Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When everyone was throwing their caps at graduation, Katsuki had made it a point to turn his hearing aids down to their lowest volume. Not due to the strain, or overwhelm it may cause, but because… he didn’t really see the point to celebrating.

But his… friends were happy, the whole damn class was, and who the fuck was he to take that away?

Well, almost everyone was happy. He could see the tightness in Izuku’s smile, the way he gripped tightly to his graduation cap, which was a huge homage to every hero who had ever inspired the nerd–All Might, practically everyone in their class, with a lot of… green and orange motifs, that he tried to not pay too much attention to.

Truth was, after the war, Katsuki had lived a step behind himself. He went through the motions, tried to act as he had before, to put on that mask of anger and rage and an insatiable need for victory, but…

But nothing was the same. And no amount of talking to some school appointed shrink could help the gnawing pain in his chest whenever he envisioned the future. A future that he had been so certain of, so excited for, ever since he was little. Ever since he and Izuku were conscious enough to understand the concept of the best hero, of All Might and all his glory.

After he died, when he was barely seventeen, and he’d helped to save the world from a war he had never dreamed (or wanted) to be a part of, in the quiet of his mind, he was now constantly questioning what it truly meant to be a hero. What was he really willing to risk? Was he prepared to die again? Was he prepared for those levels of devastation? The people he couldn’t save? The friends he would have to watch die? The fucking kids thrown into battlefields?

Did he even want to be a hero anymore?

He’d only accepted the side-kick gig with Edge-Shot mostly out of a sense of duty. A duty not to worry his classmates. A duty to get that look of concern off of Izuku’s face.

Who was he to ruin the celebration that everyone in their class survived this damned school?

So, he kept his face bored and neutral, not able to stomach even a scowl. When really, he felt sick, and confused, and unsure.

He felt a tapping on his shoulder, and his heart squeezed in his chest as he saw Izuku, eyes fixated on him instead of the festivities around them. The greenette’s smile faltered as he signed, Is this too loud for you? We could’ve gotten you headphones.’

A small smile found its way onto Katsuki’s lips as he leaned forward, just to say the words clearly, as close as he could safely get to the other’s ear amidst the noise, “I’m just watching everyone. It’s easier to focus without all the noise.”

He pulled away, and he chuckled at the softest tint of a blush on Izuku’s cheeks.

'Okay, Kacchan–Oh! Did I tell you? I got my acceptance letter for Musutafu University!'

Now, the smile on the blonde’s face… grew. And some part of him, the part of him that used to feel hope more freely, innocently, naively – a part that had grown darker and darker with each passing day since his heart burst out of his chest – it sparked, just a bit.

He didn’t sign anything back, instead using the chaos of the aftermath of graduation–friends and family members rushing in wholly uncoordinated efforts to find those closest to them–to embrace Izuku. “I’m proud of you, nerd!” he spoke again, his voice only raised so that he could be heard through the roar of the crowd. And though he could feel Izuku’s chest vibrate with his own words, he couldn’t hear them. Even if his hearing aids hadn’t been turned down, he probably wouldn’t have been able to focus anyways, not with how aware he was of the contact, the arms around him.

Their friendship had only grown stronger in their third year, when Katsuki had caught Izuku in the middle of trying to sneak off, to run away again. Even with the embers of One For All still swaying within him, the guilt of what happened, how the war ended, what happened to Katsuki, his inevitable quirklessness, the death of his lifelong dream–it had been too much for the nerd to bear alone.

So, Katsuki forced him to share the weight. And they just… got closer, so much so that some of his friends would poke fun at him, citing that he needed to go see his Emotional Support Izuku (ESI) on a regular basis to keep his explosive attitude at bay. And they weren’t too far off the mark, because more often than not, Izuku was the only one he could show a more vulnerable side of himself to, without fear or judgment or rejection.

Quirk or no quirk, they were still winning to save and saving to win, just in their own way, now.

Even still, the thought of being a Pro Hero without Izuku by his side filled Katsuki with a dread so cold, it chilled him to the bone. Did he even… want to be a hero, without Izuku there?

Then, somehow, Kirishima crashed into them, tears on his face, forcefully interrupting his thoughts. And then it became a literal dogpile of a group hug, with everyone from 3A banding together for the last time in what would likely be a while.

Their families had all been invited to stay on campus to continue the festivities, but Katsuki could see that ploy for what it really was: a way to minimize any potential targets for villainous activities.

He was ready to call it a night—part of his rigorous training routine written by Edge-Shot himself, taking specific account for his new heart–and he had been on his way to find his parents, to get them settled into the neighboring building on the campus for the night.

Katsuki found his mom standing in the doorway to his dorm, and her shoulders were… shaking.

“Mom?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. And before he could think, she was embracing him, holding him so tightly, it made it a little difficult to breathe (when in the hell did she get so strong?!)

“I’m just… so proud of you!” she choked out, “And I’m… so happy that you’re still here, Katsuki, still strong and brave–” She pulled away to hold his face in her hands, and she looked at him the same way she had whenever he was small, and would play heroes with her. She let out a broken sob, her thumb shakily ghosting over the scar on his cheek, “You have grown into such an amazing young man. And I know you’re going to keep burning bright, my little Hanabi.”

His crimson eyes widened, tears shining and slipping onto his cheeks as she used the nickname from what felt like forever ago. Ever since he survived the war, he had been making an active effort to improve every relationship in his life. As he was dying, all he could think about was… his dream, of chasing Izuku for the rest of their lives. But, he also thought of every regret, every too harsh or too brash word or reaction. And he had, at some point in death, made a promise. That if he just got one more chance, he would be better, do better. If he could just wake up, he would fix everything.

He, for the first time in years, let himself cry, silently, in his mother’s arms, wrapping her small frame into his scarred, mangled ones, bowing his head to rest on her shoulder, “Thanks, Mom,” he forced out, though his voice broke. He wanted her to only have an image of him as strong, because he couldn’t put her through anything like what she had been forced to endure when his strength and speed had gotten her only child killed.

Yet another thought that had plagued him this past year: Did he even want to be a hero, with the stress and agony it would put on his parents?

A hand in his hair was the only signal that his dad had found them, and his eyes were swimming with so much love that Katsuki’s resolve to remain stoic threatened to crumble.

“I’ll be my best, for both of you,” he promised, his voice raw with both emotion and restraint. A tricky balance to achieve.

Once his parents were safely in their designated sleeping quarters, and only their class remained in the dorms, he padded out to the common area, finding everyone still awake, chatting like they were going to be able to do this the following night as well. Like they could live like this forever.

Who am I going to watch die first? The thought clanged through him, but he shoved it down, as deep down as he could reach. He wasn’t going to allow his trauma to ruin anyone else’s fun, though, as the adrenaline died down, he watched as similar revelations dawned on each classmate’s face. About their now limited time together, the inevitability of growing apart, the inevitability of good-byes. Their years together, now reduced to hours.

“We’ve all come so far, huh?” Izuku asked beside him, handing Katsuki a cup of royal milk tea, which he accepted.

“Yeah, we have,” his eyes scanned the room again, “how’re you holding up?”

A beat of silence, and Katsuki’s eyes shifted to Izuku. “I… dunno. Bittersweet? That doesn’t seem like a good enough word. I’m so proud of everyone but… this is also the end of the line for me, ya know? The end of Deku. After this, I just have to find a new dream, a way to still help people. And I just, don’t really know what exactly that looks like.”

He nodded and hummed, taking a sip of the tea, “None of us would be here without you.” He nudged Izuku’s shoulder with his own, using his chin to gesture to the now melancholy looking class. “I think you should give a toast. Class Rep and Top Student already gave theirs. But, I think it would help if they hear from you, too. Go raise their spirits, Symbol of Hope.”

And that’s exactly what Izuku did–he spoke of where they all started, how they had all become amazing heroes, how they had saved to win, how they had overcome everything together, and would continue to do so. That even if they were in different parts of the world, they knew that they could still rely on one another. They would always be there for each other, no matter what. And they would always remember their time here, everything they lost and everything they learned, and they would go Plus Ultra in everything they do now. And then he ended with his embarrassing All Might impression, “Have no fear, for you are here!” while pointing to his chest, his heart, when he said ‘here.’

Katsuki found himself wishing that life could be that simple. That just holding someone, carrying them in your heart, was enough to keep them safe.

He turned to head to his room when a hand… grabbed his own. With the rough, calloused scars contrasting with soft skin, he knew whose hand was holding his.

“You feeling okay, Kacchan? You’ve been acting… different today, different from everyone else.” Izuku’s eyes were full of questions, of concern, and Katsuki refused to be the reason for a dampened mood. He refused to take this night away from any of his classmates, but especially Izuku.

“I’m fine, Izuku,” he murmured–a bad habit he’d picked up from the green-haired young man standing before him–but his voice had no bite, “I’m just tired, but I’m fine. I have to head to bed anyways, and you do too,” he scolded lightly, dropping Izuku’s hand to ruffle his hair before he turned to walk away.

“That was a great speech, Deku,” he called over his shoulder. I hope you listen to your own words, is what he couldn’t say.

He couldn’t sleep at all afterwards. His mind just… wouldn’t stop racing. Too many thoughts ricocheted around, doubts and fears and an unending unknown thing. His damn heart monitor, which connected to an app on his phone and smart-watch (which he had to wear all the time), had even given him warning beeps four times in the last hour alone.

A knock on his door forced him to give up on his sorry attempts to rest, the futile tossing and turning, and he already had a feeling as to who was on the other side as he slid the door open, revealing Izuku, no signs of successful sleep on his face, either.

“Kacchan? Is something bothering you? And don’t just tell me you’re fine, I can see that you’re not.” He raised a scarred hand, holding his phone up, with the app tied to Katsuki’s heart monitor on the screen. When Izuku had asked for it, when they were in physical therapy together, it had been a no-brainer to give him that access. In a way it made him feel… safer, knowing the nerd was always looking out for him.

The tips of his ears warmed though, at the thought of Izuku having the notifications on, and rushing over. Katsuki just sighed and shook his head, “I just can’t sleep—‘s nothin’ I can’t handle.” Partly true. He wasn’t sure if he would fully master these new emotions and fears and memories, from every shitty thing that had happened to him at this place.

Izuku frowned, staying in his doorway, standing his ground, “You can talk to me. We promised, remember?”

Fuck, why couldn’t he let this go?

It had been in the hospital, after they learned about how badly off the pair of them were, thanks to the injuries they sustained. They had promised to stop keeping secrets from each other, and to say whatever was on their mind. And Katsuki had kept his word—he was known to say exactly what he was thinking, but he had done the work to add what he was feeling, too. Izuku was getting better at the ‘no secrets’ thing, though sometimes, Katsuki could tell when he was trying to hide something.

Crimson eyes searched viridian, “Can I tell you tomorrow?” The question came out in a voice barely above a whisper, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t break if he raised it. “I… I want everyone to have fun tonight, our last night here, all of us. And I… I have to be sure about something before I tell you. Is that okay, just for tonight?”

He could see the protest, the challenge burning in his eyes, but Izuku considered, and then he nodded. “Okay, Kacchan. We can talk tomorrow—meet me in the common room, okay? I still have to give you your graduation present.”

Katsuki offered a small smile, rolling his eyes, “How many times did I tell you not to get me a damn gift?” As if he hadn’t also gotten one for him in return. “Now go try to sleep, I promise I’m okay. Just need to figure some things out. See you in the morning?”

There was a hesitance, and an abundance of questions in those eyes, but he listened, giving another small nod, and a “Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning, Kacchan.”

Because somewhere along the way, they had decided not to deal in good-byes.

And then, he turned to head back to his own dorm room, which was empty. All of their dorms had been cleared out the day before graduation. Now this place felt… almost like a ghost town.

It was in a way, wasn’t it? With the ghosts of those they’d lost, of who they had been before, of their childhood and innocence.

As he padded in his slippers through the halls, those thoughts overwhelmed him. The thoughts of his past, his present, his future–his future, which had burned so bright, it had burned out. A future now so senseless and directionless, he began spiraling, as he left the dorms and headed towards the neighboring building, where the guests were resting.

He was quiet as he began to wonder, where did that dream come from? All Might. Every kid wanted to be a hero, and then he was blessed with his crazy powerful quirk. His quirk that had burned his dad when it first manifested–he was just reaching for him, and Katsuki was covered in sweat, and the smallest series of pops sounded from his hand.

No one knew, but he had bawled his eyes out, clutching only to his dad’s shirt as he reassured him, comforted him, because he was too scared to touch his skin again.

And then, Izuku reached out his hand. And society had championed him, because of his quirk, bolstering his ego at a stupidly young age. And society left behind anyone deemed unworthy. And Katsuki, despite his grandeur, was still so scared whenever Izuku reached out his hand to him. What if he hurt him, too?

It was getting harder to breathe, as he approached a door, being so careful to be quiet, not wanting to disturb anyone. Somewhere, he knew where he was going, but then his thoughts roared at him more.

He only realized he wanted to be a hero based on someone who he thought was a God, who then turned out to be a fallible man. He didn’t even realize he wanted to… help others, until he watched as so many of his peers had banded together to save him after the training camp. Fuck, the camp, where he had been too slow and too weak and too arrogant to evade capture.

Yes, UA had taught him how to grow up, how to atone, how to become respectable. But he was also always just a pawn, a weapon in their wars. All of them were. When Izuku ran away, when they finally coaxed him home, when the evacuees screamed at him to leave, that’s when the fracturing first started. Why would he work so hard to save people when they would just as quickly condemn a kid to potential death, based on their own fears?

Yes, every kid dreamed of becoming a hero. Because they didn’t know. They didn’t know how bad it could get. They didn’t know what a war sounded, tasted, smelled like. God, he hoped no one else would ever have to know how bad it could get. The sounds of people’s screams would haunt him forever. Shigaraki’s maniacal voice would haunt him forever. The way his blood had bubbled out of his chest, his mouth…

He wanted to be a hero, just like All Might. And instead he… it was because of him that All Might fell. It was because of him that the League grew. It was because of him that–

His breaths came out as painful pants, and he clutched his chest, sliding open a door, and falling to his knees in front of the bed.

“Katsuki?!” his mom cried, tumbling out of bed, on her knees as well, her hands on his cheeks, “Katsuki, what’s wrong? What’s happening?!”

And then, hearing the pain and panic in his mother’s voice broke some integral part of him, some part he had been holding in so tightly, he figured he could just snuff it out. And Katsuki sobbed hard into his mom’s hands, his own reaching up to weakly grab her wrists.

“M-Mom, I don’t…” the sobs wracked his body, but he forced himself to look up, only when he felt his dad’s hand on his shoulder, the tears falling freely, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to do this. To cry in front of his parents. To seek their comfort as opposed to forcing himself to remain a crumbling pillar of strength.

Their eyes were full of fear and concern, and he knew his heart monitor was blaring as he said, “I d-don’t… I don’t think I want to be a hero anymore…”

Another sob tore through him, had him doubling in pain, “Please, breathe Katsuki!” she begged, her own voice thick. And she sat up a little straighter, tilting his face up, “Come on, you have to breathe–” And she, through her own tears and panic, calmed herself enough to take a deep breath in, and let it out. In, and out.

His sobs slowly eased into hiccups as he mimicked her, and his mom smiled brightly, “That’s it, just like that.” She used her palms to wipe his tears away, shushing him softly. “You’ve… always been amazing, you know that? Even when you were a brat, you have always burned so bright. My Hanabi. My firework. And I only ever wanted to… to push you to be your best. But…” her hands moved to hold onto his, and they trembled as she bowed her head, “I think I p-pushed you too hard,” her voice broke.

“I wanted to s-support you, no matter what. I wanted to help you make your dreams come true. To become the greatest hero, to surpass All Might. But then… nothing happened the way I wanted. You weren’t even safe here, in the most prestigious hero academy. And I realized…” her own sob cut her off, but she still forced out, “I don’t w-want to bury my son. I never… I never want to see you, w-with your chest… your heart...my sweet boy’s heart--”

“I think what Mom is trying to say,” his dad whispered softly with a small smile, tears streaking down his cheeks too, now kneeling with his wife and son, “is that, if you want to choose a new dream, we will support you, son.”

Katsuki blinked at that, and the tightness in his chest only grew as his bottom lip quivered, his voice breaking with every word, “You won’t… be disappointed in me? Ashamed that I… wasted all of my potential? That I’m a failure who can’t fucking do anything righ–?”

“Katsuki Bakugou,” his mother interrupted him, using that voice she only ever used when he got into trouble in his youth, and her red eyes–his red eyes– narrowed with a… gentleness he was still getting used to. “You are so many things, but a failure has never been, and will never be one of them, ya hear me? You are brave, and selfless, and you have become even more amazing than I ever thought possible. We could never be disappointed in you for figuring things out, for finding new dreams. That’s what life is all about, and you, my boy, have gotten a second chance. You’re still so young, you aren’t supposed to have everything figured out right now.” She leaned her forehead to his, “And no matter what you do, your future will burn even brighter than even you can imagine. Because you are here, and you get to forge your own path, now.”

And for the first time in over a decade, Katsuki slept in a bed his parents shared, his head resting in his mom’s lap as she sat up, letting their comfort and love wash over the jagged and wounded parts of his soul, his spirit. They didn’t complain that he was too tall, or too big, they just… let him rest.

“So, should we talk to Aizawa-sensei?” his mom asked at some point, her fingers brushing his hair out of his face, and he opened his swollen eyes to meet hers, brows furrowing.

“Why?” his voice was as raw as he felt, but, getting out some of the things he had been holding in, had actually… helped, with the ache in his chest. And that same place within him that flickered with hope from Izuku’s acceptance letter flared again as his mom smiled.

“To help you get admitted into M.U., of course–only the best university will do for my son.”

Chapter Text

He hadn’t realized his scarred hands were clenched into fists at his sides, until his mom placed one of her own atop his. She wore a sad smile—all of her smiles were sad these days.

Izuku knew at a young age that not all men were created equal. But even after he fought and clawed against every obstacle in his path, every impossibility, even after he did everything to prove again and again that he was worthy of this, of just this one shot, just this one chance, just this one dream—it still… hadn’t been enough.

Nothing had been enough. He hadn’t been enough. And now he was hollow, devoid of most of the things that had made him… him. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled and truly meant it. The last time he had felt happy.

How stupidly ironic that the kid who wanted to save everyone, and be the new smiling hero, could barely save himself, could barely muster a fake smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” his mom’s voice broke through the ever-present haze. Today was move-in day at M.U., and his mom and All Might had come to help him get his things settled. Even though he had tried to assure them that he didn’t need the help, they insisted anyways.

Another forced smile spread across his features, “Yes! I’m sure, I’m sorry, I must’ve gotten lost in thought—it’s all so new and exciting!”

He was getting scary good at that, at lying. He looked around his apartment—his too big, too empty, two bedroom apartment, a safe 5 miles away from the main campus.

When the Dean had called him before Orientation, he hadn’t thought much of it. But then, any tinge of excitement he’d felt about the meeting, had just as quickly been extinguished as the Dean spoke to him about… safety concerns.

“It’ll be in everyone’s best interests if you don’t live directly on campus. For the safety of yourself and your peers. You understand, don’t you?”

Yeah, he understood. Which was how he ended up here. All Might had paid for his first year’s worth of rent, saying it was his graduation present. But, like everything else, it just felt like an attempt at atonement. He wasn’t exactly in the position to decline, because it was either this, or live at home, and he… couldn’t do that. Not now, not yet.

Not when all his room reminded him of was the hero he’d aspired to be. Not when his living room reminded him of playing heroes with his mom, and rescuing her. Not when the dining table reminded him of All Might’s promise to his mom to help Izuku become the best hero.

He still couldn’t believe it, after over a year of knowing how it all turned out. He couldn’t wrap his head around what his dreams had been versus the harsh reality he was born into.

When All Might had offered him his quirk, Izuku stupidly thought that, once he had found his own way to handle One For All, he could do hero work for a few decades, at least. And then, when he’d mastered not only One For All, but every other vestige’s quirk, that hope only grew. Hope that, if he could just get through the war, he would work to become the greatest hero the world had ever seen. Hope that he and Kacchan would compete and chase each other for the rest of their lives. Hope that they would open their own agency. Hope that he and everyone in his class would be able to help reform and rebuild the public’s shattered faith in heroes.

And then, after the war, he had only been able to hold onto the full thrum of his quirk for less than two years. Sometimes he tried to imagine what it would’ve felt like to have developed a quirk on his own, at around 4 or 5 years old, only to lose it by the time he was 7. He tried to imagine how it would feel, to lose something that important without fully understanding the weight of the loss.

That’s how he felt now, like a little kid who lost their most special, prized possession.

Hands clapped onto his shoulders, as he heard a, “Young Midoriya! You’re more quiet today–something on your mind?” The skeletal fingers of his mentor made guilt and regret curl in his stomach. And when he turned his head slightly to see All Might’s face, he could see what lay within his eyes, and his tired smile, clear as day: pity. That’s how everyone looked at him now, ever since the war, where he was applauded by most for his efforts to protect peace, but at such a stupendous cost.

