HINT #9- The time Kaminari's classmates caught him cutting himself.
Kaminari didn't...like cutting himself, per se.
He didn't do it to punish himself in some way like he'd read others did, because, despite his terrible upbringing and bucketloads of trauma he carried with him, he wasn't necessarily depressed. Or was he? Emotions were fickle when it came to his past.
Kaminari cut because he needed to. He cut so he could keep his pain tolerance as well as endurance up, because while he knew the pain tolerance he'd been building up for the past fifteen years wasn't just going to disappear because he stopped cutting himself one day, he had to be sure. Even though he wasn't in the business anymore, he couldn't afford to get lazy. One bout of carelessness could end up causing himself (or his classmates) their lives, and there was no way he was going to let that happen if he had anything to say about it.
It was part of his routine, unfortunately, just like midnight training and fasting for days on end. At least four times a week he would take one of his knives, usually a small, pocket one, and make a few quick slices on his ankle. They were large enough to bleed and hurt (for an average person) but not large enough to be seen by his classmates, especially after cleaning the blood away and putting on his shoes.
He only did major pain-tolerance training twice a month, where he actually made a decent-sized cut outside his body that could potentially bleed out and kill him if he didn't patch it up. It wasn't his favorite training exercise by a long shot, but it was necessary. He needed to stay ready for every possible injury, including ones inflicted upon himself.
Major pain-tolerance training didn't hurt, per se, but it was uncomfortable. Just because Kaminari couldn't feel pain like ordinary people didn't mean he enjoyed the sickly feel of a blade pressing into his flesh, no matter how painless it was. It also wasn't very pleasant to look at either, and he'd stained numerous perfectly good t-shirts cleaning up his wounds and washing up the blood. He supposed towels might be more suitable for the task than articles of clothing, but there was no way suspicions wouldn't be raised if over five towels went missing from the 1-A dorm every month.
In short, major pain-tolerance training was a relatively straightforward process, all things considered. He would do it either in the dead of night after everyone was asleep or in the early morning hours before everyone woke up. Bandaging and taking care of the wounds never took more than a few minutes, at least fifteen tops. He was a professional, and he'd been patching up injuries one thousand times worse than the ones he'd inflicted on himself from the mere age of five.
It was gruesome, but it was routine. Kaminari didn't like it, Kaminari didn't hate it. It was just the sad reality of his everyday life. A necessity, if you will.
In all his months at UA, it had gone by without a hitch. Sure, maybe once or twice Hagakure had snuck up on him while he was making small cuts on his ankles, or Kiri would burst into his room without any warning while he was cleaning blood off of one of his knives, but like he said. He was a professional. He could hide those things easily.
Plus, he also had the advantage of practically super-human senses, so he could usually tell whether someone was standing outside his door or walking down the hallway.
But, despite his precautions, as all things did in Kaminari's godforsaken life, something was bound to go wrong.
xxx
Kaminari was bored. He wasn't bored as in he had nothing to do; he was bored as in he was bored.
It wasn't like he didn't have anything to entertain his ADHD riddled brain, because he did. He had a pile of English homework accumulating on his desk due the next day that he hadn't started, he had at least seven Disney movies scattered around his dorm room, as well as nineteen perfectly willing friends he could hang out with if he so pleased.
Don't get him wrong, he loved his classmates to death, but sometimes they could be a little...too much. Kaminari had grown up in loneliness and solitude for a good part of his life, despite his few friends around his age in the assassination ring, but Class 1-A lived together. They shared a house. They saw each other twenty-four seven, and no matter how far he may be willing to go to ensure their safety and survival, sometimes he just needed to take a rest and cool down for a day.
It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty for not hanging out with his friends all day every day. Hell, they'd all eaten breakfast together just that morning, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that he was wasting the unconditional love they gave him after so many years. It was silly, he knew it, but right now, he just needed to move. He was restless, and even though he could go to the gym with Ojiro or coerce Bakugou into a run, those weren't the type of activities that exerted his energy.
As helpful as his assassin skills and endurance was, there was always some type of drawback.
Sighing, Kaminari rolled out of his bed and onto the floor. "Stupid fucking parents." He mumbled. "Making my endurance stupidly fucking high."
He crawled over to his closet and opened the door, shifting through all the jumbled trinkets and DVDs until his fingers caught onto a loose board near the bottom. He sighed to himself, silently cursing his stupid ADHD brain for making him so restless that he had to resort to this, and pried the wood up to reveal a hollowed-out space filled to the brim with grenades, reports, guns, bullets, bandages, assassins clothes, and most importantly, knives.
