to stay at UA whilst you heal, and having to watch everyone continue training without you,” his dad explained, his voice soft. But, dammit, all Katsuki heard was that he was too weak to be at UA anymore.
Looking towards his dad, he bared his teeth as he tried to bite back his insults, and decided that staring him down would get the message across just the same. He didn’t have the energy to yell. He didn’t have the energy for anything.
But his parents didn’t seem to get the message. His father continued on, ignoring Katsuki’s silent pleas. “I understand that UA has been your dream—that heroism has been your dream—but…You almost died with the use of your quirk, and now that you have lost it…well, we just want to keep you safe.”
His eyes welled again—why had he become so emotional all of a damn sudden? Trying and failing to form a fist with his right hand, he decided that he had had enough of them. “I-I wanna be alone,” he announced quietly.
He waited, almost going to repeat his words after the thought of them not actually hearing it occurred, but, thankfully, his mother gently placed her hand against his shoulder, rubbing her thumb over it a few times before pulling her weight off the bed. His father followed suit, rising and walking towards the curtain hiding them.
His eyes flicked between the two, struggling to keep his gaze for more than a moment, before his father bowed his head and turned around, placing his hand on the small of his mother’s back. No goodbye. No, ‘we’ll give you some time.’ They just left.
It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He’d spent his whole life telling them to leave him alone, pushing them away when they went against his words, but, now that they didn’t fight, he wanted them to. He wanted them to tell him they’d come back. He wanted them to understand he needed some time to be alone.
But how could they? They didn’t really know him.
Hell, he didn’t even know himself anymore.
His body was killing him—it was turning in on itself, straining to hold on—but it didn’t compare to the pain he felt as he sat with it. The fact that, even if the effects of the villain’s quirk was temporary, he’d never be able to fight the same.
His arm was paralysed—Recovery Girl said it was only partial but it goddamn didn’t feel like it. He’d been hit with a major concussion—he knew they didn’t just go away easily. For fucks sake, he was probably suffering from PTSD. He had become a shell of himself. An outline.
He had lost all he’d known. He didn’t recognise himself. He wasn’t him. He was merely the result of her. No matter how much he didn’t want to be, all he’d be associated with was her.
He wanted to tear off his skin. He wanted to get rid of anything she touched. He needed to scrub until he couldn’t feel her hands on his arms, her nails in his skin, her blood coating him.
He didn’t want to be the aftermath.
He had fought to his end. He’d fought until all he lived for had died out. He shouldn’t have woken up. And yet he did. He was in a hospital room, vulnerable and clueless about half the things going on, instead of staying in the darkness.
Katsuki would have to spend the rest of his life running from someone. The damn thought of her brought him fear. Everytime—every damn time—he was back in that fight. He’d been awake only for a few hours at most and he already couldn’t deal with it.
The thought of spending the rest of his life on edge made the thought of death much more alluring.
Fighting the intense urge to rip his IV out and choke himself with the cord, he moved his legs off the bed, pushing himself up. Grabbing his IV—moreso, pushing it with his bandaged elbow—he began to wheel it to the other side of the room, letting his body lean on it when his vision collapsed.
He could barely stand by himself. He was a goddamn loser.
He pushed past the curtains and neared close to the window his room had. He let his body lean against the small ledge the wall had leading to the window, his eyes trailing over the city. The night lights shone, causing his headache to worsen, but he decided to push through it.
His eyes flicked to the sky, barely visible from the pollution in the area, and stared at what little stars he could see. What he really studied though, was the moon.
It was full that night, round and shining in all its glory. Katsuki liked that. He liked the night. The sky, the moon…the quiet. It all felt like him—though, he was sure he wasn’t the goddamn moon.
He just felt everything about it correlated to him in a way.
Maybe it was that fact he stayed up most nights. He wasn’t good with sleep—hadn’t been for a while—and so he found solidarity in the night. He was able to fall asleep after a few prescription pills and some tea, but it was staying asleep that troubled him.
When he woke, it was mostly the early morning—close to one or two—even though his alarm was never set before six. He’d get up, walk to his balcony and stare at the sky for a while, breathing in the cold air, enjoying how silent it was.
Sometimes, he’d sneak out of the dorms—even though it technically wasn’t sneaking out since he brought it up with Aizawa and got permission—and just walked along the grounds. He’d do a few laps around the entirety, and then head back when the first heap of students woke up—that being Izuku.