Well, everyone save for Kacchan, who had no room in his eyes for pity. Not when they were always… haunted, not when something kept pulling him away from the present, too.

Izuku smiled again, and he gave a quick shake of his head. “Nope! Just taking it all in, I guess.” I’m so sorry I failed you. “You and mom should get going, I can take it from here–it’s getting late and I think it’s projected to rain tonight. I need you two to get home safe!” I can’t protect you anymore. I can’t protect anyone anymore.

All Might hesitated, and for a moment, Izuku was afraid that his mentor had somehow read his mind. But, he gave his shoulders a squeeze before offering another smile, “If you say so.”

Before his mom left, as she was standing in the doorway, she rushed back to him, throwing her arms around him. “I-I’m so proud of you, Izuku–and,” she pulled away, to hold his cheeks in her hands, “and I know you’ll figure out a way to be a hero again.” The tears that rushed into his eyes were the first real emotion of his that he’d let show that day, and his mother had smiled before kissing his scarred cheek, and leaving with All Might.

But, they weren’t tears of happiness, from hearing his mom… believe in his dream, to become a hero. Instead, they were tears of mourning, of sorrow. He had been on the path to becoming an amazing hero, he’d had his dream in his hands, but then…

Then, he killed the crying kid he had once been so desperate to save.

What kind of a hero can’t save someone who’s right in front of them? What kind of a hero can’t save their closest person? What kind of a hero murders someone within their reach of saving?

No, he couldn’t become a hero. Not anymore. He didn’t deserve to be remembered as one, not after everything he’d done.

An exhaustion that had nothing to do with the move settled into his aching bones, but he wanted to get finished unpacking. He tried to keep his schedule full, having dedicated the last couple weeks to researching the activities and homecoming events they were having on campus. If he just kept busy, he could keep the raging thoughts at bay.

He hadn’t asked anyone from their class to help him move in, in part because he knew they were likely busy with their new sidekick gigs, but mainly because he knew he couldn’t stomach any more good-byes. Besides, he knew, despite his desperate attempts at deception, that he was worrying almost everyone around him. And he didn’t… want to worry anyone anymore. But the look on his mom’s face, when he had asked her to take a box back home, full of almost every piece of hero memorabilia, from statues to posters (save for his graduation gift from Kacchan, and the All Might card they had both received as children, and his graduation cap), the horror on her face unnerved him, because he couldn’t understand why she looked so… distraught.

Despite his continuous moving–hanging and folding his clothes, making a grocery list (looking up recipes for people who burn water like him), getting his new desk set up and organized, hanging up some silly lights along the walls, putting some photos up on the fridge of him and his mom and All Might, as well as some graduation pictures, organizing his books–it was still too quiet. It almost reminded him of his month on the run, trying his best to lure the villains away from civilians, from the people he cared most about. There was a quiet then, too, but at least he’d had the vestiges as company.

He had just hung some floating shelves for the corner of the room he had decided would be his. Since All Might was handling the rent, he wasn’t sure why he had gotten him a two bedroom, two bath apartment. Maybe it was in the hopes of Izuku making new friends. Maybe he wanted to give Izuku a specific study room. Whatever the reason, the greenette didn’t know what to do with all of the space. He didn’t have any decor, not really–the lights helped, but after hours of working at it, the whole apartment didn’t even have a tenth of the personality that his dorm room at UA had.

He got out his step stool, carefully peeling the bubble wrap away from Kacchan’s graduation gift to him: a custom statue of the two of them as children, holding their brand new All Might cards. Kacchan explained he’d found the picture his dad had taken, and quote, “Since you collect figures and stuff, I just wanted to add something one-of-a-kind to your collection.” The tears and smile on his face had been far less forced then, but those depthless feelings of despair still lurked around the corners of his mind.

The morning after graduation, Kacchan had simply said, “Don’t get mad, but I can’t tell you what I figured out just yet. I have to get some things straightened out before I tell you, but can you trust me that it’s a good thing?”

Izuku had wanted to say no, but… there was something different in Kacchan’s eyes, his voice, as he spoke. Something, dare he say, hopeful. So he’d relented with a, “Fine, but you have to swear to me that you’ll tell me whatever it is as soon as you can, okay?”

And then, just like when they were kids, before Kacchan had started pushing him away, they made a pinky promise (which Izuku had initiated, and he had smiled at how red the tips of Kacchan’s ears became while their pinkies entwined).

He placed the statue on the top shelf, planning to maybe buy the figures and statues of his friends, once they started rising in the ranks. He wondered what kind of statue Kacchan would have as his debut, or Shoto, or Jirou. He had enough shelves, he would just have to wait until all of his classmates got to the point of being able to make merch.

But this one statue… it would be the only one ever made with him in it.

He felt almost bad for the gift he’d given to Kacchan–some new hearing aids, that were much more concealable to the naked eye, with an app to adjust the settings, since he knew Kacchan felt embarrassed about the support items. Kacchan had looked like he really was grateful for the gift, but he was already trying to think of things to get the blonde that would be as impactful as the statue was to Izuku.

A shiver danced down his spine, and for just a moment, he wondered (wished) if Danger Sense had returned. If maybe more than just some flickering embers remained, if maybe the vestiges were just dormant for now but still with him, if maybe just maybe, he could still try to become a real hero.

But no. It was just… cold. Cold and quiet. And he was desperate to stay busy, to stay up all night if he had to, to ease the tightness in his throat.

When he reached into a box, and his scarred hands brushed against a fabric he would recognize anywhere, and in that moment, all of the air was sucked out of the room. Someone… someone must’ve snuck it in, while he wasn’t looking.

His… his hero suit.

Green eyes widened as he pulled out the suit, freshly cleaned and pressed, and his heart was thundering wildly in his chest. No, no, no, why would someone do this?

Before he could stop himself, he… took the hood to the bathroom, and his hands trembled to the point of pain as he… pulled it on over his head–something he hadn’t done since the war– and…

That’s when he began sobbing.

The sound tore through him with violence, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mirror. This would be the last time he wore this, it had to be. He wasn’t a hero anymore. He could never be a hero again. Even as he begrudgingly, reluctantly finished out his last year at UA, and they accommodated him well enough (out of nothing but a sense of obligation, he was sure), he still had never put his suit back on. No one had pushed him to, no one seemed to notice as he only did practical work in his gym clothes.

The last time he had worn this…

At some point he collapsed onto his knees, his whole body crumpled like a piece of paper. He clung desperately to his hooded head, and he couldn’t stop the thoughts now, the thoughts he worked so hard to fight against, to shove deeper and deeper until it became as hidden as possible, even from himself. Especially from himself.

Why am I even here? Why wasn’t I good enough? Why did OFA have to end with me? Why wasn’t I deserving enough—if I break my bones again, will it come back? I would do anything to have it back. Why didn’t I die with Tenko? Why couldn’t I reach him? I never deserved to call myself a hero. Why was I forced to save the world? Why was I forced into a war I never asked for? I wish I had died on that battlefield. It should’ve been me and not Kacchan. God, I’ll never forget how he looked, how his eyes wouldn’t blink, his chest wouldn’t rise, his heart—my fault, my fault, MY FAULT—

It wasn’t just OFA that was taken away. No, after the war, Izuku’s strength and courage and happiness and determination and drive all disappeared. He had never deserved to call himself a hero. All he had ever done was fail. He either froze or was too slow, too slow and too weak and not ever enough. Breaking his body, Kacchan getting kidnapped, leaving Eri that first time, his entire class being targeted, Kota… Kota apologizing to him for not being brave, calling him his hero (he was so grateful for Kota, and Eri, but how many more children could he have inspired if he had just been given the time?) getting so many people he cared for involved in the war because he had made them worry so much, Kacchan dying, Tenko being murdered by Izuku’s hand…

Who had cleaned the blood out of his suit? Because there had been blood everywhere. It was all he could see, all he could smell, when he was deep in the clutches of a night terror. Why hadn’t he just died? What had even been the point to all of this, why had he been allowed to taste his dream, but given no time to savor it?

He couldn’t breathe, all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the bathroom. He was crying so hard he could feel bile rising in the back of his throat, and distantly, he was grateful that All Might had mentioned that others hadn’t moved back into the complex yet, as he wailed, hooded head in his hands.

“Please,” he choked out, to the nothingness around him, “please make it stop. W-Wake me up, do something please… let me still try to become a h-hero!” His sobs were full of heartbreak and despair. And of course, nothing answered him. No whisper of the prime of his power. No presence in his mind. Just him, alone.

There was a ringing in his ears now, such a high pitched sound, he ripped the hood off completely, tossing it away like the fabric had burnt him.

Wait… no. No, that ringing wasn’t his own. At least, not in his head.

He gulped down as much air as his lungs allowed, trying to take just one deep breath, hearing Kacchan’s voice in his head as he counted to eight, then six, then ten.

The ringing didn’t stop. And he realized it was, at first, his cell phone, although he couldn’t see through his still blurry vision who it was, but then…

His… doorbell? No, that couldn’t be right.

He blinked hard, fighting against the wince at how swollen and dry and pained his eyes felt now, to look at the time. It was late. Too late for All Might or his mom, and he hadn’t shared his address with anyone, except…

With strength he didn’t have, he pushed himself up off the floor, a heaviness settling into his chest, his spirit as he stepped around the fabric that had once felt like home, that had once filled him with hope, before he slowly and silently padded towards his door. If this was a threat of some kind, he wouldn’t be able to protect himself, not when he still couldn’t trust how fragile his embers were, and he couldn’t… he couldn’t even think about losing them entirely. He made a mental note to figure out some higher security system measures: a doorbell with a camera, probably a biometric lock programmed for himself and a few other people he trusted with his life.

What kind of a threat would ring the doorbell, Izuku?

When he peaked through the aperture, his brows had furrowed. And in another moment, he was opening the door.

“Kacchan?” his voice was raw, and he watched as Kacchan’s eyes filled with worry. But, he schooled his features as best he could, hoping he could feign that he’d fallen asleep and… wait, why did Kacchan have… a backpack? And his bags from UA?

Kacchan rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating for a moment as he searched Izuku’s eyes, and he could practically feel the other refraining from asking ‘What’s wrong?’ before asking instead, “You still need a roommate?”

Chapter Text

The silence bloomed and rooted between them, and the anxiety tightening Katsuki’s throat like barbed wire grew with it. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this way before, so unsure and… afraid of what would happen, how Izuku would react. 

Why did Izuku look like that? His eyes were swollen, his voice sounded worse for wear—today was move in day, right? He knew Izuku was… far from okay, after the war. That was a no brainer, but he hadn’t seen him this… broken down and defeated. How hadn’t he seen this? Was he just not looking close enough, or worse, was Izuku… that good at deception?

“What’re you doing here? Did… Did All Might send you? Why do you have your stuff—roommate?” His voice sounded distant, as if he’d just woken up. His words sounded just as discombobulated. Maybe he’d just been having a nightmare. Maybe that’s all this was. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, his tone soft but his eyes focused. “We… we need to have a talk, about our dream.”

That seemed to wake Izuku up, and, thankfully, wordlessly, he stepped aside a bit, allowing Katsuki to walk in. He pushed the door shut, placing his things on the floor. 

And then, there was that silence again. For a moment, he was worried that his new hearing aids, the ones Izuku got for him, weren’t working. His eyes scanned the apartment, and his brows furrowed. Most of the boxes had already been collapsed, so unless Izuku had a storage unit, there was nothing more to set up, but it looked so… empty. A tomb compared to Izuku’s dorm room. 

“Our dream?” Izuku repeated, reaching to dig his palms into his eyes, “Kacchan, it’s late, can’t we do this—?”

“No,” he said, ignoring the small tremor in his voice. “I made you a promise, that I was going to tell you what I’d figured out once I knew for sure. And now, I know for sure.” But I’m terrified to tell you, is what he couldn’t say. 

The pieces obviously hadn’t fallen into place yet, but Izuku lowered his hands. 

“Okay, Kacchan. I’m listening.” He sounded so tired, almost exasperated, even worse than Aizawa-sensei. After the war, their teacher’s exhaustion made sense. Everything he’d lived through, everything he’d been forced to watch to ensure that justice prevailed. 

This was so much harder than talking to his parents, whose approval he had chased and craved his entire life. So much harder than the conversation with Aizawa-sensei, who had begged the others to protect his student, the one with the aspiration to become the Number One Hero someday. 

“I’m not… going to be a hero anymore.”

That was all he could manage, knowing he now had to gauge the other’s reaction. 

And all Izuku could do was… laugh. It was a dry, quick, humorless sound, but it made Katsuki grind his teeth. 

“That’s very funny, Kacchan,” he said, and the smile was cold in a way that made the hairs on the back of Katsuki’s neck prickle. “Now what did you really figure out?”

“I just told you,” he gritted out, and damn it, he already felt tears in his eyes. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “I am not going to be a hero anymore,” he enunciated each word. And his tone, his narrowed eyes—

Finally, Izuku’s stupid smile faded, “You… no, you can’t be serious. Did something happen? Is this a quirk’s impact on you? This isn’t like you, I—“

“Oh my god, yes it is!” He raked an angry hand through his hair. “You don’t get to tell me what is and isn’t like me. Fuck, you’ve been doing that shit ever since we woke up in the hospital, acting like you know me better than I know myself!”

“Because I do know you, Kacchan! I’ve been admiring you for years, chasing after you for years, and the Kacchan I know, would never—!”

“No you don’t! You don’t get to rely on your shitty old analyses. I’m not the same person anymore, Izuku, and don’t you dare laugh at me, I’m trying to tell you that I—!”

“That what?” Izuku laughed again, but it was more of a frantic sound, reminiscent of Monoma’s outbursts, “That you, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, don’t want to be a hero anymore? That you don’t want to do the thing we’ve been dreaming about since we were kids, Kacchan?! That you don’t want to become the Number One Hero?!” At some point, his voice had raised, and that only made Katsuki that much angrier. 

His hands were shaking, “Yes! That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you! I don’t want to be a hero anymore!” Internally, he cursed himself as the unbidden tears slipped down his cheeks. His heart was thundering dangerously. “We didn’t know anything when we were kids. We didn’t know the price of our dream.” 

Izuku stepped closer to him, “Why?” His voice was softer, broken in a way Katsuki hadn’t heard in so long. “How dare you say this, Kacchan, how dare you throw away everything you’ve worked so damn hard for, everything you’ve already given, everything we ever dreamed of, even if I can’t—!”

“That’s the fucking point, Izuku!” Now his voice was raised, “I don’t want to be a hero without you by my side! I don’t want to send my parents into an early grave from the stress of my hero work. Did you notice that dad’s hair has started to grey? I don’t want to watch our friends die. I don’t want…” his voice broke, and he tried (and failed) to hide the quiver in his bottom lip. 

“I don’t… want to die again.” His voice broke on that one three letter word, and Izuku’s frustrated brows relaxed, his eyes wide with shame and guilt. 

Red eyes bored into green, “I would do it again,” he whispered, “I would do anything to keep you safe, to keep our friends safe, the civilians. But… haven’t I already given enough?”

The fight still raged in Izuku’s eyes, “But… this doesn’t make sense. You just don’t know what you’re saying,” his voice eased, but all Katsuki heard was condescension, which just made the tears fall even faster, “It’s okay to be confused, you did go through a lot, I unders—”

“NO YOU DON’T!” The words exploded from Katsuki. “YOU WEREN’T THERE!”

Izuku flinched at that, but he didn’t back down. Not that Katsuki had expected him to. “You think I don’t know that?” the question was eerily calm, though thick with emotion. “You think I don’t see it every night? You think I don’t scream your name so loud in my sleep, my voice is raw the next day?” A pause. “All because I wasn’t there in time. But now… Kacchan, you got a second chance. I would die to be in your shoes. And you’re… what? Wasting it?”

Katsuki’s chest tightened at that. He tore his eyes away, trying and failing to hide how well that target had hit its mark. 

“Oh… dammit, Kacchan, I’m—“

“D’ya really think,” Katsuki started, still staring at a spot on the floor, “that when we were brats, we knew that we would die? That our parents would have to watch us get eviscerated when we were supposed to be in class?”

“Kacchan, hang on—“

“Did you know that,” he continued, his voice low and so small, “because of the damage I took, I can’t even use my quirk at 100% anymore? It’ll put too much strain on me, and could cause heart failure?” He raised his eyes back to Izuku, “Did you know that Maharo calls me every week because Katsuma still has nightmares that I’m dead?”

Izuku’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. And Katsuki was trying so hard to keep calm—he’d synced the notifications for his heart monitor into his new hearing aids, but if Izuku could hear or feel his own phone, he knew there had been three warning notifications so far.  

“Do you think that smiling kid knew he would get his blood on his favorite All Might card? We didn’t even see the real costs of being a hero, we weren’t allowed to know. I’m not sure if it’s because the Hero Commission knew they would need more child soldiers, but they did a damn good job hiding the bad stuff, and instead glamorizing and romanticizing hero work.” 

“But… you said… that you wanted to talk about our dream—“

“That dream died the moment my heart stopped beating,” his words were soft and broken. 

“So, this is all my fault?” Izuku asked with tears in his eyes. “It’s m-my fault because I didn’t get there in time, my fault because I wasn’t strong enough, I didn’t think through anything good enough. Fuck, I never should’ve gone back home, I never should’ve stopped fighting you, or our class, because then you wouldn’t have died! Then you wouldn’t be giving up–!”

Katsuki, without thinking, moved to close the distance between them, his hands on Izuku’s shoulders as if he could shake those thoughts out of his head. His crimson eyes were wide, panicked, afraid, “Izuku, stop! You have to stop using my trauma against me! I died! And I would do it again, but it was me who laid there in the rain. It was me who had to listen as you choked out my name. It was me who found out first-hand what the real cost of being a hero is. And I don’t want that anymore!” 

It took everything in him to take a steadying breath, then another. “This isn’t me giving up, this is me… wanting to find a new dream. Wanting something better for myself.” Why isn’t that enough for you, is what he wouldn’t ask. 

“But at what cost, Kacchan? How many people are going to get hurt… are going to die because you aren’t there to save them? Where would this world be if All Might had given up after All For One almost killed him?” 

Distantly, Katsuki wished they were only sparring. A full 1,000,000% Delaware Detroit Smash would’ve hurt less than that. 

Izuku must’ve seen it too, but he held his ground. “You are an amazing hero, Kacchan. You will do so much to help–to win to save and save to win, right? Just like we always talked about. And even… even though I can’t be by your side like we’d planned, you can become the next Number One hero.” The bastard had the gull to offer him a smile as he said, “And, and I’ll be cheering you on every step of the way. Plus Ultra, right?” A desperate man’s plea, he realized.

Katsuki’s hands clung to Izuku’s shoulders, like they were the only tethers in the world to keep him from falling. He knew, of course he knew, that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. If there was something they shared, it was their stubbornness. And when Izuku really believed in something, he wasn’t likely to let it go. No, he would dig his fingers in and do the work to change reality. It was… admirable, and heartbreaking, all at once.

“I remember,” Katsuki whispered, no longer trying to hide the grief and despair in his voice. He looked down, unable to meet Izuku’s eyes. He had never admitted this before, not even in the bullshit therapy sessions he’d been forced to attend by UA (a sorry attempt to cover their own asses). “I… I remember it all. Telling Jeanist to save the first aid, giving it my all to just… weaken that bastard, just a little, knowing… knowing it meant I would die.” He swallowed hard, “But… but I remember after, too. I’ve never known pain like that, even if it was just for a few seconds, I could feel the blood bubbling out of my mouth, feel the burning, agonizing rip in my heart, until it stopped. I felt so scared, Izuku. And even after, while I was… dead, while my brain was trying to keep me alive, I could hear everything.”

He let out a shaky breath, honestly shocking himself when the sound didn’t come out as the sob that he was trying to keep trapped in his throat. 

“Kacchan…” Izuku’s voice was soft, but he was waiting, listening.

“I heard that bastard–fuck I still hear him, in my nightmares–and d’ya know what he said, whenever he noticed Edge Shot was trying to bring me back? He was annoyed that something he destroyed might have to be broken again. My life became something… inconsequential. Meaningless. And all for what? Some maniac who wanted to end the world?”

He could barely breathe, the pressure of the memories threatening to bury him, but then… Izuku’s knuckle was under his chin, lifting it up, forcing him to meet his gaze now. And their closeness, and the pain in Izuku’s eyes, helped the weight lessen, just a little. 

“Too much of my life was planned around something I had no real concept of. But now, I have real concepts, like hearing my dad sobbing in my hospital room,” his voice cracked, “hearing Aizawa-sensei apologize when he thought I was sleeping, hearing Kaminari crying at my side, because he was so pissed off that I knew what I was doing, and did it anyways, hearing Eri crying with Mirio, listening to the music Kyoka played in the hours visitors weren’t allowed…” 

He was breathing too fast, his heart pounding too quickly, too loudly, two more warning notifications, he was close to hyperventilating, or was he already?