Kaminari's room wasn't a complete mess just because he was lazy. It was quite the opposite, actually. All of the contradicting colors and bizarre patterns helped distract whatever visitor or person who stopped by from the fact that his standardized closet looked slightly more prominent than those of his classmates. Plus, a bunch of crazy furniture and scattered throw pillows covering any and all available surfaces made it way easier to hide potentially incriminating evidence if he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings and one of his classmates just happened to walk in without knocking.
Those pillows had saved his ass more times than he'd like to admit because, apparently, his friends had no concept of personal space.
He stilled loved them, though. Them and their hyperactive selves. He just wished they'd let him know they were coming in instead of just bursting through the door so he had at least a little more time to dispose of an active grenade instead of just hastily throwing it out the window and blaming it on Bakugou (true story, by the way. Not his proudest moment by far.)
He plucked one of his knives out of the little crawl space. He chose one of a decent size, much bigger than the regular pocket knife he used to make cuts on his ankles but not the biggest one he'd used by far. He'd used this particular knife on hundreds of different assassination missions, and he knew it well enough to know that it would slice through his skin quickly and easily.
Kaminari put the knife down carefully on the floor and put the board back in place, sealing up his secret stash of weapons and money (the stack he'd gotten from Hisoka's assassination) and checked the time. It was nearly eleven thirty-eight in the morning. It would have to do.
Now, Kaminari typically laid out the days for major pain-tolerance training carefully to avoid any unwanted intrusions. He usually scheduled them after particularly grueling training or when he knew that most, if not all, of his classmates would be out of the house and doing their own things. Secrecy was key above all for this particular ritual.
But he was restless. He felt like his skin was buzzing, and his mind was running a mile a minute with words he couldn't even comprehend. He needed to get some of that energy out, but thanks to his stupid parents and his stupid assassin training, a simple fifteen-mile run would hardly do anything to calm his buzzing nerves.
He needed this. He needed this now. He was due for another pain-tolerance session anyway this month, and as much as he hated it, blood and gore had become a part of his life. If there was any way to calm himself down, it was with the adrenaline rush of trying to keep himself from dying of blood loss while simultaneously bandaging up his self-inflicted wounds.
"Wow. I'm seriously fucked up." Kaminari whispered to himself, studying the knife for one more second before picking it up and weighing it in his hands. "Oh well, I guess. Yolo."
With one swift movement, he slashed the underside of his arm, elbow the wrist. He looked at it for a second. Debating. He probably should've put some clothes or at least some blankets down to keep blood from staining his carpet, but oh well. That's what he gets for being impulsive, he supposed. The cut wasn't as deep as he'd intended, at least not by a long shot, so he made two more deep incisions on the outer side of his arm this time.
"Well..." Kaminari muttered to himself, putting the knife down and scrutinizing his wounds. It briefly occurred to him how fucking twisted he had to be not to be affected in the slightest while mutilating himself, but it was better than the alternative of him getting lazy and his classmates paying the price. "I guess that's fine."
He absentmindedly reached for the roll of bandages on his nightstand. He didn't bother hiding those because they were basically a necessity for a hero in training, even though he used them for a completely different purpose than intended.
"Jesus, this thing's a bitch." Kaminari grumbled, trying to tear off a strip of bandages with his fingernails. It was a new roll, so he had to take a little extra time prying the first piece off to unwind the rest. He wasn't deterred by the slight setback despite the blood pooling out of his arm and making a puddle on the floor. "Yes, finally-"
His brief celebration was cut off by the slam of a door and a gasp.
He whirled around instantly, instinctively hiding his arm behind his back and eyes wide with panic because he was so fucked and how could he not of heard them down the hallway and-
"Kaminari..." Uraraka whispered, eyes welling up with tears and hands covering her open mouth.
Kaminari realized three things at that moment.
Number one: Uraraka had probably just floated to his room to fetch him for lunch or something, which was why he hadn't heard her walking to his room.
Number two: He had probably picked the worst time to do this kind of training because of course someone was going to fetch him for lunch! They always ate lunch together, and now he could've possibly jeopardized everything he'd worked so hard to keep a secret just because he couldn't wait a simple hour or two to do his training and instead had to give in to his restlessness and do it right there.
Number three: His blood-stained knife was still on the floor, and this whole situation looked really fucking bad.
