Shoto's entire body shook from fatigue, pain, and disbelief. The warp gate had disappeared — just centimeters from his outstretched hand. They had only saved one of two captured students.

Bakugo was taken. Gone.

And all that remained was Midoriya's screams.

"KACCHAN! Kacchan! Give him back..."

Midoriya's broken body sagged; he'd ruined himself again so he could fight. But still Midoriya tried to crawl toward where Bakugo had disappeared.

After a moment, Midoriya's body convulsed, as if it would agree to move no more. His face fell against the ragged earth when his arms collapsed under him.

Shoto tasted bile in the back of his throat, watching it. Would Midoriya be able to maintain his consciousness like that? The damage looked worse than anything Midoriya had put himself through before.

Now there were only sobs coming from Midoriya's crumpled form. The other students looked on, too — too shocked to interrupt the display of helplessness. Shoto fisted his hand — the hand that had been so close to closing around Bakugo and yanking Bakugo back to safety.

Then Shoto looked away from everything; he closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't bear to witness Midoriya's pain any more. How could their time at training camp have morphed into this hellish nightmare?

Tokoyami had perception enough to watch Shoto's face and read the mood. "Todoroki," he murmured through his beak. It made Shoto open his eyes again. Tokoyami's black feathers were still ruffled from his battle with Dark Shadow... and his own ordeal with the Villains. "You tried. There was nothing you could do."

Shoto thought, Easy for you to say. You weren't the one that got successfully kidnapped.

The sound of a hissed breath — and more tears — cut any further reassurances from Tokoyami off. "Kacchan..."

Shoto doubted Midoriya's fit would end, as long as Midoriya had a shred of energy to spend on it.

Suddenly, that made Shoto angry.

Midoriya's heartbroken wails shredded Shoto apart. Tokoyami's sympathy unraveled him as well, until Shoto felt like a pile of thin threads that couldn't be woven together again. But what good did crying about it do? What good were empty reassurances? The fact of the matter was that Shoto had let Bakugo slip away — even though he'd genuinely, desperately tried to prevent doing so.

No amount of lip service would change that Shoto had failed. Or that Midoriya was a mess. Midoriya couldn't stop wailing and roaring— and Shoto understood why. But rather than cry about it, rather than mourn... Shouldn't they all be doing something?

Shoto should be accepting blame. Taking responsibility. And someone who wasn't Shoto — someone who hadn't just let Midoriya's childhood friend slip away — should be breaking through Midoriya's untouchable and pure upset, to get Midoriya to calm down.

But no one was moving. Shoto realized they must all be in shock. Maybe he himself was in shock. His body was still trembling.

He'd failed.

He'd known how imperative it was to protect Bakugo for Midoriya's sake. He'd known he couldn't let the Villains spirit Bakugo away, to poison Bakugo's already-unstable mind and make Bakugo into one of their own. Hadn't All Might warned Shoto that Bakugo fought with his inner darkness? Being taken by Villains surely wouldn't help Bakugo's light win in the end.

Some sane, rational piece of Shoto's mind told him that responsibility for Bakugo's loss didn't belong to him alone. There were multiple students present, multiple people who'd attempted to persevere and avert this disaster. But that part of Shoto's sane mind went ignored — for the piece that told him he'd carried the most responsibility, because he had the most power, and the most impressive Quirk of all the students. Who should have prevented this disaster if not him? Shoto had shut off his emotions and biases, and fought his best — but still he'd failed. How could that be acceptable?

The failure made Shoto hate himself. And then grow even more angry that nobody was reacting. Didn't they know how bad this situation was, even if the Villains had retreated? Nothing, now, was safe — nothing — and even less so, until they had Bakugo back. Didn't the other students realize none of this was yet over?

Midoriya choked on his sobs again.

"Midoriya," Shoto said suddenly. "Stop."

His voice was glacier hard and cold, but inside... he was just tired. His body seemed to burn from its blood so his skin felt hot to the touch. He felt weak from the exertion he'd exhibited, and his head spun. But it appeared that Shoto was the only one with mind and presence enough to take action.

Tokoyami winced, however, when Shoto spoke out to Midoriya. He murmured, "Now is the time for calm and delicacy, Todoroki. Let him—"

Shoto took a step. Nobody interfered; Tokoyami's beak clicked shut.