“I get it,” Izuku whispered, searching crimson eyes, and his hand moved to… cradle his scarred cheek, in a way that brought him back to this moment, that dragged him away from the past. “Hey, I get it. You’re… you’re right. You’ve given more than enough, Kacchan. I’m sorry, this is just…” He shook his head, “I just–you’re really sure you want to do this?”

Katsuki tried to straighten himself a bit more, before he nodded. “I’m sure, Izuku. And I, I don’t know how many people will die,” his voice broke again, and Izuku’s face crumpled, eyes full of regret, “with my not being out on the field, but… I can at least keep protecting the people I love. I can try to have faith in our friends. And after the war, the current projections predict a rampant decrease in crime rates, now that a coupla students managed to take down the biggest evil this world has ever seen.” 

Izuku hummed at that, and he let his hand fall back to his side, leaving Katsuki’s face feeling too cold too suddenly. “So… wait, you asked to be my roommate? Are you asking to stay here while you figure out… what to do now?” His voice still sounded strained, and it frustrated Katsuki that he couldn’t tell exactly what stage of grief he was in now. The stages of grief that had taken him so long to sort through and identify.

For the first time, the tightness in his chest eased, and he reluctantly let go of one of Izuku’s shoulders, raising his hand to the back of his neck, “Well, no, actually. I already know what I’m gonna do. That’s why it took me so long to be able to tell you, I didn’t.. well, I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but–” With that free hand, he pulled out an envelope from his pocket to put into one of Izuku’s hands.

He watched as the other, with furrowed brows, opened the envelope. His eyes widened, and he… when he smiled, though softly, though weak, it wasn’t as forced as before. “You’re… you’re coming to M.U.?”

“Yeah, I, I actually talked to my parents and Aizawa-sensei the night of graduation. Sent in my application a couple days later–pretty sure I got in thanks to recommendations from the top heroes. It feels like this time, it’s my chance to… chase after you, ya know? Figure out what I can do to still help people.”

There was still a lingering sadness in Izuku’s eyes, so he added, in a whisper, “This isn’t on you. This isn’t your fault. You were sixteen and you saved the fucking world. I’ve looked up to you for longer than you know, and when you told me you’d gotten into M.U., you reminded me that… there are other options out there. Other ways I can help people without breaking myself.” 

Some tears finally fell onto Izuku’s cheeks, and again without thinking, Katsuki brushed them away with the back of his hand. 

“So, whaddya say? Can I be your roommate?” 

Izuku rolled his eyes, and his chuckle sounded genuine, even through the thickness of his emotions. “Of course, Kacchan. But you better sit down, my phone’s buzzed in my pocket at least five times, if it goes off again I’m gonna force some chamomile tea into you.” 

Now it was Katsuki’s turn to smile, “Knowing you, you haven’t eaten anything all day. If you help me unpack some things, then I’ll figure out something to make for dinner. Got some stuff on my way here, knowing you, you probably didn’t even grab any groceries yet, huh nerd?”

Izuku’s cheeks turned a soft pink, and only then did Katsuki let go of him completely. “I’ll even let you carry some of the bags–and classes don’t start until next week, so we’re gonna have to go out and bring some life to the place, ya hear me? We’re not gonna have a boring, beige apartment.”

“As if your dorm was so lively,” Izuku teased, before getting all of the bags, “but that sounds… fun, actually. C’mon, your room’s this way.”

Katsuki followed, his mind already thinking of ways to decorate the apartment. He’d never had a space this big before, neither of them had. And they could… make it theirs. Make it a place where they felt comfortable, and safe. 

Once most of his things were unpacked (which were very minimal, mainly just clothes, his All Might card, the case with his hero uniform, some cookware because he knew the nerd didn’t have any (a correct assumption), and some photos for his room), he walked into the kitchen, getting the ingredients set up.

“Hey, Izuku, get over here. You gotta learn how to cook sometime. Wash and cut the vegetables, will ya?”

But when he looked over his shoulder, he noticed that Izuku had fallen asleep on the couch, holding a plush Momo had made for Katsuki at graduation (just a chibi character of him as one of his gauntlets, and it was made of a very soft material, with a small bit of extra weight to make it the perfect semi-support item for when he needed to calm his heart down after a nightmare). 

Katsuki shook his head before he went over, grabbing the blanket and slipping it over his shoulders. He brushed some of the hair out of his face, “See ya in the morning, Izuku.”

After he put away the food he had made (which could be their lunch for tomorrow), he went into his room and grabbed the two pillows, and another blanket. With careful precision, he laid the pillow down, then moved Izuku’s body to a laying, not sitting-up position. 

And that night, Katsuki didn’t sleep in his room. No, he took the other half of the sectional and fell asleep there. And that night, for the first night in what felt like forever, he wasn’t plagued by nightmares.

Chapter Text

The night before classes were to start, Izuku couldn’t sleep. But, it wasn’t an excited anxiety, like how he’d felt before the entrance exam for UA. It wasn’t his mind racing with possibilities and hopes and dreams. Instead, it was… fear. There were so many unknowns, so many unpredictable elements that he’d never accounted for. Why would he? In his mind, there had only ever been one goal, one thing for him to do in this life. And then, at sixteen, it was just… over.

Before, when he was only a few hundred steps behind his classmates, as his body and mind got used to a quirk, to a goal of becoming the greatest hero of all time, it was easier to catch up, to think ahead. But now? Now he was hundreds of miles behind the others here. 

It also wasn’t as though everyone just began having faith in and trusting the heroes as they had before the final battles began, when society had collapsed and it was all because Izuku had gotten too angry, lost control of his heart... There were new prejudices and hardships he was trying to prepare for— Don’t let that boy in here! Doesn’t having One For All make him a Nomu?! —and now, Kacchan would face the same problems. 

Even if the weight he bore now felt soul-crushingly heavy, to know that, not only was his dream dead, but that he had killed Kacchan’s with it… Izuku would be lying if he said it wasn’t a comfort, having him around. 

When they’d gone out the day after Kacchan moved in, to an outside mall (though he hadn’t admitted why inside malls still filled him with dread to this day, and the other hadn’t asked), they’d… had fun, in a way Izuku couldn’t remember having since the music festival at UA. But even that hadn’t been entirely fun for him, having to fight off Gentle Criminal to protect his classmates, putting so much pressure on himself because he had to make Eri smile, no matter what. 

With Kacchan’s allowance from his parents, they’d picked up a dry erase calendar and to-do chart, laundry hampers (green for Izuku, orange for Kacchan), some LED lights (and an LED sign that read ‘Okay, Let’s Do This’), some various bookshelves and floating shelves, and some plants (succulents to help teach Izuku how to care for the vegetation). Then they’d figured out their backpacks, and bento boxes, and some other odds and ends for the apartment. 

‘Alright nerd, now to improve your wardrobe. Can’t have you looking like a total dweeb on our first day.’

‘That’s so mean, Kacchan! As if you don’t wear the same clothes from high school!’

But, the clothes shopping hadn’t been miserable. Kacchan talked about the necessity for layering, adding complexity to a look just by pairing it with an element Izuku never would’ve considered on his own. And if he was being honest, being able to… discover things like style, outside of hero work, was freeing, in a way. 

I’m so glad he can’t see through me , he’d thought as they walked towards the checkout at the umpteenth store they’d visited (he’d lost track after five stores), smiling to himself as he learned that Kacchan didn’t hate shopping. 

Because while it was comforting, and it was a distraction, his own faults and insecurities and fears lurked so close, within every shadow in a room, slowly encroaching and consuming all of the light. 

Murderer. Failure. Weak. Quirkless. Worthless.

Izuku sat up in his bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and hiding his face in his arms. What would be the point of falling asleep if he was destined to wake up in a cold sweat anyways? Or with a scream on his lips? That wouldn’t be fair to his new roommate. At least in the dorms at UA, the sound barriers between their rooms had been strong, so his nightmares and night terrors hadn’t bothered anyone. 

Well, anyone but Kacchan, whose presence he compulsively sought, especially after living through seeing his body unnaturally still again, and again. Waiting in the midst of all that chaos just to strain his eyes, force him to see his chest rise and fall, but instead was met with… internal compressions, a sickly squelch that still made his stomach turn if he thought about it too hard.

With a sigh, he slid his feet into the new slippers his mom had gotten for him, as part of his graduation gift—soft, green bunnies (he refused to acknowledge how many similarities the slippers shared to the first hero uniform his mom had made him)—before shuffling to his desk. 

He’d already packed and repacked his backpack at least four different times throughout the day, with notebooks and pencils and highlighters and textbooks and his laptop all safely put into their designated spots and pockets. His outfit was already laid out, just a simple white shirt, some black pants, with his red shoes that Kacchan insisted would look fine. 

Izuku grabbed his schedule, looking at the courses again. Luckily on his first day, he would only have three classes–PSY-101, LIT-101, and ENG-101–and he hoped the courses wouldn’t mysteriously drop him (again). 

These hadn’t been his first choice courses this semester. ADD/DROP day, he knew, was supposed to be a little stressful. But he’d woken up early, having researched some of the best required classes, cross-checking the professor ratings, the intensity of the course—and he had decided on one humanity, one required arts course, his language course, and then electives that focused on things like The History of Quirks , and Quirk Analysis and The Impact on Society .

And he had been so excited when he’d gotten into the courses, every single one he wanted! 

But, less than 24 hours later, he started receiving emails about his courses:

We regret to inform you that this spot is no longer available…

A systematic error has occurred…

You have been dropped from the following course(s)…

The conversation with the Dean ran through his head again, and Kacchan (who had forced Izuku to go on campus and meet with his advisor) had practically threatened to dangle his academic advisor from one of the balconies on campus if he didn’t fix this mess for him. 

So now, he was stuck with an overwhelmingly dull semester. With a guarantee that this would not happen again next semester. 

Yeah, he would believe that when he saw it. 

The anxiety wrapped around his throat in an unforgiving grasp, and he squeezed his eyes shut to force the burning in his eyes to recede. What was he thinking? He shouldn’t have done this, he shouldn’t have told anyone about his acceptance, he shouldn’t have dragged Kacchan into this, he shouldn’t–

He heard his door open, and the shuffle of feet. And then, Kacchan was leaning against his desk.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, but his voice didn’t have the usual low rasp that he’d get after waking up (Kacchan was a crazy early riser, usually by the time Izuku’s brain was calm enough to sleep, Kacchan was waking up). 

“Yeah, just nervous I guess,” he admitted, staring at his hands resting in his lap. “I just… don’t know how people are going to react to seeing me.”

Kacchan only hummed at that, thinking for a moment. Izuku watched as the other leaned his head back, eyes straining to see that shelf in the upper corner, right above Izuku’s bed, where the statue rested. 

“Fuck ‘em,” he said softly, very seriously. And it was such a stark contrast to the self-deprecating thoughts in his head, that Izuku let out a surprised laugh. He saw as the corners of Kacchan’s lips curled upwards, but he kept his scowl (more of a pout) on his face. “I mean it. You saved the fucking world , if they have a problem with you, send ‘em my way.”

At what cost, is what he didn’t ask. 

“You don’t have to keep fighting my battles for me,” Izuku offered, and he couldn’t ignore the flash of that haunted wound that lived in Kacchan now, “but… thank you. Besides, even if I have the worst day ever, it’s not like it’ll be the worst day of my life, right?” He laughed dryly, but a muscle in Kacchan’s jaw ticked. “And I mean, we have lunch planned so that’s… something to look forward to.”

Kacchan only nodded at that, “Yeah. It’s not like we’ll die, right?” 

And it was such a horrible, outrageous thing, and Izuku was so sleep deprived, that he laughed, but this was a real laugh, one of those unstoppable, tears-in-your-eyes laughs. Kacchan even chuckled, smirking as he added, “Too soon?”

A cup of tea was pushed in front of Izuku, “Drink this, it’ll help you sleep. Can’t have you looking worn down your first day. So get some sleep, and remember, no matter what, keep your fucking chin up , you hear me Izuku? Do not let anyone look down on you, okay?” And the intensity in his tone, the blazing in his eyes… made him nod, made him listen. 

“Okay, Kacchan–where are you off to?” he asked, letting the tea warm his hands, as he finally noticed that the other wasn’t in his sleepwear.

“The Quirk Facility, remember? Gotta use it once a day so that I don’t have too much buildup, or something like that. But I’ll see you for lunch, the ramen shop by the Education building, right?”

Izuku nodded, offering a smile, “See ya then, Dynamight.”

His smile only grew when Kacchan’s cheeks warmed, and a hand ruffled his hair before Kacchan turned to leave.

This was… nice, in a way he hadn’t expected. In a way he didn’t deserve. 

At some point, he’d fallen back asleep (at his desk, which created a horrible crick in his neck), but at least he’d gotten a few hours of rest before his alarm blared, making him wake up in a panic because he thought Kacchan’s heart monitor was going on the fritz (but when he checked the app, he was fine, some slight elevations from when he must’ve been using his quirk, but nothing dangerous, nothing… fatal). 

As he was getting ready, giving up on styling his hair, just letting it fall in its natural waves, because he didn’t… want to keep looking in the mirror, seeing the half of his face covered in rough, scarred skin, erasing his freckles. Because if he kept looking in the mirror, he was going to stay home. 

He grabbed his backpack, a quick granola bar to snack on, a bottled water– but as he was about to run to the bus stop, he noticed a slip of orange on the kitchen counter. A sticky note in neat Kacchan handwriting:

Hey nerd. Got these in case your hands give you any trouble. Give ‘em hell, Izuku.

Kat – Kacchan

They were… compression gloves, that only left the tips of his fingers exposed. With a small smile, he tucked the note and gloves into his backpack, hesitating before he put his headphones on before leaving, racing towards the bus (which he’d almost missed, but had made it just in time). 

He didn’t realize that would be the last time he smiled all morning. 

As soon as his red shoes hit the pavement of the campus, no matter what playlist he was listening to (one that Kacchan had shared with him, of some of his favorite songs), he couldn’t escape the stares he got. 

His hands gripped the straps of his backpack tightly, and he… tried to offer a tentative wave, or smile to someone whose eyes lingered on him for too long. Only for that person to turn their face away, their back to him. 

Izuku’s heart pounded and he was about to let his eyes drop to the ground, to track the path of his footsteps, when Kacchan’s words rang in his ears: Keep your fucking chin up, you hear me Izuku?

He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders, just a bit, as he continued on towards his first class, Introductory Psychology: Quirks, Quirkless, and the In Between. In a way, this felt the same as slipping into the vigilante role, where there was no room for his heart on his missions, only cold, calculated movements. That’s all this was, moving forward on a mission. His goal: avoid the civilians. He could do this. He had no other choice.

The course was a smaller one, about 20 students, and he slid into a seat towards the back of the classroom. The instructor–Suita-sensei–wasn’t in the room, which was fine. Izuku had checked and double checked the room, and he was only about five minutes early. 

He decided to get his notebook out, a pen, his textbook–slowly, the other students filed in, but he… he kept his head low, resisting the urge to wind a free hand into his hair. 

“Isn’t that–?”

“ Yes , Mira, shut up–!”

He focused on writing his heading for his paper, desperate to block out the noise. 

Izuku Midoriya

PSY-101

XX/XX

“Oh good, everyone’s here,” he looked up to see what had to be the professor, and his tone reminded Izuku of the Hero Commission representative at the provisional licensing exam–tired, bored. Maybe that was a good thing. 

“As you know, I am Suita, and I will be teaching you Psychology: Quirks, Quirkless, and the In Between. As much as it pains me to ask this, we have to do some ice breaker activity, help everyone connect a face with a name.” 

That didn’t sound… terrible, even though Izuku knew activities like this were pretty useless for him, with how many times his face had been televised in high school. He shouldn’t have stayed in Musutafu, he should’ve gone abroad, then… then maybe he could’ve gotten a fresh start, more of a chance. 

Maybe Kacchan… would still be a hero.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that wasn’t true. The entire world was watching that day. And Kacchan was sure of this decision, even if Izuku could not understand it. Besides, he wanted to stay close to his mom, even though he knew he was still making her worry, at least he was close, at least he could… he could try to be there for her in ways he hadn’t been, when he had almost become a hero.

But that part of him was too quiet, too weak compared to the constant torrent of guilt and grief he’d been living with for the last two years.

“We’ll keep this short and sweet — state your name, your quirk, and one interesting fact about yourself.”

That’s when Izuku’s heart started racing. 

The professor was having them go in order, front of the room until the very back, which meant that, when he was called, he was the last one to go. 

Chin up, that’s what Kacchan said, that’s what Izuku did. He tried his best to offer a small smile, “Hi! I’m Izuku Midoriya, my quirk is One For—” 

All of the air was vacuumed out of the room. No, no that wasn’t right, not anymore. His heart was thundering now, his palms sweating. Every pair of eyes were on him. 

“I… I mean I’m… quirkless,” he said, his voice trailing off as he added, “and my favorite food is my roommate’s katsudon.” It was as close to the truth as he could get, since his embers were too unpredictable now.

“Thank you, Izuku,” Suita-sensei said, and when Izuku looked up, the pity in his professor’s eyes made him want to throw up. 

Class continued—syllabus, first week’s assignments, expectations, etc.—but Izuku wasn’t really paying attention. Maybe he should just stay away from everything having to do with quirks, because he clearly wasn’t as healed at the prospect of becoming quirkless again as he’d tried so desperately to convince everyone he was. 

Why was he here? What purpose could his life even have now? All he’d ever wanted, his whole life, was to be a hero, and now he was just supposed to… accept that? 

Why couldn’t I have died instead of Tenko?

It was harder to keep his head up as he walked to his next class, a required language course, so he’d opted for English: Introduction to Academic Discourse . 

Luckily, this class was in a lecture hall. Securing a spot in the back again, he had higher hopes of both not being easily detected, or feeling overwhelmed like he had in his last class. Maybe he should’ve fought for more lecture halls, maybe next semester he would—

“Oh? I’m sorry, is my lecture boring you?”

His heart stopped. He hadn’t realized he’d been muttering. And now, Kurayami-sensei was staring down her nose at him, somehow making him feel even smaller than he already felt. 

“N-no! I—”

Her lips curved cruelly, “It’s a good thing someone like you is in my class. It’ll serve as a lesson for everyone in here, the power of words. I mean, after all, what kind of a hero can be respected with a name like Deku ? A useless, wooden doll? Hopefully, Mr. Midoriya, you can stop mumbling long enough to learn a thing or two about how to use language for you, not against you.”

Izuku forced back the tears that burned in his eyes, the nausea roiling within. His chest hurt, his hands ached from how tightly he was clenching them at his sides.

He hadn’t been able to listen at all after that, and of course he noticed the whispers, the eyes that shifted to him then away again. 

By the time his last class rolled around, Modern Japanese Literature , Izuku’s spirit felt thoroughly crumpled. A useless piece of paper, unable to protect anyone, including himself.

His smallest class so far, only 12 students total, which snuffed out any hope of yet another brutal assault against his character, his self-esteem. 

When he noticed someone’s eyes on his hand as he was trying to write, he discreetly slipped on his new compression gloves. 

Luckily, Kibou-sensei—an older man with an energetic persona—didn’t care for ice breakers, so Izuku was in the clear there. But his head was so muffled by every raw emotion he’d been desperate to suppress all these years, making it difficult to follow along with the lecture. 

“I’d like for everyone to go home and write me just one page about your favorite piece of Japanese literature. It can be modern, or not, it can fiction of any kind—even comic books and graphic novels count, since those are still considered literature,” he’d offered with a warm smile, his gaze scanning the room until his eyes landed on Izuku. “I don’t have anything else for you for today, I’ll see you on Wednesday, and don’t forget to grab a syllabus on your way out!”

Once everyone had filtered out, and Izuku was still packing up, he heard his professor ask, “Mr. Midoriya, how has your first day been so far?”

He swallowed hard to hide the tremble in his bottom lip, forcing his lips to turn upward, “Just fine, thank you sir!”

Kibou-sensei hummed at that, before walking over and handing Izuku a syllabus, “Ya know, I was hoping I’d see you in one of my classes. Hoping I’d be able to… thank you, for everything you’ve done.”

Izuku started a bit at that, “Oh, you don’t have to thank me, it was—”

“Not your job,” he finished. But he was smiling softly as he added, “I wrote down the number and address for the on-campus counseling center. It’s there for whenever you need it—sometimes we all need a reminder of our strengths, our progress. It’s easy to get lost in the past, don’t you agree?”

Izuku nodded at that, and as he bowed in thanks, the weight on his chest only increased. No , he wanted to tell him, you have it all wrong, it was always my destiny to defeat the worst villain in the world, we just didn’t know it would be so early in my life as an aspiring hero. We didn’t know it meant I would lose everything to protect anyone. But that’s okay, that’s what a hero is supposed to do, right?

His body felt numb as he made his way to the ramen shop, which was empty, save for one person. One person whose red eyes held… a sheen of unshed tears, focused on the table, a baseball cap covering his hair. 

And Izuku… broke . 

“Kacchan?” he whispered before the tears finally slid down his own cheeks, and as the blonde stood and raced to him (just like that day, when their whole class rescued him from himself) just in time to catch him before he fell, sobbing into Kacchan’s arms, his fingers clinging tightly to the arms keeping him from falling as he fell apart. 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” Kacchan murmured, his own voice thick with emotion, “as long as we stick together, we’ll be okay.”