"Uraraka, I can explain." He sprang to his feet, cradling his injured arm in from of him and letting the roll of bandages drop to the floor. He discreetly kicked the knife under his bed, not that it would do any good anyway. He knew she'd seen it already. "It's not what it looks like-"
"God, Kaminari, are you cutting yourself?" She whispered, eyes wide and horrified. She looked about ready to burst into tears. "Kami, wha-"
"NO!" God, if Kaminari had even an ounce less of self-control he would've thrown himself out the window by now. No? That was probably the worst response he could've given. "I mean, fuck, no, Uraraka-"
"Kaminari, why didn't you tell us?!" A single tear tracked down Uraraka's cheek, followed by another, and another. "I- god Kamianri your arm-"
Oh. Right. His arm was still bleeding out. Well, that wasn't good. He hastily cradled it back against his chest, hiding most of the torn flesh from his friend's sight while simultaneously soaking his shirt in even more blood than it already had been. "Uraraka, I swear." Kaminari bit his lip, eyes wide and panicked. He knew how bad this looked, and he knew that no matter if he was able to talk himself out of this situation (which he doubted he'd be able to because his classmate had caught him cutting himself for god sakes), there was no way he was going to get out of it without some sort of consequences. "This is all a big misunderstanding. You've got to believe me."
"I-" In all honesty, Uraraka was holding it together exceptionally well, or perhaps she was just frozen in fear at the sight of one of her happy-go-lucky best friends cutting himself. Either way, she hadn't yet made a move from the door. She was simply staring there, still, with pale skin and wide, horrified eyes. "You're cutting yourself-"
"I swear, I'm not." Wow, Kaminari. That'll sure convince her. "Uraraka, please. This isn't what it looks like, I swear. I was just messing around and I hurt myself. It's fine." His own voice was bordering on hysterical now, and at this point, he didn't know whether it was just for show or because he was actually scared of the outcome of this interaction. "You've got to believe me!"
"Kaminari, I saw the knife." Uraraka's voice quivered as a tear rolled down her cheek, gathering at the tip of her nose. Despite himself, Kaminari's heart broke a little. None of his friends should ever have to cry like that, especially not because of him. "You're hurting yourself and that isn't okay-"
Kaminari was just about to answer, just about to offer up any half-assed explanation his brain could come up with, when another voice entered the hallway.
NO NO NO NO NO
"Hey! Kami, Uraraka! Lunch is ready, bros, we're all waiting for-" Kirishima stopped, choking on nothing before he could finish his sentence.
Three things happened at that moment.
Kirishima screamed.
Uraraka rushed forward.
And Kaminari, with an unbandaged arm and wounds bigger than they probably should've been, finally succumbed to blood loss. The last thing he saw before the world tilted on its axis and went dark was Kirishima's terrified face and Uraraka's outstretched arms.
xxx
Kaminari woke up in the hospital.
Unfortunately, that also meant he woke up to nineteen distraught, crying classmates.
"KAMINARI!" Mina was the first to realize the boy was awake, throwing her arms around his shoulders and sobbing into his neck. "God, your...you have no idea how much you scared us-"
Kaminari furrowed his brow slightly, but otherwise didn't say anything, instead opting to return the embrace and bury his face into Mina's soft, pink hair. This whole situation was...god, he didn't even know. This was probably the worst thing that could've happened in terms of his classmates finding out stuff. Hell, two of them had walked in on him cutting himself. He'd walked in on (as well as been a victim of) his parent's torture sessions far too many times to know that kind of gore, however minuscule it might seem to Kaminari, was enough to traumatize someone, especially if it was a good friend.
In terms of assassin confidentiality, he didn't think there was much to worry about there. There was a zero percent chance any of his classmates or teachers would assume the reason he was cutting himself was to keep up the insane pain tolerance skills he'd accumulated after being raised for years in the depths of the black market, but that didn't change the fact that he had no good explanation as to why he'd been dragging a knife across his skin.
Uraraka had seen the knife. She'd seen the blood on it. She'd seen Kaminari calmly inspecting his gushing wounds like they were nothing more than a few papercuts. She'd even witnessed him picking at the end of the bandage roll without a care in the world even though he had been bleeding out on the floor.
Saying some random villain had attacked him was out of the question. For one, it would raise far too many unwanted eyebrows, and for two, Uraraka could easily prove whatever accusations he made false. However shell-shocked she'd been to see Kaminari cutting himself wouldn't change that.