Another step put Shoto right beside Midoriya's hunched form.

At that point, Shoto's knees gave out. In the cold dark, he sank, leaning his weight forward onto his hands; he hardly felt it when the rocky forest ground tried to cut into his palms. He hung his head.

His voice shook. "I'm sorry, Midoriya. I'm sorry."

The wind around them almost hissed. Midoriya squeezed his eyes shut harder, sobbed again, and only sniffed.

Shoto said, "We almost did enough, but at the very last second... you lost him because of me."

When Aoyama chose to speak, Shoto blinked back mild surprise. "But didn't you hear what Bakugo said at the last moment? I think he almost preferred to be lost. And I wonder, if you'd grabbed hold of him... Well, would he have even let you pull him back? I think he's the type to want to escape by himself, without the help." When Shoto glanced up, a few of the other students were nodding.

Escape by himself? The possibility of Bakugo preferring to take on the Villains alone didn't make Shoto feel better. That Bakugo had seemed almost excited to be sucked into the warp hole... It could have just been Bakugo's brave face, and a dash of his arrogance; maybe Bakugo looked forward to giving the Villains back the trouble they'd given him, yes. But more likely, Bakugo's thrill in the face of Villains was the worst sign possible in terms of how this would turn out.

Tokoyami finally acted. "We need to get Midoriya's injuries treated, but it doesn't look like we should move him without knowing the extent of the damage." Tokoyami started ordering people to run for help, to do something, to move.

If Midoriya had heard Shoto's previous words, or if he heard them now under the sudden bustle of his classmates, then he didn't say anything. He only kept on with his long, wavering sobs.

"Stop crying, Midoriya," Shoto implored. He tried to curb his hopelessness and frustration long enough to make steady words. If Midoriya didn't stop wailing, Shoto knew he would break apart. "It won't do anything right now. If you're upset that Kacchan's gone... then take your anger out on me. Or let me help you with the pain, while you wait for a medic to get here." Shoto swallowed, desperate. Was there anything Midoriya would let him do?

Shoto would have done anything to lessen Midoriya's hurt. But he wasn't prepared for the reply he got.

"How c-can I... even look at you right now?" Midoriya choked it out, whispering it. "How can I? Never mind think about you, when at a time like this, when there's so much for me to figure out about the ways that I love him... Kacchan has been taken from me?"


Shoto felt like he traversed a fog world, never quite making out details through the whiteness, never feeling anything but coldness and damp.

Days. Days, Midoriya had been inside the hospital, drifting in and out of consciousness and fever — even after treatment from Recovery Girl. Shoto had begun to wonder if people with Quirks who wanted to be Heroes lived more in hospital rooms than they did inside their own homes. He was starting to lose track of how many times he'd seen Midoriya sprawled out on a bed — and not the kind of bed Shoto would have rather seen Midoriya sprawled on, before all this had happened. Before, when Shoto had been able to afford frivolous daydreams.

And so Midoriya was here. Again. In another white, starchy hospital bed. And every time, Shoto couldn't prevent it.

Part of Shoto knew he couldn't keep Midoriya from destroying himself no matter what tactics he tried. But still, Shoto felt he might have lessened Midoriya's need to destroy himself if he'd worked harder. If Shoto had pushed himself more, perhaps Midoriya never would have ended up in a position where he was desperate enough to ruin his body.

"He just busts in without thinking and smashes everything in his way, doesn't he?" Kirishima sighed when he asked it. He stood next to Shoto in the lobby, his hands stuffed inside his pockets.

They had met there, in the hospital lobby, and Shoto had expressed surprise at seeing Kirishima had popped in. Shoto hoped it didn't look weird that he was visiting Midoriya again... although, he supposed he'd gone to visit Yaoyorozu, too.

Shoto answered Kirishima quietly. "He does think. He calculates his every move. That's the problem." His voice stayed monotone and low. "He assesses the situation, and he decides he needs to go beyond his limits. He decides the damage to himself is worth it, if it means protecting people he cares about."

But it was naive. Shoto scowled, bitter. Midoriya's selflessness and recklessness accomplished feats, yet those traits were exactly why Midoriya needed someone who could protect him. Midoriya needed someone to remind him to take care — because harming himself had consequences outside his own injuries and his amazing achievements.