And, even through his sobs, Izuku tried to believe in that.

Chapter Text

Sorry to say, but your growth, your progress… still don’t interest me.

Katsuki felt the power building in his body, the stored sweat—he wasn’t allowed to even attempt a move like he had… that day, not with the damage it was guaranteed to do to his heart. But still, according to EdgeShot, he had to use his quirk at least once every 24 hours, to prevent excess strain to his heart. His palms sparked, and he, dressed in a more casual version of his hero uniform, aimed a hand at the practice dummy in the Quirk Facility. 

An accommodation, he’d been told by the Dean, followed by If there is even one singed piece of fabric, or charred piece of wood, you will be required to have someone to supervise you at all times during your… modified quirk training.

There was an incessant thrum in his veins, a tightness in his chest, around his throat, at how badly he needed to let this out. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone so long without using his quirk. Part of the many, many regulations he was now forced to follow had been that he cannot, under any circumstances, use his quirk around other college students. Which meant he could only visit the Quirk Facility (reminiscent of the training arena where they had practiced and created their ultimate moves at UA) either in the dead of night, or the early morning hours. 

I already destroyed the boy. You’re wasting your time. I already… finished the job!

With a strangled yell, he released an explosion, only feeling some of the strain in his chest ease as he immediately fired again with his other hand. And before he could stop himself, he fired again and again, until the dummy was reduced to ash (but not a single singe or burn mark otherwise). 

As soon as he realized the target had been eviscerated (in a way he often wished he had been able to do to who the target turned into, would always turn into for him) Katsuki couldn’t swallow air fast enough, falling to his knees, clutching his chest. He’d overdone it, too lost in the past, the fear and anger that ruled over his logic. 

He remembered, in his haze, his mom begging him to breathe, so he did. Shaky inhales and quivering exhales. His throat felt raw, ravaged–he must’ve still been screaming, yelling at the ghost that would terrorize him, the phantom hand on the back of his neck, in his chest–

Slowly, he released his own shirt, but he stayed bowed for a moment, not able to think about the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of the floor as he, bit by bit, put the unraveled pieces back together. Because he had to. Because he could not be a hypocrite, or a coward. He had to face the day, just like Izuku. 

By the time he showered in the Quirk Facility, letting the warm water bring him back into his body (his body which was perpetually cold due to the lack of quirk usage), and got dressed in a white shirt that read ‘Fuck Off’ in small letters in the center, a dark green hoodie, some black pants, and a Dynamight themed baseball cap (something EdgeShot and Jeanist made for him, along with some other hero prototypes, to, quote, ‘Remember the hero within’ whatever the fuck that meant), he had no time to go back to their apartment. 

Since he had infinitely less time to decide on his courses, he honestly just selected a few at random that piqued his interest. Today, he would have PHYS-101, STAT-082, and RCTH-201. He hoped that, being surrounded by numbers, analytics, and practical curriculum, that maybe the day would be… kind, in a way his anxiety refused to accept. 

He wished more than anything that he could just… guarantee a good first day for Izuku. He had to resist the urge to call him as he was walking to campus, his bag slung across one shoulder, hands in his pockets. He was trying to attract as little attention as possible, to check in on him because he… wished that Izuku could stand out, could try and immerse himself, or god forbid, have fun. 

Katsuki could tell that he wasn’t too enthused. He’d been noticing that about him, that lifelessness, ever since the war. He just never pushed, because they all had shit to work through after that. Going through the motions, one foot in front of the other. 

He had to trust that Izuku would be fine. Just like he would be. 

He had no way to know just how not fine he would become.

It wasn’t hard for Katsuki to get around campus. For the most part, nobody seemed to notice him. Good, that was promising. 

As soon as he sat down in his first lecture hall, Introduction to Physics, he pulled his phone out to adjust the settings on his hearing aids, to turn them up a bit more. Even though he would’ve preferred to avoid the cacophony of noise, he knew it would be easier to avoid unnecessary reprimand from his instructor for having his phone out at all. 

“Whoa, is that–”

A scoff, “Yeah, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.”

Some scattered laughter. And Katsuki could feel the tips of his ears burn. 

“What a stupid name! No wonder he isn’t a hero, choosing a name like that. Maybe the villains were right about him when they took him. Maybe another day or two and he’d have become a member of the League.”

His crimson eyes scanned the room as his heart pounded in his ears. He was… still getting used to the range of hearing aids Izuku had gotten him. It wasn’t anyone next to him–how could it be, when he had space on every side of him. He’d taken a spot right next to the exit, the only spot that made the unease of every new piece of stimuli calm, even slightly. 

He gave up the search when the instructor walked in, but the roaring in his ears made it almost impossible to hear the introduction, or the syllabus.

Was this a mistake? Was there a way for him to become anything other than a hero, with how fucking much the public knew about him (against his will)? 

A muscle in his jaw clenched, because he refused to let a couple extras know they got under his skin. That didn’t make the sting of the comments go away, to know that… this was how the public perceived him. That it didn’t matter, would never matter, how much time had passed, or what he did—they would all still see him as the scary kid who died in the war.

Halfway through class, he got an all too familiar vibration in his pocket–a specific text-tone for–

Katsuki ducked out of the lecture hall, bag in tow, as he speed walked to a nearby hallway, far enough away that he was pretty sure no one could hear, at least not any of the fuckers in his class. 

He slid down against the wall, and answered, his brows knit in confusion, “Whaddya brats want? Didn’t I tell you when I had classes today?” His tone was light, and soft, as he watched Katsuma and Maharo on the video call. 

He saw as Katsuma immediately blushed, “Oh, we’re sorry oniichan! I think we got the times mixed up–are you in class right now?! Why did you answer the call? Oh gosh are you going to get into–?”

“Hey, hey, relax Katsuma,” he said softly, wanting to keep his voice low, and with each passing second, he found his nerves… less on edge. “Needed a quick break anyways. Thanks for bailing me out,” he murmured, and he felt so proud of how much they had both grown, since that summer that had filled Katsuki with more questions than answers, more gaps in memory than what actually happened on that island. 

“So,” Maharo’s voice cut in, and she forced her whole face into the whole screen, her classic pinched brows in full focus, “why did ya need a break, huh? Not smart enough for college?”

He actually chuckled at that, “I’m plenty smart, ya little brat. I even got into some courses that I shouldn’t have gotten into this semester.” He paused, and he pulled at one of the strings to his hoodie, “I dunno. Just needed a breather is all, don’t worry about me.”

Katsuki knew that would be easier said than done. And when he looked back up, he watched as Maharo’s face softened, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek before she backed up a step, so he could see them both, and she said, “Ya know… no matter what, you’re one of four people I consider my heroes, Bakugou-san.” To emphasize her point, she pushed four fingers into the focal point of the camera. “That’s never going to change. And I’m… I’m happy that you aren’t in danger, like you would be as a hero.” 

His own face softened, and he fought back the tears in his eyes, swallowing hard as he asked, “You sure you aren’t disappointed that I’m… not tryin’ to be the number one hero anymore?” It was such a quiet question, and he knew it wasn’t fair to ask them, but he… had to know. Had to keep an active tally of everyone he was letting down. 

Katsuma spoke first, wearing a wobbly smile, “Is this… going to make you happy, oniichan? Because… because if I’m being honest, I agree with Maharo. I, I don’t ever want to see you… see you get that hurt again,” his voice became thick, and he didn’t try to hide the tears pooling in his big, brown eyes. But he kept smiling as he added, “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me!”

He let his own tears well in his eyes, but he was able to keep them from falling as he smiled, “Yeah, yeah, what’d I say about the waterworks, kid?” he teased fondly, and that earned him a small laugh from Katsuma. Talking to them always helped, always reminded Katsuki of… of who he was trying to protect, even still, even as just… a civilian with a powerful quirk. Even if he couldn’t understand it, he accepted that he had people in his life who cared about him. So, didn’t that mean he owed it to himself to try to… keep himself alive?

After a couple more minutes, and confirming at least three times when they’re next scheduled call would be (even though they all know Katsuki will pick up at any time of day for them) and his insisting that yes, he would drag Izuku out from wherever he was to make an appearance in said scheduled video call, he pocketed his phone and, with renowned strength, quietly padded back into class. 

Before he walked in, he changed the settings on his hearing aids again, trying to filter out as much background noise as possible. And he was able to focus, annotating his syllabus with reminders of resources the professor mentioned, as well as simpler notes like ‘Go to bookstore after classes to buy used books.’ Because ever since the war, his memory was… not the best. He could remember a lot, but it was almost like his brain was forced to remember the more traumatic moments in his life in vivid detail, whereas the minutia was beginning to slip through the cracks, bit by bit. 

He decided to turn down his hearing aids (as much as he could while still hearing relevant surrounding sounds) as the class ended and he started heading towards another lecture hall (thankfully, his first two classes were in the STEM building). 

Katsuki was scanning the room numbers when he felt… a hand, on the back of his neck. 

Instinct took over as panic flared in his body, his palms threatening to spark, his heart immediately thundering painfully, as he all but wrenched his body away, not being able to get away fast enough, “What the fu–?!”

Crimson eyes widened as he realized it was… the Dean. An unremarkable man who was now smiling down at Katsuki. 

He didn’t smile back, instead leveling a glare in his direction. 

“My apologies for sneaking up on you. I was just checking in on one of our star student’s on his first day!” He raised his voice a little, and it took Katsuki a moment to catch onto what was really happening. 

It finally clicked as soon as he heard the quick succession shuttering, followed by flashing lights. 

“I’m fine,” he forced out through clenched teeth, not knowing how to calm the rage and anxiety that now threatened to seize total control of him, “gotta get to class. Go waste someone else’s time.”

He turned on his heel, expecting the Dean and camera-extra to leave, but he… could feel it, as they followed him. Could hear the Dean murmuring about how, “You can’t blame him. Poor boy has been through so much.” And the condescension dripped onto Katsuki’s skin like acid. 

They followed him into Introduction to Statistics, and when he tried to sit near the exit again, the Dean put another fucking hand on his shoulder, and it took restraint Katsuki didn’t know he had to keep from blasting at the smug smile on his face, instead settling for ripping out of his grasp with a, “Stop. Fucking. Touching. Me.”

The Dean raised a brow, “Oh! I only request that you sit near the front in your classes, Bakugou. It must be very difficult for you to hear, at this distance, with your disability. And M.U. prides itself in its inclusivity and–”

Katsuki tuned him out, though, and to try and get him off his back, he moved closer to the front. Not the front fucking row, like he was sure the bastard wanted, but closer. This time, he was able to catch his professor’s name, Masuyo-sensei, a woman who honestly reminded him of Midnight in some ways, just her smile really, and that made it all the harder to focus. He hadn’t been there, when Midnight… maybe if he had, he could’ve saved her… 

Izuku would’ve died. 

His right hand started trembling, due to the nerve damage he’d sustained on the battlefield. Luckily, it had been relatively easy to train his left hand, though he was still working on making the handwriting… less atrocious. 

Masuyo-sensei had finished the lecture, telling them about their assignment until next week, and it seemed as though she was about to let them begin to pack up, but then her eyes shot to the side of the room opposite Katsuki and she said, “Before you go, the Dean has a special announcement to make!”

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he turned his head, just so, to the Dean. Because he was not stupid, and he knew well enough by now that coincidences, for him, were practically nonexistent. 

The Dean only backed off from against the wall, his hands raised as a way to lighten the mood, “Hey, no need to be so formal. I’m just visiting around campus to see how everyone’s first days are going. And aren’t you a lucky bunch! Not only is Masuyo-sensei one of the top in her field, but you’re also going to be studying with the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight! Who has, courageously, decided to step away from the world of heroes. I trust that you will treat him with kindness, after he’s already given so much to keep you safe.” A deafening pause, “Anyways! Have a great rest of your day!”

He could feel as every single eye landed on him. He was going to vomit, could feel the bile rising in his throat, the sweat slickening his palms, distantly, he heard three warning alarms for his heart monitor, and then–

“Isn’t that… the kid who ended the two greatest heroes in Japan?”

“More like the world,” another murmured.

Katsuki’s cheeks burned, the hot tears in his eyes gathered too quickly, so he snuck on his sunglasses and bolted for the exit. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Now, he knew, he had a target on his back, but he honestly couldn’t care, not when every time he blinked, he was back there, could hear the squelching of Shigaraki’s arms and fingers, his cackling, his voice, the screams of the other heroes, the fear on their faces, where was Izuku, why wasn’t he here, why had they built an entire fucking world war around one sixteen year old kid, couldn’t breathe, had to breathe, why did Izuku lose One For All, even if it was cursed, why couldn’t he keep his dream, why was he the end of All Might and Izuku, why–

He didn’t realize he’d been rushing blindly to the ramen shop. Even with one more class left, his Foundations of Recreational Therapy Practice class, he knew he couldn’t go, not now. He just needed… What did he need? What did he want? It was so much easier to categorize what he didn’t want anymore, but was this the right course of action? Would he even be able to study, or graduate, or get a job, or have any sense of normalcy, now that everyone knew exactly who he was, and what he’d done? 

Was he supposed to have stayed dead? Is that why he felt so lost, drifting on an endless, tumultuous sea?

The girl at the ramen shop took one look at him, and let him choose a table at the back. At some point, he let the tears fall, though he had stifled any sobs when he remembered that Izuku would be there soon, and he–

The door chimed, and he didn’t even have a chance to look up before he heard a choked, “Kacchan?”

And when he did look up… oh, the devastation on Izuku’s face broke him. 

It was as natural as breathing to catch him, to reassure him, to push all of his own shit deep, deep down for him to sort out another day. Because right now, he wanted… no, he needed to find a way to keep Izuku together. Izuku who had given so much, and lost even more. Izuku who deserved nothing but happiness.

He wanted… to be his hero. He could still do that, couldn’t he?

What made him cry? Who hurt him today?

He shoved those questions down for the moment.

“I-it’ll get better, right?” Izuku forced out, still clinging so tightly to him. And Katsuki held him securely, arms unwavering as he nodded. 

“Yeah, it will. I promise it will.” 

And he… even when he pulled back and subconsciously linked his pinky with Izuku’s in a childlike pinky promise, he hoped he hadn’t just made a promise he couldn’t keep.

He tried to offer a smile, “C’mon, let’s get some to-go ramen and go to the bookstore. I need to pick up some textbooks.”

Izuku blinked, and he could see the concern etched on his face, but he watched as he pushed it away, just like Katsuki had. They shared a look, a promise that they would… have to talk about this later, but an agreement to leave it alone, just for now. 

Later that evening, after a blissfully uneventful trip to grab and rent their textbooks, he’d spotted a flyer that had been placed into their bag. 

“‘M.U. Homecoming Extravaganza’?” he read aloud, “Looks like it’s this weekend, with vendors and food trucks, even some live music and, it says there will be a ‘Super special guest appearance.’”

Izuku had been dangling over the edge of the couch, stretching his back while Katsuki made some tea in the kitchen. 

“Think we should go?” Izuku asked, his voice soft, contemplative.

Katsuki hummed at that, “I think… if we go together, it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever?”

That brought a smile to Izuku’s lips, which all but settled the matter for Katsuki. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki shot up from his bed, gasping for air, one hand over his chest just to feel his heart beating, to reassure himself that he was here, he was alive, he was breathing. 

Ever since the war, anytime he fell into too deep a sleep, it would remind him of that suspended, frozen place in time, both real and not real, and no matter how hard he tried to just take a breath, he couldn’t. Not until he woke up with a violent urgency, desperate to differentiate memory from the present. 

With a groan, he put his hearing aids in before he padded out of his room. He had expected to find Izuku on the couch (again), prepared to help him into his room (again), but the living room was… suspiciously undisturbed. 

His brows furrowed, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his grey sweatpants as he made his way to just peak inside Izuku’s room (mainly to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk). But… 

Izuku wasn’t there. 

Katsuki couldn’t remember how to breathe properly, his hand–the one that had gotten ravaged in the war–growing numb as his panic threatened to consume him whole. 

Where could he be, why isn’t he here, has something happened–?

With his numb fingers, he reached for his phone, quickly opening up Izuku’s contact so he could see his location. It was something Katsuki had suggested, saying something about how it was only fair that he got to know where the nerd was considering that Izuku was able to stalk his health via his heart monitor app. Even though Izuku had grumbled about that, about “Well excuse me for wanting to make sure your heart isn’t gonna give out!” (which, admittedly, had made the blonde chuckle), he had agreed, even saying he was about to suggest the same thing.

He could feel his palms heating up as he waited for the location to load–a new development since the war, and his modified training. Anytime he gets too overwhelmed, it’s almost as though his quirk is begging to be released from his body. 

“Stupid nerd,” he grumbled, his voice shaking as Izuku’s location showed that he, at two in the fucking morning, was at the university library.

Throwing on a jacket to fight against the biting cold, he stomped out of the apartment and walked towards campus (he fucking hated how cold he felt now, from only using his quirk once a day–how he felt better when he was bundled in a sweater and hoodie and scarf, even though fall had barely begun).

Walking through campus this late was… oddly calming. He found himself preferring nighttime more, when the world was asleep and the lights were dimmed and only the moon and stars lit the way. It was quieter, too, less chaotic than the daytime. It was why he enjoyed waking up so early, to be able to have just an hour or two to himself before the rest of the world woke up. Time to stitch himself back together again. 

By the time he made it to the library, it was around 2:30, and he hadn’t even realized that he had left his hair pushed back with one of his metal headbands (just to keep his bangs out of his face) as he walked into the 24-hour library–he appreciated the concept in theory, but in practice like this, it just irritated him. Why was the expectation for college students to burn themselves out, studying and working and depriving themselves of sleep, all for the sake of a grade? Why was that seen as a right of passage? 

He looked back at his phone, heading towards the little green dot that was Izuku’s phone, until he ended up at one of the study rooms. 

Izuku was surrounded by books, a hand in his hair, his brows pinched in confusion as he appeared to read and re-read the same passage over and over.

Katsuki’s gentle knock startled him enough that half of the books thumped onto the floor. 

Green eyes blinked a few times before he reached over and opened the door. 

“Kacchan, why are you–?”

He was already crouching to pick up the felled books, “Our first day off together and you’re planning to spend it groggy and exhausted? Not on my watch. Get your shit, we’re going home.”

Katsuki felt some fingers… brush against the metal headband in his hair. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked up at Izuku, his arms full of books (seriously why was he reading so many books, didn’t college classes have a limit to how many books they could force people to rent or buy?!)

“Whoa, this is so cool, Kacchan! It looks comfortable enough to sleep in, do you think one of these would work in my hair?”

The tips of his ears warmed as a very sleepy scowl (re: pout) formed on his features, “Yeah yeah sure, just get a move on, we have to be up by 7 to have breakfast before the Homecoming shit starts. You wanted to check out the art exhibit, right? That starts at 9, so we have to–”

“Go home, Kacchan I hear you,” he said softly with a light chuckle. 

As he was putting his things back into his bag, Katsuki stood and grabbed the rest of the books. A shoulder brushed against his own, “You never answered my question–what’re you doing up this late–early? Both?”

Katsuki only hummed at that, “Couldn’t sleep.”

He could feel Izuku’s eyes burning into the side of his face, so he groaned, “Fucking–had a nightmare,” he grumbled, “Then I couldn’t find you to make sure you weren’t killing your back by just passing out wherever you sat last and I… I had to find you,” he ended quietly. It was enough of the truth. He didn’t particularly feel like divulging the fact that not knowing where Izuku was felt the same as when he couldn’t find his favorite All Might blanket as a brat. It was still in his room at his parents, tattered and worn, but only because he used it all the time, traveled with it everywhere in his home. The only reason he didn’t bring it to M.U. was because he didn’t want something bad to happen to it. It was safer, there in his mostly undisturbed room.

Katsuki’s breath caught just so as he felt Izuku’s fingers tucking a loosened strand of his hair back into the headband. “Thanks for worrying about me, Kacchan.”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, even after Izuku pulled away, “Tch, it’s basically my job to worry about you.” And when Izuku smiled at him–maybe it was because he was delirious from his lack of sleep, but his smile looked less torn, it looked… close to how his smile was burned into Katsuki’s brain. The easy, carefree smile of youth, and childhood, and innocence.

The walk back to the apartment wasn’t quiet, like the walk to retrieve Izuku, but Katsuki appreciated hearing the other ramble about something he was learning or an interesting finding he’d discovered in his reading. They walked close, with either of them gravitating closer to the other if they wandered too far for their liking.

As soon as they made it into their apartment, Izuku headed towards the couch, before Katsuki quickly grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into his (slightly less bare) bedroom, his hands pushing down on Izuku’s shoulders until he was sitting down.

“Sleep. We’re gonna have fun tomorrow–shit, today, even if it kills us.”

Izuku pouted up at him, “Y’know I really don’t love those jokes, Kacchan.”

He just searched Izuku’s eyes for a moment before his voice softened, “I’m right here. Now go to sleep, okay?”