The bottom line was, this wasn't just some situation he could talk himself out of. No, there were far too many factors against him, and his classmates cared way too much to let what they'd just seen slide.
It was interesting. If it had been anyone else from his past, no one would've even batted an eye at him slicing and dicing his arm, but these were his classmates. His friends. His family, goddammit, and their teary gazes and trembling lips were far too telling as to what was running through their heads.
They were scared. Not because of him, but for him. Why? Because now they all thought him to be a suicidal teenager who'd just tried to commit.
He subtly glanced over Mina's shoulder to the bandage covering his arm. It was a little excessive if you asked him. It was wrapped in gauze from elbow to wrist, layered about five times over and pulled tight around his skin. Personally, Kaminari would've been able to survive with maybe one strip of bandage over each gaping cut, but then again, he had lost a lot more blood than intended thanks to Uraraka's intrusion.
Uraraka...
Kaminari gently pried Mina off of him, heart breaking a little when she complied immediately with the slightest push of his hands. Mina was never this easy to get off. She clung and clung and clung until she couldn't anymore, and even then she was notorious for swooping Kaminari up in big bear hugs and never so much as relenting her grip despite his pleas. Was this going to be a thing now? Were they going to treat him like glass all because of this one incident?
Kaminari shook the thought off, clearing his head. He couldn't think about that now. He'd deal with it later.
"Um..." He shifted back so his back was against the pillows and his head facing his classmates. "Soooooo...wha-"
"Are you okay?" Bakugou's voice was quiet. Quieter than Kaminari had ever heard, in fact. His eyes were downcast, head hanging so the electric user couldn't see his face. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, twiddling his thumbs in a way Kaminari knew he only did when he was nervous. He lifted his head a little, and Kaminari was shocked to see just how swollen and red his eyes were. Bakugou had cried? The Bakguou Katsuki had cried? Was he really worth that much? He didn't think so... "I need an answer, Kaminari. Please, just...please."
"Of course," Kaminari replied without missing a beat, because he was. He was fine. His classmates were alive; his classmates were unharmed, so that meant he was fine. His own wellbeing didn't matter in comparison to his friends'. Hell, that was the reason he'd cut himself in the first place, so he could stay on the top of his game so he could protect his friends to the best of his ability. "Please don't worry about me."
"Please, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm plenty worried," Sero said softly. Kaminari didn't even have to look at him to know there were tears in his eyes. "Kami, you were...you were slitting your wrists." Sero choked back a sob to the best of his ability. Kaminari's golden eyes met watery brown ones. "That just...Kaminari-"
"You're worried?" The question slipped out before Kaminari could stop himself. Sure, he knew the initial sight of Uraraka and Kirishima discovering in his room with self-inflicted injuries might cause quite a shock or scare, but he honestly didn't think it'd be this big a deal in the long run. He'd cut his wrists. So what? He was an assassin, and even if he wasn't one, he was still a hero in training. They'd all gotten much worse injuries than the ones he'd sustained that morning. It just wasn't that big a deal.
"Of course we're worried!" Kirishima grabbed Kaminari's unbandaged hand, fingers closing just right around the pulse point, feeling his heartbeat, making sure he was alive. The gesture made the inside of Kaminari's throat sting. "God, Kaminari...do you have any idea j-just how...how worried I was? You were just...you were just lying there in a pool of blood a-and I...I can't-"
Kirishima's breath hitched, and three involuntary tears slipped out of his eye and down his cheeks. God, he looked awful. Kaminari wondered how he hadn't seen it before. Kirishima's usually gelled and styled hair was all over the place, sticking out in wild directions that clearly indicated he'd been pulling on it. His face was red, blotchy, and swollen, much like everyone else's in the room, but his eyes were filled to the brim with tears and he was gripping Kaminari's hand so tightly he thought it might fall off.
Kaminari felt a tear splash onto his hand, then another, then another, but Kirishima wasn't letting go. Couldn't. Wouldn't. If he let go, then Kaminari might be taken away from him again, and he just...he couldn't do that again. The sight of his best friend passed out on the floor with blood pooling out of his arm and a knife hidden under the bed...Kirishima had never been so frightened in his life.
"You scared us so badly." Todoroki's voice was a quiet whisper, a stark contrast to his usual deep monotone. Kaminari turned to him and was shocked to see bloodshot eyes fixed on the bandage on his arm. The ice user's hair was in disarray, and his fingers were trembling as he brushed the edge of Kaminari's arm. "We heard Kirishima scream, and then we saw you...god-"
The dam broke faster than Kaminari thought possible.
