Bakugo didn't see the villain charge him from the darkness of the alley. But Kirishima did. He had a sixth sense about all things Bakugo; especially when he was charging head-first into harm's way. Shoving his agency partner away, he unleashed his hardening Quirk, bracing for impact. Landing on his ass, Bakugo sat up just in time to see Kirishima and the villain wink out of sight. And that was the best way Bakugo could describe what he saw. There for a moment, then gone the next, in hardly the blink of an eye.
"Red! Hey, you damn goofy bastard, show yourself! If you took off to bring that bastard in without me, I'm gonna be pissed!" As Bakugo surveyed the area, his gut gradually burned with something he hadn't felt in some time. Fear.
"Seriously, Kirishima, this is bullshit. Just get back here!" He grew more frantic as his searching turned up nothing. His yelling did catch the ears of some nearby heroes, and as he explained the situation, they started looking as well. One of them called it in as a missing person's incident, and once Bakugo heard that, his heart felt like it was twisting within his chest. Clenching his shirt, he dropped to his knees and slammed his free hand against the ground, his Quirk creating a small crater.
"Hey, Kacchan, it'll be alright. Everyone is looking for him, so it's only a matter of time before you get to see him again, okay?" Deku must have heard the report going over the network, this wasn't even his section for patrols.
"I don't need you to tell me that, Deku. He's here, I know he is. I'll find him, and when I do, I'm going to beat his ass for causing me so much trouble." But for all the posturing and big talk, his mind couldn't forget the last look on Kirishima's face as he pushed him out of the way. Those warm, kind eyes even in the face of danger. They relayed a sense of trust that Bakugo felt he didn't deserve most of the time. Especially now that he had gone missing.
He recalled that toothy grin that he always shared with Bakugo whenever he was talking to him. He thought of how he had only just this morning kissed those lips before stepping out of their apartment to start their day. How Kirishima had wanted more, but Bakugo turned him down, telling him to wait until later. Work came first.
He felt the cold, stinging pain of regret for that now.
Canvasing the area several times over, Bakugo was worn out. Their shift had ended hours ago. They should have been getting dinner before heading back home by now. It was Kirishima's turn to choose the food, and he always chose the Korean BBQ joint just down from their apartment. He liked grilling the meat, although once he got into a conversation, he'd forget what he was doing, often burning the food. Bakugo wished he was sitting across from him now, watching him struggle to pull the overcooked beef from the grill. He longed for the taste of that scorched food now, cooked by his partner and lover.
It took several other pros to finally get Bakugo off the street. Deku was the one to take him home, knowing where he lived. He led Bakugo to his couch and sat him down, then made his way to the kitchen to find something for his friend to eat. Setting the plate of hot noodles in front of him, Deku placed a hand on Bakugo's shoulder.
"We'll find him, Kacchan. You need to rest now and eat. Wearing yourself out isn't going to get him back any faster. Do you want me to stay with you?"
"Just go, Deku. I got this," was all Bakugo said in reply. He was too exhausted to blow the nerd's hand off his shoulder or even scream at him.
Deku nodded, retracting his hand. "Very well, get some sleep. I'll call you in the morning. Daylight may show us something we haven't found yet. Good night, Kacchan."
The morning light met Bakugo in the same position that Deku had left him. If he slept, it hadn't been restful. Quickly eating the cold noodles Deku had made, Bakugo set out to search for Kirishima again.
He was met with a cold trail. There was nothing different at the scene now that the sun had risen. Still, he didn't stop looking. Gradually, the other heroes went back to their own patrols and missions. Deku insisted that Bakugo return to his agency to get debriefed. Finally relenting, he went in, made his official incident reports, and nearly broke down when he had to put in another missing person's report. Filling in all the information, it hit him so hard just how much he missed him. If this was how he handled things without Kirishima for one fucking day…
"We have to face facts here, Bakugo. It's been nearly seven years since Kirishima's disappearance. Despite what your gut's telling you, the law is clear. Missing persons are legally declared dead by the seventh year without any sign of life."
"I know the fucking laws, but that doesn't mean shit to me. He's still out there, I'd know if he had…"
The representative from the Hero Public Safety Commission shook his head. This hadn't been the first time they'd had this conversation with Bakugo.
"Still, we're no longer required to provide support in this case. It's going to be officially closed in a few days. It may be good for you to consider it closed as well. Good day," the man in the suit said with the tip of his hat as he left Bakugo's office.
Slamming his fist against his desk, Bakugo kept his screaming internal, unwilling to deal with his nosey co-workers anymore.