It was funny, no matter how aggravated he was by the nerd, every time he came back and Izuku was heading down to get ready for training, they’d share those few minutes of silent company with one another. After a few walks, Katsuki even started making two cups of tea, just in case his classmate was thirsty.
He was a corny motherfucker, Katsuki knew. But he soon realised he didn’t stoop anywhere to Izuku’s level of cringe.
One night, Katsuki had decided to jog instead of walk, and had come back to the dorms around half an hour earlier than normal. He’d decided that he wouldn’t make Izuku tea that morning since it would be cold by the time he came down, and would instead just leave a clean mug for him.
However, as he stepped through the door, he spotted a green-haired figure in the dim of the room, hovering at the counter, pouring boiled water into two mugs. Katsuki was a bit surprised as it normally took Izuku a few minutes to come down after he got back, but there he was, up, ready, and downstairs half an hour earlier.
He walked up, fists clenched as he watched the boy do his job, and shoved the nerd around to face him. “The hell are you doing up?” He whispered, mindful that everyone else was still asleep.
Izuku, with his dumb viridian eyes and dotted face, stared back at him with a wide smile planted on his face, all damn crooked and everything, as he replied cheerily. “I prerecorded a new All Might documentary last night. I thought that you’d wanna watch it so I thought we could do it together!”
Hell. Katsuki was in hell at that moment. Izuku was his torture method. And yet, he couldn’t find an excuse to leave the idiot. Instead, he turned his gaze to the tea behind Izuku and searched for mistakes.
None.
There were no fucking mistakes which Katsuki found surprising as hell for Izuku to accomplish.
Sighing at his inability to slap bullshit in his face and run, he decided to just go with him. “Whatever…” He leaned over and grabbed the mug before walking to the couch.
He sat his ass down in the middle of the couch and grabbed a coaster, setting his tea down. He didn’t want to sit in the middle. He wanted to sit in one of the corners. But thanks to Kirishima’s stupid ass, he was forced to.
Earlier in the week, Kirishima and Kaminari were playing catch in the common area—going against Iida’s protests—when Kaminari threw the ball too far. Instead of letting it bounce to the floor like a normal person, Kirishima decided to jump over the couch to grab the ball, landing on—and breaking—the coffee table they had there.
The school couldn’t order in a replacement until the week after, and there was only one spare table in the whole of the school. It was a small table that could fit about five glasses max, and was placed right in the middle, forcing anyone who had a drink to plant themselves there.
He shuffled a bit to his left as Izuku sat down next to him, trying to distance himself as much as he could whilst still in reach of his mug. Izuku didn’t seem to feel all that uncomfortable though. He crossed his legs under him, leaning a hand on his ankle as he switched the television on.
Katsuki tried to focus on his tea, the television, anything to not look at the damn nerd, but he always found his eyes watching Izuku watch the documentary. The glow of the TV shone in Izuku’s face, his eyes seeming to shine in the dark. His freckles reminded Katsuki of when he and his grandfather used to go stargazing at his old country house. They dotted his face like stars in the sky.
He looked so immersed in the show as he watched it—lips parted slightly and eyes wide, his body leaning forward in awe. Katsuki couldn’t have told you what it was about though. Sure, his eyes fell onto the TV for a few minutes at a time, but they always came back to watch Izuku. He didn’t understand why. Maybe it had to do with nostalgia, the fact they used to do that stuff as kids. Or, maybe he just found contentment in observing the boy.
Whatever it was kept his ass on that damn couch until the television was turned off and Izuku told him he had to head to training. And even then, he didn’t budge at all. He just sat there, staring at his empty mug, head turning to the empty space previously occupied every few minutes.
Hell, it was weird. He was grateful that Izuku didn’t try and do anything like that again. But they still kept their routine: Izuku popping down to Katsuki, sometimes watching him make the tea, sometimes only arriving when it was finished, having it thrusted into his hands unceremoniously by Katsuki.
Katsuki’s head moved on to Izuku. The last he’d seen of the boy, he was hunched over, coughing his lungs out. Katsuki hadn’t been informed of his wellbeing at all. He didn’t know whether he was alright. He didn’t know whether he had his quirk. Hell, he didn’t know if he was alive.
He must have been alive though, if Aizawa hadn’t told him otherwise. His teacher wasn’t an idiot. He would have told Katsuki if there were any fatalities. And that meant he was in the hospital somewhere.
Katsuki pushed himself back into a standing position and turned towards the door, wondering how long it would take for him to locate Izuku.