One second Todoroki was completely fine, and the next he was dissolving into sobs and diving into Midoriya's chest, crying in a way Kaminari had never seen him cry before. The sounds of his sobs were heartbreaking, every shaky breath and poorly-hidden whimper breaking Kaminari's heart in two.
"I was just so scared I'd lost you-"
Leave it to Todoroki to say what everyone was thinking.
Leave it to Todoroki to force his classmates to come to terms with the fact that they could've lost Kaminari.
Suddenly tears were streaming down everybody's face, hiccupy sobs echoing off the porcelain floors as the harsh reality they'd all been trying to ignore for the past three hours washed over them.
The sunshine of Class 1-A could've died.
Their friend could have died.
Those prospects on there own were more horrifying than any of them knew how to handle. They were heroes in training. Death and gruesome injuries were no stranger to them in their line of studies, but there was just something much more gut-wrenching about something like that happening to someone they knew and loved and lived with and had inflicted on himself.
That was a reality none of them had even been prepared for, nevermind thought they would actually have to experience. They weren't stupid, naive kids. They knew far too well how dangerous the world could be for heroes and civilians alike, and the possibility of one of them getting permanently maimed or even killed, god forbid, was always hanging over their heads like a storm cloud that refused to go away. They always ignored it, of course, but that didn't change the fact that it was there. To have come so close to accepting that reality...it broke them.
Amidst the sobs and trembling bodies, Kaminari sat still, quiet, and contemplative. Fuck all of his assassin training. Despite his quick wit, he had no idea what to do in a situation like this. His classmates were crying, and why? They were crying because they'd walked in on him cutting his arm open, which yeah, Kaminari could see how that sight could be somewhat jarring initially, but his classmates were...they were sobbing.
No one had ever reacted like this before, not his parents, not Toga, not Dabi, not anybody. Granted, his parents were abusive assholes and his childhood best friends were aware of his assassin training and therefore didn't jump to the same conclusions as his classmates undoubtedly had, but to receive this kind of...this kind of concern over such a thing...Kaminari didn't know how to feel about it.
And Todoroki...all of them...they said they'd been afraid to lose him.
His parents wouldn't give a shit if he died, which was understanding because the feeling was mutual, and he knew Touya and Himiko would be sad and undoubtedly get revenge on his killer, but they wouldn't...they wouldn't shed tears over him. It wasn't their fault, of course. Each of them had grown up in an environment where a colleague or an acquaintance getting murdered was an everyday thing. It had been normalized to that much of an extent. Kaminari had only just now begun to understand the concept of loss and why it was such a devastating thing thanks to the help of the unconditional love his friends surrounded him with.
Dabi and Toga, unfortunately, hadn't been so fortunate. They were still living in that same toxic environment with some of the same toxic people they'd known since childhood. Kaminari loved his childhood best friends, and he knew they loved him. They'd be angry, furious even, over his death, but they wouldn't waste time crying over it.
Kaminari switched his gaze from the hospital bedsheets to Midoriya's tear-stained face and sad, sad green eyes. "It's okay." He whispered, never breaking eye contact. "Really. It's okay."
"Kami..." Midoriya's words got caught in his through, dissolving into hiccupy stutters until he was able to pull himself together again. "H-hurting yourself is never okay." He paused for a moment, taking a second to gather his thoughts and wipe tears off his cheeks. He pushed down a sob, and Kaminari could see his hands trembling from where they were placed on his lap. "How w-would you feel if it was m-me in your position right now instead of y-you?"
"That's different," Kaminari said immediately, because it was. Sweet, sweet Midoriya who didn't have a cruel bone in his body never deserved to hurt like Kaminari had to. Hell, that would defeat the whole purpose of him hurting himself in the first place. He hurt himself because he needed to protect his classmates. His innocent, naive classmates who couldn't even begin to imagine some of the horrible things Kaminari had done. "It's different if it's one of you."
It's different if it's one of you because none of you deserve it.