Katsuki was graced with another sleepy smile, “Okay, Kacchan.”

When his alarm went off less than three hours later, he made quick, precise work at the Quirk Facility. For good measure, he had gone the night before too, in hopes of expelling more than enough energy to make it through the day. Because, this was important. Sure, their first week hadn’t been… the best, by any means. He started imagining the practice dummies he incinerated as the Dean and Izuku’s shitty English teacher and every extra who mocked either of them for shit they couldn’t have dreamed to control. And it made the training more fun, helped keep the waking nightmares at bay. But even still, they couldn’t just give in to the bullshit–it wasn’t Izuku’s fault that the war rested on him and him alone (and a small part of him whispered that it hadn’t been Katsuki’s fault for what happened in The Coffin, only that voice was too quiet to hear). 

And this was their story, after all. About figuring out how to still win and save now that they had lost and suffered so much. 

Katsuki was stubborn on a good day. He refused to give up so quickly on Izuku’s happiness, which he had only gotten a real glimpse of here and there after the war.

As soon as he heard Izuku stirring, grumbling at the alarm on his phone, he smiled softly to himself from where he stood in the kitchen. This was… calm in a way they had never been able to experience before. In the UA dorms, there was never this much quiet, what with all of their classmates (or as much of a sense of safety, because ‘the most prestigious hero academy in Japan’ thought that they had secured the campus well enough). But the biometric lock programmed for only him and Izuku, and the security cameras his mom and All Might had helped them find, just gave him that extra reassurance. That they were safe, and for the time being, he allowed himself to think that no one could touch them here. 

Izuku finally walked out of the room, a scarred hand reaching up to cover a big yawn, and Katsuki’s brows furrowed–

“Is that… I’ve been looking for that! You’re already stealing my clothes?!”

Izuku’s cheeks turned pink as he looked down, noticing the black t-shirt with the skull on it, accompanied by some orange sweatpants (which were his). 

“Oh! It must’ve slipped into my pile of clean clothes when I was doing the laundry, I grabbed your hamper too and I thought I’d folded all of yours and put them on your bed, but this one must’ve clung to something of mine–when we got back in last night I just grabbed the first sleep shirt in my pile, I’m sorry, Kacchan!” The words were rushed, as he walked closer, and Katsuki just shook his head, that smile once again on his lips.

“Yeah yeah–it’s fine, just don’t get any miso on it, I happen to like that shirt.”

“Kacchan you like all of your clothes,” he countered, “it makes sense though! Considering what your parents do for a living, and–”

Katsuki turned and placed the plate into the other’s hands. “Okay we can talk later, you have to eat and get ready–can’t believe you’ve never learned how to tame and style your hair.” Izuku’s mouth opened to protest, but he only waved a hand and said, “But I’ll help you, since we have to feel good to even try to have a good day. And that’s exactly what we’re gonna have today, got it? I shouldn’t see any crybaby Izuku coming out to play today.”

Izuku rolled his eyes before he knocked his elbow against his own before he turned to make his own plate, “Thanks for breakfast, Kacchan. It looks and smells amazing!”

The tips of his ears heated, “Tch, it’s just some Gohan, Shiru, and grilled chicken. Now eat, I think I also have to show you how to exfoliate and moisturize your face.” Maybe add in some caffeine eye cream for the subtle but still present dark circles under his eyes. “I can also show you some–”

Their doorbell rang. Izuku froze mid-sitting at the table. They both blinked, looked at each other, then looked back to the door. 

It rang again, and before they could look at the camera, he heard a light voice he would recognize anywhere, “Midoriya! Bakugou! Open up, it’s chilly out here!”

“Mirio?” Izuku asked, a smile tugging at his lips before he unlocked and opened the door, revealing–

“Deku!” Eri squealed before she launched herself into Izuku, who stumbled only a hair before he wrapped his arms around her, crouching to get onto her level. 

“Oh wow, hey Eri! What are you doing here?”

Mirio and Tamaki walked in, with the latter closing the door, while Mirio’s smile was as bright as ever, “We’re saying hi, duh! Had to check in on two of the coolest cats from the most recent graduating class!” 

When Eri pulled away from Izuku she… rushed towards Katsuki, who was able to pick her up with one arm, chuckling as she hugged him, “Kacchan!”

“Heya Eri, why’d you let these two convince you to come here?” Not that he minded. No, he would never protest against seeing Eri. When Izuku had gone off on his own, Katsuki had been one of Eri’s main support people, outside of Mirio and Aizawa. 

“You guys actually came on a perfect day! It’s Homecoming, so there are a lot of things we can do! Are you going to get in trouble though? Don’t you have patrols today?”

“Our shifts are this evening, don’t sweat the small stuff, Midoriya! Besides, Eri’s been begging me to take her here, she wants to see what her big bros are up to!”

“Yeah,” Tamaki chimed in softly, “besides, it can never hurt to do some public appearances. Just a bonus that we get to hang out with you two.”

Katsuki sat Eri on the counter–thankfully he had made more than enough food (yes, with the plans to food prep, but this was fine, too) and he worked to plate servings for their three guests. 

“Oh! Please sit, we were just about to have breakfast, and–!”

“Is that… Bakugou’s shirt?” Tamaki asked, and Katsuki smirked to himself as he heard Izuku’s voice stop, accompanied by some very quick, nervous, “It was a laundry accident I swear and I was at the library too late and I didn’t turn on my light to look for any proper sleepwear so I just grabbed the first thing I could find, and–”

“Relax!” Mirio clapped both of his hands onto his shoulders, “So, Homecoming, huh? Wonder if it’s anything like the School Festival–we’ll find out together though!”

Eri lightly swung her legs, and Katsuki couldn’t help but feel so grateful at how much she had grown, at how much healthier and happier she looked. That she lived in a world that still existed, and he forced himself to acknowledge that that was only possible, in part, because of Izuku, and himself. 

“You think they’ll have candy apples?” she asked him, her eyes wide. She was wearing a light cream buttoned-up long sleeve, accompanied by some pink overalls, decorated in cherry blossoms, and some white sneakers, with her hair pinned at the sides. So different from the photos they’d been shown, of her only in rags, her arms bandaged. 

His smile only widened, “Tell ya what, even if we don’t find any, I’ll make you some, okay?”

She beamed up at him, “Really, Kacchan?!”

They ate and caught up, the topic of hero work only coming up when either Izuku or Katsuki asked a direct question (which was more appreciated than he cared to admit. Not because of his feelings towards hero work, but rather to protect Izuku’s). Eri was doing well in school, and then he put on some kid’s show she enjoyed once he checked the time before he pulled Izuku up by catching his hand right before he was going to sit down beside her. 

“Focus, we can’t go to the Homecoming in our pajamas. C’mon.”

“We’ll be right back!” Izuku called out before he was dragged into Katsuki’s bathroom (leaving the door ajar), where he started on his face. 

“Here, use this,” he instructed, placing a metal headband into his hands, and watching as Izuku struggled to get his hair out of his face. Then, he handed him some sensitive skin face washes, one overall cleanser, then something more moisturizing, along with a textured glove. He had already finished his own skincare routine after the Quirk Facility, so he was able to focus his attention on the other. He showed him how much pressure to apply with the exfoliating glove, and he only hummed after Izuku dried his face off, commenting on the softness (though he couldn’t help but notice how he was avoiding the mirror). Walking him through the skincare portion was a quicker process, since his own skin was so sensitive he could only use single-ingredient products, and he felt a small swell of pride in his chest as Izuku’s skin glowed just a little, looked just a little healthier and full of life.

They were short on time, so he got to work on his hair. Best Jeanist, though he had never been able to tame his blonde ends, had taught him how to maintain it. With a detangling brush, Katsuki was able to (mostly painlessly) get the tangles and knots out of his hair, before he got water (with a small bit of curling cream he’d purchased) into his hands and scrunched the curls up.

“There, how’s it look?” he asked, and Izuku’s eyes widened a bit.

“I… I can hardly recognize myself–that was so easy!”

Katsuki smirked, “Yeah, now you have no excuse not to do some basic self-care, nerd. Now go get dressed, we have to leave in ten.”

When they emerged, Izuku was clad in a dark, knitted green sweater with a white collared shirt underneath, along with some light beige pants, and of course, his classic red high-tops. Whereas Katsuki went with a black turtleneck with a bright orange jacket, with black pants and combat boots (adding some chains to his belt loops). 

Even if he didn’t feel ready to tackle the day, he at least looked the part.

“Wow, you two clean up nice!” Mirio praised, “Now let’s go see some college festivities!”

“We have to start with the art exhibit,” he told them, and he didn’t miss how Izuku’s cheeks warmed. 

The whole campus was decorated–he’d only seen some booths being set up on his way to the Quirk Facility, but it was like they were entering a new campus. Vendors and food trucks were everywhere, stages and various hang-out spots designated accordingly, with one big stage for whoever the special guest was. 

Mirio and Tamaki hadn’t tried wearing disguises, so Eri ended up walking between Izuku and Katsuki while the pros were being asked for photos and autographs (which Mirio accepted almost every request, and Tamaki tried to hide behind him. Even though his confidence had grown, he still didn’t love feeling like a public spectacle). 

And Katsuki noticed that his chest didn’t hurt at that, at the thought of fighting against the public eye. He’d done enough of that for a lifetime. 

And their presence helped–they offered a much needed distraction from the eyes of their peers. Gave the extras something else to focus on other than them.

The art exhibit was interesting–seeing student art, with the artist there, was interactive enough to pull Izuku out of whatever headspace he’d gotten into. Whenever he whispered a question about the art to Katsuki, he tried to encourage him to ask the artist, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want to, and Katsuki wasn’t going to push him. Not today. 

At some point, right before lunch, the two of them were swinging Eri between them, both smiling as her laughter filled the air, while Mirio took a call. When he joined them again he said, “Oh look! The special guest appearance, I think it’s starting over there! I wonder who it’ll be!”

He and Izuku had been speculating about that too, after classes. 

Mirio, for some reason, ushered them to the very front, claiming something about his eyes and also advising Katsuki that he should maybe turn his hearing aids down, just a little. 

The stage was informal, outside, so their front row standing spot was basically a glorified pit.

Crimson eyes narrowed before he listened to Mirio, and he looked up just in time to see a pale hand reaching down for him. A guitar rift that he would know in his sleep hitting his ears as his eyes widened and he saw–

“Kyo?!” to which she smiled, before putting his hand in hers, and shouting a bit as he was tugged onto the stage, only then noticing as Ochako and Iida did the same to Izuku, who looked just as awestruck as he did. 

Drumsticks were thrust into his free hand, “Still know the beat?” Kyo yelled over the guitars, and he blinked as he realized–

“You’re all here?” He hadn’t realized the tears in his eyes until he felt delicate fingers brush them away quickly, and Kyo’s smile was brighter than the sun as she nodded. 

“Of course we are! You two are always gonna be our family! Now you gonna get on the drums or what?!”

Before he could stop himself, he squeezed her hand tightly before smirking and rushing to the empty drums, only needing one moment to turn his aids down a little more, counting out the beats until the next rift before he started playing. 

They were all there. Every person he fought for, every person he won for, was standing all around him. The tears blurred his vision, but his ecstatic concentration and muscle memory pulled him through, pushed him to play for his forever classmates instead of the shitty extras screaming and singing along in the audience. 

His eyes wandered and he found Izuku, laughing with tears in his own eyes as Ochako and Tsu reminded him of the dance moves. 

And in that moment, he didn’t care what anyone thought of this moment. He didn’t care if this only put the spotlight on them again, because honestly, odds were that a majority of people on campus didn’t even know about his and Izuku’s attendance (save for the people in their classes). And the crowd was going wild, and the rush of adrenaline he felt in his veins was an all too welcomed one. 

And now, listening to the lyrics, it only made those bubbling emotions reach their boiling point.

‘The future’s left unseen, it all depends on me’

‘They may look down on me and count me out’

‘I am a hero too’

And she even turned her back to the audience, her eyes locking on Katsuki’s, before Izuku’s as she sang ‘I have met so many heroes in my life, gave me the strength and courage to survive’.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she still sang to them, her hand pointing directly towards each of them, ‘Gave me the power to smile everyday–Now it’s my turn to be the one to make you smile!’

He choked on a sob which was drowned out by the music as they finished the set.

When the song finally ended, Kyo screamed, her voice thick with emotion, “Let’s hear it for the greatest heroes the world has ever seen!”

And it was a vague enough statement that the crowd went wild, vague enough to apply to any of the new and aspiring pros, but Katsuki knew what she meant, who she was talking to. And his heart swelled with so much appreciation and adoration and… love for his friends. 

As the curtain fell, Kyo and Denki and Eijirou and Ashido rushed for him, with Katsuki holding tightly onto Kyo with his own trembling arms as his other friends embraced him. At some point after the war, he had grown much less touch-averse, actually discovering that sometimes (most of the time), physical touch was the only thing that could calm him down, when his thoughts and memories got too loud. Touches became tethers back to himself, back to them. 

“We’re so proud of you Kats, you know that right?” she hiccuped softly, and he pulled away enough to knock their foreheads together, beyond words, but that was okay. A hand squeezed his shoulder, another hand holding onto his, two arms clutching his free arm as his friends poured so much love into him, he couldn’t remember why he ever let himself feel alone. Because he wasn’t alone. He had his friends, and he… he made a promise to himself, to try to stop being afraid of everything unknown. To be as strong as he could be for himself, for them. 

They spent the rest of the day with their class, being separated by their friends, catching up, going out for food, stopping every two seconds for someone to snap a photo or sign something or answer a question. And he couldn’t stop smiling, because even if Kyoka had meant that last plea to the audience for his and Izuku’s sake, he knew, amidst the regular chaos and commotion of Class A, that they would become the greatest heroes in the world. He and Izuku just… had to figure out what being a hero meant to them, now. 

When it came time for them to leave, to go rest for patrol or go onto their shift, he didn’t feel a hollow anxiousness at the ‘See ya soon!’ that he received, because he knew, just like he knew the moon would rise soon, that their friends would always be there for them. 

Katsuki had been chatting with Denki about finally making his move with Kyo before he Howitzer Impacts him when he heard Ochako’s voice cut through. He’d had his hearing aids set as high as they could go, wanting to cling to every word that was said, as he heard her say to Izuku, her voice sad though he could hear her smile, “You know, not all of us are able to get our closest person back. I wouldn’t waste too much time if I were you. You and I both know… how fleeting our time can be with each other, ya know?” 

(Sato had made some candy apples for Eri to bring home, so she left fast asleep in Tamaki’s arms, a small smile on her face as Katsuki squeezed her hand, before watching Izuku gently tuck some fallen hair behind her ear).

The day had passed by them in such a blur. The campus was mostly empty, save for the people packing their things up, and before Katsuki could think better of it, he grabbed Izuku’s hand (who had gone too quiet after their friends left, after those departing words from Ochako) and led him to what was known as ‘The Green’, just a big grassy field within the campus. There were no trees, and the lamplights were dim as he sat them both down, before laying down, looking up at the stars. He heard Izuku follow suit, and for a while, neither of them said anything, just enjoying the quiet, and the closeness, and the stars. 

“I feel… happy,” Izuku’s voice broke through that quiet, and Katsuki turned his head to look at him, while Izuku’s tear-filled eyes and wobbly smile still focused on the stars. “I didn’t… I was starting to think I could n-never feel like this again, ya know?” A wet laugh, “But Kacchan I feel… so blessed, to be here, to be alive. I haven’t… I haven’t been appreciating it enough. But, I want to try–for our friends, for my mom, for you.”

He turned to look at him now, their noses almost touching, and the closeness made his breath catch. 

“I’m really happy you’re here with me, Kacchan. I feel… less afraid when you’re around.”

Katsuki offered a gentle smile at that, reaching for his hand again and squeezing three times, “I’m happy you’re here with me, too, Izuku.”

And then they watched the stars together, neither letting go of the other’s hand.

Chapter Text

When Izuku’s knuckles hit the punching bag in front of him, he could feel as the skin tore open, could feel the blood soaking through the wrappings on his hands. He’d lost count on how many times he had hit the bag after fifty. 

Pain was something he had grown intimate with, in his all too short time with One For All. Pain had almost become a sign of strength, and love, and devotion to him. The more pain he felt, the safer people were. 

The pain made him feel… as close to being a hero again as he had felt after the war ended, since he learned about the embers, since All Might gently confirmed that they would disappear completely one day, rendering him quirkless. A sacrifice that had made sense, at the time. A sacrifice he couldn’t fully understand in the moment. A loss he could not accept—not fully—even now. 

The kid who saved the world would end up nothing more than a quirkless has-been.

With a yell, he landed a punch so hard, the bag burst open, its contents spilling onto the floor of the gym. Izuku panted heavily, feeling the blood dripping down his arms, warm and comforting in a way he did not allow himself to ponder on for too long. 

He had taken to going to the gym in the early morning hours, before Kacchan was awake, when Izuku’s own mind refused to quiet (but he always left a note, and a text, just in case Kacchan wanted to know where he was–he noticed, after living together, that he was ever the worrier). And he’d started lying to himself, that as long as the pain was productive, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

After he showered, wincing as he cleaned his wounds and wrapped his knuckles in the gauze he kept in his gym bag, he headed back to their apartment. Now, everytime he wandered the campus at this hour (it was after one in the morning), when he looked up at the stars, he remembered laying in The Green with Kacchan, remembered how much it meant to him to see all of their friends again, to feel their love and hear their laughter. 

Now when he looked up at the stars, he clung to the hope that maybe… maybe one day he could be happy again. After… after Tenko, he had accepted that he would have to repent and suffer and atone for his sins during the war until the day he died. He hadn’t ever told anyone just how many times he found himself wishing that the two of them had gone down together. The Symbol of Hope and the Symbol of Fear, surrendering but winning in their own ways. 

No. No, he couldn’t think like that now. He could just… wish that things had ended differently, while trying to accept that he couldn’t change anything. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bring Tenko back. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop the war from happening. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t… hold onto the embers forever. 

Izuku frowned as he felt a light splash of water on his head, followed by another, and another, until he was rushing and ducking with overly sore limbs beneath the coverage of trees to try and hide from the rain. 

I have to remember to tell Kacchan to bring his hoodie to class, and an umbrella.

Kachan had always hated the rain, ever since they were little. Maybe someday, Izuku could buy them some raincoats and rainboots, and maybe they could have fun together in the rain, splashing around, just being… boys, in a way they hadn’t been allowed to be in what felt like too long. 

By the time he made it inside, he was soaked to the bone, and he had never been more grateful for Kacchan’s new request to have the heat set on low at night, for account of how much colder he felt, using his quirk less and all. Izuku wasn’t 100% sure on the logistics of that, actually, of how his diminished quirk use had been impacting his body. He should ask, then they could figure out some strategies for his quirk training, or Izuku could even help him strategize how best to use his quirk, in case… in case he ever changed his mind again, and decided to go back to their dream of becoming a hero. 

He made quick work to peel off his sopping clothes, careful to not bring in too much of the rainwater into the apartment, before he made it to his room, crawling into bed, and letting the heavy exhaustion take over, lulling him to sleep.

It was a Thursday, the last day for classes, and he didn’t have to be awake until noon (unlike Kacchan, who would be on his way back by the time Izuku was heading to classes for the day). He and Kacchan had plans to look into some gaming consoles that evening, with Izuku already having researched some games for them to play together, with the rest of the weekend dedicated to playing said games and creating a rating system (while competing against one another, naturally).

They just had to make it through the day.

***

Slowly, Izuku was learning how best to ignore the unwanted or lingering stares he’d receive. And, after their friends visited and performed at Homecoming, he was honestly getting… more timid smiles, and waves, from his peers. He hadn’t made any friends yet, but at least the whispering had stopped.

Or… so he’d thought.

As he got settled into his Business Seminar class, he noticed that he was once again getting stares. At first, he thought maybe Kacchan helping him with his skincare routine was making him look a little better, just as it had made him feel a little better. They’d also incorporated eye masks, with Izuku forcing Kacchan to promise that they can do face masks together soon (to which he had reluctantly agreed). 

His Business Seminar was a lecture hall, and one that he had gone mostly unnoticed in. He hated the class–not because of the professor or his peers, but because the whole course felt like nonsense. Literally none of it made sense, none of the readings or discussions about algorithms or marketing trends or writing a business plan–it was always too much information all at once. 

“I never knew that happened.” He set his bag beside him.

“Is that… is that really how it went down?” Grabbed his notebook and pencil.

“How are we supposed to trust the heroes again when they hid this from us?” Opened his textbook.

“Do you think Midoriya’s seen it yet?”

His brows furrowed, and before he could ask anything, the intercom crackled, for just a moment before silence filled the room. The door to the lecture hall swung open, and their Teacher’s Assistant, who usually looked annoyed at worst, looked… pale, and much less put together, more frazzled, in a way Izuku had never seen before. 

“Phones away!” 

Slowly, Izuku’s heart rate increased. In such a big class, he had never even heard this professor or the TA ever address a rule on cell phones. And where was–?