Not everyone would thank Midoriya for destroying his own body for the cause.

Shoto had run into Midoriya's mother earlier, back in the hospital halls. The sniffling woman had hugged Shoto and sobbed into his shoulder. Shoto had awkwardly patted her, too stricken by her emotion to feel pleased that she'd acknowledged him as an ally and friend of her son this time around.

You're not just hurting yourself like this, Midoriya, Shoto had realized again.

"But this time," Kirishima said, "he couldn't save the person he likes most. Man, it's rough. You have to feel bad for him." While Shoto said nothing, Kirishima squinted his eyes in a laugh, then reached one hand up to scratch his spiky hair.

Shoto tried not to let Kirishima's reference to Bakugo poke holes in the veneer of his control. "Tell me," Shoto said, "why you're really here. It's not just thanks to restlessness that you came back to the hospital again, is it."

"What, I can't visit my injured classmates, while everyone else tries to figure out what they're supposed to be doing at a time like this?" Kirishima blinked innocently at him.

"You're not the type to brave your dislike of this kind of setting just to comfort people you could easily express concern for after they've left the hospital."

"Damn. That's a cold read of my personality I don't think you had grounds for. I'm not that selfish and scared to be here. But I guess you aren't wrong that hospitals make me uncomfortable. I end up thinking too much of mortality." Kirishima lowered his arm slowly, and the grin that he usually wore faded off. "Do you always read people hyper-critically like that, or did I somehow piss you off?" Shoto didn't answer him. Kirishima only shrugged. "All right. I do have a reason for coming again today. I'll tell you. But you tell me something, first, then."

Shoto showed no expression while he waited.

"What made you exert yourself out there to rescue Bakugo? Like, man — I thought you didn't care about him one way or the other. But then the next thing we all hear, you're just as upset as Midoriya that Villains took him to their lair."

So Kirishima was more perceptive than Shoto had realized. Should Shoto tell Kirishima the truth?

It might be better to avoid answering the question entirely.

Kirishima had been watching Shoto's face. "You're pretty scary looking when you feel cornered. It's fine — I think I can guess. You went all out for Midoriya, right?" Shoto bit the inside of his lip. "Because you knew that Midoriya was concerned for Bakugo. Otherwise, you might not have strained yourself." When Shoto looked away, Kirishima sniffed, wiped his nose, and grinned again. "I get it. In fact, I get it perfectly." And at that, Kirishima laughed.

"What do you mean?" Shoto finally asked. He tried not to hold himself tense.

Kirishima stretched his arms casually, then looked at the lobby ceiling. "I'm saying I get doing things you might not like in principle, for the sake of trying to look out for a friend. I'm saying I get how hard it is to deal with the relationship between Midoriya and Bakugo. Being the third wheel sucks hard, doesn't it?"

Shoto moved a half-step backward. "Kirishima," he said, "are you accusing me of having feelings for Midoriya, or are you saying you also care for him?"

A couple of people passed in the lobby. Shoto watched Kirishima's expression change to something like consternation.

"Dude," Kirishima uttered. "Everyone knows you've taken an interest in Midoriya. And nobody wants to battle you for the position of Midoriya's sidekick — promise. Come on, man. I'm concerned with Bakugo. Bakugo."

Shoto didn't understand. "You're worried about Bakugo?"

"Of course I'm worried!" Kirishima's voice rose. "These past days, it's so bad I can't even sleep. I feel like I've chugged too much coffee, and a hive of bees now lives in my head."

"You care about Bakugo. In the way Midoriya cares for him?" Shoto tried to keep meaning vague. There were a lot of ways to care. Shoto didn't know what to think, or how to read Kirishima that moment.

Kirishima immediately looked grim. "Well. As for comparing what I feel to what Midoriya must be feeling right now, with Bakugo still gone... I can't say which of us cares more. Frankly — and maybe you can understand this — I'm not sure that I want to know. In some cases, no matter what I do, there might be no comparison. You know?" Kirishima's smile faltered. "That's what happens when you come in second, because you don't share their childhood history."

Shoto's eyes widened. He stared. He fought the unease Kirishima's words awakened in his gut — that feeling that no matter what he did, he'd never be enough to replace or surpass what Bakugo was to Midoriya.