"What are you- Kaminari, what are you talking about?" Uraraka looked awful. Her tank top was still stained with blood, her hair was in disarray, and tears were still leaking from her swollen eyes. She made no move to hide the way her bottom lip trembled, nor did she hesitate to approach the blond and run a shaky, calloused hand through his hair. Feeling him. Touching him. Making sure he was alive and not just some silly figment of her imagination she'd conjured up to spare herself the grief of losing the sunshine child of Class 1-A. "How i-is...how is any of this different? That doesn't make any sense-"
"I just..." Kaminari scrubbed his face with his hands. Fuck his stupid childhood. Fuck his classmates for caring so much. Hell, fuck himself for being so goddamn soft for the nineteen people he thought of as family that secrets and tiny glimpses into his past that he doubted they'd picked up on were already slipping through the cracks. "I just...I don't matter, okay?" He fumbled for words. "All of you are just...you don't deserve to feel like that."
"What, and you do?! What the fuck, Dunce Face?" Bakugou shot up from his seat, hands curled into fists and eyes positively burning despite the lingering wetness and stray tears still trailing down his nose. "Are you fucking kidding me, Sparky? How fucking conceded are you?! You DESERVE to be cutting yourself? What kind of self-sacrificial bullshit is this?!"
"BAKUGOU!" Kirishima snapped, letting go of Kaminari's hand to stare daggers at his friend. "Your temper tantrums are the LAST thing he needs right now! Calm-"
"DO NOT TELL ME TO FUCKING CALM DOWN, SHITTY-HAIR." Oh. Holy shit. Bakugou was seething. Veins were popping out of his neck and forehead, and he was glaring at Kirishima was practically murderous intent. "FUCK ALL OF YOU FOR TIP TOING AROUND THIS SUBJECT, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES! I'M NOT JUST GOING TO IGNORE THE FACT THAT SPARKY IS CUTTING HIMSELF BECAUSE HE THINKS THAT'LL UNBURDEN OUR LIVES SOOO MUCH, JUST BECAUSE APPARENTLY WE DON'T DESERVE IT BUT HE DOES." Huh. For a borderline homicidal maniac, Bakugou could be pretty intuitive sometimes.
Burning red eyes locked onto passive golden ones. Bakugou pointed at Kaminari with one trembling finger. "YOU DON'T DESERVE ANY OF THIS, DUNCE FACE. YOU DON'T DESERVE WHAT YOU WENT THROUGH DURING YOUR FUCKED UP CHILDHOOD, YOU DON'T DESERVE ALL OF THOSE SCARS LITTERING YOUR BODY, YOU DON'T DESERVE THOSE ASSHOLES WHO CALL THEMSELVES YOUR PARENTS, AND YOU CERTAINLY DON'T DESERVE TO PUT YOURSELF THROUGH ANY MORE PAIN BY HURTING YOURSELF."
"Bakugou, that's ENOUGH!" Kirishima slammed his fist on the bedside table. Everyone jumped. "Your yelling is helping nothing, do you hear me?! All it's doing is raising tensions and freaking the rest of us the fuck out!"
"Am I wrong though?" Bakugou spat back, flexing his fingers repeatedly. "Is that what you're telling me? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" He laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "Are you telling me that Kaminari deserves this?!"
"Wha- NO! Of course not!" Kirishima looked about ready to pounce on the explosive blond himself but was holding back for Kaminari's sake. "Don't twist my fucking words, Bakugou! Kaminari doesn't deserve ANYTHING that's happened to him." Kaminari nearly did a double-take when Kirishima whirled around on him this time. Tensions were high already, but when the redhead stalked closer and shoved a finger in the electric user's face, they skyrocketed. "You don't deserve any of this, Kami. You were an innocent kid thrown into a massively fucked up childhood, but you fought through it. You're strong. We care about you." He took a deep, calming breath, settling himself before opening his eyes. "You're the best of us. You deserve none of this."
Oh, how untrue that was. Their predictions were so, so, so off-target it was almost laughable.
If only they knew.
"Look." He began after a moment, readjusting himself in the bed for no other purpose than to try and ground himself. "I appreciate all of your concern, but-"
"Why did you do it, Denki?" Kaminari's mouth snapped shut. Jirou was looked at him with watery eyes and trembling lips. She refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing all her efforts into running a finger lightly over his bandaged arm. A tear fell. Then another. Then another. She bit back a whimper. "I-I know I sound a bit insensitive r-right now, but I just...I n-need to know. Please, I want to help you-"
She was cut off as Yaoyorozu pulled her into her chest, rubbing a hand down the small of her back and shushing her sobs gently despite her own tears lingering on her face. She looked up at Kaminari helplessly, eyes welling up all over again at the sight of her friend in a hospital bed. Kaminari didn't belong in a hospital. Hospitals were bare, dreary places filled with sickness and death. Kaminari was a teenager who shone as bright as the sun and could put a smile on anyone's face if he tried hard enough.