“I will be teaching today, Tomi-sensei is… in a conference with some other faculty. N-now everyone, turn to page–”

Izuku wasn’t listening, not as he reached a trembling hand to grab his phone, which had been on Do Not Disturb ever since he came back from the gym. 

He’d signed up to receive notifications from the campus’ main social media pages, just to keep up to date (and it was also just something he was instructed to do during orientation), and the only notification he saw was from M.U., with the title “NEVER BEFORE SEEN LEAKED WAR FOOTAGE!”

His eyes widened in horror and he couldn’t stop himself as he clicked on the notification, as he saw the photo attached. If anyone was speaking to him, he didn’t hear them. He wasn’t listening, wasn’t breathing, wasn’t thinking as… a close up of Kacchan’s face, covered in blood, his eyes open and unseeing, took up the entirety of his awareness. 

He had never seen him like this, so… close, he could see where his pupil had burst, could see the greyness in his usually vivid crimson eyes. No, he had only seen him at a distance, and it had only been pure adrenaline that stopped him from throwing up, from rushing to Kacchan, from holding his body and wailing. 

Wait…that wasn’t just a photo. 

That was just the cover image for a video. 

Izuku was going to be sick. He at least had enough common sense, with tears already in his eyes, to grab his things and rush out of the lecture hall, into a bathroom, which he locked fully behind him. 

He shouldn’t watch this. 

He had to watch this. 

Izuku wasn’t breathing, not really, as his finger trembled over the play button. He was able to piece together pretty quickly that this was a video from someone in the Business course at UA—it made sense, why it was never aired or released. Why would the most prestigious hero school in the world allow the footage of one of their own students… dying on their watch? 

And why release it now, almost 3 years after the war (the anniversary of which was coming up, though Izuku had done well to block the date out of his mind)? Why—?

Heart hammering in his chest, his free hand clenched so tightly he was reopening the wounds on his knuckles, he pressed play.

The video began with…Shigaraki holding Kacchan up, by the arm that still bothered him even now.  And Kacchan had a panicked, pained look in his eyes as his body was flung and discarded into the arena of The Coffin like nothing more than a rag doll. 

Your aims? Your views on the world? Please. Katsuki Bakugou. 

Green eyes widened, his heart fully stopping at hearing that voice again, the voice that still haunted him, followed him around like a shadow. And Kacchan… Kacchan looked so afraid.

If there’s a single thing I’m interested in when it comes to you, it’s him.

No. 

You’re the person who’s closest to Izuku Midoriya. 

No.

Perfect. Because it means he’ll definitely be here.

He barely hit pause in order to make it to the toilet in time, emptying the contents of his stomach until he could only taste stomach acid on his tongue, his arms trembling as he locked himself in the stall, reaching for his phone again. 

Everyone… everyone was watching this. He had to see this through, he had to know. 

He knew, logically, that Kacchan had… had died because of him. Because he hadn’t thought ahead, because he hadn’t been fast enough, because he’d let himself become distracted. But… but to know that it had always just… been a ploy? Another part in the game of the war that All For One and Shigaraki and the League orchestrated? 

He was breathing too quickly, tears freely falling onto his cheeks, as he forced himself to keep watching, to press play. And he was back there, on that battlefield, in that Coffin, all over again. 

It was impossible, impossible to focus on anything else, on anyone else, but Kacchan. Kacchan who was already so hurt (why wasn’t anyone taking him out of there, why wasn’t anyone moving fast enough, why hadn’t Izuku gotten there in time?) and being toyed with by Shigaraki. 

He watched as he still tried, as he still tried to bite back and retaliate, but… every time he opened his mouth, he was punished. 

He was punished for being Izuku Midoriya’s closest person. 

When he heard Kacchan choke on a noise of pain, Izuku choked on a sob.

Kacchan, with an already depleted amount of strength, with wrecked support gear, still fired with everything he got. Like an animal, desperate to escape the jaws of a predator. 

He’ll arrive to find your corpse instead of a pile of dust.

Kacchan couldn’t breathe, he was choking, why wasn’t anyone helping? Where were the pros? Why was he there alone?

You’ll be the perfect present to toss at his feet. 

You’ll always be garbage compared to One For All. 

“That isn’t true!” Izuku yelled at his phone, his pained voice echoing off the bathroom walls, not entirely aware of his surroundings, not aware of reality versus memory as the sobs slowly suffocated him. 

Izuku couldn’t think rationally, not as he watched the Big Three try and fail to attack Shigaraki, “He can’t… he can’t last much longer, you h-have to do something,” he pleaded with the figures on his phone, as if they could hear him, as if they could prevent the inevitable from just his will alone. 

And for a moment, when Mirio appeared, it felt like… like maybe they could hear him. Maybe, maybe that meant they could save him. Kacchan was hurt, but he was safe. He was safe and that was all that mattered (for now). 

Another broken sob escaped him as the video panned to Kacchan again, and Kacchan was crying. He did that so much more openly after the war, but this was… different. And Izuku knew, he knew in that moment what was coming, could feel his heart plummet as he heard his whispered, pained words. Knew the decision he had made, the only thing he could think of. 

Right side. 

No.

Fingers. Pattern. 

“Listen to Jeanist, you idiot!” Izuku whimpered, almost in full body hysterics, his free hand fisted into his curls, pulling hard as if that could make this any better, as if the pain could pull him out of this new hell that he’d only ever been able to imagine up to this point. 

Distantly, he picked up on the audio from Shigaraki—one of the few moments Tenko shone through the manipulation and grooming of All For One. And the pain and panic and sadness and innocence in his voice made Izuku’s heart shatter. Because that had been who he wanted to save, fought so hard to save. 

Mikkun and Tomo said I was really nice, and Mon always barks to go on walks with me!

His phone clattered to the tiled floor, now both hands were in his hair, but even through his tears, his sobs, his inability to breathe, he watched, he listened. Tenko. Tenko who deserved so much better. Tenko who never had a chance. Tenko who was doomed from the start. Tenko who was failed over and over by society until he was finally failed by Izuku, the false Symbol of Hope. 

Nothing was enough. Nothing the pro heroes did, nothing the older students did, nothing Izuku did—it was all useless, all pointless, when paired up against the bioengineered atrocity that had once just been a small, crying boy. 

Kacchan was—

Use your first aid on the others. 

“Stop,” Izuku sobbed, “please, just stop and rest, I’ll be there soon, you don’t—!”

‘Stop trying to win this on your own!’

As he walked towards the Symbol of Fear and Destruction, as he bled out, Izuku held his breath as he heard Kacchan’s whispered words.

I’ve gotta defeat him. Right, Izuku?

“No,” the word was a breathless, hopeless plea. 

And then he was moving, and his explosions were so tragically beautiful, every single attack and counterattack planned perfectly, like the steps of a dance, or a recipe to a warm, home cooked meal. His explosions fell like stars, and it was dazzling and terrifying all at once. 

Hey, Izuku. 

“K-acchan,” he sobbed.

Can I still… catch up to you?

Izuku was hyperventilating before he wailed, his head in his hands. It was a desperate, heart-shattering sound, one that could be heard in the hallway, possibly even in the lecture hall. He started dry heaving before the intercom crackled again, an unfamiliar voice echoing in the bathroom. 

“Where is the would be Symbol of Victory?! Won’t you come out to play, or did the shining hero die that day in The Coffin?!”

That’s when the alarms at the university sounded. That’s when… when the sound of rushing feet and panicked shouts began in the halls. 

There’s… there was no way. No way that this was happening again, happening here. No way that they were being—

A robotic, automated voice rang throughout the campus: “All students, evacuate from the campus immediately, this is a Code Red. Villainous activity detected. All students, evacuate from the campus imm—”

He felt a quaking to the ground that he would recognize anywhere. 

Izuku didn’t think, he just moved. With strength he didn’t have, he was up, and wrenching the door open before he started running against the current of students, ignoring anyone and everyone who told him to stop, easily slipping out of any fingers or hands that tried to direct him to evacuate, pushing his already overly exhausted and strained body to go faster, harder, as he shoved the doors open and sprinted even deeper into the campus. 

He felt the raindrops falling against his skin, making his clothes cling to his body, but he refused to let that stop him. Nothing would stop him, not this time. 

Red shoes pounded against the pavement with so much force, the soles of his feet throbbed, and he only faltered when he saw… an explosion, off in the distance, near The Green, near the place Izuku had promised to try to… be happy again. 

His movements were imprecise, frantic, desperate in his need to get to the source of the explosions. 

To get to Kacchan. 

Tears still streamed down his cheeks, and he tried, in that desperation, to cup the embers with his scarred hands. 

Please, he begged, please just this one last time, please ignite. I need you, Kacchan needs you, I cannot fail him again, please—!

His chest was on fire, but he felt… no familiar crackle of power. If anything, his plea only sent a cold wisp of wind onto the ember, making it flicker violently. 

Izuku skidded to a stop as he saw Kacchan, on his knees, his shirt half charred, the skin beneath red and blistering, armed with one gauntlet, his hearing aids (the ones Izuku had gotten him for graduation) lay discarded on the ground, his teeth gritted, a scowl on his features as he sent a powerful blast at whoever the attacker was before yelling, “SHUT UP AND DIIIIE!”

He didn’t miss how Kacchan clutched his chest afterwards, how he coughed violently, how his body shook from the cold rain, and when he saw the mini starbursts coming from every pore of his body, Izuku crashed into the scene, positioning his body right in front of Kacchan’s. 

“Hey!” he yelled at the villain. A young man, probably around their age, with grey hair and matching eyes, dressed in unremarkable civilian clothes. “You want him?! You’ll have to go through me first!”

But when he smiled… he might as well have been looking at who Tenko was forced to turn into. Though this villain’s face was not scarred, or cracked. 

Quirk or no quirk, he assumed his fighting stance. 

The villain smiled. 

Izuku glared right back at him. 

“Ah, this is so exciting! The washed up Symbol of Hope and Victory in one place? This must be my lucky day!” A humorless chuckle, “It’ll be so nice to finally be rid of false idols like you. Especially you, Hero Deku,” the villain laughed, his tone coated in condescension, “you useless, worthless, quirkless, pathetic excuse for All Might’s successor!”

He looked down upon Izuku, but the former Symbol of Hope did not balk, not showing that the words had hit their mark, had struck one of his deepest nerves, had targeted some of his deepest insecurities.

No. He kept his fucking chin up. 

“What? No c’mon, where’s the rest of your bullshit villain manifesto that you want us to listen to?” Izuku challenged, and in what felt like the next moment, he saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. Panic seized throughout his entire body, and he was turning to try to stop—

“Kacchan, don’t—!”

But it was too late. Kacchan shoved him out of the way with a speed and precision he couldn’t predict, both palms open towards the villain’s face.

The starbursts and rain fell to the ground as the villain’s body thudded. 

And Kacchan was… laying on the ground, the rain pelting against his broken and bleeding body. 

Izuku ran to him, skidding onto his knees to bring Kacchan’s head into his lap, trying his best to shield him from the rain, because Kacchan hated the rain, and Kacchan loved the hoodie that was now destroyed, and Kacchan should be dry and warm and not hurt and—

His chest was… moving. His breathing labored, wheezing, but he was breathing. Scarred fingers trembled violently to brush his wet bangs out of his face. His other hand rested against his chest, needing to feel his heart beating, needing to remind himself that Kacchan was still alive, needing to protect his heart at any and all cost to himself. 

Sobbing, he screamed to anyone who could see or hear him, “W-We need help! Please, we have… there’s a hero down, please!”

Chapter Text

Katsuki pulled his hood over his head–a baggy, cream colored hoodie, with pastel green outlines on the pocket and down the sleeves–to help prevent the rain from falling onto him. He was grateful that he’d checked his phone before heading to the Quirk Facility, seeing the late-night message from Izuku, warning him about the weather. 

Their schedules were slowly driving Katsuki insane. Always almost within each other’s reach, yet always missing each other by just a handful of minutes. 

His early morning classes had been boring, uneventful. Every now and then though, he caught a gaze that lingered for too long, a face with an emotion too intense for Katsuki to describe, to focus on. 

Once his classes were done, as he was walking across campus, he’d been on his phone, scrolling through articles like ‘Best Multiplayer Games for the Switch’ and ‘Cozy Switch Games’ when he heard the first scream. 

Carmine eyes widened, his head whipping behind him, trying to track the sound, his heart thundering as he heard… more shrieks.

Old habits die hard. 

Before he could stop himself, he started running, abandoning his backpack, only grabbing the small support item Hatsume had forced into his hands at graduation. A small, compact item, that looked like a palm sized grenade, but when he unlatched the pin, it transformed into a real gauntlet. 

He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but he brought it, just in case. 

Katsuki’s feet pounded against the pavement, his hood whipping behind him as the rain pelted against his skin, and the screaming… it just got worse, and there was so much chaos, too much, too many people shoving and falling and trampling and—

“Head to the Engineering Department!” He shouted, praying his voice boomed through the mayhem. 

He had to push through so many bodies, and it reminded him of when he rescued Izuku, when he had been able to use his quirk as a distraction, to get them away, to get those hands off of him—

So that’s what he did. 

Images of his old class rep came into his mind. And if he could, he would’ve propelled himself into the air with his quirk. Only… that would wear him down, and if this was as bad as he was expecting (because how else could he expect an attack on his school to go, other than in utter devastation and destruction?) then he needed to preserve his strength. 

Katsuki found an area, towards the place he deemed the safest (the farthest, it seemed, from whatever was happening, a threat he had yet to identify, to assess), where he saw no one, and he sent off a slew of small explosions, which, for some reason, did not elicit more panic. 

The clamor and cacophony of sound stopped for a moment, and he raised his voice again, “Get everyone to the lecture halls in the Engineering Department!” His eyes scanned the crowd, about half the size as the crowd had been when they brought Izuku back to UA, after he ran away, but… unlike then, they seemed like… like they were hanging onto his every word.  

He had no time to consider why this was before he pointed at four random students, “Those will be your designated leaders. Follow in lines—if this is—”

The intercom crackled, announcing the evacuation, confirming a villain on campus. He scowled at the protocol, to leave campus would be to rush towards the source of the attack, where he could see smoke billowing, fires catching. 

And… nobody moved. They trembled, but they… looked to him, like… like how he used to look up to All Might. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Based on my training, you should get as far away from the attack as possible. The lecture halls have protective barriers and reinforcements. You can choose to try to leave, but if no heroes have shown up by now, that could mean communications are down.”

One of the people he’d pointed at, a young woman with a teal bob, and pale green skin, her fists trembling at her sides, what looked like gills on the sides of her neck, stepped forward. 

Her sapphire eyes glistened with tears as she said, “I… I think I speak for all of us, when I say that we’d rather follow your advice.”

The hurt in her eyes… it made his heart sink. Why was she looking at him like that, with… pity? 

Katsuki didn’t have time to figure it out, to mull on it. Not when the screams started again, farther away. 

His eyes focused on the girl. 

“Direct everyone towards the back of the campus, only one person should contact emergency services while another contacts the hero commission. If everyone calls, it’ll flood the lines and nothing will get done.”

Slipping into his training was… still natural, still as easy as breathing. 

“Tell the professors as soon as you get there. I’ll… I’ll…”

He didn’t know what to say. I’ll save the day? I’ll beat the villain? I’ll be a hero?

How could he say any of that with conviction, to reassure these civili—his peers—if he didn’t believe in them? Wasn’t one of the golden rules of being a hero to not ever make promises you can’t keep?  

She offered him a shaky smile, standing up a little straighter, “Hold the front line, Katsuki, just until reinforcements arrive.”

Something in his chest tightened at that, at the fact that he would… likely be the only person fighting. No backup, no support. But when she turned her back to him to start giving orders, he was reminded of Yaoyorozu. The calm but passionate and intentional guidance towards a plan. 

He had to push forward, bursting into a sprint again, against the current of bodies rushing towards him. And as he ran, he couldn’t help as his thoughts ricocheted around in his skull. 

Where was Izuku, what building was he in, were communications down, why was he doing this, he wasn’t a hero, he didn’t want to do this, why was his body still just moving on its own, why was everyone looking at him like that, why was this shit happening again, what kind of a villain was this, how did the campus’ defense systems not go up, was he even allowed to use his quirk like this, did universities even have defense systems like hero academies, what were they after, was Izuku—

He knew his heart monitor was giving him warnings every few minutes, from the buzzing in his pocket. Katsuki couldn’t stop now though. Because if he did… he knew he would be somewhere else, hearing different screams, and he couldn’t afford to do that. Not right now. 

The intercom echoed throughout the campus again, but it wasn’t an automated voice. 

“Where is the would be Symbol of Victory?! Won’t you come out to play, or did the shining hero die that day in The Coffin?!”

For a moment, he froze, his body being jostled by the sprinting students he tried to part through. 

This was… this was because of… him?

The rage he should’ve felt wasn’t there, drowned out by an overwhelming sense of fear and dread and—

“Dynamight!” A voice called for him from behind him, but not one he recognized. No, this student, a boy with a red target for an eye, and jet black hair… offered his hand to him. 

It was getting hard to breathe, as he remembered how one of his best friends, his Eijirou, had done that same thing, back at Kamino Ward. 

“I can get you there faster, I’ve got my target locked on the villain, you have to hold on—ya with me?!” 

It had to be the camaraderie of wanting to survive, an almost innate desire to save others. That had to be why he was helping, why the girl had—

In a moment, he unlatched the pin of his support grenade, arming his good arm before taking the hand offered to him. 

He didn’t even have time to react, not as the boy adjusted him onto his back, reminding him of that stupid game at the Sports Festival, when he’d been on Eijirou’s shoulders, as they weaved through the crowd at the speed of a missile—that had to be his quirk, the ability to lock onto a target, then maneuver his body there at impossible speeds. 

“Can you launch me at him?” Katsuki yelled, not even sure if the boy could hear him. 

He must’ve, because once they got towards the entrance of the library… the library that was covered in flames… his body catapulted towards something he could not see, his eyes scanning through the smoke until—

“NOW!” he heard the boy scream. 

He didn’t even think, he fired an attack, yelling as his hand, without his support heat resistant glove on, sizzled nauseatingly, gritting his teeth at the recoil, the pain rippling through him, without his proper hero suit, all of his support gear, almost feeling like… like his quirk could tear him apart.

Someone laughed, “Ahh, I knew you’d show up, Katsuki Bakugou.”

Without thinking, he ground out a, “Fuck you.”

The guy—lanky, no real muscle mass, grey hair that made his stomach churn uneasily—smirked. 

“Got ya.”

The next thing he knew, he was screaming, a splitting pain in his skull, falling to one knee, refusing to buckle entirely even as his brain seemed to catch ablaze. 

He was breathing too hard, unable to figure out how to stop the pain, a pain he hadn’t felt since… in the… 

A hand gripped his damaged shoulder painfully, causing him to shout in pain, as the villain leaned in close. He hadn’t been this close to a villain since—

“The Coffin, isn’t that right?” he finished the thought smoothly, and that’s when a vice grip squeezed around his heart. 

“Ya know, I didn’t want to believe it. That the Symbol of Victory, who helped save the world,  had become so useless. But having a look inside your brain, it’s clear to me that you reached your peak in high school.” 

A look inside—?

“He wishes you stayed dead.”

What was he—?

“Izuku Midoriya, sometimes he wonders if you should’ve stayed dead. Because the guilt of you giving up on the dream you shared makes him—”

Katsuki, having decided he had stalled for enough time, collected enough of the sweat in his damaged arm’s palm to strike the villain in the chest, gagging on the smoke from his own attack, coughing harshly before he forced himself back onto his feet.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm as he glared at the villain, who had, to his dismay, only stumbled back. But distance… distance was good, distance could—

“Save you? I don’t see the point in hoping for such things.”

He hadn’t exactly been keeping tabs on new or noteworthy villains, so he was flying blind, unable to take time to analyze and assess the situation. Because that… this wasn’t his world anymore. He didn’t want this anymore. 

The villain took a step forward, “You remember it, don’t you? How peaceful it felt… how you were no longer in pain… how, when you died, it had been the first time you felt free?”

He shook his head, because that wasn’t… that wasn’t true. Sure, maybe when he was dead, he didn’t feel… pain, or loss, or anger. But he did not feel free. His brows furrowed as his mind tried to figure out what this guy’s quirk was, wondering if it worked like Shinsou’s, with speaking as its trigger, or Aizawa’s, with eye contact as the trigger. Best to avoid both. 

Some kind of mind quirk, obviously. But it was so hard to think with the pulsing pain he felt behind his eyes, in his temples, in the nape of his neck. 

The smoke in his lungs made him feel sick, the ringing in his ears a reminder to rip out his hearing aids soon, but he had to push that down. Had to try to see what exactly his plan was. His tells. A rusted, unused skill of his. One he had learned from Izuku. 

“It won’t matter how this ends. I win even if I’m hauled away to prison, my message has been sent.”

Fucking awesome, a villain’s monologue, his favorite thing to listen to. 

“You aren’t curious, why the same peers who turned their nose up at you when you started here, suddenly helped you today? Why they look down at and pity you in a way they didn’t before?” 