"Fuck them. I don't need their assistance to find him." The visit had ruined any chance he had of being productive now, so he checked out for the day. It was almost time for his next session, anyway.
Bakugo walked into the small shop, the scent of disinfectant and body odor making a disgustingly comforting mix in the air.
"Ahh, there's my favorite customer. Everything's ready in the back," the skinny guy behind the counter said.
Walking into the side room, the large black chair was situated in the middle with several stainless-steel side tables lined up on either side. Bakugo reached for the hem of his black shirt and pulled it off. He never strayed from his workout regimen in the years since Kirishima went missing. Taunt muscle writhed under his tanned skin as he removed his shirt. The mirror in the room showed the reason he was here.
The dragon's tail went between Bakugo's thumb and first finger, so when he made a fist, it looked as though he had grabbed hold of it. The slim tail grew as it wound up his right arm. It had a red gradient, deep crimson at the dragon's back, fading into a lighter shade at its belly. Continuing, it dipped down his back, sliding along Bakugo's shoulder blades before appearing over his left shoulder. The attention to detail was impressive, each scale meticulously placed. Hidden in plain sight, dates blended into the dragon tattoo if one looked close enough. But Bakugo never let anyone get close enough.
"This has to be the longest I've ever worked on a piece, man. When do you plan on finishing it?" said the tattoo artist as he prepared the next section with transfer paper. This next session would have the dragon reaching Bakugo's chest, traversing his left pectoral muscle.
"When I catch the dragon."
Nodding, the artist set to work. Bakugo had appeared at the shop six years ago, asking him if it was possible to make one continuous tattoo. Of course he had said yes, although it was unusual for a pro-hero to request ink. They usually try to keep their image clean.
Bakugo showed up four times a year, getting one short stretch of the massive dragon done at a time. He'd ask that the date be incorporated into each section. It didn't take long for him to realize that this was a memorial tattoo. He didn't ask many questions after that. Not like the ash-blonde would answer them even if he did.
For Bakugo, it was a symbol of his resolve. When those around him had started giving him those pitiful looks, he grew angry. As he walked through town on a patrol, he passed the tattoo shop just like any other day. It was approaching sunset and the last rays of light were trying to hold onto the day, the reds and oranges stretching over the town. The way the red reflected from the building had hit him unexpectedly. Picturing unruly crimson hair and a sharp grin, he'd grown weak in the knees again and sat down on the nearby bench. As the sun sank lower, the red sunlight moved down the brick façade, an illusion of motion that Bakugo related to something serpentine.
Like a dragon.
He went into the shop and immediately began planning the piece. It came together so fast, but it never felt rushed or incomplete. Each section represented a date that he'd made it through. The first one was Kirishima's birthday and had been the hardest. The needle stung as it embedded the dragon's tail against the back of his hand and wrist. The pain was what he needed though. It was just as much about releasing his building emotions as it was about representing them on his skin.
Next was the anniversary of the day they had started dating. The next session after that marked the anniversary of his disappearance. And then his own birthday, because he knew that dumbass would want him to celebrate it. Those four days over the last six years had birthed this dragon, a little bit at a time. It showed that he had survived another year, but just barely.
And once he found his red dragon, he'd complete it.
"Ah, there we are. All done. You know the drill, keep it clean and moisturized. See you in a few months."
"Yep," Bakugo said as he slipped his shirt back on and left the shop. He liked that the guy didn't try to make conversation or get into his business.
Walking home, he went back to the last place he'd seen Eijirou, just like he always did. Someone had painted Red Riot's logo against the closest building, their own way of memorializing him. Not that he needed a memorial, that was for the ones that would never come back. And that wasn't him.
Holding his hand against his chest, feeling the bandage covering the latest addition to his dragon, he silently prayed for his return. Standing in the spot where he had collapsed seven years ago, the crater he'd left behind still there, he toed at it with his shoe. The wind had picked up, whistling through the narrow alley. He hadn't paid it any mind; not like it's never done that before. The loud snap however was not usual, and Bakugo quickly turned to meet the sound.
"Katsuki?"
Standing there, nearly consumed by the shadows, was Kirishima. Not looking a day older than he had when he disappeared. Bakugo didn't know whether to yell or cry, so he did both.
"Kiri… Eijirou! You shithead!" he cried out as he collided into him.
"Hey, calm down, bro. I'm right here. But… You look different. Older."
Tears soaked into Red Riot's black arm sleeves, but Bakugo refused to let go of him. After so long, he wasn't ever going to lose him again.
After seven years, Bakugo had finally caught his dragon.