Kaminari and hospitals didn't mix. Kaminari and hospitals should never have to mix as far as Momo was concerned.
Kaminari dug his fingernails into his palm, hyper-aware of the eighteen vigilant eyes watching him, waiting for an answer he knew he had to provide. This wasn't like all those other incidences he'd slipped up. This was one his classmates wouldn't forget and move on from so quickly. Though none of his friends could possibly make the connection that he was a trained assassin just because they'd caught him cutting himself, if he didn't reassure them at least a little bit, he could guarantee he could kiss all of his alone time goodbye.
If that happened, Kaminari was positive he'd be found out in at least four months.
"Look." He wrung his hands together, looking for an acceptable answer. "It's just...I had a rough childhood." Though all of them knew that was the understatement of the year, no one commented on it. "I, um, I grew up in an environment where...love...wasn't exactly a present factor in my everyday life. It's, uh, I don't really know what the problem is. I just...I've never really had anyone care for me before until...until I met you guys, basically."
"So you don't think you deserve help?" Sero's tone was gentle. Soft, even, but that didn't change the fact that his face was still adorning teary eyes and poorly concealed sadness. "That you're unworthy of it?"
Yes. Exactly. That was exactly it.
That thought was always at the back of his subconscious. Just because he'd escaped his assassin lifestyle didn't change the fact that it had happened. He was Golden, the most skilled killer heroes and villains alike had ever seen. He'd brutally slaughtered and murdered hundreds of people, maybe even thousands. He had tortured people, innocent people, for infractions as small as them looking at his parents the wrong way. He hadn't wanted to, of course he hadn't wanted to, but he still had because he was a scared, beaten child who was just trying to survive in his world of 'kill or be killed.'
That was the root of his problems, because, in the end, he had managed to escape. So why hadn't he done it sooner? Why hadn't he done it before he'd slaughtered god knows how many people? Even after enrolling in UA and meeting the people he now considered family, he couldn't just forget all the horrible things he'd done. He didn't have a problem with killing. He'd done it far too much to be wary at the prospect of slitting someone's throat, but that was only because he was self-aware. He didn't try to justify all of those murders he'd committed in his childhood, and even though logically his brain knew that it wasn't his fault and he'd been forced to with the threat of a fate worse than death hanging over his head, he was numb to it.
But, despite that, his classmates loved him. They cared for him. They wanted to help him.
Kaminari deserved none of it. He didn't deserve them, he didn't deserve their friendship, and he definitely didn't deserve the unconditional love he received daily that never failed to make him beam in happiness.
Kaminari didn't deserve anything.
He wasn't suicidal. He'd tried too damn hard to survive just to throw it all away. But sometimes, only sometimes, after a long day of laughing and talking and just having fun with his classmates, he wondered if it'd be better for them if he just disappeared. They deserved better than him. His friends deserved everything.
"Kaminari..." Sero tapped the edge of his bed lightly. "Can you answer?"
The blond blinked. Oh. Right. "I guess." He mumbled begrudgingly. "But it's not your guys' problems to worry about. I've been through shit. I've lived through shit." Again, understatement of the year, but whatever. "But I'm okay. Seriously. These problems are too heavy for me to burden you with."
Todoroki took a shaky breath. "Kaminari, we would walk around the world if we knew it would help you."
"You shouldn't have to."
"And you shouldn't try to shut out the people who love you."
The two stared at each other for a moment.
Todoroki broke first.
"Please let us help you." He whispered, on the verge of tears once again. "You've helped me so much. Please."
Kaminari smiled softly. "I don't need help."
"But you do-"
"I don't."
"You were cutting-"
"Look." Kaminari fixed his classmates with a hard stare, daring them to interrupt. "I'm not..." He paused for a moment, considering. "...suicidal. I'm fine."
"Just because you're not suicidal doesn't mean you don't need help, Kaminari." Iida's voice was softer than any of them had ever heard. In some ways, that hurt the most. Iida...Iida was supposed to be loud. He should never be quiet. It just wasn't like him. "You deserve help."
"I don't."
"WHY do you keep saying that?!" Bakugou growled, and yep, the beast was back again. "You're not making any sense, dumbass! If anyone deserves help in this class, then it's you and that stupidly cheery smile of yours! Do you have any idea how much this class would've fallen apart by now if it wasn't for you?! You're our source of energy around here, Dunce Face! I don't fucking give a shit if you say you don't need help, you're getting help. From us. And that's final."