Katsuki didn’t say anything, even as the dread settled into his chest, tightening like a hand around his throat. 

“UA doesn’t keep their Top Secret videofiles as secure as they should.”

What…

“There’s a need in our world; to still build back the trust the heroes who signed your death certificate allowed to collapse. Truths that everyday citizens deserve to know. And you, Great Explosion Murder God, are one of their dirtiest secrets.”

Wait…

The villain smirked again. 

“‘Can I still catch up to you, Izuku?’” 

Katsuki couldn’t stop the immediate reaction, the choked noise that escaped from his throat, the tears in his eyes. Maybe… maybe he was misunderstanding the bastard, maybe—

“Last I checked, the video of your death—the one UA tried so hard to cover up—was at one million views and counting. Interesting how they never deleted the footage, hm? Did you know The Coffin was mic'd up, recording everything?”

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, not as he felt a sob building in his chest, before he launched another attack at the villain, his clothes on fire against his body, which was resistant to his heat, but only to a point. And for whatever reason, he felt like his explosions were hotter than usual, more powerful than he was able to control as much as he needed to. 

The attack had forced him onto his knees, but when the villain opened his mouth again, the tears fell onto his face, his now half-exposed chest heaving as he glared at him, quickly ripping his hearing aids out with his less burnt hand, before bringing both hands together, screaming a “SHUT UP AND DIE!” 

Katsuki’s scream had only grown more intense as the rapid succession of explosions tore through his body. Was he going to tear apart again? Was his body going to falter and fail him again? Would Izuku—?

In the safe cover of his smoke, he clutched his chest, feeling his still beating heart, coughing so hard he thought he might throw up, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins forced him to hold his shit together , and hold his fucking chin up, just like he’d told—

He hadn’t even realized as the starbursts popped against his burnt flesh, but he heard a voice, his voice, and that snapped his attention away from the villain.

Izuku. Izuku was here. He had… he had come, even if Katsuki hadn’t had the time to call him. 

His heart’s speed felt unnatural, dangerous, but by the injuries now showing on the villain, his staggered steps, Katsuki… he could finish the job. Had to finish the job. Had to keep Izuku safe. 

Katsuki didn’t have more to consider, more to think about. His goal was simple: Keep Izuku safe. 

With the ringing and roaring in his ears, the sounds were muffled, words exchanged passing over his head, the pain coursing throughout his body helping to encourage more sweat production on every inch of his skin. Pride bloomed in his chest, a quick distraction from the pain, as he watched Izuku stand tall against the villain. That pride quickly turned to nausea as he wondered, for just a moment, what the villain could be saying to him, the lies and half truths he was feeding him. 

He distantly heard Izuku scream his name before his ultimate move ripped him apart, starburst explosions making his speed too fast and his explosions too strong, too hot. 

And as he immediately drowned in unconsciousness, there was… a tether. Something he held onto that he hadn’t been able to feel or find, in The Coffin. Something that drove him to hold on, forced his burnt hands to cling to the something, that glowed like golds and greens and yellows. The something that felt like a warm hand, holding his own. 

When he opened his eyes next, after blinking hard, a huff at how bright the lights were, he saw that he was no longer on the battlefield. He was no longer on the campus. 

An annoyingly familiar beeping of a monitor was the first thing he was greeted with. The white walls and itchy sheets his clear indicator that he was in a hospital (though he didn’t recognize which one). One look around, and though the lights still seemed bright to him, he realized they were dimmed, realized the moon was up, as he saw the dark sky from the open window. And the next was—

“Kacchan?”

He turned his attention to a chair, that had been brought right beside his hospital bed. Izuku was… okay. He wasn’t covered in bandages, his arms weren’t black and blue. He was okay. 

The deep bags and redness under his widened eyes made Katsuki’s heart crack. The tears already swimming in those emerald eyes. 

Someone must’ve put his hearing aids back in, and when he opened his mouth to speak, it was too dry, too raw (from the screaming, he realizes, probably the smoke inhalation too). 

And for a few moments, Izuku didn’t say anything. But when he did, his voice was thick with emotion. 

“We have… a lot to talk about, but… I’m so happy, that you’re a-alive, Kacchan.”

Katsuki’s throat tightened at that, and he swallowed hard, his eyes burning against the pain and the memories that came rushing forward. 

When he found his voice again, in a cracking whisper, body thrumming with pain and anxiety, tears in his eyes, he forced the question out, the question he needed an answer to…“So… you saw it? The… video?”

Chapter Text

The beeping of Kacchan’s monitor was the only thing to be heard, after his question. And Izuku’s hand itched to reach for Kacchan’s, but… both of his hands were bandaged, badly burned. And he couldn’t… risk hurting him (again). 

Izuku sat up a little straighter in his chair, wishing more than anything that he could trade places with him (again), wishing for nothing more than for Kacchan to be okay, and unharmed, and safe . 

Seeing those tears in his crimson eyes almost convinced Izuku to lie, to say he hadn’t seen it, hadn’t watched it, hadn’t betrayed an unspoken truce not to research the war beyond their survival of it. But… he couldn’t do that. 

His throat felt impossibly tight, and he couldn’t even look at Kacchan, instead focusing on a loose thread on the white hospital sheets. Letting his fingers toy with the string absentmindedly. 

“… I…” He couldn’t think of what to say, wanted to will his voice to even, to not break, to be strong , but, it was like he was back there all over again, finding his body in that field, every thought eddying out of his head before he could even hope to catch up to it as his heart seized in his chest. 

“I did,” he forced the words out, letting them ricochet like a bullet around the hospital room walls, letting them hang in the empty space between them. And despite himself, his lower lip quivered, but he fought back the burning tears in his eyes. He couldn’t break down. Not now, not when Kacchan—

“Are… are you okay?”

Izuku blinked at that. And it was such an absurd question that he laughed incredulously, startling the tears to fall onto his cheeks, even through the vice grip of anxiety around his throat. Despite himself, he looked back up, his smile wobbly and pained. 

“You just had to defend our entire campus against a villain attack, without your suit, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

That smile slowly fell as he saw the sincerity in Kacchan’s eyes, “Of course I’m asking, because you were right in his fucking path… idiot,” he reprimanded, no bite, breathlessly, from the effort it took to speak, or the damage to his lungs. 

“I’m… fine,” a lie, and one that, judging by the way crimson eyes leveled a glare at him, one Kacchan didn’t buy at all. 

“What?! I’m better than you are! You haven’t even… asked about your injuries.” 

Kacchan clicked his tongue, “ ‘I’m fine,’ ‘s just a coupla scratches. Not like I haven’t… been through worse.”

A muscle in Izuku’s jaw ticked, not missing the way the blonde parroted his own words back to him. His voice was soft, but low, as he spoke next, easily slipping into the analytical process, trying to parse through the information Kacchan’s mother had given Izuku before sneaking him into the room. 

“They’re bad , Kacchan. The parts of your body that burned, that was caused by your quirk getting too hot, too intense even for you to handle. Luckily the burns will heal, but they aren’t sure if there will be more nerve damage, because they had to focus the enhanced quirk healing on your lower airways, which were damaged enough that the doctors had to place you on a preventative treatment, in hopes that it doesn’t lead to an infection in your lungs. And your heart…”

His hands clenched into fists on the hospital bed, clutching that small section of the sheets without pulling them off or away from Kacchan. Izuku had been in the room then, when the doctor discussed his heart, and the way he spoke… it had filled Izuku’s chest with a similar anxiety he’d felt about his warning, about never being able to use his arms again, back when he was still figuring out how to… master One For All. Only this was so much worse, because if Kacchan used his quirk like that again, at that intensity, he would–

“Hey,” Kacchan’s softened voice cut through the pounding in Izuku’s ears, the thoughts and fears and nightmares that threatened to swallow him whole, forcing him to meet his eye, “I’m right here, aren’t I? Heart’s still beating, yeah?”

Izuku could only nod at that. And the silence that settled between them wasn’t calm, or comforting. No, it was more like… like they both knew something big, and dark, and scary, was waiting for them, lurking in the shadows around the corner. And they were, for a moment, both boys again, who hid from shadows beneath blanket forts. 

“Do you… I mean, do you want to…?” Kacchan’s voice was quiet, unsure. He grimaced as he tried to sit up straighter, move his body in ways he shouldn’t be moving yet. And Izuku couldn’t stop himself from placing a scarred hand so, so carefully over the bandaged hand closest to him. To ground him, to tether them here. They were both here , Kacchan was still breathing, and that had to count for something, in all of the haze of Izuku’s brain. 

Kacchan had been out for three days, of which, Izuku did not sleep, only eating the small snacks Kacchan’s parents brought with them. They didn’t even ask him to leave when they visited, and his heart had grown and cracked to see just how devastated Kacchan’s mother looked, as she brushed his bangs out of his face, or as his father’s eyes filled with such depthless sadness as he put on a smile to tell Kacchan about his day, while holding his hand gently, terrified to hurt him. 

“I… don’t know,” he answered honestly, because what could he even say? Apologize? How would an ‘I’m sorry’ even suffice? No, there weren’t enough words in all of the languages combined for Izuku to properly express… what was going on in his head, in his heart, in his soul. What do you say to someone who sacrificed everything, just to buy you time? What do you say to someone who had your name on their lips as the last word they ever spoke? 

He let out a shaky breath, “Do… you? Want to talk about–?”

“No,” Kacchan said quickly, and his eyes were wide, panicked. “Not… not here. Not right now.” A pause. “Is, I mean, is that okay…?”

Izuku nodded again, “Yeah that’s… there are other things we have to focus on, like your recovery, right?” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, and Kacchan moved his bandaged hand to hold onto Izuku’s.

“I promise, we’ll talk about… that soon, okay? I… I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it, since the war, and I…” his voice got quieter, his eyes shifting away, focused instead on their hands, “I’m sorry, that you had to–”

Before Izuku could even think to respond, to stop him because there was no way he was going to allow Kacchan to feel as though he owed him any apologies, the door to his hospital room opened. 

Only, instead of Kacchan’s parents, or care team, it was–

“I really hoped to meet again under different circumstances, Midoriya,” the Dean greeted, his tone formal, his face set in stone in a manner that, for a moment, reminded Izuku of the stoicism Sir Nighteye had. Only… he could tell, by the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, that this was some kind of an act, as the Police Chief stepped in. 

The same one he had faced after the encounter he’d had with Tenya and Shoto, where they faced off against Hero Killer Stain. 

Neither Izuku nor Kacchan move to let go of the other’s hand. 

This does not go unnoticed, by the pair of eyes that flicker to their joined hands then back to searching both of their faces. 

“I really thought you would have learned by now, Midoriya,” the Police Chief sighed, his hands behind his back. “And Bakugou, always encouraging such reckless behavior by acting on impulse—”

Izuku’s heart started pounding in his ears, his body feeling warm. Not from embarrassment, but fury , as his brows furrowed. And through the icy rage, his tone shifted, lowered, quieted.

“Reckless…? He… He didn’t do anything wr—”

“Oh?” the Dean cut in, and Izuku’s eyes slowly shifted to him, “So using a quirk, without a valid Provisional License, incapacitating and harming a civilian, actively going against protocol in a school evacuation, and endangering the lives of himself and others wouldn’t be considered wrong ?”

“He… saved people, he saved your campus , against a villain , not a civilian, he—”

“You aren’t kids anymore, Midoriya!” the Police Chief shouted, “you can’t just do whatever you want and get away with it! There are consequences to your actions!”

Kacchan’s voice sounded so weak as he asked, glaring down his nose, “What kind of consequences?”

The Dean raised his hands incredulously, “Well, suspension, for starters! A fine or two for the destruction, academic probation, possibly a reevaluation of your scholarship—!”

Izuku hadn’t heard the door slide open, but he saw as a boy, around their age, with jet black hair, and a dull red scope in one of his eyes, in a hospital gown, clutched the doorframe with a shaking hand, his other hand holding onto his side. 

Kacchan blinked, “Hey, I know y—”

The boy focused his attention on the Dean, standing up straighter even though it physically pained him to do so, as was apparent by the wince, the grimace on his face. 

“If you… want to suspend anyone… for using their quirk that day… without authorization… ” he spat the word out, “then you… need to suspend me too…”

“No, I acted al—” Kacchan started, his eyes wide, but… the other boy’s eyes softened, just for a moment (why did that make Izuku’s heart clench? Why did that make his hand, subtly, squeeze Kacchan’s hand?) 

“Check… the footage. Dynamight… wasn’t the only one… but he is… the only one… who saved our school.”

“Haruto…” the Dean warned, his eyes harsh and unforgiving. But the boy, Haruto, didn’t back down. 

“Even still,” the Police Chief continued, “you broke the law, by acting how you did. What would happen if just everyone with a quirk decided it was their civic duty to protect? How much more damage would they do? How many more people would die if we didn’t set the precedent that—?!”

“Shoto was right,” Izuku murmured, not looking up from his hand atop Kacchan’s, “to call you a mutt , back then.”

“Midoriya, Bakugou,” a new voice appeared, only this time, the tired voice did not make Izuku’s anxiety seize up, “you two just can’t seem to stay out of trouble, huh Problem Child?”

The tears in his eyes were some of the first true, genuine emotion he’d allowed his old homeroom teacher to see, after… the war. And by the look on Aizawa-sensei’s face, the sorrow in his eyes, he knew that he recognized it too. Saw a glimpse of the boy Izuku had been back when he wore his heart on his sleeve, instead of stitched away, somewhere deep within his chest. 

“These two are not your—”

Aizawa waved a hand at the Dean, not moving his attention away from his old Wonder Duo. “Still my students. Nothing will change that.”

“I would’ve thought they would know better, Aizawa, especially after our last meeting together,” the Police Chief huffed, and Aizawa wore a haunted smile as he forced his eyes away from Kacchan’s injured body, and onto a spot on the floor, where a new voice chimed in. 

“Do you mean the meeting with me, where I begged you to find any other way out of the war besides using our students?” Principal Nezu asked, as he walked to stand beside Izuku, whose tears fell freely onto his cheeks now. 

He’d… never known that, had always assumed that UA had willingly signed them up for the war, as opposed to being involuntarily forced. 

From the way Kacchan squeezed his hand, he hadn’t known, either. Or… was that just a reaction to a mention of the war? 

The Police Chief blinked, unable to speak, unable to respond to that, so the Dean stepped in. 

“Do you know how much I put my neck on the line to let these two in? How many complaints I’ve dealt with from parents and staff, because they don’t feel safe, with two—?”

“War heroes?” Aizawa asked, his tone sending chills even through Izuku, “That sounds more like a school culture problem to me.”

“That’s right. Besides, Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou are two of the best students to have ever walked the halls of our school,” Nezu hummed in thought. “But, speaking of the culture at your school, I’ll be reaching out to both the Hero Public Safety Commission as well as the Accreditation Board regarding your campus. It sounds as though both your treatment towards people with quirks is, at best, extremely lacking, and at worst, promoting a harmful stigma and encouraging discrimination.”

“You should… talk to them about the evacuation protocol… too,” Haruto said quietly, “if we had… listened… more than two people would’ve… gotten hurt.”

Nezu offered a nod at that, “Consider it done.” He offered Izuku a sad, knowing smile before looking at Kacchan, “As for Young Bakugou, he will be receiving ample accommodations, while he’s healing. He will follow the protocols at UA, after an injury this severe. He will take courses and complete schoolwork online, as he focuses on his recovery. He will not be penalized for this, he will not be suspended for picking up the slack of the administration on his new campus. Is that understood?”

It was silent in the room, and Aizawa went to stand beside Haruto, a hand placed lightly on his shoulder, “Same goes for this young man, depending on the extent of his injuries. What kind of a precedent would we be setting if we punished people for stepping into action when heroes and police can’t be contacted?”

The Dean’s face was red as he clenched his jaw, “They will both be on academic probation, until they can prove they can handle their coursework at home.”

Nezu hummed again, “For one month, before their probation is lifted.”

Thankfully, neither the Dean nor the Police Chief could say anything else. Not with… a new Protection Squad surrounding Kacchan. They turned on their heels and left, and Izuku… he could only hope it would end there, that Kacchan wouldn’t be targeted anymore, for… for being a hero, license or not. How could anyone blame him for trying to win that day? How could anyone try to punish him simply for being a hero at heart? 

He ignored how the thought made his heart crack open within his chest. 

“C’mon kid, let’s get you back to your room,” Aizawa said softly to Haruto, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder, as Kacchan’s voice, thick with emotion, called out. 

“Thank you,” he let out a shaky breath, and Izuku watched as his crimson eyes welled with tears, as they went from Haruto, to Aizawa, to Nezu, to Izuku… “You didn’t have to… do that, for me.”

Haruto swallowed hard before offering a sad smile, “After what… you did for us? It was nothin’… ‘sides, it was… pretty freaking cool… don’t you think?”

Kacchan… smiled at that, and once Aizawa found a nurse to bring Haruto back to his room, he came to the bedside, letting a hand ruffle his blonde hair. 

“Glad you’re still with us, Bakugou. Don’t ever do something this stupid again, you hear me? If you even think you need to, bring your hero suit with you to classes, will you?”

“Tch,” he leaned his head out of Aizawa’s reach, “whatever, not like this should happen again, right?”

“That reminds me,” Nezu said as he walked towards the door, “I’ll also need to talk to the HPSC about M.U.’s lack of a barrier system. Almost every publicly accessible campus had to enforce them, after the worst of the war began.”

After a beat of silence, Nezu spoke again, “And… I apologize, for… the video being leaked to the public. We’ve scrubbed most of its existence online, and will keep monitoring and deleting until it’s out of the public’s mind.”

Kacchan had frozen, tensed, at the mention of it, so Izuku… rubbed his thumb as softly as possible over his bandaged hand. 

He only offered a nod, and then, just as quickly as they’d assembled, Kacchan’s Protection Squad was… gone, reduced to just Izuku. 

There was too much to say, in the silence that followed. And it was hard, to check in with his own body, to realize that… that some of the fatigue he was feeling wasn’t simply from neglecting to eat, or sleep, these past few days. 

Izuku offered a small smile, “Guess that means we’ll still be able to have our Game Night when you’re released from here, right?”

The question startled a laugh out of Kacchan, who then winced before groaning, finally laying his head back against the pillows. But when he looked over at Izuku with that cocksure grin, Izuku couldn’t help as his own smile widened. 

“Do your worst, nerd. I’ll still be running circles around you, even if we are just playing that game where you fish and catch bugs.”

Izuku chuckled at that, “Game on, Kacchan.”

Chapter Text

People don’t typically plan for the day they’re going to die. They try not to think about it, try to keep those thoughts of their impending demise at bay, to instead focus on the here and now, to instead focus on how to be alive. 

Unless, of course, your name is Izuku Midoriya, who did plan for the day he was going to die, back in high school. When he ran away, during his hours and nights alone, he would think about what he wanted his funeral to look like. How he didn’t want it to be sad. How he wanted to be buried in his hero suit. How he wanted to be remembered as the brave boy who saved the world, and died an honorable death. How he hoped All Might would be there for his mom. How he hoped Kacchan would be proud of him. 

Izuku hadn’t realized then that a person can actually die countless times, in more subtle, unnoticeable ways. He hadn’t realized that a piece of him had in fact died that day (probably when he saw Kacchan). And again when he lost his arms. And again when he killed Tenko. And again when lost his quirk, save for some embers. And again, and again, and again.

He had no way of knowing that he would die a little again today, too. 

It started in a way that was too subtle to actually identify. It started with exhaustion, but it had made sense to him, at the time. The bone deep exhaustion coming from his inability to sleep well, after seeing that video, after Kacchan was released from the hospital. Making sure he was getting the care he needed. Trying to do everything in his power to worry his… best friend less, as his body tried to heal. 

Then that naturally bled into a loss of appetite. Izuku just… didn’t feel hungry anymore, only snacking on something here or there whenever Kacchan would scold him, or (worse) whenever his face would pinch with concern. 

The food he did eat, tasted different. Bland. Like every bite was little more than pieces of cardboard. 

But the worst part, was how cold he felt. In the beginning of Spring, he found himself still taking a jacket or cardigan with him to class, because if he didn’t, his hands or arms would tremor slightly, and his toes felt cold to the point of pain. It reminded him of the feeling of coldness he’d felt after being discharged, after the war. When he’d been diagnosed with anemia from blood loss. And now he would have to live in this state of perpetual coldness for the rest of his life. 

Only, this coldness was different. The coldness was unending and constant, no matter what he wore, no matter how many blankets (a minimum of three) he fell asleep with. A coldness that made his entire body ache, and beg for warmth. 

Izuku had his jaw clenched as he walked to class that day. His grip tight on the straps of his backpack, his scarred arms quivering just so beneath his orange sweater and green, fleece-lined cardigan. 

As he stepped into his literature class (oddly he was the first one to arrive, he’d been losing track of time, too), Kibou-sensei greeted him, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose at his podium, still reading something, “Hello, welcome in, how are—?”