Then it finally clicked in his head. Kirishima... was the same as him. The only difference was that Kirishima came from the other side of the equation. "You've also found it hard to come between Midoriya and Bakugo?" Shoto asked. Kirishima wanted to be closer to Bakugo, but found he couldn't get near?

"Come between?" Kirishima shook his head. "Hey, I don't know what you're thinking. Sounds like sensitive and jealous boyfriend stuff. That isn't me." Kirishima cleared his throat. "Or maybe it would be, but it's just that I know I would never stand a chance, even if I did want to butt in and assert myself in that fashion. But, do I like Bakugo? Yeah. I do. And as I bet you can imagine, liking that guy is a pain — mostly thanks to Midoriya always messing with Bakugo's head and temper..."

Shoto ignored the stab at Midoriya. After all, who was to blame when Midoriya and Bakugo argued was a matter of perspective, in this case.

Shoto became fascinated, despite the drop in his gut that served as his reminder that right now, Midoriya's feelings weren't for him. He said, "It's like, when dealing with the two of them, you have to swallow the pill that no one else comes first for them but each other — even despite how poorly they get along. It makes even regular friendship with one of them an almost insurmountable and incredibly irritating challenge." Shoto kept a hand upon his chin. He almost muttered now, like Midoriya.

Somehow, it was a relief to know someone else understood. Kirishima dealt with the same frustrations Shoto did.

"Pretty much," Kirishima said. "So even though I'm a little bit mad at Midoriya, and kind of mad at you—" Shoto grimaced. "—for not being able to save Bakugo, and mad at myself, for not being there to protect him... I still couldn't help coming here, to do stuff like check on Midoriya. It's what Bakugo would want."

"Bakugo would want it?" Shoto asked.

"Yeah. Come on. Don't tell me you don't always hear. Bakugo's always yelling about how the only one allowed to clobber Midoriya is him. Pains in the asses — both of them. Heh, what I wouldn't give to have been childhood friends with Bakugo instead. Then maybe his personality wouldn't have ended up so out of hand."

Kirishima's grin looked so soft that Shoto lost his train of thought. Did he look like that, himself, when he thought fondly about Midoriya?

"But it's a bit late for that talk," Kirishima was saying, "so now I just do what I can. And I kind of still respect Midoriya despite myself, I guess. That's why..." Kirishima trailed off, then seemed to shake himself and reassess. "Come here. Lean in. I have an idea. That's why I came back to the hospital."

Shoto hesitated. And then he leaned in.

Kirishima flung a loose arm around him, speaking into Shoto's ear. "The teachers are here. I sort of followed them. I have a feeling that if we listen in on them, we might learn something that will help with a plan. A plan to set this whole thing straight and cheer up both our guys, you know?"

"What kind of plan?" Shoto murmured.

The reality was that Shoto was on a hit lit list now, thanks to the League of Villains. They all wanted him dead, which meant that Shoto could very well die if he further instigated them. If he was too reckless... what then?

"A plan for somehow getting Bakugo back."

Shoto stilled. Rescuing Bakugo? For real this time, assuming they didn't fail.

Even though Shoto disliked the way Bakugo treated Midoriya... If they saved Bakugo, Midoriya would smile. Maybe Midoriya would tell Shoto at last that the kidnapping hadn't been Shoto's fault.

Maybe Midoriya would forgive him. Or maybe Shoto could forgive himself.

At the very least, rescuing Bakugo before Villains could turn him into one of them... That was what a Hero would do. That was worth the bigger risk.

Kirishima waited. "You in? I'll probably ask Midoriya to help out, too."

Shoto pulled away at once. "Midoriya is in no condition to sign up for a rescue." The idea of it alone frightened Shoto. Already, thanks to his previous battle, Midoriya might never move his arms again.

"Yeah, but Todoroki," Kirishima said, "are you the one who gets to decide what Midoriya does with his pain and frustration... or is he?"

Shoto just bit his lip.

Kirishima was right.

"Fine," he said. "Explain your plan."


Author Note: Todoroki's face in that panel in the manga where he juuuust fails to grab hold of Bakugo, and the Villain taunts him about it right before Bakugo disappears... oh man. That face was what created this chapter.