"I-"
"Kaminari, we never want to see you hurt," Midoriya said firmly. "We know you can take it. We know you've been taking it your whole life. But you shouldn't have to, and we'll do anything in our power to make sure you stay safe. We need you safe."
"You-" Kaminari was at a loss for words. They cared. They cared so much and they shouldn't, but they did, and it was...it was too much and just enough all at the same time.
"Have we ever lied to you?" Kirishima murmured, hands clenched at his sides and eyes glued to the bandage on Kaminari's arm. "You deserve help. You deserve love."
Kaminari pursed his lips, ignoring the lump in the back of his throat. That was true. That was so true. None of them had ever lied to him before, so why would they start now?
"This was my first time doing anything like this," That wasn't true in the slightest, but there would be no way to tell fresh scars from new ones on his marred chest and back. His classmates would just have to take his word for it. He mentally braced himself, forcing his lip to tremble and his eyes to fill with tears. He needed to sell this first and foremost before all the emotions clogged his head completely. "I was just having a bad d-day, and I saw the knife and everything just kind of went downhill from there...I swear I didn't mean to! I made the cut way bigger than I meant to, and it just hurt so bad... I'll never do it again, I swear."
Mina brushed her knuckles over Kaminari's forehead, smiling sadly. "You can't promise that, babe."
"I can though!" Kaminari nodded vigorously to punctuate his insistence. In reality, he had no intention to stop, but none of his classmates had to know that. "The pain that I felt from those few cuts...it reminded me so much of my childhood that I freaked! I...I can't go through that again. I won't."
It was a pretty plausible story, if Kaminari said so himself, and thankfully, it seemed the rest of his classmates agreed. Tears were still spilling down everyone's cheeks, and more than half of his classmate's hands were still trembling, but the lingering tension had visibly eased out of more than a few people's shoulders.
"We love you, Denki." A nameless voice said again. "You deserve it."
Kaminari didn't say anything. Considering his background and who his parents were, it would take years to unlearn the toxic mindset he'd adopted as a mere child. He knew there would always be a voice in the back of his mind, taunting him, convincing him he didn't deserve the love he'd been given or help when he really needed it.
But his classmates said he did, and his classmates had never lied to him. If they said he deserved it, he'd believe them. For now, at least.
For now. It was enough for now.
xxx
Kaminari awoke to an empty hospital room and a very disgruntled Aizawa.
"Uh-"
"Kid, are you okay?" Aizawa's eyes looked dead. Deader than usual, at least. They looked a little red as well, but Kaminari might just be imagining things.
"Oh, um, yeah." Kaminari straightened himself in the bed. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until now. "Where's everyone else?"
"In class," Aizawa responded monotonously. "You have no idea how long it took for me to get them to leave you alone and get back to school." He smiled. It looked a bit forced. "Bakugou was about ready to go ballistic."
Kaminari smiled but didn't say anything. He had enough common sense to know that his teacher wouldn't just be waiting at the foot of his hospital bed to make small talk.
Aizawa cleared his throat. "So." He folded his hands together. "Your classmates filled me in on what you said, and personally, I recommend a therapist."
Kaminari's face filled with dread instantly. A therapist? A therapist was the last thing he needed right now, but he couldn't exactly say anything because he was playing the role of a traumatized victim of abuse, not a hardened assassin who was only cutting himself so he could maintain his pain threshold. So he waited. Patiently.
Aizawa scrubbed his face with his hands, clearly agitated by something. "Kaminari, you know cutting yourself is never a good way to deal with stress, right?"
"Yes! Of course!" Kaminari jumped at the opportunity to explain himself. "It was a spur of the moment decision. I've never done it before, and I'm definitely never going to do it again."
"You can't promise that," Aizawa said flatly. He leaned back in his chair. "If it were up to me, you'd still be going to a therapist."
"But...?"
"But Principal Nezu has other plans." Aizawa stood up from his chair and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I notified him of the issue, and when I recommended that I make you go to a therapist, he declined immediately. So you're in luck, kid." He gave a thin-lipped smile, poorly concealing buckets of concern. "And don't stress me out like that, Kaminari. You're going to give me grey hairs."
Kaminari gave Aizawa a bright wave and a smile, but it fell flat as soon as the door swung shut behind him, leaving the blond once again all alone in the dreary hospital bed.
Principal Nezu. Huh...
Strange.