When he looked up, he took one look at Izuku and, though his face remained passive, the quiet hum and quickness of setting the papers he’d been reading down told Izuku all he needed to know. He’d gotten used to it, the pitying stares. Not that Kibou-sensei was looking at him with just pity, there was something else, something he couldn’t quite place. 

Before Izuku could start to respond to the half-asked question with a generic, programmed, ‘I’m fine! How are you?’, his professor said, “I think you should take today off. Go be with your hero partner, okay kid?”

Green eyes had widened at that, and he felt his heart plummet to his feet. 

Kibou-sensei must have sensed this, so he added, “There are many different ways to be a hero, you know. Go, I’ll send your work in an email, and I’ll see you after the break.”

It didn’t exactly sound like a suggestion, so Izuku simply nodded, bowing and mumbling a ‘thank you’ before leaving. 

Izuku Midoriya lost the last of the embers as he was walking back to his apartment. 

He was almost out of the campus when his heart seized and stuttered within his chest. A feeling so shocking and painful it gave him pause, made him gasp softly from the sensation. It wasn’t fleeting, like the scares of this he had experienced before. No, this feeling stuck. 

But he could walk through it. He muttered a curse, so he could talk through it. So, maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was thinking it was, maybe this was just… the next stage, in losing the embers. But he could deal with this pain, would accept it willingly, if it bought him a whisper of more time with the ghost of his former glory, and power, and meaning. 

He took a step, and that’s when he felt… both heavy and light, all at once. Heavy within, and light without. Like when Kacchan would hug him tight, holding his shattering pieces together, only this was feeling Izuku got whenever he let go, whenever he slowly broke again. Only this time, Kacchan wasn’t here to ruffle a hand through his hair, or even just talk to him. 

Unbidden tears welled in his eyes, and he cast a quick glance around him. Luckily, with the short break coming up the next day, most students were already off campus, or packing (something that, in the back of his mind, he had to finish doing, and helping Kacchan with). As he was looking, he noticed a small, tucked away alcove, on the side of the education building. 

Once he slipped into the nook, Izuku let himself slide down against the faux brick wall, bringing his knees to his chest as he closed his eyes, and tried so hard to steady his breathing. He couldn’t panic, not here, not now. He couldn’t… he couldn’t startle the embers anymore than he already—

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sob. For he did not see the trees and walkway. 

No, he saw Kudo, standing before him, with Yoichi’s standing beside him, in the vestige realm he had missed so terribly. 

He furrowed his brows, ‘But, I don’t understand, I… I lost you after the war, you shouldn’t be here, you should—‘

‘Still a talker, huh?’ Kudo interrupted with a sad, knowing smile, before he added, ‘Not sure how we got here. I think it’s because you needed us, to help you through this.’

Izuku felt sick, ‘Help me? Through what? I’m not—‘

Yoichi stepped forward and crouched in front of Izuku, who, without realizing, had transformed into the child version of himself, like that day when he stupidly vowed to save the crying boy. 

‘Please,’ he begged, as tears streamed down his cheeks, ‘p-please don’t leave again. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for not being enough, I’m so sorry that I fai—‘

One of Kudo’s hands rested on Yoichi’s shoulders, while the other formed a fist that tapped on Izuku’s chest lightly, ‘You never failed us, kid. 

Yoichi nodded, ‘We are honored to have had you as the last user. You became the greatest hero this world has ever seen… you just have to believe it for yourself.’

Izuku choked on a sob, shaking his head, like a petulant child. If he just refused to accept this, it couldn’t happen (right?)

‘Midoriya,’ Kudo’s voice was urgent, which only meant one thing. 

They were running out of time. 

Izuku was running out of time. 

The second user’s eyes bore into his own, ‘Don’t live your life with any regret, Izuku Midoriya.’

Yoichi looked up at Kudo before focusing his attention once more onto Izuku. ‘Never forget that you have always had, and will always have, the heart of a hero, Deku.’

He’d opened his mouth to reply, but a sob came out, instead. 

And when his eyes reopened, he was once again in the alcove on campus. Only… he wasn’t alone. 

There had been a girl who’d visited Kacchan, when he was in the hospital. Izuku had only met her in the hallway, while he was waiting for the doctors to finish going over their reports with Kacchan. She had teal hair, mint green skin, and very subtle gills on the side of her neck, with piercing sapphire eyes. Her name was Misa. 

She had crouched down in front of him, before offering her hand. She didn’t wear a smile, only… a look of understanding. Compassion where pity or annoyance should have been, for finding the has-been Symbol of Hope in such a state. 

“Can you walk?” she asked, “If not, I can put you in one of my bubbles? It could carry you for most of the way, I think?”

He just shook his head, beyond words, beyond the ability to fake the facade of being okay for everyone else’s sake. He was hollow—was his heart even still beating? He couldn’t feel it, or hear it, and that thought both did and didn’t send a pang of panic through him. He shivered at the damn coldness settling into his body more thoroughly now, even despite his jacket… 

Was this how Kacchan felt, when he’d died? 

He couldn’t even cry as fully as he wanted to, the tears just slipping in a constant stream down both of his cheeks. 

“Okay… It’ll take me a couple minutes to make the bubble, I—“

He stood up, and Misa was quick to hook an arm through his. Izuku couldn’t protest, not as his knees buckled under the nothingness coursing through his veins. 

Neither of them spoke, as they headed towards the apartment. Misa only knew about it from sending Kacchan food and care kits (that his best friend had originally protested against, but it was Izuku that convinced him that she just wanted to help in some way). 

There was nothing. Nothing in his body, Nothing in his head. Only a lone whispering wind, not even a roaring in his ears. Just silence that deafened him. 

Was this how Kacchan felt, without his hearing aids?

Each step dizzied him further. His sense of balance was off now, a piece of himself having been ripped away before he could even properly prepare. 

He was quirkless now. 

Why couldn’t I have died with Tenko? Why was he now forced to live half alive?

He had nothing. He was nothing. Useless, weak, pathetic, wannabe hero. 

He could… never be a hero again. 

Some part of him had known that, logically, he would lose the embers, but… All Might held on for so long, right? Years after his injury. Years of still being a hero. 

Izuku thought he had more time. 

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of his apartment door. Misa knocked, knowing that Kacchan was supposed to be slowly easing out of his bedrest, and into normal everyday activities and routines. 

After a couple minutes, the door opened, and Kacchan’s eyes widened immediately. 

“Izuku? What’s happened, are you hurt, was there another att—?”

“I don’t know,” Misa interrupted, “I was going to my little ‘calm down’ corner, to prepare for a big presentation I have this evening, in my next class, and I found him there, and…”

Izuku couldn’t look away from Kacchan, his eyes couldn’t stop searching crimson, noting the flecks of gold that became illuminated in the setting sunlight. Because… despite this crippling emptiness, he felt his heart do something at seeing him. What that something was, he didn’t know, couldn’t label it, the vocabulary too far beyond his reach. 

Kacchan, whose burns had mostly healed by now, only a shiny layer to his skin on his neck, his undamaged arm, parts of his abdomen… but, according to Kacchan, at least it didn’t hurt. Kacchan, who only got so injured because Izuku hadn’t been able to summon the embers. Kacchan, who now had to practice even more calming techniques to keep his heart steady, to keep his heart safe, because Izuku hadn’t ever been able to control his heart around him. Maybe if he had tried harder, the embers wouldn’t have left him. If he had proven that he could still be a hero… That he could finally save Kacchan… That he was still deserving…

A hand reached for his own, to slip Izuku’s arm across the back of his neck, as Kacchan helped him inside, the other arm gently wrapping around his waist to guide him in, as Izuku had made no movement. Just stared and stared and stared at everything and nothing. 

He heard a brief exchange between the two, he heard the door close, and he felt… A hand, on his scarred cheek. Forcing his eyes away  from the spot on the floor they’d fixated on, and back to Kacchan’s. Kacchan who was standing right in front of him. Kacchan whose hand felt so warm on his chilled cheek. Kacchan whose eyes made him feel something again. 

“Hey,” he whispered, “What’s going on, what happened, are you—?”

Izuku didn’t think. 

His body moved on its own. Leaning forward, closing the distance between them, he closed his eyes and… pressed his lips to Kacchan’s, in the softest peck. 

And Kacchan did not pull away, or hesitate. No, he leaned into every touch, chasing Izuku, his hands gripping Izuku’s waist tightly, pulling him close, closer still. 

And then… something sparked within his chest, and it made Izuku gasp against those soft lips before his scarred hands reached up to hold Kacchan’s cheeks, their bodies naturally flush against each other, as their unknowing and inexperienced lips moved together in clumsy harmony. 

Kacchan let out a shaking breath against him, and only when Izuku felt confident that his heart would be okay, that he’d gotten enough oxygen in his lungs, did he dive back into the kiss. Growing just a little bolder, sliding his tongue against his teeth, asking for permission, for him to open his mouth, and when Kacchan did, with the softest hitch of his breath, Izuku hummed as he tasted him, as their tongues intertwined in a way that reminded Izuku of how their hands and fingers fit together, in the hospital. 

Kacchan was the first to pull away, his cheeks flushed, panting softly, resting his forehead against Izuku’s, smiling so lightly in a way that made Izuku’s heart stutter and seize within his chest. 

Kacchan… oh god. 

Kacchan deserved better than this. Better than him. Better than the boy who killed him by not being able to control his heart. 

“Izuku, I—“

Izuku stumbled back a step, out of his touch, his eyes shining with tears, and Kacchan’s face fell just as quickly as it had brightened. 

“Iz—“

“I’m… so sorry, Kacchan. I…” Izuku shook his head, backing up another step as Kacchan took a step forward. 

He didn’t know what else to say, before he rushed to his room, closing the door loud enough to be heard, though not aggressively.

His phone pinged, at first, with notifications from Kacchan’s heart monitor app, and his hands shook violently as he resisted the urge to find him, open his door, explain (maybe kiss him again?), but he… didn’t move. He couldn’t.  

After about an hour, he heard Kacchan’s text tone. 

6:54 P.M. ‘Hag will be picking me up soon for the break.’

6:55 P.M. ‘I’ll… see you later, Izuku.’

6:56 P.M. ‘I hope you’re okay.’

6:57 P.M. ‘Just fucking… text me, or call me, if you need anything, okay nerd?’

Izuku opened the messages, but didn’t respond. Not as he sank down onto the floor, his back pressed against the door, before he curled in on himself, trying to… hold himself together, to mimic how he felt whenever Kacchan held him. 

When he emerged from his room hours later, long after the moon had rose, Kacchan was gone. The apartment… too quiet. At one point though, when Izuku could only assume Kacchan was still there, he’d sworn he’d heard footsteps near his door, but they’d receded. 

This was… for the best. Some space after Izuku fucked everything up so spectacularly. Some time to figure out how to get things back to how they had been (even if Izuku couldn’t stop thinking about how Kacchan’s lips felt against his). They could go back to being best friends. They could… get back to normal. 

It was just a three day holiday. Three days would be enough time, right? Izuku would be able to go without talking to, or seeing Kacchan, for just three days…

… Right?

(Wrong).

Chapter Text

Katsuki thought that dying would be the most pain he’d ever feel in his life. 

As if it could ever be that simple. 

When he looked back on the day he had died, he felt… calm. As he limped towards Shigaraki, determined to be a hero, to go out in a literal blaze of glory, he could only feel a wave of resolve wash over him as his quirk quickly overwhelmed him. The adrenaline coursing through his body had masked the terror that had seized at his already frantic and faltering heart. Because he had to do this. He had to give it his all, to win for Izuku, to buy him more time. 

To save him… to finally become someone worthy of being his hero. 

Yeah, dying had been the easy part. He learned in one of his classes that, when a cardiac episode is occurring, it creates an amnesiatic effect, which he assumed was why his memories were as confusing as they were to him. No pain, but peace. The calmest he’d felt in years. If he was being honest? When he’d died, that had been the calmest he’d felt since before his damn quirk manifested. 

Coming back? He could barely remember that. All he could really recall was the pain, blinding and unforgiving and fucking everywhere. But, when he looked down and saw Izuku? That all disappeared. And he suddenly had his reason again. His reason to get the fuck up, to keep fighting, to win and save side by side with Deku. 

Everything after the war? The physical therapy, the quirk counseling on account for his shitty heart fucking with his stamina, the actual mandated therapy where he mainly scowled at nothing, everyone in Class-A avoiding each other like the plague, Izuku trying to shut himself away from everything… 

But honestly? Katsuki would take all of that – the dying, the pain, the uncertainty post-war – over this. 

The car ride home from his… their apartment, was silent. And if he cried to himself in the backseat, aside from some worried red eyes looking back at him from the rearview mirror, his mother didn’t say anything. She knew, more than most, that sometimes, when the panic or stress or weight got too heavy, he couldn’t talk, couldn’t fathom making words, let alone explaining what had upset him. 

How had he managed to get Izuku in his arms, warm lips against his own, hands tangled in his hair, and in the next moment, push him away again? 

Katsuki drudged up into his room. Maybe if he could just go to sleep…

Who was he kidding? 

He couldn’t believe he’d already forgotten how cold his parents place was – out of habit, on account of his quirk causing him to overheat, but after the war, after all that blood loss (and the lack of use of his quirk), he felt so cold. Both him and Izuku did. It’s why they kept their apartment somewhat on the warmer side, to try to prevent the almost insufferable, ever present chill that lingered in their bones now. 

Even bundled under two blankets, he couldn’t stop the incessant chatter of his teeth, the small tremor in his arms. Try as he might, his laptop set up by his parents, playing some Edgeshot Special, he couldn’t fall asleep, even with the exhaustion that was slowly gluing him to his childhood bed.

His phone buzzed, and his eyes widened as he let out a sharp exhale. A phone call… 

Without thinking, he picked up.

“Hello? Izuku?” His voice sounded raw, and he only felt more tears build in his eyes as he heard a different, but still familiar voice. 

“Kats? Oh… No, it’s just me,” Kyoka’s words bounced around in his skull, though never really landing. Not with how defeated she sounded. 

After almost a minute of quiet over the soft static, she asked, “You okay KitKat?” 

And maybe it was the softness in her voice, something she really only used with their squad, or maybe it was the nickname she’d given him in high school that he pretended to hate but secretly found so comforting, or maybe it was the question, or an amalgamation of everything all at once, but he couldn’t stop the soft sob that bubbled up from somewhere deep in his chest, his eyes squeezing shut, one hand gripping his phone, the other clutching tightly to the fabric of his forest green shirt. 

“Hey, heyheyhey, shit, I’m on my way. Just hang tight for me okay? Can you do that?” 

He shook his head, not really understanding that she couldn’t see him as the sobs wracked through him, the pain in his chest near debilitating – a pain that had started as soon as he got into the car, and only got worse the further he was taken from Izuku. 

They’d been so close, they’d been right there, in each other’s arms – fuck, how long had he dreamt of that? Of somehow sorting through their shit enough, just enough, to leave space for each other? 

He couldn’t exactly hear Kyoka’s words on the phone as she tried to talk to him, but it helped all the same, to know she hadn’t hung up. That at least she… hadn’t given up on him. 

Is that what happened? Did Izuku kiss him, realize his mistake and… start to give up on him, on yet another dream they were supposed to be sharing together? 

Why did he think I was a mistake?

“Kacchan?”

His heart stopped. He blinked quickly, trying to press the phone closer to his ear, trying to hear his voice again, but he could only hear Kyo. Was this it? Was he finally going insane? 

A hand on his cheek forced him to take in a shaky breath of air. And this hand had scars he would recognize anywhere. 

It took his eyes a moment to adjust, his mind still trying to catch up to what was in front of him. Emerald eyes were wide with worry, with their own sheen of unshed tears. Izuku was… here? Standing in front of him? 

Katsuki couldn’t think, couldn’t try to understand why the other boy was here, how he’d gotten here so fast (maybe All Might? Did the old man have a car service or somethin?), not as the thumb on his cheek… slowly stroked against the skin of his scar. And the touch was so soft, and his hand felt so warm, that it forced him to at least try to pay attention. 

“Kacchan, can you hear me?” 

A slow nod. 

“Can we… talk?” 

The blonde wanted to scowl, but really, he was dumbfounded. It wasn’t often that Katsuki Bakugou was at a loss for words. But right now? 

“Why are you– I thought…?” His voice was still thick, and he didn’t realize he never hung up on one of his best friends as he let the phone find its way onto the bed. 

It was like he was waking up from his medically induced coma all over again. Everything was hazy, his heart was galloping in his chest, his face felt numb…

Wait. No. This wasn’t like waking up. This was like –

“You have no idea how much I wanted your autograph…”

Katsuki’s brows furrowed, putting the pieces together, mirroring the deep breaths he was seeing from the other boy, to calm his ever erratic heart. He realized all at once that Izuku wasn’t here. It was only then that he noticed the dark green swirls and mists of air where his legs should be, curling around the wrist of the hand still ghosting his own scarred cheek. 

“You’re… a vestige? But, how am I –?”

Izuku’s vestige smiled fondly, a smile he had only seen re-emerge a few times since the war. “That didn’t take you long.” A heartbeat of silence. “Have you ever wondered why you were able to see All Might’s vestige, after you…”

If the night hadn’t been so damn heavy, Katsuki might’ve snorted at that. That, even like this, the nerd could barely utter the words ‘You died.’ 

But Katsuki didn’t react, not beyond shaking his head. “No,” he answered, his voice a low mumble (because he did not need his parents to snoop and hear him talking to himself), “I just thought it was my brain trying to comfort me or something.”

Izuku’s vestige searched Katsuki’s eyes with an intensity that almost made the blonde look away what he wouldn’t give to have the real Izuku look at him like this. 

“That’s usually with memories, right? ‘Your life flashes before your eyes,’ and all that?” Izuku’s vestige looked pensive, hesitant, “You can see me for the same reason you saw All Might back then. Because… do you remember Nabu Island at all, Kacchan?”

Katsuki let out a huff, lightly raking his less injured hand through his hair, “Barely, why?” If his tone sounded annoyed, it’s because he was frustrated. Frustrated at whatever Izuku’s vestige was dancing around. 

Now Izuku’s vestige looked down, the hand on Katsuki’s cheek falling down, along with his head. It almost looked like a bow (weird). But now Katsuki felt even colder, even more alone than before. 

“There’s a reason for that,” he said slowly, barely braving to look at the other (how could a damn vestige be this shy? How did Izuku ever get any information before?) “The long story, I’ll save for you and the real Izuku to have. But the short version is that there was a battle, and I… transferred One For All to you.” 

The words were spoken quickly, but Izuku’s vestige allowed Katsuki time to process that. But all he could do was blink. And blink again. 

If there was anything he knew about the vestiges, it was that they typically couldn’t last long. So he was going to have to comb through that information (with an interrogation of both Izuku and All Might) later. 

“Okay, so we’ve established how you’re here but not here… but you haven’t gotten to the why,” Katsuki said bluntly, though his tone was soft, and not just to try to keep his voice down. Because that’s just naturally what happened these days with Izuku, being soft in ways even Katsuki felt unfamiliar with at times, yet felt so natural too. 

When Izuku’s vestige looked up, there was such… grief, and sadness, and heartbreak in his eyes, that Katsuki had to suppress his own rising crescendo of emotion, namely the age-old panic building in his chest, threatening to constrict his airways. Was Izuku, his Izuku, okay? 

“I lost the last of the embers today,” Izuku’s vestige said in a small, quiet voice, and all Katsuki could do was bite down on his bottom lip hard to keep it from quivering. The words, each one was a bullet aimed straight at his fragile heart. The words he’d been dreading to hear ever since that day in the fucking hospital, after the war was won, ever since he broke down upon learning that Izuku, the kid who saved the fucking world, would one day become quirkless again. 

“I thought… you would have more time,” Katsuki whispered, the only thought bouncing around in his head, followed by, “you… you deserved more time.”

And just like that, his eyes widened. “Shit… I have to get to you, the real you. Shit, fuck, I am so stupid, all the signs were there, I should’ve seen it, should’ve been thinking, fuck!”

In a flash he was up, shucking his arms into his jacket with a wince on his face at the strain, grabbing his All Might scarf (which he definitely did not get for the sole purpose of matching with Izuku’s), reached for his phone and –

Before he could grab the device, Izuku’s vestige reached a hand to Katsuki’s, who froze. There was a wobbly smile on his face, so reminiscent of those early days in UA, before the League and the war, back when they were just shitty teenagers with dreams brighter than the stars. 

“I’m so lucky… to have you, Kacchan. You’re… my hero.”

If Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat, it only showed with the subtle pink flush on his cheeks, “Then I guess I have to come out of my early retirement and save your dumbass, huh?” he asked, trying to sound casual but his voice was thick with emotion. 

Izuku’s vestige chuckled, “Do your best, Kacchan.”

“Always do,” he murmured, grabbing his phone, his ears burning red as he realized Kyoka was still on the phone. 

Wait… that was a good thing, right?

“Hey… Kyo? You heading this way?”

“Yeah,” she replied quickly, “I’m less than fifteen minutes away.”

“Good,” he said, “you have to take me back to my dorm. Izuku… needs me.”

“Roger that KitKat!”